The Fall of Three
The morning of the second day came in a jiffy.
The fighters’ dorms were alive with noise weights clanging, gloves thudding against invisible opponents, grunts breaking through the air. Some shadowboxed furiously, sweat already dripping. Others stretched in silence, their eyes closed, movements precise and calm. But one thing was certain no one sat idle. Every one prepared in her own way, sharpening herself for the next round.
By 5 p.m., the stadium burst of life again , packed with thousands. Flags waved like waves in the sea of faces, fans screaming the names of their champions. The announcer marched onto the stage, his voice exploding through the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen! The wait is over! Day Two of the Tournament of Immortals begins now!”
The arena shook.
“The rules are simple sixty minutes per fight. Each fighter faces her opponent. If you’re pinned for the count of three, if you tap out, or if you’re knocked out cold you lose. No second chances. Win, and you move forward. Lose… and your journey ends here!”
The giant screens lit up, flashing the faces of the ten warriors. Their images split into five pairs, the matchups locked.
The announcer voice came once again
“From Brazil… the queen of speed… VAAALERIA SILVAAA LIGHTNING!!!”
The crowd erupted as samba drums rolled. Valeria sprinted out, bouncing on her toes, fists snapping in the air. Her speed was a storm barely contained.
“And her opponent… from Serbia… unshaken, immovable… ELLENAAA PETROVIC THE IRON WALL!!!”
Dark, heavy beats thundered as Elena emerged slow, calm, her face unshaken. She raised her fists once, stone-like, and the arena split in chants: “Lightning! Lightning!” against “Iron Wall!”
As both of them settle in the ring the bell rang.
At first, Valeria was flawless ,calculated and striking like scalpel. While All Elena did was to guide
With twenty minutes left, Valeria lunged too wide, too desperate.
Elena seized her mid-swing, twisted, and slammed her flat on the canvas.
The crowd erupted.
“One! Two! Three!” The referee shouted as he slammed his hand on the canvas
Valeria writhed, trying to rise, but Elena didn’t give her a breath. She crashed her shoulder into Valeria’s chest, driving her back down, pinning her fully until the third count rang.
The bell rang and Elena wins .
“Winner ….Elena ‘The Iron Wall’ Petrovic!” The commentator announced
Valeria Silva… eliminated.
"The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and gasps. Elena's fans screamed in delight, while Valeria's supporters wailed in despair. Others sat stunned, still reeling from the shocking turn of events that had unfolded in the final moments."
….
Without wasting much time they moved to the Second Fight The Falcon vs. The Shadow
“From Morocco… sharp-eyed and deadly… LAILAA HADDAD—THE FALCON!”
Desert drums and falcon cries split the air as Lailla strode out, eyes fierce, arms spread like wings. Fans whistled, chanting “Falcon! Falcon!”
Her opponent’s name dropped like a blade.
“And from France… the one they call untouchable… SELENAAA MOREAU—THE SHADOW!!!”
The lights cut to black. A low hum spread across the arena. And then there she was. Selena emerged, hood up, face unreadable, steps slow and deliberate. The crowd exploded, half in worship, half in dread: “SHADOW! SHADOW!”
The bell rang.
Falcon struck first fast, fierce, relentless. She pounded Selena with flurries of blows, desperate to prove herself. For thirty minutes the two seemed locked in a dead heat, commentators won’t stop discussing hiw it looked like it’s going to end in draw fight ,Shadow absorbing strikes and moving with uncanny patience.
Then Selena moved.
A slip. A counter. A precise strike that silenced the arena for a breath.
She caught Falcon by the throat, dragged her down, and locked in tight. Lailla gasped, clawing for air, but Selena’s grip was steel. The crowd screamed, some begging Falcon to fight back.
And then….tap, tap, tap.
The bell rang.
“Winner…Selena ‘The Shadow’ Moreau!”
The arena exploded again half in awe, half in terror. The Falcon was gone, gasping, while Selena didn’t flinch. She rose, adjusted her hood, and walked away as if nothing had happened.
Day Two ended with shock and silence. Lightning had fallen. Falcon was gone. Shadow stood untouchable. Elena stood unbroken.
….
Day Three
The next evening came too fast. The city buzzed with anticipation, the stadium packed fuller than before. Fans screamed louder, banners brighter, the tension suffocating.
The announcer’s voice thundered:
“First fight of Day Three! From Ukraine… cold as ice… KATERINAAA ORLOV THE ICE QUEEN! Versus… from India… unbroken, unyielding… AMAARAAA SINGHHH THE LIONESS!”
The crowd roared.
Katerina’s entrance was frost itself blue lights shimmering like ice. Her glare froze cameras in place. Across from her, Amaara roared, her stride heavy with fire and pride, her country’s flag draped behind her.
The bell rang and the fight begin .
At first, Ice Queen was having the upper hand Amaara absorbed the punishment, step after step, refusing to fall. But as minutes stretched, the tide turned.
Where Katerina was cold, Amaara burned.
Where Katerina waited, Amaara endured.
By the fifty-minute mark, Amaara slammed through her guard, raining fists like a lion tearing prey. Katerina staggered, crumbled, and fell.
“One! Two! Three!”
It was over.
“Winner …Amaara ‘The Lioness’ Singh!”
The stadium erupted. The Ice Queen had melted. The Lioness roared.
And so, by the end of Day Three, three had fallen: Lightning. Falcon. Ice Queen.
And three had risen: Elena the Wall, Selena the Shadow, Amaara the Lioness.
The road to immortality was narrowing fast