"I told you. You need to harness that power." The voice came from behind him cold, and flat.

  "Jesus!" Terry jumped as he turned around. The being that had brought him to this world watched him coldly underneath a hood that seemed to hide the secrets of the universe. "How do I train it? It just kinda happened in the match."

  The being let out a deep sigh. "You need to give into your darker impulses your anger, your hatred, your desire to hurt others."

  "I can't train myself to do those things."

  The beings cold gaze seemed to go through Terry. "Then use what you have, or fail like you always have."

  Terry's heart pounded as he stared at the hooded figure, the words hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on him. "Then use what you have, or fail like you always have." The words echoed through his mind, each syllable biting into his resolve. The being’s presence felt almost suffocating, the aura around it radiating darkness and power.

  Terry clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He could feel a rush of anger at the hooded figure’s words, the way they tore at him, the way they seemed to see right through him. Fail like you always have—those words struck deep. They weren’t just a warning, they were a reminder of everything he had been through, every setback, every time he had been denied his shot at greatness.

  "I—" Terry started, then stopped. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to admit that the being was right, didn’t want to face the reality that without embracing his darker side, he was never going to be more than just Terry Starr—the guy who never quite made it.

  The figure stepped forward, the hood casting shadows across its face. "You want to win, don't you?" it asked, its voice cold and unyielding. "You want to prove that you're not just another failure, that you can be more than the people who doubted you."

  Terry swallowed, his throat dry. He could feel it—the temptation, the pull of the darkness. It had been there in the match, driving him, giving him the strength to win. It was raw, untamed power, but it was his. He looked at the figure, the cold gaze beneath the hood piercing into him.

  "I... I do," Terry said, his voice barely a whisper. "I want to win. I want to show them all."

  The figure nodded, the slightest movement. "Then stop holding back. Stop letting your fears, your doubts, your need for approval dictate who you are. You are Legion—embrace it. The darkness, the anger, the hatred—it’s all a part of you. Use it, let it fuel you, and no one will be able to stand in your way."

  Terry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He could feel it—the anger, the resentment, everything he had kept buried deep down inside. It was there, waiting to be unleashed. He had always held back, afraid of what he might become, afraid of losing himself. But now, in this world, with everything on the line, he realized that holding back was no longer an option.

  He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with the figure’s. "How?" he asked, his voice firmer now. "How do I train it?"

  The being stepped closer, its cold voice almost a whisper. "Focus on thosed you resent, those you wish you could tear apart in this world. Feed it, nurture it, until it becomes a part of everything you do. You have two weeks, Legion. Two weeks to harness what is already within you. Use that time, or you will fall."

  Terry felt a chill run through him, the reality of what lay ahead settling in. Two weeks. He had two weeks to become something more, to fully embrace the darkness, to train himself to use it. He took a deep breath, his fists still clenched, the fear slowly beginning to fade, replaced by something else—determination.

  The figure stepped back, its form beginning to fade into the shadows, its voice echoing one last time. "Remember, Legion—the power is within you. All you need to do is let it out."

  And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the figure was gone, leaving Terry alone in the locker room. He stared at the empty space where it had stood, the weight of its words pressing down on him. He knew what he had to do. If he wanted to win, if he wanted to prove himself, he couldn’t be afraid of the darkness anymore.

  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "No more holding back," he whispered to himself. "No more doubts. I am Legion, and I am many."

  He opened his eyes, and this time, he saw it—the darkness, the power, the determination. There was no more Terry. There was only Legion, and in two weeks, the world would see exactly what that meant.

  Rise or Leaf would be the a stage, and Legion would be the star.

  After he woke up still on the bench in the locker room. Terry went straight to the weights and began lifting. Starting at his maximum. 'Come on Terry focus.' He huffed and puffed and began to struggle as the weight rattled. 'Focus.' The word repeated in his head. 'Focus on Edwin Birchwood. The man who held you back cause of your father.' His breathing became deeper. 'Focus on Triple F. The man who shot down every idea you had.' The darkness began to coil around him and soon the weight was going up and down. Effortlessly.

  The barbell moved with a newfound rhythm, the weights clanging with each rep. Terry could feel it—the anger, the resentment, the bitterness. It wasn’t just in his mind—it was in his muscles, his bones, driving him, fueling every lift. His breathing steadied, his focus sharpening, the names echoing in his head like a mantra.

  Edwin Birchwood—the man who had held him down, who had refused to let him shine because of some old grudge against his family. Triple F—the man who had belittled his creativity, dismissing every idea, treating him like he’d never be more than a mid-carder. These names weren’t just memories—they were fuel for the fire inside him, the fire that Legion needed.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  The darkness coiled tighter, wrapping around him, each rep feeling lighter, easier. The pain that had lingered from his match with Valor faded to the background. There was no room for pain, no room for weakness. All there was now was the weight, the iron in his hands, and the power that surged through him.

  He let out a guttural growl, pushing himself harder, the barbell rising and falling effortlessly. He didn't need approval, didn’t need anyone to tell him what he could or couldn’t do. All he needed was this—the power, the darkness, the force that would make him unstoppable.

  “I am Legion,” he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with both exhaustion and a sense of triumph. He pushed the weight up once more, locking his arms out, then carefully set the barbell back onto the rack, the metal clanging as it made contact.

  He sat up, his chest heaving, the sweat dripping from his face, but he felt... good. Strong. He looked down at his hands, at the callouses forming, the veins bulging. This was the transformation he needed—both in body and mind.

  Terry got up, moving over to the next set of weights, grabbing the heaviest dumbbells he could find. There was no time to rest, no time to doubt. The hooded figure's words echoed in his mind—“Harness the power, or fail like you always have.”

  Failure wasn’t an option. Not now, not when he had come this far.

  He lifted the dumbbells, curling them, each rep accompanied by a deep exhale. He let his mind drift, let the memories of every person who had doubted him, every obstacle that had stood in his way, fill his thoughts. He could feel the darkness grow stronger, feel it surge through him, pushing him, urging him to keep going.

  The door to the locker room opened, and Terry glanced over, seeing a few of the younger wrestlers peeking in, their eyes wide as they watched him. They whispered to each other, their gazes filled with a mix of awe and fear. He knew what they saw—Legion, not Terry Starr. And that was exactly what he wanted.

  He let out a low growl, and the wrestlers quickly disappeared, the door clicking shut behind them. Good, he thought, his eyes narrowing. They needed to know who he was, needed to understand that he wasn’t here to play games.

  He finished his set, dropping the dumbbells onto the floor with a loud thud, the sound echoing through the empty locker room. He moved to the next exercise, and then the next, pushing himself, testing his limits, each movement driven by the darkness that swirled within him.

  This was how he would prepare—not just physically, but mentally. He would embrace the darkness, let it consume him, let it become a part of everything he did. The cage match at Rise or Leaf wasn’t just about defeating Valor—it was about proving to himself, and to the world, that Legion was real, that he was a force to be reckoned with.

  He stopped for a moment, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his face. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, the face staring back at him no longer Terry Starr, but something else—something darker, something more powerful.

  "No heroes," he whispered to himself, his eyes cold, determined. "Only the strong survive."

  He knew what he needed to do. He would train until there was no doubt left, until every bit of Terry was gone, until all that remained was Legion. The anger, the hatred, the desire to win at all costs—he would harness it all, make it his weapon.

  And when the steel cage match came, when he stood across from Valor with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, he would show the world exactly what he had become.

  Because this wasn’t just a match. It was a statement—a declaration that Legion was here to stay, and that anyone who stood in his way would fall.

  Rise or Leaf was two weeks away, and by the time the match came, Legion would be ready. Ready to rise, ready to dominate, ready to show everyone that there were no heroes, only the darkness that would consume them all.

  ***

  Terry had made the locker room his home—his sanctuary of darkness and solitude. The other wrestlers who had to use the room never asked questions, never even made eye contact. It was as if they understood, on an instinctual level, that Legion was something beyond their comprehension now, a storm they didn’t want to get caught in.

  He had carved out a corner of the room for himself, setting up a makeshift sleeping area with whatever he could find—spare mats, a worn blanket. It wasn't about comfort. It was about focus. It was about staying in the mindset he needed to fully become Legion.

  Day after day, he pushed his body to the brink. The weights, the conditioning drills, everything served one purpose: to forge Legion into a weapon sharper than ever before. And while he worked his body, his mind was laser-focused on every betrayal, every injustice, every obstacle he had ever faced. He didn't just think about them—he embraced them. He let them fill every part of him.

  The names became mantras. Edwin Birchwood. Triple F. The faces of those who had laughed at him, who had doubted him, filled his mind. Each rep of the dumbbells was a punch thrown at the ghosts of his past. Each pull-up was a climb away from the self-doubt that had once shackled him.

  He treated the hatred like it was a living part of him, something he could channel and focus. It wasn't just an emotion—it was a weapon, an extension of himself. The rage, the bitterness, the resentment—it all coiled together, becoming a powerful force that fueled him.

  And he pointed this weapon, all of this raw, seething emotion, straight at Valor.

  Valor represented everything Legion was not. Valor was the hero, the fan favorite, the one everyone wanted to succeed. He was the embodiment of hope, of righteousness, of the belief that good always triumphed over evil. But Terry knew better. Terry had seen firsthand how the real world worked, and he knew that there were no happy endings, no guarantees. It was time to bring some of his old world into this new one. A lesson for everyone

  Every night, he imagined the upcoming steel cage match. He visualized Valor standing across from him, the hero in all his glory, the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears. And every night, Legion imagined tearing it all down. He imagined the crowd’s cheers turning to gasps of horror as the hero fell, as Legion showed them all the truth—that there were no heroes, only those willing to do whatever it took to win.

  He could feel it—this power, this darkness growing inside him. It wasn't just something he tapped into during matches. It had become a part of him, a part of everything he did. He spoke less, spent more time alone, and whenever he caught sight of himself in the mirror, he saw less and less of Terry Starr. The smile was different now—twisted, darker, filled with malice.

  One day, as he stood in front of the mirror, his face covered in fresh paint, dark lines stretching across his features, he whispered to himself, "I am not Terry anymore. I am Legion. And soon, they'll all see what that means."

  He continued to train, to prepare, each day blending into the next. Time had lost its meaning. There was only the goal. Valor would be the first. The first to truly understand what Legion was. The first to feel the full force of the darkness he had embraced.

  And it wouldn't end with Valor. This was just the beginning. Once Rise or Leaf was over, once Valor lay defeated inside that steel cage, the rest of the world would have to take notice. The rest of the world would see that Legion was not someone to be underestimated, not someone to be overlooked.

  He would rise. Beyond this federation, beyond the idea of companies altogether. Legion had his eyes set on the world before him. For the first time in his life he felt he had the whole world in his hands.

  And in ten days, inside that steel cage, Valor would learn the hard way.