Lyrics

In the shadowy corners of ancient lands, where legends were born and myths were whispered, there was a name that struck terror into the hearts of the bravest souls—Mike Sillix. He was no ordinary man but a towering figure, a giant amongst warriors, known for his unimaginable strength and terrifying reputation. They said he had the fury of a thousand storms in his veins, and wherever he went, chaos followed.

Mike Sillix was born into a tribe of fierce fighters, but even among them, he stood apart. As a child, he lifted boulders that grown men struggled to move. By the age of fifteen, he had already defeated seasoned warriors in combat, his fists hardened by years of relentless training. But it wasn’t just his strength that made him fearsome; it was the fire in his eyes, a flame that could not be quenched, not even by the blood of his enemies.

As he grew older, Mike wandered from town to town, seeking challenges that could test his might. In every village, there was always a foolhardy challenger eager to try their luck, wielding brass knuckles or sharpened blades. To Mike, these weapons were nothing but toys. He let them strike him, felt the brass knuckles shatter against his iron-like jaw, and simply laughed—a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the air like thunder. “Is that all you’ve got?” he’d say, and with a single blow, send his opponent crashing to the ground, bones splintering like dry twigs.

One of the most famous tales of Mike Sillix’s ferocity took place in a city known for its underground fighting rings. The toughest men, battle-scarred and ruthless, gathered there to prove their worth. One night, a challenger named Kane “Ironfist” Mulligan, infamous for breaking jaws with his brass-covered knuckles, stepped forward. The crowd buzzed with excitement; they had never seen anyone survive Ironfist’s punches.
Mike entered the ring with his usual calm demeanor. The room fell silent, save for the sound of his footsteps, heavy and deliberate. Ironfist wasted no time, charging forward and throwing a punch with all his might. The brass knuckles gleamed in the dim light, whistling through the air until they collided with Mike’s face. For a moment, the world stood still. Then, Mike turned his head back to face Ironfist, his expression unchanging. He grinned—a wide, almost predatory smile—and said, “You hit like a child.”

Before Ironfist could react, Mike grabbed his wrist, squeezing until the metal bent and the bones beneath it snapped. With a single, monstrous punch, Mike sent Ironfist flying across the ring, crashing into the wooden barriers with a force that shattered them into splinters. The crowd erupted, not in cheers, but in gasps of horror. They had seen the true power of Mike Sillix, and it was something beyond human.

But despite his fearsome reputation, Mike was not a man of senseless violence. He sought only the strongest foes, those who could bring him to the brink, test his limits, and awaken the warrior