Shoda sat on the sofa in his room, the sunlight poured in through the small window.

In front of him stood a guard, a woman whose presence was as cold as the steel of her blade. She was beautiful, with dark violet hair barely reaching her shoulders, and her eyes were like two chips of ice, devoid of warmth or emotion. Her posture was rigid, every movement precise, as if she had long since banished any trace of softness from her being.

Shoda’s eyes lingered on her, his gaze heavy with an insidious hunger. He wasn’t interested in the information she carried; his thoughts had already strayed to darker desires. Her face might have been expressionless, but to him, she was a prize waiting to be claimed. As she spoke, recounting how she had found the boy they called the "Bank Robber," his attention was only half on her words.

“Where did you get that brat named Bank Robber?” Shoda asked, though the question felt more like a formality.

The guard answered with a flat tone, “I found him lying in a parking lot, his eyes wide open and glowing red—Ghoul eyes. He was panting and not in a good state. My partner and I went up to him, offered a hand, and then just took him.”

Shoda barely registered her words. His thoughts were consumed by her, by the way she stood, so cold and unyielding. When she finished speaking, he waved her off with a dismissive gesture. “Alright, you may leave.”

The guard bowed slightly and turned to leave. Shoda’s gaze followed her, fixated on the sway of her hips as she walked away. The door closed behind her, and the room was once again silent, save for the sound of Shoda’s labored breathing.

“I’ll fuck her the day after,” he muttered to himself, a vile grin spreading across his face as he scratched at his groin, the anticipation already beginning to fester in his twisted mind.

Shoda was still lost in his vile thoughts when the door to his room creaked open, and the Manager walked in. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as the Manager's presence seemed to pull the very shadows closer. His steps were measured, deliberate, and without a word, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Shoda's eyes, which had been leering at the door where the guard had exited, suddenly widened. A strange, purple hue took over his pupils, and in an instant, the grotesque lust that had consumed him vanished. His body went limp, collapsing onto the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

The Manager sighed, looking down at Shoda's lifeless form with a mix of disdain and resignation. "I have never seen anyone as lustful as you, Shoda," he murmured, his voice low and cold. "Even in death, all you think about are your wretched desires."

He shook his head, the disappointment in his eyes evident. The conversation with the guard had been a dead end, yielding little useful information about the masked boy they had captured.

With a fluid motion, the Manager glided over to Shoda’s corpse and gracefully sat beside it, his posture regal despite the grim surroundings. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, sleek device, pressing a button to summon Ray, his hulking African subordinate.

Ray entered the room moments later, his massive frame filling the doorway. He bowed slightly before speaking. “Sir?”

“Send people to the parking lot where the boy was found,” the Manager instructed calmly. “Check the CCTV footage, and search the area for any Ghouls or Awakened who might have seen him. I want to know everything about this boy.”

Ray nodded, his expression serious. “Understood, sir. I’ll take care of it immediately.”

As Ray left the room to carry out his orders, the Manager stood up and made his way out as well, stepping into the corridor that led to the arena. The distant thumping of music reverberated through the walls, creating a rhythm that seemed to sync with his heartbeat.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He moved with purpose, eventually reaching the viewing area that overlooked the fighting rings. His eyes scanned the chaotic scene below, taking in the violent spectacle with a detached interest. Fighters clashed, blood was spilled, and the crowd roared in approval. But one particular fight caught his attention—a tall, fat wrestler battling a much smaller woman.

The Manager’s eyes narrowed as he watched the combatants. There was something about the fight that intrigued him, something that stirred a faint smile on his otherwise stern face.

The arena's lights cast harsh shadows across the ring as the lady and the sumo squared off. The lady’s eyes were glowing while her sclera had turned black, she was a Ghoul with an elegant yet deadly appearance, crouched low, her eyes locked onto her opponent.

Her forearms bore two long, sleek blades made out of Aura that extended like the claws of a predator, glowing ominously under the spotlights. She was fast—blindingly so—and her every movement was graceful, like a dancer poised for a deadly performance.

Opposite her stood the sumo, a massive mountain of a man. His flesh rippled with every step, but there was an eerie, controlled power in his movements. His face was a mask of calm determination, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he eyed the much smaller woman.

The bell rang, and the lady darted forward, a blur of motion. Her blades slashed through the air, aiming for the sumo's throat. But with a sudden, almost imperceptible shift, the sumo's neck swelled with mass, turning what should have been a lethal strike into nothing more than a superficial graze. He retaliated with a heavy-handed swing, but the lady was already gone, ducking under his arm and slicing at his legs.

The crowd roared as the two fighters clashed, the lady’s speed and precision contrasting sharply with the sumo's brute strength. She weaved in and out, her blades carving shallow cuts across his massive frame. Each time she struck, the sumo's body would swell or shrink, absorbing the blows with an almost liquid fluidity. It was like trying to slice through water—no matter how deep she cut, he just seemed to shift and flow around her attacks.

The lady lunged at him again, aiming to drive her blades deep into his side. But this time, the sumo was ready. He let out a deep, resonant grunt and suddenly shrank in size, his mass compacting into his upper body.

The abrupt change in his center of gravity sent him crashing to the ground with the force of a small earthquake. The shockwave of his fall sent the lady stumbling, her balance thrown off just enough for the sumo to make his move.

With surprising speed the sumo once again changed his proportions, and the sumo pushed off the ground, using his newly condensed mass to propel himself forward. He caught the lady off guard, his massive hands clamping around her wrists before she could react. The sumo’s flesh surged back throughout his body, his mass increasing as he hoisted the lady into the air like a ragdoll.

In one fluid motion, he swung her around and slammed her into the ground. The impact reverberated through the arena, drawing gasps from the crowd. But the lady wasn’t done yet. Despite the brutal impact, she twisted her body, using the momentum to flip back onto her feet. She lunged at the sumo with a feral snarl, aiming for his heart.

But the sumo had anticipated this. He let his chest swell with mass, absorbing the blow before suddenly shrinking again, causing the lady to overextend. In that split second of imbalance, he drove his shoulder into her, sending her sprawling across the ring.

The lady staggered to her feet, breathing heavily. Her once graceful movements were now desperate, her speed waning as fatigue set in. The sumo, sensing victory, began to lumber toward her with a relentless, predatory gait. He was slowing down on purpose, drawing out the fight, relishing the crowd's anticipation.

The lady knew she had to end it quickly. With a final burst of speed, she darted forward, aiming to strike him from behind. But the sumo had one last trick up his sleeve. As she approached, he suddenly compacted his mass into his legs again, crouching down just as she lunged. Her blades sliced through empty air, and before she could recover, the sumo propelled into the air using the force in his legs launching himself off the ground like a cannonball. As he continued to fly up he began to push his mass towards the upper part of the body to extend his flight time.

He then crashed into the lady with a large amount of force, his immense weight crushing her beneath him. The impact was devastating, and the lady’s body crumpled beneath the sumo’s bulk. The crowd erupted in a deafening cheer as the sumo landed atop her, pinning her to the ground.

“Fat Bastard! Fat Bastard!” the crowd chanted, their voices a thunderous roar of approval.

The Manager looked at the scene with a sly smile behind his dark mask.