The air felt dense, buzzing with an unspoken tension as Tanuki and Blackthrone made their way through the dimly lit corridors of the underground arena. With each step, the echo of their boots against the marble floor was accompanied by the quiet shuffle of guards falling in line behind them, their numbers swelling with every corner turned. It was as if both of their factions knew a storm was brewing, and that storm carried with it an electric charge of animosity.

Tanuki’s sharp features twisted into a smirk as she caught Blackthrone’s eye. “Try not to trip over that ridiculous bulk of yours when things get serious, yeah?”

Blackthrone snorted, his massive frame towering over the group like a looming shadow. "I’d be more worried about your dainty legs giving out before you even get to the fight. It’s a long walk, princess."

The subtle barbs they exchanged fed the growing tension between their respective groups. Guards under Tanuki shot glares at Blackthrone’s men, their hands twitching near their weapons, as if ready to throw down at any second. The hostility between them was like a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off.

Despite the brewing storm, both Tanuki and Blackthrone wore a thin veil of amusement, knowing that this childish back-and-forth was probably the last semblance of peace they’d get before diving headfirst into chaos.

Tanuki rolled her eyes, tugging at the hem of her cloak as it fluttered around her thighs. "I’d hate for your guys to be mistaken for boulders. Moving that much rock takes real skill, you know."

“You talk a lot for someone who's about to hide behind my back when it all goes south," Blackthrone replied, smirking as his broad shoulders rolled, making his already intimidating figure even more imposing.

By the time they reached the main arena, their insults hung in the air like a thick fog, the tension between their troops so palpable it felt like a single spark could ignite it all. But when they finally stepped into the open, their bickering fell silent, replaced by wide-eyed shock.

The scene that greeted them was nothing short of bedlam. The entire arena had devolved into utter chaos. Poachers clad in their signature black jackets were scattered across the crowd, desperately trying to restrain the civilians, but the sheer panic made it a futile effort. The guards had broken rank, fighting Poachers in vicious brawls, while arena fighters—those who were supposed to be entertaining—were let loose, joining the fray with a savage glee. Punches were thrown, weapons drawn, and blood spilled in every direction, a twisted free-for-all with no clear objective or allegiance.

It was a nightmare of confusion. Audience members, guards, Poachers, and fighters all collided, their roles forgotten in the midst of pure, unfiltered chaos. And at the center of it all, Tanuki and Blackthrone stood side by side, their earlier banter now a distant memory as the reality of the situation hit them.

“Well... this just got interesting,” Tanuki muttered, her eyes flickering with a dangerous gleam.

Blackthrone cracked his knuckles, grinning ear to ear. “Time to show these amateurs how it’s done.”

***

Kazuki sat hunched on the cold floor of his cell, knees pulled up, hands loosely hanging over them. The harsh light overhead flickered, casting unsettling shadows across the grimy, stone walls. His head felt heavy, burdened by thoughts that gnawed at his mind like ravenous wolves.

The image of the sumo's lifeless body haunted him. His knuckles tightened, knuckles white, trembling slightly. He had killed before, but this time... he could’ve avoided it. He knew that. This wasn’t the fight for survival. This wasn’t self-defense.

It was a choice—a choice he consciously made, and that sickened him more than the act itself.

He drew in a shaky breath, trying to drown out the nausea rising in his gut, when a sudden noise pierced through the stifling air of the cellblock.

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Shouts. Urgent, panicked shouts, echoing down the long hallway.

His body tensed, eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of the chaos outside. The heavy thud of boots striking the metal balcony followed, the sound reverberating through the structure like the pulse of an approaching storm. Metal clanged violently against metal, the clash unmistakable. Groans, then more screeches. Over and over, the same loop of noise—like a battle slowly marching toward him.

His heartbeat quickened, matching the rhythm of the shouts and footsteps. The commotion crept closer, sending an instinctive ripple of tension through his body.

"What the hell is going on out there?" he muttered to himself, standing now, fists clenched by his sides.

Suddenly, a blur of motion shot past his cell. The figure was quick, too fast to properly make out. But even in that split second, Kazuki’s mind clicked—Naito. The same person he’d come to this disgusting place with. His thoughts churned. What the hell was Naito doing? Was he seriously trying to escape?

The sound of footsteps thundered behind Naito, a group of guards giving chase, their faces twisted with fury. Kazuki barely had time to process it before the chaos reached a peak. One of the guards chasing him was launched through the air with a sickening thud, crashing into the ground right in front of Kazuki’s cell.

The guard's helmet rolled off, clattering against the bars, and the man's unconscious body sprawled out lifelessly, blood dripping from his forehead.

Kazuki took a step back, eyes wide. His mind raced, the stench of iron and sweat filling his nostrils. "Holy shit..." he whispered, eyes flickering toward the direction where Naito had disappeared.

Everything was unraveling. And fast.

The thumping of boots continued to shake the balcony. The sounds of fighting grew fainter. Naito... that reckless bastard. Was he actually making a run for it? Or was this something else entirely?

Kazuki stood frozen for a moment, the unconscious guard sprawled out in front of his cell like some eerie offering. His mind spun. He was still trying to process the chaos when a creeping curiosity pulled him forward, inch by inch, until he found himself standing at the edge of his cell, just over the downed man.

The guard’s face was hidden beneath a streak of blood, trickling down from a gash on his forehead. His chest barely rose and fell with labored breaths. Something about him tugged at Kazuki’s memory, but he couldn’t quite place it.

He crouched down, heart pounding in his chest. As he got closer, the dim light above flickered again, casting brief shadows over the guard’s face.

And then it hit him.

It was him. The same guard who used to escort Kazuki to and from the fights. This man had silently walked beside him, eyes cold and impassive, never saying much, just doing his job. Kazuki could almost hear the rhythmic jingle of keys, and now... now this same man was lying broken at his feet.

For a moment, a strange feeling gripped him. This guard had probably never cared about Kazuki beyond his duties, but now there was something unsettling about seeing him like this. Vulnerable. Defeated.

And then a thought struck Kazuki—a dangerous, wild thought that sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins.

The keys.

What if he could find the keys? What if he could escape?

His pulse quickened, and he leaned in closer, eyes scanning the guard’s belt. There, among the bloodstains and torn fabric, was the familiar keyring, dangling loosely from his belt. Kazuki's breath caught in his throat.

Was this... possible? Could he really escape?

He reached for the keys, hesitating just for a second. His hand shook slightly, the weight of the decision hitting him all at once. He glanced down at the guard’s lifeless body, then at the metal bars that had caged him for so long.

Doubt clawed at his mind. Was he strong enough? Was he ready to take on whatever was waiting outside this cell? If Naito was already fighting—and clearly making a mess of things—could Kazuki even survive out there?

He had killed two people already, but this... this wasn’t a fight. This was something else. Could he handle the sheer chaos that was unfolding beyond these bars?

But the idea kept growing in his mind, taking root like a stubborn weed. If he stayed here, locked away like an animal, what was his fate? A slow, miserable death in the arena? Or worse—living on, fighting day after day, killing more people just to survive?

No. He couldn’t stay here. Not anymore.

Kazuki’s hand tightened around the keyring, and he stood up, eyes narrowing as the sounds of battle grew louder. His heart thudded in his chest, adrenaline pushing him forward.

It was time.