A maniacal growl escaped the boy's mouth as he looked around wildly. The darkness had transformed his demeanor from that of a ferocious wolverine to a cowering weasel. Kazuki stood still for a moment, watching his opponent’s fear unfold in the pitch black.

He felt a surge of determination. ‘This is my chance,’ he thought.

The opening he had anticipated was here, but he still wasn’t sure. He had to take advantage soon.

Kazuki quickly removed his shoes, the sensation of the cool floor against his bare feet grounding him. He moved silently through the darkness, his heart pounding with both fear and resolve.

He advanced towards his opponent, who was still disoriented by the sudden blackout.

With each step, his confidence grew, his instincts sharpening. He knew he had to strike while his opponent was still paralyzed by the darkness.

“Daddy, don’t hit me, I’ll be a good boy, I promise!” Kazuki’s opponent started mumbling.

“Please, mommy, I don’t like the dark…” He continued, his voice felt weak. Previously he was only growling, this was the first time that he spoke.

“I’ll train, I’ll study and I’ll become the best…” He continued.

‘PTSD from the darkness? This sure is working out in my favor,’ Kazuki thought, now standing right in front of his opponent, though he couldn’t see him.

Kazuki inhaled deeply, his breath steadying the chaos within.

‘This is it,’ he thought, his eyes snapping open, now glowing with a fierce crimson light. A surge of warmth and raw power coursed through his veins, pooling in his clenched fist.

At that moment, his curled-up fist crashed into his opponent's face with a brutal impact. The boy staggered back, dazed and unsteady.

Kazuki didn't stop. He moved forward with relentless determination, his fists flying in a barrage of powerful punches. Each strike landed with a satisfying thud, his opponent's cries of pain drowned out by the sound of his own heartbeat.

The darkness amplified the intensity of the moment, Kazuki's rage and desperation driving each punch harder and faster. He could feel the boy's resistance weakening, his movements growing sluggish and uncoordinated.

Just then, the lights flickered back on, illuminating the scene. The audience gasped in shock and awe as they saw Kazuki sitting atop his opponent, continuously pummeling him with a ferocious barrage of punches. His eyes, still glowing crimson, were filled with a mix of fury and resolve. Blood splattered with each strike, painting a grim picture of his relentless assault.

Kazuki's punches weren't precise but they were undeniably hard-hitting. He wasn't fully conscious of his actions, lost in a trance-like state that felt both foreign and strangely exhilarating. Despite his reluctance to admit it, he felt a twisted sense of joy.

As he continued to rain down blows on his opponent, who had passed out long ago, Kazuki's awareness began to return. The daze lifted, and he finally looked at the spectacle he had created. Blood, blood, and more blood.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, he scrambled to his feet, glancing around to find himself still in the same fighting ring, encased in a metallic dome. The grim reality of the situation hit him hard.

Just then, the crowd started chanting.

"Bank-robber!"

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"Bank-robber!"

"Bank-robber!"

The sound of metal clattering echoed as the dome began to lift. The cloaked guard stood at the stairs, motioning for Kazuki to return.

"Another nightmare tonight..." Kazuki cursed under his breath as he moved towards the exit.

He ignored the chants as he exited the stage.

***

Kazuki found himself sitting in the dark, cold cell, his back against the rough wall, the chill seeping through his thin clothes. The muffled thump of loud music still echoed faintly from the arena, a constant reminder of the brutality he had just survived. He hugged his knees, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts swirling in his mind.

The memory of his opponent's terrified eyes in the dark flashed before him. The boy, who had seemed so ferocious initially, had turned into a cowering animal, paralyzed by fear of the darkness. Kazuki couldn't shake the image of the boy's fear and how he had used it to his advantage.

"PTSD from the darkness...the fuck did his parents put him through" Kazuki muttered to himself. "and how did I even manage to win like that?"

He closed his eyes, trying to replay the moments in his mind. The power outage had been a stroke of luck or rather a calculated wish that came true. Kazuki had expected to get an opening while the opponent was still dazed, but he didn’t think that it’d throw his opponent into a state of panic.

Whatever happened, happened for good as Kazuki had seized the opportunity. He remembered, getting rid of the glow in his eyes, removing his shoes, moving silently in the darkness, feeling a primal rush of adrenaline as he closed in on his prey. He wasn’t quite sure if he would have been able to get the right timing for activating his Aura, so that he doesn’t get spotted, but it all worked out in the end.

Then, his thoughts turned to the sheer savagery of his attack. He hadn't just fought; he had relished in the violence. The joy he felt while pounding his opponent into the ground was unsettling. He had become a maniac, finding an unexpected thrill in the act of brutalizing another human being.

"What have I become?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant beat of the music.

The cell felt like it was closing in on him, the walls pressing tighter with each passing second. He glanced at his hands, still smeared with his opponent's blood, and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The blood wasn't just on his hands; it was in his mind, staining his thoughts.

Kazuki shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He couldn't afford to dwell on this. He needed to focus on surviving, on finding out the truth about his parents. But the image of the boy's battered face and his own uncontrollable rage lingered, haunting him.

He once again took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within.

Now, he had to focus on something productive, something that could help him survive the next fight. Training.

He closed his eyes and began to concentrate, visualizing the warmth in his solar plexus, the core of his being. The energy there was like a small sun, radiating heat and power. Slowly, he tried to guide that warmth, moving it through his body and into his arm, hoping to manifest his Aura.

But something felt off. The energy was weaker than usual, a mere flicker compared to the ember of fire he had felt before. It was harder to control, slipping through his mental grasp like sand through fingers. He frowned, pushing harder, trying to coax the energy to flow into his arm. His muscles tensed with effort, but the Aura remained stubbornly faint.

"Why is it so weak?" he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.

Soon the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. It had been a while since he had consumed any Ghoul blood. That had to be the reason. He needed to eat to maintain his strength and his Aura. During the fight, the adrenaline and his desperation had masked the lack of power, but now, in the quiet of his cell, it was painfully evident.

"Of course," he thought bitterly. "I'm running on empty."

As he continued to focus, he remembered how much Aura he had used during the fight. He hadn't been precise or controlled; he had lashed out wildly, pouring everything he had into each punch. It had taken a toll on him, draining his already depleted reserves.

"I was reckless," he admitted to himself.

Kazuki's thoughts drifted back to the fight, to the boy's terrified eyes and his own savage joy. He shuddered at the memory but forced himself to push it aside. He couldn't afford to dwell on it now. He needed to find a way to restore his strength.

He took another deep breath, trying to calm his mind and body. He focused once more on the warmth in his solar plexus, willing it to grow stronger, to spread through his limbs. The process was slow and difficult, but he persisted. Each small success, each faint flicker of energy, was a step toward regaining his power.

“Fuck this shit,” He sighed.

The warmth in his core began to build, slowly but surely. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. He knew he needed to eat to fully restore his strength, but for now, he would make do with what he had. He would train, he would fight, and he would survive.