There are two kinds of poison in this world.

The first is fast. You take it in, and it rips through you immediately. Your body shuts down, your lungs collapse, and within minutes, you’re gone.

But the second—the second is worse. That’s the slow poison. The kind you don’t notice right away. The kind that seeps into your veins little by little, day by day. At first, you feel fine. Maybe even stronger. But then the headaches come. The shortness of breath. The fatigue. And by the time you realize what’s happening, it’s already too late. The poison has spread. The damage is done.

That’s you, Nox.

You’re the slow poison.

You’ve never been the kind of villain who ends things quickly. No, you prefer the long game. You get into people’s lives, into their systems, into their souls. You infect. You corrode. You watch the suffering grow in increments, laughing as every gasp, every cough, every sign of weakness multiplies until the body finally collapses.

You did it to me.

You slithered into my world, drop by drop, and before I knew it, you weren’t just an enemy—you were an obsession. You poisoned my friendships. You poisoned my peace. You poisoned my trust in myself. And like every other victim who’s crossed your path, I almost let you finish the job.

Almost.

Because here’s the part you never saw coming, Nox.

I’m the cure.

You see, poison only wins if it’s left unchecked. Only if the body gives up. But the moment an antidote enters the system, the poison loses. It doesn’t matter how deep it’s gotten. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been there. One by one, those drops of death are neutralized. The sickness fades. The body fights back.

And that’s me. That’s what I’ve become.

I’m the cure to you, Nox. I’m the one thing in this world that your toxins can’t overcome.

At Ascension, inside that gas chamber, you’ll fill the air with everything you’ve got. The smoke, the fumes, the venom. You’ll laugh as you think you’re watching me choke, watching me collapse. But I won’t.

I’ll breathe it in. I’ll take every ounce of poison you throw at me. And I’ll keep moving forward. Because I’ve already survived the worst of you. I’ve already felt your slow poison in my system. And I’ve already found the antidote.

That antidote is fight. That antidote is hope. That antidote is knowing that I’ve stared down men bigger, stronger, crueler than you and I’m still standing. That antidote is the OSW World Championship around my waist, proof that I don’t just survive—I thrive.

Nox, you think you’re inevitable. You think your poison spreads forever. But I am living proof that nothing is inevitable. That poison can be stopped. That evil can be cured.

And at Ascension, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

The poison doesn’t get the last word.

The cure does.