Straight from the gym, body still trembling with fire, sweat dripping like proof of battle. Every drop is earned, every breath sharpened by discipline. Shirtless, fists cutting through the air, shadow boxing becomes more than training—it’s the ritual of a fighter who refuses to rest.

My 40 cm biceps flex not just as muscle, but as weapons forged in obsession. Power surges through every strike, veins alive, spirit unbroken. This is not a show—it’s a declaration of war: sweat is my armor, strength my creed, and the fight never ends.