Se Volvió Valiente (Became Fearless)

Both fighters are in the ring now, standing a few feet apart. The atmosphere is tense. The crowd watches with bated breath, murmurs of excitement rippling through the room.

Referee: You both know the rules… or lack of them. Fight until one of you can’t get up. Good luck.

Halfa (thinking):This isn’t just another fight. He’s a symbol of everything I fear—of what lies ahead if I fail.

The bell rings. Osvaldo moves first, launching a swift jab at Halfa’s face. Halfa dodges, barely avoiding the strike, but Osvaldo’s speed surprises him. Sweat flicks off his brow as he twists away.

Halfa (thinking): Fast! Faster than anyone I’ve faced. He’s on a different level.

Osvaldo Malo: Come on, kid. Show me what you’ve got, or don’t waste my time.

He lunged forward with lightning speed, his fist aimed straight for Halfa’s face. Halfa barely dodged, feeling the wind of the punch grazing his cheek. Osvaldo was fast—faster than anyone he had faced before.

For several heart-pounding moments, they exchanged blows, each testing the other’s strength. Halfa struggled to keep up, his instincts sharp but his reflexes barely enough to dodge Osvaldo’s attacks. Osvaldo’s movements were fluid, almost graceful, each punch and kick delivered with precision and deadly intent.

But despite the pain, Halfa pushed forward. He could feel the weight of his fears, the doubts that had plagued him since his encounter with El Lobo. Yet, in facing Osvaldo, he found a new kind of strength—a determination not just to survive, but to prove himself worthy.

Halfa grits his teeth, launching himself at Osvaldo with a series of rapid punches. Osvaldo blocks easily, deflecting Halfa’s attacks with an almost casual grace.

Osvaldo Malo: Is that all? I’ve seen tougher punches from amateurs.

Halfa (thinking): I can’t let him get in my head. Focus, Halfa. This isn’t just about brute strength.

As the fight progressed, Osvaldo’s smirk began to fade. He had underestimated Halfa, expecting the young fighter to falter under his relentless assault. But Halfa’s resilience was unmatched. Every time he was knocked down, he rose again, his eyes burning with a fierce determination that even Osvaldo couldn’t ignore.

With a brutal, calculated move, Osvaldo lands a powerful punch to Halfa’s ribs, forcing him to stagger back. Pain flashes across Halfa’s face, but he doesn’t go down.

Halfa (thinking): He’s relentless. It’s like fighting a machine. No hesitation, no mercy.

 “You’re tougher than you look,” Osvaldo admitted, a hint of respect in his tone. But his eyes gleamed with excitement. “But toughness isn’t enough in this world. You need to know when to quit.”

Osvaldo Malo: That fear I see in your eyes… It’ll be your downfall if you don’t confront it.

Halfa clenches his fists, a new fire in his eyes. He takes a steadying breath, his fear replaced with fierce determination. Osvaldo watches, intrigued by the shift in his expression. Halfa gritted his teeth, feeling the sting of Osvaldo’s words. He knew that Osvaldo was right in a way—fighting without purpose, without understanding his limits, could lead to ruin. But he also knew that he couldn’t back down, not now, not after everything he had been through.

Halfa: You’re right, Osvaldo. Fear held me back once. But not anymore.

Halfa: “I’m not here to quit, I’m here to win.”

Osvaldo Malo: Heh. Then let’s see if you can handle what comes next

With a shout, he launched himself at Osvaldo, his fists flying with renewed vigor. The crowd roared as the two fighters clashed, each blow echoing through the arena like thunder. This was no longer just a fight. It was a battle of wills, a test of who would break first.

Halfa’s mind flashes back to his last encounter with El Lobo—those piercing eyes, the feeling of being completely outmatched. His hands tremble slightly as he recalls the helplessness.

Halfa (thinking): Fear. It had almost destroyed me before. El Lobo made sure of that.

Halfa (thinking): But I’m not the same. I’m stronger now… I have to be.

Osvaldo Malo (thinking): This kid… he’s adapting. Impressive.

Halfa (thinking): Come on be fearless. Surpass it. I need to keep moving forward.

Osvaldo noticed the change, a flicker of something deeper in Halfa’s gaze. For the first time, he felt a twinge of doubt. This wasn’t just another street brawler. This was someone with a purpose, a reason to fight that went beyond survival.

With a final, desperate strike, Halfa managed to land a punch on Osvaldo’s jaw, staggering the seasoned fighter. The crowd erupted in cheers, sensing the shift in momentum. Osvaldo glared at Halfa, a mixture of frustration and admiration in his eyes. He hadn’t expected this level of resilience, this unbreakable spirit.

Both fighters are exhausted, breathing heavily. They exchange a final series of punches, each one landing with punishing force. In the end, both stagger, struggling to stay on their feet.A clash of willpower, neither willing to fall first.

Referee:DRAW! This fight… is a DRAW!

Osvaldo extends a hand to Halfa, acknowledging the fight. Halfa takes it, a mutual respect forming between them. The crowd cheers, having witnessed a fight to remember.

Osvaldo Malo: You’re tougher than I thought. We’ll meet again, I’m sure.

Halfa: Count on it. But next time, I won’t settle for a draw.

As the final bell rang, the fight was declared a draw, but Halfa felt a sense of victory. He had faced his fears, stood up to a new rival, and emerged stronger. Osvaldo gave him a nod of respect before leaving the ring, a silent acknowledgment of the battle they had just shared.

But as Halfa caught his breath, he knew that this was only the beginning. Osvaldo might be a new rival, but El Lobo was still out there, waiting. And Halfa was ready. Ready to face whatever came next, to push past his fears, and to find the answers he sought.

As he walked out of the arena, he felt a sense of purpose unlike anything he had ever known. This journey was far from over, but for the first time, he felt prepared for the battles to come.

To Be Continue…

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