WAR
The Journey of Martial

Dark

I lay in bed and just stared up at the ceiling. I was riddled with fatigue but my mind was racing. It’s that kind of tiredness that gives you an actual headache before it lets you fall asleep. The previous night was still such a blur—the yacht party and the confrontation with Team South Africa and "Manslaughter" Zeke Langu. It was insane. I still couldn’t figure out how they’d managed to destroy an entire autonomous sprinter van without anyone seeing them. Between that and the pressure, it was all starting to mash together in my head. But at the same time, it felt like none of it seemed to matter now.

The switch between my old life and my new one was mental.

Coaches said it would happen overnight if I made it onto the team and they were right. I had more money than I’d ever seen in my life. I was famous. Literally walking through streets where people recognised me and cheered for me. I was living the dream I’d always told myself I wanted.

You’d think that I’d feel alive, or at the very least, happy. I mean, I was grateful, but it felt hollow. There I was, in a room that felt far too large and too empty, and I felt more alone than I ever had. There were no cheering crowds and no cameras flashing. There was just me—lying in a bed that felt cold even though there was all this luxury around me.

I turned to my right and looked at my nightstand. My phone was lit up like a Christmas tree. It was buzzing nonstop with notifications. I’d been getting a lot of DMs from fans lately. That and media outlets wanting interviews. Florence had dropped a thread of her own the night before. She had been pushing me to capitalise on this fame.

I ignored the phone.

I didn’t want to burn my retina before my eyes had even had a chance to focus. I had to pace myself with all of the attention, to be honest.

My eyes wandered over to the framed picture of me and my dad. I hadn’t even remembered taking it off the console where it usually sat. That photo meant everything to me. It was taken right after a training session. You could make out that we were both drenched in sweat, but grinning from ear to ear. It had been one of those long and gruelling training sessions. I remembered how proud he looked that day because I had pushed through when I wanted to quit. His arm was around my shoulders in the picture. Both of us looked tired but still full of life.

I rolled onto my back and thought back to that day.

I couldn’t remember who had taken the photo, but I thought long and hard about it before the room faded away and the memory pulled me back to a different day. It was one I hadn’t thought about in a long time.

It had been a quiet and cloudy morning. Dad had woken me up early, like he always did on our training days. But instead of heading to the gym, we drove out to Maungawhau, or Mount Eden, as some call it. Hiking, he said, was good for the soul as much as it was for the body.

The trail was peaceful as the gravel crunched beneath our boots. The occasional call of a bird overhead was all that broke the peaceful silence. We didn’t say much as we made our way up the winding path. The air was cool against my skin but not bitterly cold. We were both lost in our own thoughts, but there was comfort in the silence.

When we reached the top, the view opened up before us. Auckland stretched out beneath the grey clouds and the harbour glimmered faintly in the distance. The city looked so small from up here. If you squinted, it looked like you could hold it in the palm of your hand. We stood there for a few minutes and just took it all in.

Dad let out a slow breath and turned to me. His expression was soft enough to put me at ease but serious enough for me to know there was something important on his mind.

“Martial,” he said and rested a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him and waited.

“In life,” he continued, “you’ll have a lot of ups and downs. Wins and losses. But there’s one thing that’ll always stay with you.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Family,” he said simply as his hand gripped my shoulder a bit tighter. “No matter what happens, no matter how high you climb or how far you fall, you’ll always have your family. And that’s more important than anything else. We are all we got”

I looked at him and tried to understand why he felt it so important to say that right at that moment. At the time, it felt like just one of those things that dads say. You bob your head and agree but you don’t fully get it until later. He smiled then. That smile always made me feel like everything would be okay, even when it wasn’t.

He gave me a soft pat on the back.

“I’ll always be by your side, Martial. No matter what”

I pulled myself out of bed and planted my feet on the floor. I missed him in that moment more than I think I ever have. I wished he could have been there to tell me what to do.

“He wouldn’t have either way,” I laughed to myself. “He would have told you that you’re going to have to be a big boy and figure it out like he knew you could.”

It hurt to think of, but it was true. I had to get out of there. It was too quiet.

After a quick shower, I threw on a fresh Team New Zealand tracksuit and headed to the cafeteria. The training facility was always sparse in the early mornings, with only a few fighters milling about. I walked through the hallway and the smell of breakfast filled the air, but my appetite was gone. It had been replaced by a knot in my stomach because when I entered the cafeteria, I scanned the room and saw Tia sitting alone. She was eating her breakfast—fully hunched over a plate of eggs and lost in thought. Her eyes were focused somewhere far beyond the meal in front of her.

Tia had been with Team New Zealand since WAR 31. She was one of the first fighters drafted from the New Zealand Fight Academy. Her rise to greatness was meteoric, with one of the highest GDA scores in the history of the school. Plus, her fight IQ was unmatched.

Unlike a lot of us, Tia came from a family with no martial arts background. Her family was filled with academics, who always stressed the importance of education. At least, that’s what we knew of her. It’s why Tia had apparently excelled in school. But there was something about fighting that called to her. It was something that connected deeply with her in a way that nothing else did. I think it’s that way for so many of us, but with her it’s on another level. She was brilliant. Tactical and ruthless on the WAR canvas. Her ability to read opponents was second to none. But outside the fight game, she had this type of brooding intensity that was hard to explain. She was always in control, like always thinking three steps ahead.

I grabbed a tray of food out of habit instead of hunger and made my way over to her. I sat down as quietly as I could but the sound of my tray hitting the table still managed to break her focus. She looked up at me and studied me for a moment before she spoke.

“Hey,” she said coolly.

“Hey,” I replied. I knew there was tension between us. There was no escaping the fact that things had been off since the night before.

She took a sip of her water and looked at me again. This time she had a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“Did you have fun last night?” she asked.

I shifted in my seat.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Tia didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She scrolled through something for a beat before she set it down on the table in front of me. The screen showed a video paused on SocialX. It was a clip of me at Joe’s party. I had a drink in one hand and was surrounded by girls. I was dancing like there was no tomorrow. I felt the blood leave my face.

“Did Jessica see this?” I asked as I palmed my forehead and sighed.

Tia looked at me and then she let out the driest and most sarcastic laugh I’d ever heard her let out. She didn’t have to answer. The look said it all.

“Where is she?” I asked in urgency.

Tia took a bite of her food before answering. I could tell she was deliberately taking her time.

“She’s with me. In my room”

“I want to see her,” I said as I sat up straight. “I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

The words left my mouth before I even processed them, but Tia just shook her head. Her eyes locked onto mine with a firm resolve.

“It’s not a good idea right now, Martial.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“Because,” she said softer now, “she loves you, and she’s hurt. You keep doing nonsense like this. Once is a ‘heat of the moment’ thing. Multiple times is a character flaw. Besides, she’s vulnerable right now and she needs space.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words got caught in my throat. Tia was right, but I couldn’t let this go. I had to see Jessica. I had to explain.

“I just want to speak to her, Tia,” I pleaded desperately. “Just once, and I’ll leave her alone after that if she needs space. I miss her. I love her too.”

“That’s not what it looks like from that video,” she replied dryly.

“Tia, come on,” I shot back. “That’s hardly fair.”

“It isn’t?”

“No!”

Tia studied me for a long moment and her eyes searched mine. She wasn’t easily moved by emotions. She lived by logic and reason. But something in my voice must’ve gotten through, because after what felt like an eternity, she nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she said in a whisper. “I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t make any promises.”

A small but grateful smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

“Thank you, Tia,” I said and felt my muscles ease up just a bit for the first time in ages.

She nodded again and finished the last bite of her breakfast before she stood up.

“Don’t get your hopes up too much, Martial. She’s hurting. Just... be ready for whatever comes.”

I watched as she walked away and disappeared through the cafeteria doors. The food in front of me was going cold now, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was Jessica and the hope that I might get the chance to make things right. But even with that hope, I couldn’t ignore the voice in the back of my mind that kept whispering that I had already lost her.

And maybe, deep down, I knew that too.

I sat alone at that table and force-fed myself with my thoughts spinning. I kept thinking of what I’d say to her and what she might say back to me.

“Martial Wilson?”

I turned around in my seat as I was startled by the authoritative voice. A group of people stood at the entrance to the cafeteria. They were all sharply dressed and led by a man in a sleek, tailored silk suit.

He moved with the kind of confidence that comes from having loads of power, which made him look completely out of place in a cafeteria full of fighters. It was like he belonged more in a boardroom or on a red carpet.

But the man extended a hand toward me and his expression changed into something that resembled a professional smile.

“Martial Wilson,” he said again, “I’m Gabriel Silva, President of Talent Relations for WAR. I’ve been instructed to bring you to the WAR headquarters for a meeting with President Ricci.”

The words hit me like a shockwave. Richard Ricci? The head of WAR himself?

“I... uh, why?” I stammered.

Gabriel gave a short chuckle.

“You’ve been invited because of your performance. Winning Fighter of the Night is no small feat, Mr. Wilson. President Ricci has taken notice, and when he takes notice, things start to happen. He would like to meet you as soon as possible.”

Meet me?

I could barely process what he was saying. I’d only just fought my first match for Team New Zealand. Sure, I had won Fighter of the Night, but this? An invitation to meet the WAR President himself? It felt surreal.

“Richard Ricci wants to meet with me?” I asked. To be fair, I was still in disbelief.

Gabriel chuckled again.

“Yes, indeed. This is a big moment for you, Martial. Mr. Ricci rarely invites fighters to the head office this early in their careers. Consider this... a rare honour.”

My mind was spinning. A part of me was still stuck on the chaos that had been consuming me of late. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever this meeting meant, but it wasn’t like I could say no.

“When?” I asked but tried to sound calm.

“Now,” Gabriel replied with his smile never wavering

Richard Ricci wasn’t just any executive. He was the man behind the entire WAR organisation and his time was precious. If he’d allocated a specific time to meet with me, it meant this was important. And in this business, you didn’t keep the most powerful man in the sport waiting.

I looked around the cafeteria when I felt the eyes of other fighters on me. The magnitude of this invitation was hard to ignore. I didn’t know what Ricci wanted to discuss, but I wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity.

“Alright,” I said when I had finally found my voice. “Let’s go.”

Gabriel motioned for me to follow him. His security detail fell into place around us as we left the cafeteria and headed toward the exit. My mind raced with a thousand thoughts. Fighter of the Night was a big deal, but this felt too... personal. There had to be more to this.

We stepped outside the facility and a black car waited by the curb. The door was held open for me, so I slid into the backseat. The interior was all black leather and dark wood. The seats were deep enough to sink into, with more space between us than some hotel rooms I’d stayed in. Tinted windows shut out most of the morning light.

Gabriel and the security team climbed in as well and the doors closed with a heavy thud. A second later, we were off. We glided smoothly through the streets of Fight Island.

As we drove, I watched the city of Fight Island flash by through the tinted windows. The closer we got to the city’s heart, the more the landscape changed. This was nothing like the more suburban enclaves that we’d been making our playground lately. The massive buildings with neon lights, towering hotels and casinos stretched high into the sky. But one building stood out above the rest. It was a skyscraper that seemed to touch the clouds, with giant letters shining on the front like a beacon.

WAR

Its blue-green glass changed under the light as the building rose above us. Giant letters shone across the front like a beacon.

It dominated the skyline. That’s just how much power WAR had. As the car pulled up in front of the building, I must have looked like a wide-eyed kid. This was the nerve centre of everything. This was where the deals were made and the matches were set. The biggest decisions in the world of combat sports took place in that building.

The moment I stepped out of the car, WAR security was already in place to walk me toward the entrance. The doors slid open to an expansive lobby that was buzzing with more activity than I had expected. The place looked more like the lobby of a luxury casino than the headquarters I was expecting to see. Massive columns went up into a ceiling that was two stories high. There were these enormous chandeliers that hung over floors so polished I could have eaten off them. Gold ran through the walls and fixtures, broken up by dark marble and panels of coloured glass.

WAR employees moved quickly from desk to desk. There were phones ringing off the hook and screens flickering with fight footage. With so many conversations going on, I didn’t know where to look. To say that it was a well-oiled machine would have been an understatement, and for a second, I felt like just another piece of it.

But as Gabriel and the security team escorted me toward the elevator, I noticed people turning their heads. Some whispered and some stared, but most recognised me. It was strange. To them, I wasn’t just a random fighter anymore. I was someone who’d just knocked out an opponent in one of the most talked-about moments of that night.

The elevator doors slid open and we stepped inside. Gabriel tapped a keycard against a sensor and the numbers blinked to life on the screen as we ascended.

“Congratulations, Martial,” Gabriel said without looking at me. “This meeting—it’s a big deal. Ricci doesn’t just meet with anyone.”

My stomach was doing enough backflips to make me a gymnast, but I played it cool. The ride up was long, but when the doors finally slid back open, the whole energy changed. That floor was more refined. The sound of activity from below was gone and had been replaced by much softer voices behind closed office doors.

The hallway was just as slick and modern, with polished walls and dim lighting that made everything feel even more high-end. Photos of past champions and legendary fighters lined the walls. I recognised each and every one of them.

‘What I wouldn’t give to have one of those official photos up on my own wall one day,’ I thought. 

They were almost like reminders of the legacy I was walking into.

The large double doors at the end of the hall got larger as we got closer. They were massive mahogany doors with fight symbols grooved into the wood and solid gold handles. It had bold letters across it.

WAR Room

As we got closer, two guards stopped me. They patted me down to check for any potential threats.

They weren’t taking any chances. This was Ricci’s territory, and no one got in without being checked.

“All clear,” one of the guards said and stepped aside.

The heavy doors to the WAR Room opened automatically. Behind them was a huge conference room. A deep-pile carpet covered the floor in reds and navies. There were what looked like real gold threads outlining the giant WAR lettering on it. It was soft enough that my shoes sank into it with every step. Recessed downlights ran across the ceiling, which gave us warm pools of light over a massive conference table that seemed to stretch halfway across the room. The walls were panelled in dark wood and broken up by floor-to-ceiling windows made of smoked glass. Heavy leather chairs surrounded the table and everything in the room felt built to absorb sound.

I guess the types of important conversations that go on here shouldn’t be heard by anyone.

In the leather chairs, there were high-ranking WAR officials. I recognised none of them except two.

Lisa Ricci, the Chief Operating Officer, and right beside her, at the head of the table, was the man himself. Richard Ricci, WAR’s Chief Executive Officer.

He looked up as I entered. He didn’t have an unfriendly look on his face, but this was the face of a man who calculated every interaction. You could just tell.

Then, he stood up and clapped his hands. It echoed through the room.

“Martial Wilson!” Ricci said as he continued to clap, and to my surprise, the entire room joined in. The sound of applause filled the space, and I suddenly felt like I was on stage in front of an audience.

Ricci chuckled as his eyes glinted with something that I couldn’t quite read. Then, he motioned to the chair directly across from him.

“Please, Mr. Wilson,” he said smoothly, “take a seat.”

The man sounded like the most confident person in the world. I moved toward the chair and felt every eye in the room on me as I sat down.

Behind him was a view that could’ve belonged on a postcard. The entire expanse of Fight Island stretched out behind him, with its pristine beaches and towering skyscrapers. I could have stared out of that window for hours, but my eyes were locked on Ricci.

I made my way to the chair, but I heard my dad before I had a chance to take my seat.

“A man always offers a firm handshake in any room he’s invited,” he had always said.

I walked past my chair to Ricci’s and put my hand out.

“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Ricci,” I said.

He laughed a bellowing laugh and took my hand in his before he said, “I like this kid.” The room offered a low chuckle of their own.

I sat down and felt as though everyone’s eyes were bearing down on me. He was magnetic and the tension in the air was thick. He sat back down and clasped his hands on the table, but his eyes never left mine.

“Congratulations on Fighter of the Night,” Ricci said smoothly. “It was an impressive performance.”

Lisa Ricci nodded in agreement. Her expression was calm and composed. These were siblings who were the perfect balance to one another. A few other officials chimed in with their congratulations, but their voices felt distant. My attention was on Ricci, who was watching me like a hawk.

There was a pause and Ricci’s eyes bore into mine.

“Mr. Wilson,” he said a little quieter now, “do you know the founders of WAR?”

The question hung in the air, and I could tell by the way he asked it that this wasn’t small talk. This was the start of something bigger.

“Yes...Roberto Ricci... and Anthony Miles,” I stuttered, but tried to keep my voice even under Ricci’s gaze. The tension in the room was suffocating, but I had to keep it together.

Ricci chortled again as he looked over at Lisa.

“Well-educated young man,” he said with amusement in his voice.

He then stood up and moved toward the massive window behind him that showcased the breathtaking view of Fight Island. The wall of glass panels framed the island like a painting. He stood there with his hands in his pockets and looked out at the view as he teetered on his heel. It looked like he was contemplating something deeper.

“My father,” Ricci began, “viewed fighters as real-life superheroes. He believed they were here to save us. That they represented something noble. Something greater.”

He paused and turned to face me as his expression hardened slightly.

“Unlike Miles, his so-called co-founder, who saw fighters differently. He saw them as nothing more than cattle—things to be used and to be discarded when they were no longer profitable. My father believed in rewarding fighters because fighters reward us. And in that spirit... I am placing 10,000 WARcoins on top of your official fight team payment.”

The room suddenly erupted into applause. Everyone except for Ricci clapped, but I barely noticed. My mind was racing. 10,000 WARcoins... that was a lot more than I had ever seen at once. That was enough to get my life going in ways that I thought would have taken me at least a couple of years. I was beside myself and I had to try so hard not to show it.

Ricci turned to face the view again with his back to me, but not before a small smirk played on his lips.

“Congratulations, Mr. Wilson,” he said in a tone that took a dismissive turn. “And make sure you behave with that money... because I see everything.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ricci,” I replied with my heart pounding in my chest.

There was no time to process it, though, because he nodded to the security team, who stepped forward to escort me out. I got up and turned to leave, but I felt like I had just survived some kind of test. Just then Ricci’s voice cut through the air again.

“And one last thing, Mr. Wilson,” he said.

I stopped in my tracks and turned around slowly to meet his eyes.

He smiled a knowing smile that sent a chill down my spine.

“Tell Miss Lee I said congratulations. To both of you.”

I froze.

He knows. But how? I thought.

I looked around the room at the other WAR officials. Their faces were expressionless, but their eyes darted toward me. The unspoken message was clear. They knew too.

I nodded and offered a small smile but my chest seized up with anxiety. Without saying another word, I turned and exited the room. The security team led me back through the hallways and back to the elevator.

Back to reality.

I couldn’t tell you how we got to the car or how I got back to TNZ grounds. I was completely in my head the entire way there. By the time I got to the team facility, I could still hear Ricci’s voice echoing in my head.

I got out of the car and walked aimlessly through the training facility. My mind was still fogged up from everything that had gone down. The fluorescent lights overhead did nothing to ease the tension. In fact, they were giving me a headache. That’s when my phone buzzed in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I saw Florence’s name flashing on the screen.

I sighed and hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hey, Florence,” I said and rubbed the back of my neck. “What’s up?”

“Martial!” she practically chirped. Her voice was so full of cheer. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning! You won’t believe what’s happening with your SocialX.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Your SocialX is blowing up again! I mean, seriously. You’re trending right now!” she exclaimed, as if this were the best news in the world. “The video from that party in West Fight Island? Yeah, it’s all over the place. You with the drink, the girls and mixing with high-profile people. Even if you didn’t know them, it’s great for your exposure! And let’s not forget the run-in with Team South Africa. Drama sells!”

I stopped walking.

“Wait, how do you know about the Team South Africa thing?”

Florence laughed lightly.

“Oh, come on, Martial. It’s trending! The whole island knows about it by now. But trust me, this is good for your image. You’re getting buzz. People are talking about you. Any exposure is good exposure, right?”

My grip tightened on the phone. This wasn’t just some harmless exposure.

“Florence, I—”

Before I could finish, one of the assistant coaches popped out from the locker room and motioned toward me.

“Martial, Coach Flynn wants to see you in his office. Right now.”

“What is with everyone today!?” I muttered.

“Martial?” Florence asked.

“Not you, Florence. I’ve gotta go, ok.”

“Alright, but call me back later! I’ve got interviewers lined up and this could be huge for you!” she said.

Her excitement was almost overwhelming through the phone.

I hung up and my heart sank. Coach Flynn wasn’t the type to call you into his office unless it was serious. I nodded at the assistant and put the phone back in my pocket before I took a deep breath and headed toward Coach Flynn’s office. Something told me this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat.

I walked into Coach Flynn’s office and was totally unsure of what to expect. His expression was always so hard to read. That day was just the same. I couldn’t tell if he was angry, disappointed or both. As I approached the chair across from his desk and was about to sit, he raised a hand.

“No, Martial. Stay standing.”

That made my stomach drop. This wasn’t going to be good.

“Is everything okay, Coach?” I asked and tried to keep my voice calm.

Flynn’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“It was, until I got a call this morning.”

He paused and I felt the weight of his disappointment hanging in the air.

“A call from who?” I asked.

“It’s ‘from whom’ and that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that, apparently, our Team New Zealand sprinter van isn’t parked here at the facility like it should be. Instead, it’s blocking the gate to a private residence.”

I swallowed hard and already knew where this was headed.

“And when I thought it couldn’t get worse,” he continued as his voice lowered, “I find out the sprinter is smashed up—windows broken and two tyres ruined.”

I opened my mouth to explain and to say it wasn’t my fault, but before I could get a word out, Coach Flynn cut me off.

“My first question,” he said in a voice that was both cold and sharp, “is why the last activation code was used by Martial Wilson?”

The guilt started sinking in. “Coach, I—”

But he didn’t let me finish.

“Stop,” he snapped as he raised his hand to silence me. “I don’t want to hear excuses. The sprinter was your responsibility, and now you’re paying for the damages. End of story.”

I clenched my jaw, but I nodded. There was no point in arguing. I had messed up and I knew it.

Flynn stood up and walked around his desk until he was standing right in front of me. His eyes drove into mine and I could see the frustration as clear as day.

“I warned you about this island. I told you not to get caught up in the distractions. And what do you do? You let them drag you down. You’re better than this, Martial.”

I stared at the floor and felt the full spectrum of his disappointment.

“But,” Flynn said as his tone softened just a little, “you also pulled off something incredible with that knockout. That’s what you should be focusing on. You’ve got talent—real talent. And I’m proud of you for that.”

I was surprised by the shift in his tone and my head shooting up to look at him must have shown it.

Flynn patted me on the shoulder. His expression was still serious but less harsh now.

“Training starts again tomorrow. We’ve got a three-week camp ahead and I need you focused. No more mistakes. No more distractions. Understood?”

“Yes, Coach,” I replied as the guilt ate me alive.

“Good,” Flynn said and stepped back. “Get some rest. We’re just getting started.”

“Yes, Coach,” I repeated as I turned to leave the office.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said. “Can I give you some advice?”

I turned to look at him again.

“Leave the drinking alone. I’m serious, Martial. You’ve had two big nights in a row and look where both of them got you. You don’t need it.”

“I know,” I said under my breath.

“No, you don’t. Not yet,” he said calmly. “You think it helps you switch off. All it does is make tomorrow harder.”

I didn’t have much to say to that. I knew he had a point.

“You’ve got too much going for you right now,” Coach continued. “Don’t let alcohol become the thing you reach for every time life gets loud.”

“Yes, Coach,” I replied. “You’re right.”

“Trust me. I know I am.”

He waved me out and as I made my way back down the hallway, I spotted Lola talking with a man I hadn’t seen before. She noticed me and waved.

“Hey, Martial!” she called out.

“Hey, Lola,” I replied and walked over. She introduced the guy next to her as her husband.

“This is Marcus,” she said, and he extended his fist for a bump. “Great fight the other night, man. That KO was crazy.”

I grinned and returned the fist bump.

“Thanks, bro. Appreciate it.”

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before Lola and Marcus headed toward their room. I watched them for a second and felt a pang of jealousy. They seemed happy. It was like they had everything figured out. I shook the thought from my head and continued to my own room.

As soon as I stepped inside, I grabbed my phone and opened up my WAR account. My eyes widened as I saw the balance: 38,000 WARcoins from WAR, 6,492 WARcoins from WARfans on SocialX, and 10,000 from the WAR Room meeting. The total converted to 16,347,600 NZD.

My breath hitched in my throat. I was a millionaire. Just like that. I could cover that wrecked van without blinking.

I sat down and stared at the number in disbelief. I just couldn’t process it. Growing up in Auckland, I never imagined having this kind of money. But now? Here I was, officially a multi millionaire.

I didn’t know what to do with all of the money yet, but there was one thing that I knew I really needed to do. Without thinking twice, I grabbed my jogging gear and headed out the door. I jogged through the city with my mind racing as fast as my legs. The streets whizzed past me as I made my way to the high-end jewellery store I had passed so many times.

Smith & Co. The Diamond Store.

I stood outside and caught my breath as I read the sign. When I eventually walked in, my heart was pounding as I browsed through the dazzling displays.

“Mr. Wilson,” a man walked over and said. “Can I help you today?”

“Yes. Yes, you can.”

I must have spent an hour in there and when I walked out with a small black Smith & Co. bag in my hand, I felt like I had accomplished one of the greatest missions I’d ever take on in my life.

Then my mind went to Jessica.

I needed her to know that I was in this with her. I wasn’t going to let her down or embarrass her like that again.

When I got back to the facility, I pulled out my phone and called her, but her phone was off. My heart sank as I tried again. No luck. In my frustration, I dialled Tia’s number in the hopes that she could help. She didn’t answer either. I called again and again, but still nothing.

I wasn’t going to wait. I needed to see Jessica right then and there.

I headed straight for Tia’s room and went over everything I wanted to say. I started banging on the door as soon as I got there.

“Tia!” I shouted. “Open the door. I’m not going away until you come out here.”

I knew there was a possibility that she wasn’t even there. It was the middle of the afternoon, after all, but I wasn’t budging. If I had to sit on the floor in that hallway and wait for her, then that’s what I’d do.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tia opened the door. She looked irritated.

“What, Martial?” she snapped.

“I just want to talk to her,” I said. “I need to see her.”

Tia crossed her arms and shook her head.

“I told you, Martial. I’ll handle it and I’ll let you know when you can come over.”

“No. You said I could speak with her.”

“Then you disappeared for half the day!”

“I had stuff to take care of!”

“Well, I guess that stuff was more important then,” she shot back.

“Tia,” I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down. “I need to see her now.”

“Martial, please,” she started. “Not now. She’s—”

Before she could finish, Jessica appeared in the doorway. Her expression looked calm but tired.

“Tia, it’s okay,” Jessica said.

“You sure?” Tia asked.

“I’m sure.”

Tia stepped aside and Jessica walked over to me. Her eyes locked with mine.

“Hi,” she said softly.

I swallowed hard as my heart continued pounding in my chest.

“Can we talk? In my room. Please.”

Jessica hesitated and looked back at Tia, who gave her a small nod. After a breath, Jessica sighed and said, “Okay.”

We headed back to my room and as we walked, I could feel the unspoken words between us. It felt so awkward but I tried to break it with small talk. It still felt forced. It was like we were both tiptoeing around the real conversation. My heart hammered the entire way. It wouldn’t let up. I kept looking at her and searching for any sign of how she felt.

When we finally reached my room, I stepped inside first, but as Jessica tried to follow, I stopped her at the doorway. I stood just inside the room, while she remained at the entrance. She had nothing but confusion on her face. I took a deep breath and tried to level off my nerves before I spoke.

“Does this look familiar?” I asked as the memory of the last time she stood in this doorway came back to me. I couldn’t help but smile as I gestured back to the room.

“Yeah,” Jessica smiled a little.

“This was our first moment on the island together.”

Jessica looked like she was remembering, too. I could see the emotion in her eyes as the memory hit her.

“It was my favourite moment on Fight Island… and it always will be,” I added.

Jessica’s eyes began to well up with tears as she whispered, “...mine too.”

I took a deep breath and gave up on getting my racing heart to slow down.

“I love you, Jessica,” I said.

The words came out so easily because I meant them with everything I had.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back as tears streamed down her face.

Then, before I lost my nerve, I dropped to one knee and fiddled with the Smith & Co. bag I was still holding onto for dear life. Jessica looked at it as she tried to figure out what was happening.

I pulled out the small box that was in there and it dawned on her.

“Martial,” she breathed before I had a chance to open it.

When I opened it, the 4ct white gold diamond ring sparkled under the light. Jessica gasped as her tears fell faster. She was smiling, though, so I had every hope that they were tears of happiness. It had been so long since I’d seen her smile like that, and seeing it again reminded me just how much I loved her smile.

“Will you marry me?” I asked as my voice shook.

Jessica stood there with her hand over her mouth. She was utterly lost for words.

“...Martial…” she managed to whisper again.

I chuckled nervously and said, “Please say no because this ring was really expensive.”

We both laughed through the emotions, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was going to be okay. After a minute, she wiped her tears and smiled at me through them.

“Yes... Yes, Martial. I’ll marry you.”

Relief and happiness washed over me all at once. I stood up and pulled her into a deep kiss. We held each other for a moment and let everything that had happened between us disappear. Finally, I took her hand and we walked into my room together. I closed the door behind us and the emptiness that I had felt just that morning was gone. Jessica would be my wife.

Everything felt right for the first time in a long time.