The air was tense as Naito walked down the cold, dimly lit corridors, the echoes of distant roars and cheers from the arena muffled by the thick concrete walls. The thumping music still vibrated. His hands were cuffed, a single guard escorting him to his upcoming fight. Naito's eyes were calm, his gaze sweeping across every corner, every shadow. He had been studying the layout for days now, memorizing the guard shifts, the patrols, and every blind spot in this labyrinthine facility.

He walked with the single guard escorting him, his face emotionless, but his mind was racing, calculating every possible move he could make. Guards were stationed at intervals, watching the corridors with indifferent stares. Most didn’t pay him any attention.

It was routine to them. But Naito’s attention was on the path ahead—the L-shaped corridor where he knew there would be a gap in their defenses. He had memorized the timing, the spacing between the guards.

As they approached the bend, Naito's eyes subtly flicked toward the lone guard stationed at the corner. His escort gave a brief glance as well, unaware of the silent storm building next to him. Naito's heart remained steady, his mind already working through the steps in his head. The guard escorting him yawned and relaxed in the momentary quiet. They rounded the corner, and without hesitation, Naito struck

In a seamless motion, Naito shifted his weight and spun around, catching the guard’s wrist and twisting it with precise force. A muffled crack followed as the guard’s arm bent unnaturally. Before the guard could even scream, Naito delivered a sharp elbow to his throat, collapsing him into a gasping heap on the floor.

The second guard, stationed at the turn, barely had time to react before Naito was on him. With lightning speed, Naito drove his knee into the guard’s gut, using the momentum to pivot and deliver a brutal chop to the back of the neck. The man crumpled, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Naito didn’t waste time, slipping into the shadows of the corridor. He quickly uncuffed himself. His breath was controlled, his focus laser sharp. But just as he was about to continue, two more guards turned the corner, walking in his direction. They hadn’t noticed the downed guards yet, but it was only a matter of seconds.

A faint hum filled the air as Naito's foot lightly tapped the metal floor beneath him. Calculated vibrations spread out silently, rattling the guards' senses. Their eyes darted around, momentarily disoriented by the subtle tremor beneath them. In that moment of confusion, Naito lunged.

He swept low, his body a blur as he spun into a sweeping kick, knocking one guard’s feet out from under him. Before the man could hit the ground, Naito was already driving his fist into the other guard’s ribcage with pinpoint accuracy. The guard let out a choked grunt as the air was driven from his lungs. Naito followed up with a swift strike to his jaw, the sound of bone connecting with flesh muffled by the narrow corridor.

The other guard, still struggling to stand, barely had time to react before Naito's boot connected with his chest, sending him crashing into the wall. The corridor echoed with the dull thud of bodies hitting the floor. Silence followed.

He wasted no time. Stripping one of the guards of his uniform, Naito quickly donned the jacket, mask, and cap, disguising himself. The cloak from another guard completed the look. He was now indistinguishable from the rest. With a glance at his reflection in a nearby metal panel, he was satisfied. It was enough to blend in.

The tracking chip in his stomach was making little vibrations. This meant that Subaru was here. And Naito needed to be quick to help the Poachers out.

Walking through the establishment, Naito moved with the practiced ease of someone who belonged. Guards passed him by, nodding without suspicion. He made his way through winding hallways and stairwells, his mind mapping out each step. In the past few days, he had meticulously learned where every guard was stationed, what routes they took. But now, as he approached a long hallway leading away from the metal balcony, something was wrong.

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The hallway was empty.

No guards. No patrols. Just the unsettling echo of his own footsteps bouncing off the walls. Naito’s heart rate picked up, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He had learned every corner of this place—there should’ve been guards here.

A sharp, rhythmic sound broke the stillness— the unmistakable click of high heels striking marble. The sound echoed through the desolate hallway, growing louder with each step.

Naito’s breath caught in his throat. This presence. He had felt it before.

The Hotdog Lover. Naito’s original target.

Her presence was like a sudden drop in temperature, the atmosphere around her cold and sharp. Naito felt the weight of her gaze before he even saw her. She stepped into the dim light, her face twisted with a dark smile, eyes glowing with the promise of revenge.

“So,” she said, her voice as cold as the steel around them. “You thought you could escape?”

Naito clenched his fists, feeling his pulse quicken, but his expression remained calm. The sound of her heels was the only thing breaking the silence as she slowly closed the distance between them.

This was no ordinary fight. It was personal.

And Wienerliebhaberin was here to settle the score.

***

Junpei stood amidst the crowd, his eyes focused on the arena, but his mind was adrift. The roar of the crowd around him was deafening, the thumping of heavy music vibrating through the ground beneath his feet. The air was thick with sweat, adrenaline, and the metallic scent of blood. He could hear the harsh cheers and jeers, people shouting for more violence, more bloodshed. Yet, despite the cacophony around him, Junpei felt a quiet, unsettling stillness in his chest.

Kazuki had changed.

In just a few days, the boy had transformed. His once wide-eyed and uncertain gaze had hardened, matured. Junpei could see it in the way Kazuki carried himself—confident, cold, and no longer hesitant. The innocence he once had was gone, burned away by the brutal world they found themselves in. Now, there was no turning back.

Kazuki had killed. Junpei was sure of at least two deaths by his hand: the Poacher who had dared harm Rika, and now the sumo, that mountain of flesh Kazuki had just torn down in the arena. There may have been more, blood that Junpei wasn’t aware of. But it didn’t matter. Even if there had been only two—no, even if it was just one—Kazuki had crossed a line.

There was no return from this.

Junpei’s gaze shifted to Rika, who stood beside him, her expression twisted in a way he had never seen before. There was a strange mixture of admiration, fear, and astonishment painted across her face. Her eyes were wide, almost disbelieving, as if she couldn’t reconcile the boy she once knew with the fighter she had just witnessed in the ring. Her lips trembled slightly, caught somewhere between awe and terror.

Junpei could almost feel her thoughts as if they were his own. Kazuki, who had been a boy, just like any other, had become something different. Someone darker.

The sound of the crowd swelled again, drowning Junpei's thoughts momentarily. He turned his head, scanning the mass of bodies that surged and pulsed like a single living organism. Endo and Eiji were nowhere to be seen, having disappeared the moment Kazuki’s fight had ended. They had claimed they were going to the restroom again, but Junpei knew better. They were probably up to something, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His eyes drifted back to the arena. The next fight was starting, and the crowd was already roaring in anticipation. But Junpei's focus wasn’t on the violence about to unfold in the ring. It was on the weight of the moment, the realization that Kazuki was no longer the boy he once was.

And neither was Junpei. He had changed long back.

The harsh lighting of the arena cast long shadows on the bloodstained ground, the flicker of neon signs bouncing off the cold metal walls. The air itself felt suffocating, as if the very atmosphere had been tainted by the brutality that had taken place here. Junpei's chest felt heavy, a gnawing dread settling in his gut. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The violence, the blood—it wasn’t going to end.

Not for Kazuki. Not for any of them.

The world they were in wasn’t one that allowed for innocence or hope. It was a world of death and survival.

And now, Kazuki was part of it. Just like Junpei. Just like Rika.