Chapter 18: The Grim Reaper

Raden held up the flash drive, turning it over in his hand. His eyes traced the permanent marker scribbles on the casing, the ink already fading and blurred by time.

He narrowed his eyes, muttering under his breath. "The recording that ruined my life?"

Raden marched over to the computer tucked away in the corner of his bedroom. He sat down and immediately booted up the machine. The moment the screen hummed to life, he plugged in the drive. A single video file sat in the storage. He clicked it with his mouse. A loading circle spun for a few agonizing seconds.

When the video finally played, it showed two men, both standing 178 cm tall and dressed entirely in white, staring daggers at each other from across the arena. Their expressions were full of fire. The crowd outside the ring was roaring, cheering on the fighters inside. Both men began to settle into their stances while handlers carefully strapped protective helmets onto them.

A man was holding the head of one of the fighters, his expression dead serious.

"Remember, he is a master of the grip. Do not let him grab a single limb. Once he gets a hold of you, he could snap your body in two. Understood?" the man told his fighter.

The fighter nodded. The handler let go, and the fighter returned his sharp gaze to his opponent. An announcer walked to the center of the arena, gripping a wireless mic in his right hand. As the feedback from the mic echoed through the speakers, the thunderous noise of the crowd slowly died down.

"And... it is time to begin! The final match between Halim Sukma Wijaya, 'The Grim Reaper', versus Ezza Angelo, 'The God Hand'! Are you ready?!!" the announcer screamed, thrusting his mic toward the audience. The cheers erupted with even more intensity.

Raden's eyes went wide. "Dad?!" He leaned in, trying to focus on the grainy footage playing on his monitor.

Technical crews, lighting, sound, and cameramen scrambled outside the ring, prepping their gear in a rush. A technical director shot a thumbs-up to his team. The signal went down the line until it reached the announcer in the center. The referee jogged into the arena.

"Alright everybody, time to witness The Grim Reaper vs The God Hand! Let's give them a massive round of applause before the bell rings!" the announcer shouted, raising his hand high before exiting the ring. The main audio feed switched from the arena speakers to two commentators sitting in a closed studio.

Next to the two commentators sat a professional analyst clutching a clipboard. The commentators smiled at the camera, ready to speak with professional enthusiasm.

"Yes! We are back. I'm Daniel, and with me is my partner Donnie, here at the Great World Martial Art Championship. Joining us today is an analyst who has become absolutely phenomenal on the internet. Let's welcome Mr. Castello."

Mr. Castello waved at the camera with a wide grin.

"Hi, hello to all the netizens watching. Thank you for inviting me to such a prestigious event."

"Seeing Mr. Castello here, I'm curious about your thoughts. Did you expect The Grim Reaper and The God Hand to make it to the finals?" Donnie asked, turning his head.

Mr. Castello chuckled softly. "I honestly didn't expect it. This is completely outside my predictions. The God Hand has been terrifying in this tournament. But still, based on my analysis over the last few weeks, The Grim Reaper is far too superior."

"That is interesting. The live chat is exploding right now, and this event has been a hot trending topic on Palltube for weeks. Do you think these two fighters have impressive signature styles?" Daniel asked.

Castello glanced at his papers for a second, then looked Daniel in the eye.

"Yes. Based on their patterns and skills, these two clearly have very distinct fighting styles. To me, they are polar opposites who have somehow met in the finals."

Donnie nodded and followed up. "I agree. They are opposites. But from what I've observed, The Grim Reaper only uses two martial arts streams—Silat and Taekwondo. This differs from The God Hand, who specializes in a single stream—Jiu-Jitsu. Is that common? Most other fighters have two or three different styles."

Castello gave a thin laugh.

"It's true that so far, The Grim Reaper has only revealed Silat for blocking and varied strikes, and Taekwondo for those loose, hard, stylish kicks. This might surprise some people, but it would be a mistake to think he only has two styles. The Grim Reaper is also quite proficient in Boxing, Kickboxing, Muay Thai, a bit of Jiu-Jitsu, and even Capoeira. You could say... this fight is about the Generalist versus the Specialist."

Donnie and Daniel looked genuinely surprised.

"That is fascinating information for us and the folks watching at home. Thanks for the insight, Mr. Castello. Now, let's head back to the arena because the main event is about to start," Daniel said. His voice now boomed through the massive speakers in the corners of the arena.

The referee approached the fighters. He gave the standard warnings: no attacking the groin, no screaming or excessive taunting, no holding for more than a minute, and no attacking after the bell. Both fighters nodded.

The referee shouted the command. The crowd fell silent. All eyes were locked on the two men.

"One! Start!" the referee yelled. The bell dinged. The LED countdown on the scoreboard started ticking down from three minutes.

Halim sprinted toward Ezza, and Ezza charged to meet him. As the gap closed, Ezza tried to grab Halim. But Halim was faster. He spun his body to the side with a small hop and slammed a hard kick into Ezza's head, sending him crashing to the floor.

The referee separated them briefly. Halim was already panting. As Ezza scrambled back up, the referee resumed the match. Ezza slowly closed in. Halim raised a boxing guard, arms covering his face. Ezza tried to punch, but Halim dodged the strikes with sharp reflexes. The moment Ezza overextended on a punch, Halim launched a brutal uppercut into Ezza's face, spraying a mist of blood from his mouth.

Ezza grinned, looking slightly wobbly. He threw another punch. Halim blocked it. But it was a bait. Ezza immediately caught Halim's head with his legs and slammed Halim's body to the mat. Ezza mounted him instantly. From there, Ezza rained down punch after punch, turning Halim's face into a bloody mess.

Raden flinched behind his monitor.

The bell rang.

Ezza climbed off Halim's limp body. Halim spat out a mouthful of blood. A man rushed over, wiping the blood from his mouth and patting his cheek to wake him up.

"Is he strong?" the man asked seriously.

"Yeah, strong enough. Feels like being hit with twenty kilos of iron," Halim answered.

"Stay with it. Your body needs to be more flexible against his stiffness," the man advised.

Halim nodded.

He walked back to his corner. The announcer called for the second round. The bell dinged again.

From the other side, Ezza sprinted at Halim. Halim was more passive now, settling into a calm Silat stance. His eyes tracked Ezza sharply from a distance. Ezza tried to launch a flurry of attacks. Halim parried them quickly, countering with a hard strike to Ezza's cheek in between blocks. Ezza, refusing to give up, tried to kick Halim's legs. Halim shifted his weight and stomped on Ezza's foot with crushing force.

Ezza groaned in pain while Halim smirked. Halim slammed his head into Ezza, knocking him back. With Ezza's defense weakened, Halim kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him flying backward. Halim's face looked savage now. His breath was hot, his fists clenched so tight the veins popped out. He closed in on the helpless Ezza. Halim threw a punch to the face, spun his arm to land a vicious elbow, and followed it up with a knee to Ezza's head.

Blood sprayed from Ezza's mouth again and again. His eyes, swollen shut, desperately scanned Halim's body for an opening. His gaze locked onto Halim's leg. He ducked under a barrage of attacks, punched Halim hard in the gut, dipped low, and grabbed Halim's right leg with a vice grip.

Halim tried to kick Ezza's back, but Ezza wouldn't let go.

"Oh shit..." Raden whispered, his eyes widening.

Ezza gripped the leg, then twisted it with violent force until Halim fell. Halim was face down now, and Ezza sat on the trapped leg. He yanked it hard, twisting it again and again until...

*Crack!

The sound of snapping bone echoed. Halim screamed. He tapped the floor frantically. The bell rang.

Ezza released the leg. Halim writhed on the floor in agony. The crowd was in an uproar. The handler rushed back into the arena.

"It looks like... The Grim Reaper is in trouble with his leg! Is this match ending in round two with a total victory for The God Hand?" the announcer boomed.

The handler held Halim's head. Halim looked weak, his face drenched in sweat. The medical team was approaching.

"Halim, hey. Can you walk?" the handler asked, slapping his cheek lightly.

Panting heavily, Halim gasped, "I... I can't feel my leg..."

The handler lowered his eyes. He looked across the arena, glaring at Ezza while gritting his teeth.

"That bastard..."

Halim patted the man's shoulder. He let out a heavy breath. "I can still fight. Let me try to smash him one more time..."

The man looked at Halim sharply. "Don't be reckless. He's still-"

"Let me fight. Again... I'm still strong. Are you underestimating the Grim Reaper?"

The man went silent. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. Halim waved off the medics, telling them he was fine. The handler helped him up. The audience erupted into a deafening roar as Halim stood. Halim grinned at the crowd. He asked the handler to let go. He hobbled to the side of the arena on his left leg, his right leg dragging uselessly behind him across the floor.

Raden's eyes watered seeing his father limp back into the fight.

Halim exhaled. He stared at Ezza with pure hatred. He ground his teeth together, his breath coming in hot bursts, his forehead furrowed deep in concentration.

The bell dinged.

Ezza charged aggressively again. He aimed a kick straight at Halim's broken leg. But just as Ezza launched the attack, Halim shifted his weight, dodged, and punched Ezza's face twice in rapid succession. Ezza stumbled back, his eyes swelling even worse.

Ezza stared back, furious. He became even more aggressive, throwing punches and kicks from every angle. Halim took hits to the face, arms, and stomach. They traded blows, both panting heavily, pausing for a split second.

Then, Ezza feinted a punch and switched to a kick aimed at Halim's bad leg.

But...

Halim saw the trap. He jumped. In mid-air, he spun his body, aligning his left leg perfectly, and delivered a spinning kick to Ezza's head with everything he had left. Ezza's head snapped back violently, and he hit the floor hard. exactly two seconds later, the round timer hit zero. The bell rang three times. The crowd screamed with wild excitement. Raden wiped a tear from his eye, smiling at the screen.

Halim fell to the floor. He tried to get up, and then... he began to stomp on Ezza's head. repeatedly. violently. screaming with every impact.

The cheers of the crowd suddenly turned into hysterical screams as blood began to pool rapidly around Ezza's head. Medics, technicians, and crew members rushed in to pull Halim away from his brutal assault.

Raden's smile vanished. The sadness from moments ago turned into cold shock.

The video froze, the screen glitching out in the final few seconds. Raden's jaw dropped. His eyes bulged in horror.

"Dad... what really happened?"