Lord Of Beasts

The moment Ethan stepped out of the blue gate, everything narrowed.

From the roar of the crowd in the towering stadium, to the flashing lights, and the thousands of eyes watching him, all of it was gone.

There was only one thing left.

One person.

Mace.

Their eyes locked across the arena, tension snapping tight between them like a wire pulled to its limit. There was no grin on Ethan’s face now, no casual smirk, no trace of the relaxed idiot who had been drinking and joking just minutes ago.

This was different and personal.

For a brief moment, even his opponent felt it.

’He’s changed...’ Mace thought, his smile faltering for just a second.

Ethan’s focus was suffocating, his fists clenched and his adrenaline pumping.

But then his expression twitched.

”Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

The tension cracked instantly as a cold, horrifying realisation hit him all at once.

’Fuck me... right now of all times?’

His stomach churned violently.

A deep, urgent pressure built up, one that couldn’t be ignored or avoided. All the food from earlier and alcohol hit him all at once. He needed to piss, shit, and everything in between simultaneously.

”Are you ready, Et-” Mace began while stepping forward, only to freeze in confusion.

Ethan suddenly turned around and bolted straight back through the blue gate.

”What?!”

The arena went silent for half a second, then...

”BOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The crowd erupted into loud, merciless jeers.

”What the hell was that?!”

”He ran?!”

”Are you serious?!”

Mace blinked, then let out a full, unrestrained laugh.

”What did I expect from an E Rank?” he muttered, shaking his head.

-

Meanwhile, back in the preparation area.

”Sir, you can’t-” the attendant started, rushing after him.

”Fuck off!” Ethan snapped, already pushing past her.

She flinched, instinctively stepping aside as he rushed past.

He didn’t stop, slow down, or care about dignity, pride, or anything else.

All that was on his mind was finding a bathroom, and when he did, he barged in, not even locking the door before everything came out.

...

A few minutes later, Ethan sat there in absolute silence.

He felt like he had let out half of his body weight, satisfied after relieving himself.

’You can’t ignore nature’s call.’

When it did, nothing else mattered: not the fight, not the crowd, not Mace.

Outside, faintly, he could hear the announcer trying to salvage the situation.

”Ahem-! Ladies and gentlemen, we will sort this out shortly! Our mystery opponent will be returning momentarily!”

The crowd continued booing relentlessly, but Ethan took his time.

He washed his hands and adjusted the balaclava before looking at himself in the mirror.

A faceless figure stared back, only his blue eyes visible.

He tilted his head slightly.

”I look like a shitty bank robber.”

He chuckled under his breath.

Honestly, if someone had told him a few months ago that he would be fighting in an underground arena while wearing a mask, about to beat the hell out of someone from his past...

He would’ve laughed in their face.

But now it felt normal.

’I guess I-’

Knock. Knock.

”Sir... are you finished yet?” the attendant’s voice came from outside, noticeably more anxious this time.

On one hand, she was being pressured to get him back into the arena. On the other, she clearly didn’t want to get yelled at again, or worse.

Ethan opened the door casually, stepping out like nothing had happened.

”Sorry about that,” he said, stretching slightly. ”You know how it is.”

”Yeah...” she replied, forcing a polite smile while subtly holding her breath.

And then she led him back to the arena, assuring the organisers through her comms that Ethan was returning.

The moment Ethan stepped out through the blue gate again, the arena exploded. Boos turned into a mix of cheers, laughter, and anticipation.

”He’s back!”

”What a loser!”

”Guy really went for a bathroom break mid-fight!”

Ethan ignored all of it.

And this time he didn’t stop, hesitate, or turn around.

He walked forward calmly, eyes already locked onto Mace again.

’I’m not going anywhere this time, not until I’ve dealt with this fucker.’

Mace stood waiting at the centre of the arena, arms loose at his sides, a grin stretched across his face.

”Well, well,” he called out. ”Thought you’d pussied out.”

His gaze flicked over Ethan.

”And what’s with the mask?”

Ethan didn’t answer or react, preparing himself instead.

’Minor Assimilation: Wolfy.’

A subtle shift ran through his body.

His muscles tightened, and his senses sharpened. For a moment, the sudden spike in noise and sensory stimuli overwhelmed him, but he quickly overcame it, mentally blocking it all.

Then, without warning, he burst forward and threw a punch straight at Mace’s face. It was fast and direct, but just before it landed, he stopped and pulled back.

Mace laughed, ”Didn’t make the same mistake as last time?”

Ethan’s blue eyes remained locked onto him.

He was observing and analysing, noticing the subtle change in his opponent’s skin.

”So that’s why they call you Stonehide Mason,” Ethan said slowly. ”What a shit name. Don’t tell me that’s your Title.”

Mace’s grin widened.

”And what if it is?” he shot back. ”Still better than whatever garbage E Rank Title you’ve got.”

Ethan smiled faintly, knowing that he had him.

”If all you can do is harden your skin and boost your strength a bit...” he continued casually, ”then you’re barely a C Rank.”

He paused, letting it settle in.

”They might as well evaluate you as an E Rank like me. Even Mark could beat your ass, for a second time.”

Mace snapped.

”I’ll show you, asshole!”

He lunged forward, exactly as Ethan wanted.

’Same as always,’ he thought calmly. ’That fragile ego.’

Boom!

Mace’s fist came crashing down, the ground cracking beneath the force. Fragments of reinforced flooring shattered outward, but Ethan had already moved.

He had slipped to the side effortlessly.

Then came another punch, faster and equally heavy, capable of smashing through brick with ease.

Ethan ducked, stepped back, and weaved.

Each of his movements was precise and driven by his Ulfen instincts.

”You’re slow,” Ethan said flatly.

Mace roared, swinging again, his attacks growing more aggressive, more reckless. Each strike carried immense power, and each miss tore into the arena floor, but none of them mattered if they didn’t land.

Though he couldn’t win by dodging alone...