Vi slumped against the bar, the pulsing bass of the club barely registering through the fog of fatigue that enveloped her.

The dim lights reflected off her bruised knuckles, reminders of another night in the pit. The thrill of the fight had faded, leaving only a hollow ache that resonated in her chest.

Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, each match sapping a little more of her spirit. She watched the crowd—people lost in their revelry, oblivious to the scars and shadows that haunted her. The cheers that once fueled her now felt distant, like echoes from a life she could hardly remember.

Vi took a sip of her drink, its bitterness matching the taste of defeat she couldn’t shake. The pit was supposed to be her escape, but instead, it had become a prison, each fight dragging her deeper into a cycle of despair. She closed her eyes, wishing for a moment of peace, but the weight of her choices pressed down harder than any opponent.