THE ARENA…
The first sensation Tucker felt was pain.
Not pain from one specific injury.
His entire body hurt.
Every muscle felt as though it had been filled with concrete. His lungs struggled to pull in air, his throat was painfully dry, and his ears rang so loudly that it was almost all he could hear.
Almost. Slowly, another sound began to break through the ringing. A distant roar.
Then another, and another.
The crowd. Hundreds of voices screamed from every direction.
Tucker's heart pounded.
Each beat sent warmth through his body, reminding him that he was still alive.
His vision slowly began to return.
The first thing he saw was the canvas beneath him. Then the blood, his blood.
Tucker blinked.
His eyes widened slightly. He was still standing, somehow.
His body was barely holding itself upright, but his legs hadn't given out.
Then the memories returned.
The punch. The red light. The explosion. The void. The old man.
The countless figures stretching endlessly into the darkness.
And finally…those words.
"Inter folia autumni victoriam tuam invenies."
Tucker didn't understand how…but he understood them. Just like the Frenchman in the Ascension Gala
The language was something he had never heard before. Not once in his life.
Yet somehow, every word carried meaning. He knew what they meant.
"Among the leaves of autumn, you will find your victory."
Tucker's brow furrowed.
Why do I understand this…? Before he could think any further, he felt something touch his chest.
A hand.
Tucker's eyes slowly lowered, CH2's left hand. The crowd immediately fell silent.
Everyone thought they knew what was coming.
Another punch, another devastating attack, another red explosion.
Tucker's eyes widened.
But CH2 didn't punch.
Instead…he simply pushed him. Barely. It was almost nothing.
But Tucker's body couldn't take even that. His balance disappeared, his upper body began leaning backward, his legs struggled to compensate.
No…Tucker tried to regain control. Nothing.
His body continued falling.
The canvas seemed to drift farther away beneath him as his feet slowly began lifting from the ground.
The crowd held its breath.
Tucker was going down.
Then, a sudden pain shot through his heart.
Tucker's eyes widened. It was worse than anything he had felt since the punch.
His entire chest seized. His breath caught in his throat. And those words echoed through his mind again.
"Inter folia autumni victoriam tuam invenies."
"Among the leaves of autumn, you will find your victory."
What could that possibly mean? His eyes darted around the arena. Autumn…? His body continued falling. How? Tucker's thoughts raced. It's summer.
Then something inside him reacted. Not thought, not strategy, not even instinct as he understood it.
Something deeper.
His foot moved. His toes caught the canvas. His leg immediately tensed.
Tucker's falling momentum stopped.
His body remained dangerously tilted backward, one foot barely keeping him upright.
For several seconds…no one moved, nobody spoke.
The entire arena stared, Tucker's breathing was ragged.
His body trembled, but he was still standing.
Then he slowly straightened himself, the silence broke, the crowd erupted.
"HE'S STILL UP!"
"WHAT?!"
"HOW IS HE STANDING?!"
Shouts thundered through the arena.
CH2's eyes widened, even the referee stared at Tucker in disbelief.
Tucker slowly raised his head.
His eyes met CH2's.
And somewhere deep within his mind, those mysterious words remained.
"Among the leaves of autumn, you will find your victory."
THE ARENA…
The prison doors slammed open.
Mengu stepped through, his face immediately lit up. The roar of the arena hit him like a wave.
Prisoners screamed, their voices bouncing against the walls, many prisoners head snapped in the direction of Mengu.
Mengu spread his arms. "FIGHT NIGHT!"
He laughed. "There's nothing like coming home."
Diamond walked in behind him, followed closely by D1.
But unlike Mengu, neither of them looked toward the ring.
Diamond's eyes immediately scanned the arena.
The prisoners. The guards. The tunnels.
She was looking for one thing, the remnants.
Mengu marched forward, completely absorbed by the spectacle.
"Where is the fight?" he demanded.
One of the guards pointed toward the ring.
Mengu's eyes widened.
There stood Tucker. Still alive. Still standing.
Mengu stared for a moment.
Then his grin returned. "Oh…" He began walking faster, "It's still going!"
Diamond watched him leave.
Then she turned toward D1. "Now."
D1's eyes widened slightly. She glanced toward Mengu.
He was already pushing through the crowd accompanied by gaurds, completely fixated on the ring and making his way to his presidential box.
"He's distracted," D1 said.
Diamond nodded. "Exactly."
D1 swallowed. Her hands trembled slightly. "I don't know if I can do this."
Diamond looked at her. "You can."
"There could be hundreds of people," D1 said.
"Then we'll start with hundreds." Diamond responded.
D1 looked down at her hands. "I've never opened this many at once."
"You don't have to open them all at once." Diamond stepped closer. "One group at a time."
D1 looked toward the prison corridors, outside of the Fight Night Arena.
Somewhere beyond them were the people they'd left behind.
Prisoners of the Ascension Gala, members of the Diamond Fleet, people who were still waiting for someone to come for them.
D1 took a slow breath. "Okay…"
A thin circular distortion appeared in the air.
Then, a gray portal opened. Several prisoners on the other side froze.
They stared through it.
D1 spoke softly, her voice echoing, "Come…on."
One person hesitated.
Diamond stepped forward. "We're getting you out."
The prisoner looked between them.
Then stepped through. The moment they crossed the threshold, they disappeared.
D1 exhaled. "One."
Diamond smiled. "Keep going."
Another portal opened, then another, and another.
Some recognized Diamond immediately. Others stared at D1 in confusion.
A few could barely walk.
Diamond helped one of them through. "Easy."
The prisoner looked at her. "…You're really getting us out?"
Diamond nodded. "We're not leaving you here."
Another group appeared, then another.
D1's breathing began to grow heavier. Her concentration was already being tested.
She clenched her fists. "There's too many…"
Diamond looked around. The arena was still focused entirely on Tucker and CH2.
Mengu was standing in his presidential box, practically leaning over the railing.
He hadn't noticed anything.
Not yet.
Diamond turned back toward D1. "Then we keep going."
D1 nodded.
The gray rings spun faster. A massive portal opened.
This time, several prisoners entered at once.
Among them were familiar faces. People from the Ascension Gala. Members of the fleet they thought they might never see again.
Diamond's eyes widened. "…We found them."
D1 smiled weakly. "One group down."
Diamond looked toward the ring. Mengu was still completely absorbed in the fight.
Tucker and CH2 stood opposite each other. The crowd was screaming.
Diamond turned back toward D1. "Keep them moving."
D1 nodded.
Then, a voice came from behind them. "Diamond?"
Her body froze, D1's eyes widened.
Slowly, they turned. Mengu wasn't there. He was still watching the fight. It was only a guard.
Diamond exhaled, she placed a hand against D1's shoulder. "Don't stop."
D1 nodded.
The gray rings began glowing again, another portal opened, another group disappeared.
Then another, and another.
Behind them, the arena continued roaring.
Mengu laughed at something happening inside the ring.
He had no idea that his prison was slowly emptying behind him.
And Diamond intended to keep it that way.
OUTSIDE THE SURVIVOR TUNNEL…
The brawl had finally come to an end.
What had once been a chaotic battlefield was now scattered with overturned tables, broken benches, discarded weapons, and exhausted prisoners. One by one, the remaining fighters had retreated deeper into the prison, leaving the area around the Survivor Tunnel strangely quiet.
Michonne slowly lowered her new found dagger.
TR241 wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth.
EBS leaned against the wall, catching her breath.
Tongue stood nearby, still gripping the leg of a broken chair.
Shirley barely noticed any of it, his eyes remained fixed on the ring.
Everyone's did. The crowd had gone eerily quiet.
Prisoners stared toward Tucker, he was still standing. Barely.
Shirley swallowed, his hands slowly tightened into fists. "…Tucker," he muttered.
TR241 glanced at him.
Shirley didn't look away.
He could see Tucker's battered body from across the arena, blood covering his clothes, his posture barely holding together.
"He's alive…" EBS whispered.
Michonne's expression remained serious. "Yeah." A pause, "But for how long?"
Shirley's eyes narrowed. He took one step forward. "Tucker…"
The referee was still standing beside him.
CH2 was still breathing heavily across the ring.
THE RING…
Tucker had fully stood.
Slowly, painfully, he straightened his back and raised his head.
Across the ruined ring, CH2 did the same.
Their eyes met. Neither spoke, both men simply breathed heavily. Ragged. Exhausted.
Yet neither looked away. For a moment, they simply acknowledged one another.
Whatever had happened before was over. This was no longer a match, it was survival.
Tucker suddenly felt something stir inside him.
A faint burst of energy, it wasn't much. It didn't feel fresh.
It felt used, old, almost secondhand. Yet somehow, it was enough.
His fingers curled into fists.
I can still fight, he thought.
CH2's breathing grew heavier.
Tucker lowered his stance. Then he began bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
Then, Tucker exploded forward, Strength Presence surging through his legs.
His fist shot toward CH2's face. CH2 casually knocked it aside with his left hand.
Tucker immediately retracted. He swept his leg toward CH2's feet.
CH2 barely moved, his left fist swung toward Tucker.
Tucker slipped past it and moved to CH2's side.
He drove a punch toward his ribs. CH2 blocked it with his left forearm and staggered backward several steps.
Tucker followed, another punch.
CH2 deflected it, CH2 countered, Tucker deflected his left.
Again.
Tucker attacked, CH2 blocked. CH2 countered, Tucker parried.
Again and again, and again
Neither gave the other a second to breathe.
Their fists collided over and over, each exchange becoming faster and more desperate.
Until, CH2 swung.
Tucker moved, the fist missed his face by inches. Tucker froze for half a second.
Was he…slow? He thought.
He looked at CH2. CH2's chest heaved violently.
His movements had become heavier. Sluggish, his legs weren't responding as quickly.
Tucker's eyes narrowed. He's running out, he thought.
Tucker suddenly swept his leg. CH2 reacted a fraction too late, his foot was taken from beneath him.
CH2 slammed onto the canvas. But almost immediately, he forced himself back onto his feet.
He shook his head, his confidence returned.
Long-Brow-CH2 stepped forward, his left fist came toward Tucker.
Tucker ducked underneath it. He immediately imbued both fists with Strength Presence.
Then, a barrage of punches slammed into CH2's chest.
"BARRAGE!"
CH2's body rocked backward with every hit. He tried to endure it, he couldn't.
Blood suddenly erupted from his mouth.
His eyes widened, Tucker continued.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five—
CH2 finally slammed his palm into Tucker's cheek, Tucker was launched backward.
He crashed onto the canvas and rolled several times before stopping.
His hand immediately went to his cheek.
Pain shot through his jaw. "Shit…"
Across the ring, CH2 staggered, he coughed. Blood spilled onto the canvas, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
He looked at the blood. Then at Tucker.
His breathing became even heavier. "…I…" His voice trembled, "…have to use it…"
His left arm began to glow.
That same red. The same terrifying aura from before. It wrapped around his forearm like flames dancing around his skin.
Tucker's eyes widened.
Again…?
CH2 raised his head, his eyes locked onto Tucker.
Then he charged, Tucker rolled away just as CH2's fist came down.
The shockwave exploded across the canvas, Tucker was thrown sideways. "Shit!"
His body slammed into one of the ring posts, he barely managed to stay conscious.
CH2 charged again, he swung. Tucker was still on the ground.
The fist came toward him, Tucker's instincts screamed.
"MOVE!"
He forced himself up, his foot planted against the ring post.
Then, he jumped. Tucker landed on the post itself. For the first time, he had the slightest height advantage.
CH2 looked up, Tucker's fist was already coming down.
His fist struck CH2's face. Another, another. Tucker poured Strength Presence into every strike.
CH2 tried to swing his glowing left arm.
Tucker hit him again, again, and again.
Every time CH2 attempted to unleash the attack, Tucker struck him first.
Again.
Again.
CH2 couldn't find the opening.
Then, Tucker's foot slipped. His balance disappeared. "—!" He fell.
His back slammed against the canvas. For a moment, Tucker couldn't move.
He slowly opened his eyes, CH2 was standing above him.
Towering.
His left arm was still glowing. Tucker stared up at him.
Is this it…? he thought.
CH2 slowly pulled his fist backward.
The red aura intensified, Tucker tried to move.
Nothing. He tried to lift his arms. Nothing.
His eyes darted toward the rest of the arena.
Toward Shirley, toward Michonne. Toward everyone.
But the referee's legs stood directly in his line of sight.
Tucker's eyes widened.
Then, a thought, a possibility, a lightbulb.
Wait, Tucker thought.
CH2's fist began moving forward.
Tucker moved, he twisted his body aside. The punch missed him by inches.
Then Tucker kicked, his foot struck the back of the referee's knee.
The referee buckled, his body dropped directly into the path of CH2's attack.
Tucker's eyes widened, CH2's fist connected.
A blinding red flash swallowed the arena. Blood erupted.
Tucker was thrown backward into the ropes, the arena screamed. The shockwave lasted only seconds.
Canvas tore apart. Dust exploded into the air. The remaining rope snapped violently from its post.
Then, silence.
The red light disappeared, Tucker slowly looked up. His expression froze.
The referee was dead.
His body had collapsed onto the ruined canvas, the aftermath of CH2's attack leaving almost nothing recognizable above his shoulders.
The crowd stared. Nobody spoke.
Then, Mengu's voice erupted above everyone else's.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
He was laughing.
Loudly. Maniacally. The arena erupted with him.
Tucker slowly turned his head, CH2 was on his knees.
His head hung low. Both arms were completely withered. Drained.
The red aura had vanished.
Small flakes of his pale, lifeless, skin and flesh drifted from his arms and landed on the canvas.
Tucker stared.
Then something clicked, his eyes moved toward the fallen pieces.
They drifted downward. Slowly.
Like…autumn leaves.
Tucker's expression changed.
Among the leaves of autumn…
The words from the void returned.
you shall find your victory.
Tucker looked at the dead referee, his body locked up.
For several seconds, he simply stared. Then he slowly released the tension in his shoulders.
He had made a choice.
He walked toward CH2.
CH2 looked up. He looked almost twenty years older than he had moments ago.
His face was pale, his body barely capable of moving, his eyes met Tucker's.
There were tears in them.
For the first time, CH2 looked helpless.
Tucker stopped in front of him. He glanced down at the referee's exposed neck.
Tucker's expression was empty. Completely empty.
There was no hesitation.
No fear. No moral debate.
He had thrown his moral compass away. Because he wanted to live.
Tucker grabbed the referee's body and pushed it aside.
The corpse rolled across the destroyed canvas.
Blood splattered into the front rows.
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
Tucker stood over CH2, CH2 stared up at him.
Tucker's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Quick Reset…"
All his previous energy had returned for one last attack.
He raised his head, his eyes met CH2's.
CH2's lips trembled. Then Tucker spoke.
Loud enough for the entire arena to hear.
"Among the autumn leaves…I shall find my victory."
CH2's eyes widened.
For one brief moment, he could have sworn Tucker's pupils disappeared.
Completely.
Nothing remained except black.
Tucker drew his fist backward. Strength Presence surged through his arm.
CH2 didn't move, he couldn't.
Tucker swung.
The punch connected, CH2's body went limp.
It was over.
The arena fell completely silent. Tucker slowly pulled his hand back.
Blood and brain matter covered his forearm.
He stared at it for several seconds. Then he looked upward, toward the enormous arena lights.
He stretched both arms outward.
And finally, the arena erupted.
Thousands of prisoners screamed. The walls shook from the noise.
Tucker stood in the center of the ruined ring, victorious.
Above the arena, the announcer's voice finally returned.
"BATTLE OF THE NIGHT—!"
The crowd roared.
"FIGHT NIGHT—!"
The sound became deafening.
Then—
"WINNER: TUCKER THE SCRAPPER!"