Junpei walked slowly down the dim hallway, his footsteps echoing against the walls like distant memories clawing their way back to the surface. The walls were damp, the air thick with the smell of dust, metal, and blood. The low light flickered, casting twisted shadows across the marble floor, making the already narrow passage feel even more suffocating.

As he moved deeper into the corridor, old memories began to surface. Veinweave. The name echoed in his mind, laced with the bitterness of his past. His brother had stumbled upon this place by sheer accident, or so the story went. A hidden labyrinth buried beneath the city, deeper even than the metro lines, older than any of them could comprehend. His brother had claimed it as his own, using it to feed the rumors that he had built it to bolster his reputation, to create a sense of unshakable power.

But Junpei knew better.

No one truly knew who had made this place, or why it had been left to rot beneath the world above. It had always been here, waiting. The walls whispered secrets, their slick surfaces betraying the weight of the years they had endured. Junpei could almost feel the blood that had soaked into the stone over the decades, staining this place with the violence of those who had come before.

And now, as the chaos above stirred, Veinweave awakened again.

Junpei's heart beat steadily in his chest, but he could feel the faint tremors beneath his feet—the vibrations of conflict erupting behind him. A low, distant hum of collective screams and shouts reached his ears, barely audible but undeniable.

His brother had renovated different parts of this place, and the new owner had changed more things according to the needs of the arena. But the map of this place was still the same.

His brother had always loved the theatrics. The grandeur. He'd given this forsaken underworld a name like ‘Veinweave’ for a reason as if it were the lifeblood of something larger than life. But to Junpei, it had always been a tomb. A place where dreams, ambitions, and lives were buried alive.

He pressed on, his boots clicking against the floor as his mind continued to swim in the past. He could remember every corner, every narrow turn, every secret passage like the back of his hand. How many times had he walked these same halls, back when things were simpler? Back when his brother was still alive?

The flickering light above him cast eerie shadows against the cracked stone walls, which seemed to close in on him the deeper he went. His senses were on high alert now—the faint tremors growing stronger as the chaos began to spread.

The air was heavy with the weight of impending disaster, and yet there was something almost... familiar about it. The tension, the adrenaline, the inevitability of violence.

The fight was spilling over, and he knew it wouldn't be long before Veinweave became what it was when he came here the last time, just another battleground.

Junpei’s footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, his mind swirling with the chaos and the memories of the Veinweave beneath the city of Kyoto. The dim lights overhead flickered like the tension that ran through him, just barely keeping his cool amidst the mounting chaos.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, draped in dark, flowing clothes that seemed to blend into the blackened surroundings. The man wore an ominous black mask, its expression unreadable, yet somehow smug.

“We meet again,” the figure said, his voice smooth and dripping with false familiarity.

Junpei stopped mid-stride, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The face—or rather, the mask—was unfamiliar, but there was something about the way he spoke.

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“Who the hell are you?” Junpei asked, his voice low, his posture tense but not aggressive.

The figure chuckled lightly, taking a few steps forward, his hands clasped casually behind his back. “We met at your store last time. Don’t you remember? Just a few days back.”

Junpei’s brow furrowed for a moment before realization hit him. “The Manager?” he muttered under his breath.

“Ah! So you do remember me,” the Manager said, his voice smooth and playful, as if they were old friends reminiscing.

“You,” Junpei’s muscles tensed slightly, his body shifting ever so subtly into a ready stance. “What do you want from me, Mr. Manager?”

The Manager waved a dismissive hand, as if to calm the tension. “No need to get agro! I’m not here to fight, just for a simple conversation. No violence!” He smiled beneath his mask, though Junpei couldn’t see it, he could hear the grin in the man’s voice.

“Get to the point,” Junpei said flatly.

“Like last time, I offered you a deal,” the Manager began, his tone becoming more serious. “Join me, and we’ll create a world where Ghouls no longer need to hide in the shadows. A world where they can thrive. And you, the strongest Ghoul alive, will be this new world’s glorious leader.” His words hung in the air, enticing, dripping with promise.

Junpei’s face remained unreadable. He sighed, an exhausted, heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of his past. “I’m not interested,” he said simply, his voice cold. “I don’t want anything to do with your plans. Just let me live in peace. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

The Manager tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement behind the mask. “Whatever you say, Sir Orochi,” he said, mocking the title, “But there’s one more thing you should know…”

Junpei felt irritated at the mention of that name. But before he could react, the Manager produced a small tablet from inside his cloak.

“The Poachers have arrived,” the Manager said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “And among them, well... there’s someone you might want to see.”

With a few taps, the screen illuminated, showing a live feed from the CCTV cameras around the arena. Junpei’s eyes were drawn to the screen, his heart skipping a beat when he saw him—The Executioner of Tokyo. The man he hated the most.

His fists clenched at his sides, anger and dread surging through him all at once. His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm. His breathing was heavy, but controlled.

“I never lie,” the Manager said, his tone casual but with a twisted edge of delight. He was enjoying this.

Junpei’s chest burned with rage, but he swallowed it down, keeping his voice cold and measured. “What’s in it for you? You’re not a Ghoul, as far as I can tell. You’ve been pushing me to fight this bastard since the first time we met. Why?”

The Manager’s grin widened behind the mask, though Junpei could only sense it. “Ah, you’re perceptive, Junpei. I don’t care for Ghouls, nor for Poachers. But you… and him… oh, there’s something special about your little feud. Something that could bring the kind of chaos I enjoy. I’m just the one nudging things in the right direction.”

Junpei’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Manager.”

The Manager chuckled, taking a small step back, still holding the tablet up as if it were a prized possession. “Aren’t we all? Now, what will you do, Sir Orochi? Will you run away again, or will you finally settle things?”

***

In another part of the facility, a completely different battle was happening. Kazuki stood in immense danger.

His eyes glowed a fierce, menacing red as he stood, swaying, in the middle of the dim hallway. His body was drenched in blood—his blood—seeping from the countless deep cuts etched into his flesh.

The pink-colored strings of Aura surrounded him like a spider's web, pulsing faintly in the flickering light. Each thread dug into him, carving fresh wounds as they tightened their grip. His breathing was heavy, labored, and his vision blurred from the blood loss. Every step he tried to take sent sharp jolts of pain through his body.

Emi stood some distance away from him. Her face contorted in a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion. Her once-pristine dress was now shredded, exposing bloodied patches of skin and oozing wounds. She looked up at him, her lips curled into a weak smile despite her own battered state.

"It ends for you here," she croaked, her voice trembling, as the strings started to close in on Kazuki for the final blow.