He stood apart from the roiling crowd, an island of controlled stillness in the turbulent sea of fighters. He was younger than most, lean and wiry, with a tightly disciplined posture that spoke volumes. He wore black and gold, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos around them. Ryan noted the focused intensity in his dark eyes, the almost predator-like aura he exuded. This was no ordinary participant.

The organizer gestured vaguely at the assembled fighters, a dismissive wave. The younger man’s lips tightened, a flicker of something like disdain crossing his face. He wanted a real fight, a test of his skills.

He turned, his dark gaze locking onto her. For a moment, there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, perhaps at her appearance – the bright blue curls, the striking purple eyes, the unconventional rollerskate stance. But it quickly hardened into assessment.

“You?” he questioned, a hint of skepticism laced in his tone.