Ochieng sat at the balcony of his private chamber, high above the city lights of the Celestial Tower. The night wind carried the distant echoes of laughter and music from the Forbidden Gala below, but his mind was elsewhere.
A silver coin spun between his fingers, a habit he had developed whenever deep in thought.
The Eight Provinces had acknowledged him.
Jin Wei had shown interest.
But was that truly an honor—or a curse?
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter," he said calmly.
The door creaked open, revealing Lady Crimson.
She stepped in with the grace of a phantom, her red dress flowing like liquid fire. The wound on her wrist, where Ochieng had effortlessly countered her earlier attack, was neatly bandaged.
"I underestimated you," she admitted, her voice like silk. "Few have ever bested me in combat, and even fewer have done it with such ease."
Ochieng remained silent, watching her with cold amusement.
She took a slow step forward.
"But what intrigues me more," she continued, "is your story. Who are you, really?"
Ochieng leaned back, his expression unreadable.
"A student," he said.
She laughed—a rich, sultry sound filled with amusement.
"A student?" she echoed. "Then I must be a nun."
He smirked but said nothing.
Lady Crimson's eyes gleamed with something between curiosity and danger.
"The world doesn't reward silence, Ochieng," she said. "You're already in the game. Whether you like it or not, you're playing against monsters."
She turned, walking toward the window, her reflection shimmering in the moonlight.
"When the time comes, I hope you choose wisely."
Then, as if she had never been there, she vanished into the night.
Ochieng exhaled slowly.
He wasn't just in the game.
He was about to rewrite the rules.
---
Morning came swiftly.
The sun barely rose over the city when a letter, sealed in crimson wax, arrived at his doorstep.
The invitation read:
"Ochieng, the world has taken notice of you. But power must be tested. If you are worthy, come to the Four Kings Tournament at the Valley of Swords. Win, and the path to greatness shall open. Lose, and you will disappear."
His grip on the letter tightened.
The Four Kings Tournament.
An underground event held once every decade.
Only four warriors ever walked out alive.
The rest? Forgotten corpses buried in the valley.
Ochieng folded the letter neatly, placed it on the table, and stood.
If the world wanted a test—
He would give them an answer they would never forget.
---
The journey to the Valley was long and treacherous.
Ochieng rode alone through the misty mountains, past abandoned temples and forgotten battlegrounds.
As he arrived at the valley, a vast crowd had already gathered. Thousands of spectators.
Warriors from across the continent had come to witness history.
The arena itself was a massive stone platform, surrounded by countless broken swords embedded in the ground—each one a silent grave marker of a fallen challenger.
At the center stood four warriors.
The reigning kings of the underground world.
Each of them an undefeated monster in their own right.
King Lei: A ruthless martial artist who once killed a man with a single flick of his fingers.
King Baku: A behemoth of muscle, known for shattering boulders with his fists.
King Renji: A cunning strategist who had never lost a battle.
King Shin: A masked swordsman whose blade was said to cut even the wind itself.
And now, a fifth contender had arrived.
Ochieng stepped forward.
The crowd fell silent.
King Lei chuckled, crossing his arms. "You're the one they've been talking about? A mere student?"
King Baku cracked his knuckles. "This won't take long."
Ochieng simply smiled.
Then—
The gong sounded.
And all hell broke loose.
---
King Lei was the first to strike, his movements faster than the eye could follow. His fingers aimed straight for Ochieng's pressure points—a single touch meant instant paralysis.
But Ochieng dodged. Effortlessly.
Then, with a swift counter, he delivered a devastating blow to Lei's ribs, sending him crashing backward.
The crowd gasped.
A king had fallen within seconds.
Baku roared, charging at him like a mountain collapsing. His fists could break bones upon impact.
But Ochieng—
Moved like the wind.
Sidestepping gracefully, he struck Baku's knee, dislocating it with a sickening crack.
The giant crumbled.
Two kings down.
King Renji narrowed his eyes.
He hadn't even drawn his weapon yet, but now he unsheathed a curved dagger from his robe.
"A warrior is only as strong as his mind," Renji said, moving in a blur.
His blade slashed toward Ochieng's throat—but missed by a hair.
In one fluid motion, Ochieng grabbed Renji's wrist, twisted it violently, and—snap.
Renji collapsed.
Three kings had fallen.
The last one remained.
King Shin, the masked swordsman.
Silence fell over the valley.
The air itself seemed to tremble as Shin drew his blade.
"This… is interesting," Shin murmured.
Then—
He vanished.
Ochieng's instincts flared.
A silver blur slashed toward his chest—a strike too fast to see.
But Ochieng didn't move.
Instead, he caught the blade with his bare hand.
The crowd exploded in shock.
Shin's mask cracked, his eyes widening for the first time.
Ochieng smirked.
"Your sword is fast," he said. "But you? You're too slow."
Then—
With a single palm strike, he sent King Shin flying off the stage.
---
The stunned silence that followed Ochieng's victory lasted only a moment. Then—like a thunderstorm breaking the heavens—the entire valley erupted into chaos.
The crowd roared in disbelief. Four kings had fallen.
Some warriors trembled at the sight, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Others whispered in awe, eyes burning with newfound reverence.
But among them, there were also those whose gazes turned dark—rival clans, jealous masters, and underground factions who had built their power on the backs of the Four Kings.
Their empire had just crumbled.
And Ochieng stood at the center of it all.
---
A figure in a black robe stepped forward from the crowd. His aura was suffocating.
He was known as The Elder Judge, one of the hidden overseers of the underground martial world.
"You have defeated the kings," his voice was calm yet carried the weight of mountains. "By right, you now claim the title of Supreme King of the Underground."
A golden medallion was presented, etched with ancient symbols.
Ochieng studied it, fingers brushing over the cold metal.
Then, with the smallest of smirks, he accepted it.
The moment his fingers closed around the medallion, the fate of the underground world shifted.
---
Even as the coronation was being celebrated, Ochieng could feel it. Danger was near.
Far in the distance, hidden behind the mountain peaks, a pair of golden eyes watched.
A man in silver robes stood atop a tree branch, arms folded. His presence alone made the air grow heavy, as if the sky itself bowed before him.
"The brat is interesting," he murmured.
A woman in a dark qipao knelt beside him, her voice a whisper.
"He is not to be underestimated, my lord. Shall we eliminate him now?"
The silver-robed man chuckled, his voice deep and commanding.
"No." He turned, disappearing into the shadows. "Let him rise a little higher first… It will make the fall all the more satisfying."
---
As the night deepened, Ochieng sat alone in the chamber provided for the new champion.
The room was lavish, fit for a king. Exotic wine, gold-trimmed walls, silk bedding—luxury beyond compare.
But his mind was elsewhere.
This was only the beginning.
Tonight, he had shattered an empire.
Tomorrow, the world would retaliate.
And he would be waiting.
---