THE 13TH FIGHT
Before the 13th fight, they asked Grand Monster Bass if he believed in superstition.
The question came from somewhere beyond the barricades — nearly overtaken by thunder, warning sirens, and the roar of the crowd gathered along the flooded shoreline.
The sky twisted above black waters near the Cape of Good Hope. Searchlights swept across the sea as if searching for something ancient beneath the depths.
And the lake exploded!
Splatters of water burst everywhere, shooting nearly the height of the twisting vortex.
Busted up warning signs spun through the air.
Marine vegetation whipped across the flooded arena, spiraling violently within the vortex’s pull.
One sign spun past the docks:
WARNING — MONSTER BASS ON THE LOOSE.
Far beyond the shoreline, the forest burned in patches of orange and red, flames bending sideways and whipping around as they fed the inferno.
And from the center of the chaos, Grand Monster Bass emerged.
Massive.
Scaled in deep green and black.
Water cascading from his shoulders like collapsing waterfalls.
Across from him, another titan rose from the smoke and surf — darker, jagged, and wild-eyed, a creature that looked less like a champion and more like something dragged from the depthless bottom of a forgotten world.
The two monsters collided with enough force to shake the shoreline.
Water burst against concrete barriers.
Floodlights shattered.
Sirens screamed.
For a moment, the entire scene felt suspended somewhere between myth and reality — a place where storms breathed, forests burned, and legends walked openly before mankind.
Then the question came again:
“Do you believe in superstition?”
The fires reflected across the water.
The vortex turned slowly behind him.
Somewhere inland, another warning siren faded into the distance.
Grand Monster Bass stared across the burning shoreline.
Then he answered:
“I only operate in reality.”
THE 13TH FIGHT
