Then Barth stepped into the ring.

Lilah began to speak but suddenly felt a tight knot in her chest, a wave of panic washing over her.

Her legs grew weak and she struggled to keep upright.

She frowned, willing herself to stand firm, trying to understand when she had been affected.

The competition was about to begin. Leaving was out of the question.

She steeled herself as she was determined to push through the pain.

Below, Bartley observed Lilah with a smirk, noting every change in her expression.

"Just hold on, Lilah," he muttered under his breath with smug satisfaction. "The drug will break your spirit and sap your strength. Then we'll see what you can do."

Bartley stroked his grizzled beard, satisfied with his scheme.

If Lilah tried to fight through, her body would go haywire. Soon, leadership would naturally pass to Barth.

The announcer called for silence, quieting the crowd with the microphone, and the arena fell silent.

The referee gave the signal, and the eagerly awaited match began.

“Lilah, I will treat you with the utmost respect," Barth murmured, his voice low and sincere.

He, too, had no way out.

Lilah's face stayed calm, but inside, she was scrambling to find a quick way to defeat her opponent.

She knew she couldn't last long.

Barth sprang into action.

He leapt up with his fists clenched and teeth gritted and aimed a fierce punch at Lilah's face.

She dodged swiftly and then grabbed Barth's right arm in a smooth move, using his momentum to throw him hard.

She used about eighty percent of her strength, hurling Barth through the air.

Taken by surprise, he spiraled but managed to regain control midair.

He landed, stumbling several steps but staying within the ring.

The rules of the competition were straightforward: falling out of the ring meant losing.

A strange hush fell over the crowd.