The crowd is screaming from every corner. People are shouting, voices blasting through the loudspeakers, the judges yelling, and the spectators screaming at the top of their lungs. The entire crowd starts rushing toward the ring like a bunch of crazed people.

And then;

A voice echoes through the arena.

A voice so powerful that it sends chills down everyone’s spine.

Today was the final match of the boxing championship, and standing in the ring was none other than Maliha Denim, the fighter known as the “Ferocious Fury.”

She was a great fighter.

Surrounded by four or five people, Maliha walks toward the ring wearing her signature hooded boxing robe .She steps into the ring, tightens her gloves around her fists, and raises them with confidence, ready for the fight.

Maliha gave her opponent a mischievous smile; the kind of smile that made even the bravest person feel a slight shiver of fear. People knew Maliha for one thing: she wasn't afraid of anyone.

She was ready to fight her opponent. In fact, she was ready to break her bones into pieces.

Maliha was aggressive. Her mind never focused on defense first; attack always came first. She never cared about her enemies or what they thought of her.

That was why she was known as the “Ferocious Fury,” or simply “FF.”

Everyone in the female boxing community feared her. But the fear didn't stop with Maliha. Her father; the only coach who had ever truly inspired and motivated her, was also feared by many male boxers, most of whom were now retired.

With a mocking laugh she says to her opponent: "Haha, What? Is the princess scared? Should have told your mommy to breastfeed you properly."

Smirks at her opponent.

Maliha’s opponent felt a little intimidated, and now she was even more nervous. She didn’t know what to say and could only stare at Maliha blankly.

She wanted to come up with a savage reply, something that would shut Maliha up, but nothing came to mind.

In the end, she simply said,

“Let the results decide who needs to be breastfed properly.”

Hearing this Maliha's anger grew stronger, she was being impatient to knock her down after her first punch. She, yes she was staring at Isba; her opponent, as a tiger stares at her prey.

When that intense staring competition was happening between the two of them, someone shouted from the crowd: "Maliha!"

Maliha tilted her head towards the crowd, she recognized that deep, heavy voice shouting her name from the crowd. It was her father The Great Josh Denim.

"Dad!" she jumps to the corner of the ring with dignity and confidence.

"Remember your training, all these years you hustled a lot my child. I have great expectations from you." says The great Josh Denim with a confident look on his face as if he was sure Maliha will win the match tonight.

"AIGHTS!!!" Maliha tucks her knuckles in and growls at josh.

"I will make you proud, and bring home the championship cup" Maliha says with great enthusiasm.

Josh gives Maliha a proud smile, Maliha returns it with brighter one.

Now it was time, to see who will bring home the championship cup. Maliha or Isba?

The referee called both fighters to the center of the ring. Before leaving, Maliha turned toward her father one last time. Her eyes glittered with confidence, and a warm smile appeared on her face.

She took Josh’s hands in hers, kissed them, and gently pressed them against her forehead a symbol of respect and a blessing before the fight.

Josh smiled proudly.

“Go. Make me proud.”

"And the match, BEGINS!" the commentator shouts while swaying away his hand between the two of them.

Everyone watched in tense silence, their eyes fixed on the two fighters.

The match was brutal and intense. Sweat trickled down Isba’s forehead as she steadied herself, never taking her eyes off Maliha.

Suddenly, Maliha surged forward.

She swung her arm with a confident smirk and landed a hard punch against Isba. The impact was enough to make Isba stagger, her head spinning for a moment as she struggled to regain her balance.

But Isba wasn't backing down.

She lunged forward and threw a punch of her own. Maliha quickly slipped to the side, dodging it by inches, then countered without hesitation.

CRACK!

Her fist struck Isba's nose.

Isba stumbled backward, immediately covering her nose as blood began to trickle down. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, spat onto the floor, and slowly raised her eyes toward Maliha.

The crowd fell silent.

Isba stared directly into Maliha's eyes and raised her hand, curling her fingers in a clear challenge.

"Come here."

Maliha's smirk widened.

Finally, she had found someone who could take a hit and still stand.

She tightened her fists and stepped forward. Hearing the crowd chanting her name, Maliha’s confidence surged. She glanced toward them, then back at Isba with a sharp, determined stare and a playful smirk.

This time, she was going to end it. Going to strike hard without mercy

Maliha swiftly rushed forward, moving with incredible speed. Isba’s eyes widened in shock. She barely had time to react before Maliha was already closing the distance. Maliha was about to throw her punch at isba going to knock her down once for all and then:

“AAGHHHH!”

A piercing scream erupted from the crowd. Everyone’s attention snapped toward the sound. But Maliha froze her punch froze in air, standing still her smile vanished.

She knew that voice.

Her heart seemed to stop.

Everything around her stopped.

she tilted her head towards the crowd.

Without even thinking, she turned her head toward the crowd, and there he was.

Her father lay on the ground, a knife wound in his abdomen, with blood staining the ground around him.

Maliha stared in disbelief. Witnessing all that blood spurting out like a fountain from Josh's body.

Her fists loosened.

Her entire body went still.

For a moment, the match, the crowd, and everything around her seemed to disappear.

"Dad..." Maliha mumbled.

That single distraction was all Isba needed. Without hesitation, Isba stepped forward and landed a powerful punch

THUD!

Maliha dropped on the ground with that punch, her eyes slowly began to close, black vision invading her eyes. At that moment, the only thing she could see was her father's lifeless body lying on the ground, his eyes still open, staring blankly into the distance.

The referee rushed forward to confirm Maliha's knock out, and then... everything went black Infront of her.

And at last, Isba was able to knock out Maliha Denim the infamous Ferocious Fury, whom no one had the guts to even stand still Infront of.

Soft whispers drifted through the haze of unconsciousness.

Maliha frowned.

At first, the voices seemed distant, almost as though they were coming from the other side of a thick wall. But gradually, they became clearer two grown adults speaking in loud voices somewhere nearby. Their words were difficult to make out, yet their hushed conversation was enough to irritate her.

"Why are they speaking so loud?" Maliha's murmurs to herself annoyingly.

She tried to ignore them, hoping they would eventually stop. Instead, the murmuring continued, occasionally breaking into fragments of straight, unmistakable conversation. The irritation slowly pulled her from the darkness.

Maliha's fingers twitched.

Then, with considerable effort, her eyelids began to open. A bright white light greeted her. She blinked several times, her vision blurry at first. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar. The air carried a faint sterile smell, and somewhere nearby, a machine gave a quiet, rhythmic beep. Her brows knitted together.

"Where am I?" Maliha thinks to herself questionably.

She slowly turned her head.

White walls. Medical equipment. In patient's clothes.

A hospital.

Maliha's eyes widened slightly.

She tried to move, but a strange sensation in her arm caught her attention. Looking down, she saw a drip connected to her vein, the transparent tube running toward a hanging bag beside the bed. Her memory felt distant and scattered, like pieces of a dream she couldn't quite grasp. Her headache starts to grow when she remembers what happened last night; her father's death and getting knocked out by Isba.

Maliha lefts out a sigh while looking at the ceiling, she was mixed up in feelings, she leaves a tear from her eyes. And that tear was for her father's death, that tear rolling down her cheek and her mind filled with thoughts. She tries to sit straight and gets up looking here and there something lying on the sofa caught her attention. A leather bag rested quietly on the bed.

Maliha studied it. It wasn't hers; the sight immediately gave her a clue.

Someone had visited her.

But who? besides her father she never knew anyone. The question suddenly occupied her entire mind.

She slowly looked around the room again, listening carefully to the fading whispers nearby.

Her expression hardened with confusion. Whatever had happened before she woke up, someone clearly knew more than she did and Maliha intended to find out who.

Suddenly her room's door opens, and two figures came in walking from it; she doesn't know none. But by judging their clothing Maliha understood that the person who opened the door was a doctor. Maliha was judging both of them, she didn't utter a single word from her mouth, because the doctor was there to do the honors.

"Oh, you're awake. How are you feeling?" the doctor asked her.

Before answering Maliha looked at him with raised brows.

"I am good." she answered him with no emotions.

"Alright, let me check your blood pressure." The doctor said while coming towards her.

Maliha didn't say anything and looked at the person: standing beside the door resting his back on the wall, arms folded veins on the forearm visible, wearing a fitted suit and a luxurious watch. From top to bottom, that man was an epitome of richness. That slim face and beard with visible cheekbones, he was handsome yet seemed old.

The doctor checked Maliha's blood pressure and was satisfied with the results. He stood up and went towards the door; he passed a smile to Maliha; "what a cheerful doctor" she thought to herself. Before going the doctor said to that man "Take good care of her.". The man nodded and the doctor went from there closing the door.