Рѕр° Рѕрґрѕрѕрірѕ (21-01-2023) Рѕрѕр»р°р№рѕ: Рџсџс‚рµсђрѕ

"You're a madman, Viktor," the promoter whispered. "Why take a five-to-one bet?"

For the first three minutes, Viktor didn't strike. He danced. He used the brothers' momentum against each other, staying on the periphery, making the Five trip over their own shadows. He was "buying time," letting the adrenaline dump wear them out. "You're a madman, Viktor," the promoter whispered

Finally, there was only The Ghost. He was fresh, having waited for his moment. He pulled a concealed blade—a violation of the Red Circle rules. The crowd gasped, but the referee, paid off by the house, looked away. He used the brothers' momentum against each other,

Viktor stood in the center of the ring, his knuckles taped, his breathing slow. He wasn't a giant, but he moved with the economical grace of a man who had spent a decade in the shadows. Tonight’s contract was "Five Against One." He was fresh, having waited for his moment

He disappeared into the rainy night, leaving the Red Circle—and five broken men—behind him.

The Grappler lunged, trying to take the fight to the floor, but Viktor caught him in a clinch, using the man as a human shield against the brothers' strikes. With a sharp twist, he sent the Grappler into the corner post.

As Viktor walked out of the ring, bruised and bloodied, the promoter approached him with a stack of bills.