CHAPTER 22: THEO VS THE TWINS

The bass roared through the underground fight club, shaking the dark arena like a living heartbeat.

The commentator’s raspy voice cracked through the speakers, full of excitement, shouted into the mic, "Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, the legend continues! The Unbroken! THEO! Facing his biggest challenge yet! The TWINS! Undefeated and ruthless! Who will be left standing?!"

The crowd erupted, voices rising in drunken excitement amid cigarette smoke and the thick stench of alcohol.

In the center of the red circle, Theo stood tall. His face was bruised and battered, but his dark eyes burned with unwavering resolve.

Hold your ground... You’ve got two days left to gather that money.

In front of him, two men stood side by side, identical in build, with cold eyes and mocking grins.

The Twins—known for their perfect coordination.

The referee, a muscular man with arms like tree trunks, raised his hand in the air.

"All right, fighters! You know the rules! Fight until one of you can no longer stand! Ready?!"

The crowd roared louder.

"One!"

Theo’s heartbeat pounded like a drum.

"Two!"

Adrenaline surged through his veins.

"Three! FIGHT!"

The Twins lunged at him in perfect sync—one aiming a straight punch at his face, the other sweeping low for his legs.

Theo reacted on instinct.

He blocked the punch with his forearm—THUD—a solid impact that echoed through the arena. Then he jumped back, just in time to avoid the sweep.

He countered with a heavy right hook aimed at one of them, but the other Twin yanked his brother out of range.

They moved like a single organism—one attacking, the other guarding or flanking.

Theo relied on raw strength. He blocked, shoved, and threw powerful counters, each hit strong enough to knock out an average fighter.

But these two weren’t average. They dodged or shielded each other with precision, never leaving an opening.

They circled him like vultures, launching quick, targeted strikes to his ribs and sides.

A low growl escaped Theo’s throat. This fight was harder than the fifty before it.

"Too easy!" one of the Twins sneered after landing a clean combo to Theo’s gut.

Theo staggered back, gasping for breath. It wasn’t just the numbers—it was something else.

His movements felt heavier. Slower. A faint dizziness crept in.

Behind the swelling in his eyes, Theo narrowed his gaze.

This wasn’t just fatigue.

They drugged me...

The club owner. That filthy snake. He must’ve spiked the food or drink in the resting room.

The tingling sensation in his limbs—proof.

His greatest weapon, his strength, was starting to dull. He had to adapt—fast.

The Twins didn’t let up. They backed him into a corner, hammering punches to his gut and jaw, switching flawlessly between offense and defense.

Theo gritted his teeth, blocking what he could, but every hit that got through burned like fire.

He had to shatter their rhythm—before his strength gave out completely.

Then, it hit him.

They were twins. Their coordination was everything.

If he could disrupt that...

As one Twin launched a high kick, Theo suddenly dropped to the ground, letting the attack sail over him. In a split second, he grabbed the other Twin’s leg and yanked.

The man stumbled, losing balance.

There. A small opening.

Theo sprang up and rammed his shoulder into the first Twin, slamming him into his off-balance brother.

Both staggered back from the impact.

That wasn’t just a hit—it was positioning.

Theo saw it now.

Their strength was also their weakness. Without perfect sync, they were vulnerable.

He couldn’t overpower them. Not like this. But he could turn them against each other.

He didn’t give them a second to breathe.

He dove back into the fray, driving a brutal knee into one Twin’s ribs, then spinning to elbow the other across the jaw.

Confusion and pain flickered in their eyes.

The tide had turned.

Theo, once on defense, now took the fight to them. He separated them—isolated them—despite his own body screaming in agony.

He relied on what was left of his speed, guided by pure battle instinct.

With a devastating uppercut, he smashed one Twin’s chin, sending him stumbling.

Before the other could react, Theo shoved him into the ropes, launching a barrage of body shots—ending with a crushing knee to the chest.

The two collapsed. Broken. Motionless.

The referee stepped forward, raised Theo’s hand. "Winner! The Unbroken! THEO!"

The arena exploded in cheers.

Money flew through the air.

The commentator yelled over the roar, "He did it AGAIN! An incredible fight! No one can stop Theo! He’s a machine! A living legend!"

But Theo barely heard it.

His entire body pulsed with pain. Every muscle screamed.

He swayed, struggling just to stay on his feet. His breathing was ragged, every gasp a battle on its own.

Sweat and blood mixed on his bruised face.

He had never felt this drained in his life.

With what strength he had left, Theo dragged himself out of the red circle, through the crowd that stared at him with awe and fear.

He didn’t care.

All he wanted was to return to the resting room. But as he reached the edge of the ring, his knees buckled.

His vision spun, black creeping at the edges.

He tried to grab the ropes—but his hand slipped.

His beaten body collapsed onto the cold concrete floor with a dull thud.

Victory had stripped him bare.

---

Slowly, Theo’s eyes cracked open. His head throbbed, and pain flooded every inch of his body.

He coughed, his throat dry and stained with the faint taste of blood.

He was back in the dim resting room—sore, drenched in sweat, body covered in bruises.

Last night’s win felt like a fading nightmare.

He forced himself to sit up, leaning against the cold wall behind him.

His blurry vision cleared just enough to see what was on the table across the room.

A stack of cash.

Not the usual five hundred dollars for a normal fight—but two thousand.

That meant the match against the Twins—the one that nearly broke him—had carried a far higher price than he’d been told.

Then came a soft clicking sound.

The door creaked open.

A figure stepped in—a boy with brown hair. His face was... blank. Literally. No features.

He walked in silently, pulled out a chair, and sat beside Theo.

Silence thickened in the air, stretching uncomfortably between them.

Then finally, the boy spoke with a light chuckle in his voice.

"Four days skipping school... and I find you here, Theo. The Unbroken, huh? Turns out you’ve become a real underground legend."