Walking a step behind him quietly was a young girl who looked no older than ten. She carried a small towel and water bottle, seemingly acting as his assistant despite her age.

The moment Drake stepped into the spotlight, a wave of boos thundered across the arena.

"Get off the stage!"

"Retire already!"

"The old champion is back to get beaten again!"

"You had your chance two years ago!"

The gamblers seated around his corner showed no intention of hiding their disdain. Jeers, insults, and mocking laughter poured down from every direction like a storm.

Yet Drake remained completely unfazed.

His expression never changed.

His posture remained straight, his steps steady and unhurried as he made his way toward his corner of the arena. It was as if the countless insults raining down upon him were nothing more than background noise.

Watching him, Ashley narrowed her eyes slightly.

For a man who had spent a long time enduring ridicule and humiliation, that level of composure was far more intimidating than any roar of confidence could ever be.

"Drake, you washed-up old man!" someone suddenly shouted from the stands. "What did you even come back here for? Your coach left you, your assistants abandoned you, and after that humiliating defeat a year ago, you still have the nerve to show your face here? Did you come back just to get dragged across the floor again?"

The insult immediately drew laughter from the surrounding spectators.

"That’s right!" another gambler yelled. "Your prime is long gone! Just accept reality already! You’ll never climb back to the top!"

"Hahaha! Old man, do yourself a favor and throw in the towel the moment the referee starts the fight!"

"Save those brittle bones of yours!"

"Don’t make us watch another embarrassing performance!"

The jeers came one after another, growing louder and more vicious with each passing second. Years ago, these same people had probably cheered for Drake while he stood atop the arena as its champion. But now that he had fallen, they were more than happy to trample on his pride and mock his every step.

Yet throughout the barrage of insults, Drake remained silent.

His face was expressionless, his gaze steady as he stood in his corner of the arena. It was as though the ridicule of thousands meant nothing to him.

Seeing that Drake refused to react, the emcee quickly stepped forward to redirect the crowd’s attention.

"Now that Drake has arrived," he announced loudly, "let’s welcome our newcomer and the crowd’s favorite — Roger!"

His voice rose dramatically at the end, deliberately fueling the audience’s excitement.

The effect was immediate.

The entire arena erupted.

A thunderous roar shook the venue as countless spectators jumped to their feet.

The chant spread like wildfire through the crowd.

"Roger!"

"Roger!"

"Roger!"

The deafening cheers rolled across the arena like crashing waves, completely overwhelming the earlier jeers. It wasn’t simply support, it was a declaration.

The crowd had already chosen their winner.

And in doing so, they made it abundantly clear that they no longer believed Drake belonged on the same stage as Roger.

Despite hearing the crowd chant Roger’s name and ridicule him at every opportunity, Drake’s expression never changed. He remained calm and composed, as if the deafening cheers and endless insults belonged to another world entirely.

Standing beside him, the young girl he had brought watched him closely. There was no fear in her eyes, only unwavering trust and determination. Their gazes briefly met, and she gave him a firm nod.

Drake responded with a faint nod of his own before taking the gum shield from her hand and fitting it into his mouth.

A few moments later, the atmosphere in the arena shifted.

Roger finally emerged from the opposite entrance.

Unlike Drake, who had entered with nothing but a young assistant at his side, Roger arrived surrounded by an entourage. His coach, assistants, and several loyal supporters followed closely behind him, their presence making his entrance far more grandiose. Draped over his shoulders was an elaborate cape that fluttered behind him as he strode confidently toward the arena.

The crowd exploded into applause.

"Roger!"

"Roger!"

"Roger!"

Their chants echoed throughout the venue as Roger basked in their admiration. A smug grin spread across his face as he stepped into the arena. The moment his eyes landed on Drake, he let out a dismissive scoff.

"Old man," Roger mocked, shaking his head, "why do you insist on making things so difficult for yourself?"

Drake didn’t bother responding.

Seeing no reaction, Roger merely smirked and turned away. He removed his cape and handed it to one of his assistants while his coach stepped forward to massage and loosen his shoulders. Another assistant carefully fitted his gum shield into place as the team made their final preparations.

For several moments, both fighters remained in their respective corners.

Then the referee entered the arena.

The noise of the crowd gradually died down as all eyes focused on the center stage.

Without needing further instruction, Drake and Roger pushed away from their corners and began walking forward.

Step by step.

Closer and closer.

The moment they met at the center of the arena, the crowd erupted once more.

Cheers, jeers, whistles, and shouts merged into a deafening cacophony that shook the entire venue. Hundreds of eyes locked onto the two men standing face-to-face.

One was the arena’s rising star, the crowd’s chosen favorite.

The other was a fallen champion seeking to reclaim the throne he had lost.

And now, with the referee standing between them, the fight was finally about to begin.

The referee stepped between the two fighters and raised their hands briefly before signaling the start of the match.

The instant he released them, Roger exploded forward.

The crowd erupted.

He closed the distance in a flash, clearly intending to catch Drake off guard before he could properly settle into the fight. It was an aggressive opening that bordered on unsportsmanlike, but Roger didn’t seem to care.

Unfortunately for him, Drake had anticipated it.

Or rather, he had learned that lesson the hard way.

A year ago, he had been completely unprepared for such tactics. While he had fought honorably, his opponents had shown no such restraint. Their dirty tricks, cheap shots, and relentless exploitation of every loophole had crushed him so thoroughly that he had been dragged through the floor both literally and figuratively.

The memory remained vivid in his mind. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

The humiliation.

The blood.

The bruises.

When he had returned home that day, his face had been so swollen and battered that even his own mother had struggled to recognize him.

That defeat had cost him everything.

But it had also taught him never to underestimate the lengths his opponents would go to win.

The moment Roger charged forward, Drake immediately stepped backward and shifted his stance.

Just as expected.

Roger’s body twisted, and a vicious side kick shot toward Drake’s ribs.

Bang!

Drake intercepted it with his forearm, absorbing the impact before trapping Roger’s leg between his arm and torso. Without wasting a second, he pivoted his hips and used Roger’s own momentum against him.

Roger’s eyes widened.

The next moment, his feet left the ground.

Boom!

His body slammed heavily onto the arena floor.