The walls of Jack's room were too clean.
Too white.
Too quiet.
He sat on the edge of his bed, shirtless, still covered in blood and bruises from the fight. The cracked edge of his mask stared back at him from the corner. It was the only thing in the room more broken than him.
He didn't move.
He listened.
> "You let him walk away."
"He was on the ground."
"Weak. Coward."
"KILL HIM NEXT TIME."
The voices screamed from inside his skull, overlapping and endless, some sharp and loud, others low and venomous. They tore at his thoughts like wolves.
Jack's fists clenched, knuckles white.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear the walls apart. He wanted Rael's throat under his boot.
But instead—
He exhaled.
Inhaled.
Counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
The voices didn't stop. But they stepped back.
He stood, slowly, walked across the room, and opened the drawer beside his bed.
Ave.
His black box. Still warm from the fight. Silent now, resting.
And next to it—his notebook.
He grabbed them both.
Then, barefoot and quiet, he stepped into the hallway.
2:07 a.m.
Perfect. No one would be in the training room.
---
Sublevel 3 – Training Hall
The door hissed open and closed behind him.
Cold lights flickered overhead. Scorched marks from past trials still painted the walls. Training dummies and metal drone targets lined the far end of the hall. The whole place was his now.
Jack dropped his notebook and Ave onto the bench near the wall. He stretched out one arm. Veins glowed red as three long, flesh-whips tore from his skin with a wet rip.
They hissed and twitched in the air, like eels hungry for blood.
Jack didn't hesitate.
He charged the nearest target.
WHIP—CRACK!
The first clawed strand slashed the dummy in half.
The second one grabbed another and flung it into the ceiling.
The third missed—but came back even harder, like it was angry too.
Jack moved fast. Precision. Anger. Control.
He didn't stop for almost thirty minutes—until his body trembled and blood ran down his fingers.
He leaned over, panting, and grabbed the notebook.
He flipped to a fresh page, his hands smearing the paper red.
At the top, he scrawled a name in thick black ink:
Crasher.
Then, beneath it, he began to draw:
A massive humanoid figure, hunched over from the weight of its head—a giant hammer-shaped skull, wide and flat with thick, jagged bone ridges like armor. Its body was dense, bulky, like a walking bunker. Its arms were long, ending in twisted, spiked limbs, designed to pierce and pulverize. Its legs were thick stumps built for charging forward—not speed, just raw impact.
And at the center of its chest—a hollow core, where Jack imagined a boiling light, pulsing with the fury that made this thing real.
Under the drawing, Jack wrote:
> "Born to break walls.
Born to crush enemies.
Born from failure.
Next time… he dies."
He stared at the drawing for a long time.
The voices didn't mock him now.
They whispered approval.
> "Yes."
"That one will kill him."
"Make more."
Jack didn't smile—but a part of him felt better.
He looked up at the destruction in the room.
Target drones ripped open. Dummies scattered like corpses.
He looked back down at Crasher.
"…let's test you next."
The arena buzzed with static energy as Jack stepped forward, the cold metal door sliding shut behind him. Above, hundreds of eyes watched from the shadows—spectators, guards, scientists. Betting. Judging.
Across the arena, the opposing gate groaned open.
A boy walked out slowly—broad frame, steady pace, brown combat boots grinding over the sand-covered stone. His eyes were pale gray, like cement hardened under pressure.
"Terra," Jack muttered to himself.
A voice boomed from the speakers.
"Rank 2.2—Terra. Specialty: Earth manipulation. Strength-based. Defense-class. Match begin."
Jack didn't move. He took a breath. Calm. Controlled. The voices were quiet… for now.
Terra raised one hand. The ground beneath him trembled, small chunks of rock floating upward.
Jack flicked both wrists.
Two vine whips uncurled from his arms, long and sharp, twitching like living snakes. The edges gleamed with tiny thorns. His stance was light—testing.
He struck.
One whip lashed out, slicing across the ground. Terra side-stepped smoothly and raised a slab of stone with one hand, blocking the second whip with ease. The vine struck the rock and bounced back.
"You'll have to try harder than that," Terra said, slamming his foot down.
The arena trembled. A wall of earth burst from the ground between them like a wave. Jack leapt back, but a spike of stone shot up from behind, slicing into his arm.
"Tch—" He landed hard, blood running down his sleeve.
"He's strong," Jack thought. "Too strong for just this."
He rushed forward again—another vine whip swinging low. Terra stomped and cracked the ground, sending Jack into a stumble. Terra lunged this time, using his power like armor, his fists coated in stone. One punch nearly cracked Jack's ribs. He rolled out of the way, barely dodging a second hit.
Jack skidded to a stop, breathing heavier now. The voices stirred.
"Let us out."
"He's too much."
"You're going to die."
Jack looked up at Terra, who raised both hands this time—a massive boulder began to form above him.
"Fine," Jack growled, raising his hand to his head. "You want something bigger?"
He slammed his palm into the ground.
The air around him distorted—space ripping open like torn flesh.
From the void emerged CRASHER.
A massive, hulking monster, with a head like a warhammer, and arms made of jagged bone and muscle. It roared, slamming into the arena floor with a quake.
The crowd gasped.
Terra's eyes widened, but he didn't hesitate—he launched the boulder.
Crasher charged.
The boulder shattered against Crasher's hammer-head with a deafening BOOM. Dust flew everywhere. The ground split.
Crasher kept moving—unstoppable—slamming into Terra's rock armor, breaking it apart like brittle shells. Jack followed behind, using his whip to tangle Terra's legs.
The ground manipulator tried to fight back, but Crasher's next hit knocked him across the arena, stone armor breaking. Terra tried to rise—
Jack stood over him.
"Stay down."
Thorns extended from the vine whip, wrapping Terra's arms. Crasher stood beside Jack, still breathing heavy, its huge head twitching with anticipation.
Terra coughed, blood trickling from his mouth.
He didn't get up.
The crowd fell silent.
The voice from above returned.
"Victory: Jack. Rank 2.0. Match duration: 4 minutes, 42 seconds."
Crasher let out one final growl before vanishing into smoke. Jack stood alone again in the arena.
The voices inside him were quiet—for now.