**Volume 2: Upper World**
**Chapter 55: Ram vs Jone**
January 3rd, 3:07 p.m. – Central Arena (Match 1)
The dome lights dimmed for a second — then snapped bright again, spotlights converging on the central pit like knives. The crowd roar hit like a wall — 20,000 voices, demons howling, normals screaming bets, devils laughing from the velvet boxes. The air smelled like sweat, smoke, and hot stone.
Ram walked in first.
He was big — not giant like Lana, but solid, shoulders wide, short black hair spiked with sweat already. Academy jacket half-zipped, sleeves rolled up, grin easy but sharp. He stepped to the center of the ring, cracked his knuckles once, and looked across at the opposite gate.
Jone stepped out next.
Taller than Ram, leaner, long dark hair tied back loose, shirt already off — pale skin marked with old scars, muscles tight like coiled wire. No grin. Just cold eyes and a quiet stance. The pact glow around his fists flickered faint red.
Ram raised a hand — casual wave.
“Hey, Jone-chan.”
Jone didn’t smile.
“Let’s get this over with.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Ram shrugged — still grinning.
“Ok.”
He ran.
Fast — boots scraping stone, closing the gap in two strides. First punch snapped out — clean, fast, straight to Jone’s face. Knuckles connected with jaw — crack like wood splitting. Jone’s head snapped sideways, blood spraying from split lip, but he didn’t fall.
He got back up.
And started fisting Ram’s face — hard, rapid, no wasted movement. Left-right-left, each hit landing with wet thuds. Ram’s nose bled instantly — red streaming down his chin — but he laughed through it, blood on his teeth.
Ram slid low — ducked under the next punch — and kicked Jone’s face from below. Boot connected with chin — Jone’s head rocked back. Ram didn’t stop — kept kicking — shin, knee, stomach — each one driving air from Jone’s lungs in sharp grunts.
Then Ram clapped once — quick.
**Azure Flash.**
The punch landed square in Jone’s chest — red energy flaring brighter than usual, almost crimson. The impact echoed — delayed detonation ripping through Jone’s ribs. He flew backward — boots leaving skid marks — crashed into one of the steel supply boxes at the arena edge. Metal crumpled. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Jone pushed himself up slow — spit red onto the stone — wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I won’t lose this time.”
Ram was already moving again — quick steps, grin gone now, eyes focused.
Jone caught the kick mid-air — grabbed Ram’s ankle, twisted hard. Ram grunted — leg buckling — but Jone punched the same leg — knee, thigh — then let go. Ram rolled away — blood dripping from his nose in thick drops — hit the ground hard, rolled once, pushed up on one knee.
He clapped again — faster.
**Jackpot – 3 chances.**
The wheel spun in glowing red fragments above his head — numbers flashing quick.
First roll: 424.
Second: 557.
Third: 7… 7…
777.
Ram’s eyes lit up.
He stood — slow — blood still dripping, but his aura flared bright red-black. Will energy surged — visible waves rolling off him like heat. He moved — faster now, boosted — fists blurring.
He punched Jone — hard, fast — ribs, gut, jaw — each hit landing with wet cracks. Jone blocked some, but not enough. Ram kicked his stomach — deep, driving — Jone doubled over, coughing blood.
Jone stood anyway — nose bleeding, one rib definitely cracked — but nothing broken clean. He ripped off his shirt — threw it down. It hit the ground hard — slammed like it weighed a hundred pounds — dented the stone with a thud.
Abs flexed — scarred, tight, ready.
Ram moved quick — clapped once more.
**Realm: My Rules Now.**
Space warped — red-black lines snapping into place around them. The arena inside the realm shifted — gravity flipped, walls became floors, air thickened like water. Ram stood in the center — grin back, eyes glowing.
“My rules now.”
Jone looked around — slow — feeling the shift.
The chapter ended.
To be continued…
