El Diez Cabezas wanted one thing: the underground title belt. Ten dead wrestlers lived in his stitched body, ten heads under ten masks, and an eleventh head rode in his right hand to watch his blind side. He believed ten souls fought better than one. But no ring would test that belief. He had walked the fight halls for a week, and every promoter said the same word. No. Tonight he stood outside the three-ring complex, its clown faces grinning down from the gothic arch. The crying head, second from the right, wept softly against his shoulder. The promoter inside had already refused him. "A stitched corpse nobody's seen fight," the man had said. "Prove you can draw, or stay out." No footage. No record. No proof. That was the wall. A voice cut the air. "Ten heads. One coward promoter." Liliana Vess leaned against the fence. Purple marks ran across her white face like a mask she could not remove. She had traded with demons for immortality and signed contracts she never read. Now she hunted a way out of them. She looked at El Diez Cabezas the way a gambler looks at a long shot. "You want proof. You need a witness the crowd already fears." Before he answered, the fence groaned. Carnage Grimm shoved through it. Two heads on one stitched body, fishing wire holding them together, the wire still showing. The bigger head spoke first. "Heard there's a fresh freak in town." The smaller head finished. "Two of us. One of you." El Diez Cabezas understood then. Here was his proof, walking in on its own. Grimm had beaten champions. Grimm held a stolen title belt. Beat Grimm in front of this crowd, and no promoter could call him unproven again. "Fight me," El Diez Cabezas said. Ten mouths moved as one. "Winner walks in. Loser stays out." Grimm's two heads glanced at each other, then agreed. "Deal." Liliana whistled. The crowd spilled out to watch, and the promoter followed, greedy for the door money. He waved them into the nearest ring, the demonic clown posts towering at each corner. "Anybody bleeds, I'll book them," the promoter called. They locked up. Grimm bit with both heads at once, tearing at one shoulder. The crying head screamed. Then the top head spoke, in the old language none of the ten wrestlers had known in life. The weeping stopped. All ten chests filled together. Ten arms moved as one animal. El Diez Cabezas drove Grimm into the corner post. He wrenched the smaller head sideways, and Grimm's two heads picked different targets. The body froze. El Diez Cabezas slammed him down and pinned both shoulders. The crowd roared. The promoter climbed in, staring. "You," he said. "You I'll book. Midnight, three days." El Diez Cabezas had his card at last. But Carnage Grimm rose slowly, both heads fixed on him now, and Grimm did not forget a loss.