Ryan didn't respond back to him, his knuckles were now completely red, blood flowing faster, a little bit scraped as a little drop of blood dropped down from his knuckle.

[System Alert: Host and Opponent share equal combat level. Both rank — B.]

Stats appeared faintly in his vision.

[Name: Victor]

[Strength — B]

[Agility — B+]

[Endurance — B]

[Intelligence — A+]

Ryan's jaw clenched as he stared at the system window which was hovering in the air. 'He has A+ in intelligence, huh? It fucking explains that smugness of his.'

The man let out a small chuckle as he opened the buttons of his cuffs. "I should get serious too now, dear sire."

Then he moved, his image blurred in the air as he suddenly came in front of Ryan's face. A kick came towards Ryan—he blocked it with his shin, the pain sparked in his leg.

The man followed with a spinning backfist, the speed which forced Ryan to duck down to dodge barely in time, he barely missed it.

Ryan countered back immediately with a sharp jab to the ribs—then another one right after, then it got followed by a quick cross. Each of his hits landed on Victor with a loud thud, but Victor took all of the damage and didn't even flinch, slowly twisting his body with each punch to minimize the damage.

He retaliated with a knee to Ryan's stomach, sending him stumbling back.

Ryan coughed sharply, gripping his side where he just got kicked. "You're strong," he muttered under his breath.

The man smiled. "Did you think I'm a normal butler?"

He moved once again, relentless—a barrage of strikes, fast and fluid. Ryan blocked, parried, sidestepped, the room echoing with the rhythm of their fight.

Sweat rolled down Ryan's temple. His lungs started to burn, but he kept moving. His focus narrowed—every sound faded, every movement slowed down. It was just him, the opponent, and the feeling of survival.

Arthur's voice echoed faintly in his head. Guard high. Never trade. Use your timing, not your rage.

Ryan then slipped under his punch as it grazed past his hair, then twisted his body and drove his fist right into the ribs of Victor. Victor let out a loud grunt—the first real punch which made him get some actual damage.

Ryan didn't stop, he followed immediately with a sharp hook, then a cross—both of the hits connected. Victor stumbled back a bit, his hand rose as it covered his jaw.

A faint bruise had now appeared near his mouth. A small smile curled up on Victor's lips. "Hmm, not bad... not bad at all, dear sire."

Ryan took a step back, breathing hard. His fists trembled slightly from exhaustion. His arms felt heavy.

The man adjusted his tie casually. "But you have now started to slow down, is that all you've got to show me?" His voice came, the tone of mockery was buried deep inside of it.

Ryan didn't answer. He just stared at him—eyes sharp, cold, focused. Victor dashed once again, faster this time, his kicks were whipping through the air. Ryan blocked most of them but took one to the side of his ribs. The pain suddenly shot through his body like fire.

Still, he stood up, not backing down from the fight.

[Host's stamina dropping. Warning: fatigue detected.]

"Fuck no, I'm not gonna fall back at this time." Ryan groaned as he muttered under his breath.

[Special Stat: Will Power — C+ is not activated]

He waited—just one more second, one mistake, one small window. And then finally that chance came, Victor overextended his arm a bit while he was trying to punch Ryan—it was just enough for Ryan to take the initiative.

Ryan's eyes flashed. He ducked under the next hit, twisted on his heel, and drove an uppercut straight into the man's jaw.

CRACK!

The hit landed clean, sharp, perfect. The man's head snapped back—his body froze mid-step and then collapsed on the ground, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

For a few seconds, the room went silent once again, the only sound which was in the air was of Ryan's shallow breaths.

Ryan stood there, panting, body covered in sweat, his chest rising up and then falling down fast. The faint sound of the jazz music had finally stopped playing now.

He looked down at the unconscious man, his mouth curling into a weak smile. "Guess… that's checkmate, Victor."

The System's sound echoed in his head.

[DING!]

[Quest Complete: A Small Club near Sector Plaza — CLEARED]

Ryan blinked, staring at the blue text floating in front of him. His voice came out hoarse but amused. "Cleared… huh? Thank God."

He slowly staggered back a bit as he grabbed the edge of the couch to take the support. Each and every part of his body ached, screaming for mercy. His shoulder was bruised, lip was bleeding, his knuckles were scratched—completely red.

A long deep sigh escaped his lips, shaky breath. "I think... I should really take rest now."

[Host's physical endurance improved. Growth achieved through combat.]

Ryan let out a small weak laugh. "Aha? That's great, I guess..."

He turned towards the exit, legs trembling slightly, each step made his body ache.

He moved past the shattered glass, the broken bottles, the scattered bodies on the ground. The air was thick with smoke and the faint metallic scent of blood. The hallway outside the room was empty—the people must have run away when they heard the commotion.

Ryan pulled his hoodie back up, tightened his mask and stepped outside of the club into the cool breeze of the night air.

He then started running, legs moved fast on pure instinct—through the alleys, across the streets, dodging cars, cutting through the sideways. The cold wind hit his face, mixing with his sweat and faint blood which slowly started to dry.

By the time he reached his apartment building, his vision was slightly blurry from exhaustion. He climbed the stairs two at a time, threw open his door, and collapsed against the wall, sliding down slowly.

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