A fifteen-year-old boy stared blankly at the sky above the arena. His hands and legs, rusty and dried from countless battles, were bound by heavy chains.
For Bright, killing had become routine—he glanced at the dead boy beside him, another opponent fallen in this endless game of survival.
"Candidate number two wins!"
The announcer's voice boomed across the arena with practiced enthusiasm. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, but beneath the cheers, whispered conversations rippled through the stands.
"That kid is inhuman."
"No way he's just fifteen."
"That was brutal to watch, but I couldn't look away."
"He's got impressive agility and speed for someone so young."
An anonymous spectator studied Bright from the crowd, replaying the killing blow in their mind. The way Bright had used the arena wall to launch himself—a swift leap that carried him through the air before his blade found his opponent's neck—had been executed with inhuman speed and precision.
Bright rose to his feet, dagger still dripping, and flashed a winning smile at the crowd. He raised his free hand in a theatrical wave.
"Keep it natural," he thought. "Any one of these people could be your ticket out of slavery."
"Hey! Move it!"
A harsh voice cut through his performance. Someone yanked his chain, nearly sending him stumbling.
"Easy there, Riya," Bright said with a grin, regaining his balance as he followed her down the corridor.
Riya shot him a look, then quickly turned away. "You will address me as Master."
"Master?" Bright chuckled. "Come on."
Riya stopped dead in her tracks. Her fist slammed into his stomach without warning—a vicious blow that echoed off the stone walls.
"Winning fights doesn't make us equals," she snarled, watching as Bright doubled over, blood spattering the floor.
"Guess power really does change people," Bright gasped, looking up at her through the pain.
He could still remember the frightened girl who used to cry herself to sleep in the cell next to his. That was before she'd clawed her way up the rankings, before she'd bought her freedom with other people's blood. Now she wore the keys, and he wore the chain
Riya yanked Bright's chain aggressively, dragging him across the rigid stone floor.
"Say whatever you like—I don't give a damn!"
With that, she tossed him into the cell and locked him up.
In no time, Riya reached the door of her master—the chief in command of the operations.
"Sir, I—" She paused, noticing a hooded stranger standing in front of her boss.
"Oh, Riya! You came at the right time," the chief said, beaming at her.
The chief's gaze darkened with a smirk. "Get Bright ready for his new owner."
Riya's eyes widened briefly, then she immediately composed herself. "Yes, sir."
"That's my girl."
With that, Riya left without further comment.
Closing the door behind her, Riya walked toward the slave cells.
"That individual in the hooded outfit looked like a scientist from the Special Armed Forces organization."
The Special Armed Forces weren't just protectors of Earth—they protected humanity from demon invasions since the beginning of recorded history.
"There's only one reason he would be here."
Meanwhile, Bright was removing his shirt and placing his dagger on the small table in his cell.
"Not only have I gotten over my fear of killing, it's become second nature—my way of surviving this hell," he thought coldly, staring at the cracked sink.
"Get ready! You've been sold to the Special Armed Forces organization!" Riya announced, flinging open Bright's cell door.
She paused, taking in the sight of Bright shirtless, his body covered in bruises and scars from countless battles.
Bright's eyes widened in surprise, then he smirked at Riya. "Don't tell me you're actually worried about me."
"Worried?" She scoffed coldly, walking toward him. "In your dreams!"
But then Bright's eyes widened in horror at what had just happened. Blood splattered across the wall and his face.
"We can't have you alive after seeing me with him," a man said, stepping out of a digital, pixelated portal that crackled with energy. He held a smoking pistol—the weapon he'd just used to blow Riya's head clean off.
Bright stared at Riya's headless body, shuddering at the brutal execution. The attack had come from nowhere, swift and merciless.
"And you!" The man turned toward Bright. "You're coming with me, boy!"
Before Bright could react, a floating spherical device descended toward his head and captured him instantly, pulling him into its containment field.
"Well then, shall we?" the man said with dark amusement.
They entered the portal and vanished, leaving the prison behind. Riya's body remained on the cold stone floor—headless, bloody, and unrecognizable.