The air in the staging tunnel smelled of rust, stale beer, and adrenaline-laced sweat. It was the universal scent of the gladiator—the smell of men and beasts waiting to die for someone else's entertainment.
Varian sat on a wooden bench, wrapping his hands in dirty cloth tape. He didn't look at the other fighters in the holding pen. He looked at the massive digital odds board flickering on the wall.
[Match 4: The Chem-Dogs vs. The Rust-Walkers][Odds: 10 to 1.]
"They think we're fodder," Gorgon grumbled, sitting on the floor. He was picking at the fake gray paint Lady Venom had applied to his stone skin. "Ten to one? I should be insulted."
"You should be rich," Varian corrected, pulling the tape tight with his teeth. "We bet our entire entry purse on ourselves. When we win, we walk away with ten times the cash. That's enough to buy the hacking gear Rix needs."
"If we win," Lady Venom whispered from the shadows of her cowl. "Remember the rules, boulder-brain. You are not a Commander-Rank rock monster today. You are a clumsy golem made of cheap concrete. If you punch someone's head off, the Union will scan you. If they scan you, they find the Titan Blood."
Gorgon sighed, a sound like grinding tectonic plates. "So I have to let them hit me?"
"You have to make it look dramatic," Varian said. "We win ugly. We win by 'luck'. We keep the odds low for the next round."
Varian stood up. He checked his gear.
He wore a battered breastplate he had scavenged from the scrap heap. On his left arm, the Cryo-Gauntlet was disguised under layers of rag and leather, looking like a medical cast for a broken limb. The Symbiote beneath was dormant, retracted into his pores to avoid detection.
He carried a rusted iron sword—a piece of sharpened rebar with a handle.
"Rix," Varian looked down.
The Rat-Boy was on all fours, wearing a spiked collar attached to a chain Varian held.
"Yes, Master Ash?" Rix clicked, playing the role of the pet beast perfectly.
"Don't use the static. Just teeth and claws. Go for the ankles."
"Ankles are tasty," Rix agreed.
The heavy iron gate at the end of the tunnel began to rise. A roar of fifty thousand voices washed over them like a physical wave.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! SCUM AND NOBLES!"
The announcer's voice boomed from massive speakers, echoing off the steel ribs of the stadium.
"FROM THE TOXIC PITS OF SECTOR 4, GIVE IT UP FOR THE CHALLENGERS... THE RUST-WALKERS!"
The crowd booed. Someone threw a cup of beer that splashed near Varian's boots.
Varian walked out into the light.
The Arena: The Scrapyard
The arena floor wasn't flat sand. It was a simulated environment: The Scrapyard.
Piles of crushed cars, overturned buses, and jagged metal beams were scattered across the battlefield, creating a maze of cover and elevation. In the center stood a "King of the Hill" platform—a tower of compacted trash.
From the opposite gate, their opponents emerged.
The Chem-Dogs.
There were four of them. They were humanoid, but barely. Their skin was translucent and sickly yellow, veins bulging like ropes. Tubes ran from canisters on their backs directly into their necks, pumping neon-green fluid.
They twitched. They foamed at the mouth. They didn't hold weapons; their hands had been surgically replaced with rusted blades and hooks.
[Genetic Archivist Scan.][Subject: Chem-Dog (Berzerker Class).][Augmentation: Adrenal-Stimulant Pumps.][Threat: High Speed / Low Intelligence. They feel no pain.]
"Drug-zombies," Gorgon muttered. "I hate these guys. They don't know when to lie down."
"FIGHT!" The buzzer sounded.
The Chem-Dogs didn't use tactics. They screamed and charged, sprinting across the sand with unnatural, jerky speed.
"Scatter!" Varian ordered.
The Rust-Walkers broke formation. Gorgon ran left toward a crushed bus. Venom disappeared into a pile of tires. Varian and Rix stood their ground.
The lead Chem-Dog—a creature with machetes for hands—reached Varian in seconds.
"Meat!" the mutant shrieked, swinging both blades in a scissor-cut aimed at Varian's neck.
Varian didn't block. He couldn't. His rusty sword would snap.
He dropped to his knees, sliding under the blades.
As the Chem-Dog stumbled past, Varian didn't strike with his sword. He grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into the mutant's eyes.
"Argh!" The Chem-Dog clawed at its face.
"Clumsy!" Varian shouted for the benefit of the crowd. He swung his iron bar, hitting the mutant in the back of the knee.
It wasn't a killing blow. It was a trip.
The Chem-Dog fell face-first into a piece of jagged scrap metal.
The crowd laughed. "Look at that! He tripped him!"
Meanwhile, Gorgon was putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.
Two Chem-Dogs were hammering him. Clang. Clang. Clang. Their hook-hands sparked against his "concrete" armor.
"Oh no! Help!" Gorgon shouted flatly, sounding incredibly bored. He stumbled backward, flailing his arms.
As one Chem-Dog lunged, Gorgon "accidentally" fell forward. His massive shoulder—weighing four hundred pounds—slammed into the mutant's chest.
CRACK.
The Chem-Dog's ribcage shattered. It flew ten feet and crashed into the bus.
"Oops," Gorgon muttered.
On the flank, Lady Venom was being hunted by the fourth Chem-Dog. The drug-fueled monster cornered her against a wall of tires.
"Got you, little witch!"
Venom raised her hands in mock terror. From her sleeve, she crushed a small pellet.
A faint, pink mist drifted into the Chem-Dog's face.
It wasn't a lethal poison. It was a Muscle Relaxant derived from glowing moss.
The Chem-Dog's eyes crossed. His legs turned to jelly. He took a swing, missed by a mile, and slowly slid down the wall, snoring.
"He's... asleep?" The announcer shouted, confused. "The Chem-Dogs are crashing hard, folks! That's what happens when you buy cheap stims!"
Back in the center, Varian was dancing.
The leader of the Chem-Dogs had recovered from the sand-blindness. He was enraged. He pumped a fresh dose of green stims into his neck. His muscles swelled, tearing his skin.
He moved faster than the eye could follow.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
Varian dodged by millimeters. A blade nicked his cheek, drawing a line of blood.
Too fast, Varian realized. I can't match his speed without the Symbiote.
He needed to slow him down.
Varian backed up toward a puddle of oil leaking from a crushed car.
"Come on, junkie!" Varian taunted.
The Chem-Dog lunged, stepping into the oil.
Varian slammed his left hand—the one in the "medical cast"—onto the puddle.
[Cryo-Gauntlet: Flash Freeze.]
He triggered the pump. A blast of liquid nitrogen vaporized from his wrist.
The oil puddle froze instantly, turning into a sheet of black ice.
The Chem-Dog's feet flew out from under him. Momentum carried him forward, airborne and flailing.
Varian didn't use his sword. He stepped aside and let physics do the work.
The Chem-Dog flew head-first into the steel bumper of the crushed car.
THUD.
The sound of a skull cracking echoed through the arena. The Chem-Dog dropped to the sand, twitching, then went still.
Silence fell over the stadium.
Then, a few scattered claps. Then a cheer.
"AND THE WINNERS ARE... THE RUST-WALKERS! IN A STUNNING UPSET!"
Varian stood over the fallen mutant, panting. He looked up at the odds board.
[Rust-Walkers Win.][Payout: 5,000 Credits.]
"Messy," Gorgon whispered, walking over and dusting off his fake armor. "But effective."
Varian wiped the blood from his cheek. He looked up at the VIP box.
The glass was tinted, but he could feel eyes on him.
The VIP Box
High above the stench of the arena, the air was conditioned and scented with lavender.
Dr. Valerius swirled a glass of synthetic wine. He looked down at the arena floor, his brow furrowed.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Beside him, a Union Commander—a man with a scar across his eye—scoffed. "Interesting? It was a sloppy bar fight. The big one tripped. The girl got lucky. And the leader just threw sand."
"Did he?" Valerius tapped the replay button on his datapad.
He zoomed in on the moment Varian froze the oil. The camera didn't catch the nitrogen mist—it was too subtle, hidden by the dust. But Valerius saw the way the fighter moved.
"Look at his stance," Valerius pointed. "He doesn't flinch. He doesn't waste energy. When the Chem-Dog slashed at his neck, he didn't duck early. He ducked exactly when the blade passed the point of no return."
"So? He's a veteran. Lots of mercenaries fight like that."
"No," Valerius shook his head. "Mercenaries fight with anger. This boy fights with... calculation. It reminds me of the Algorithm."
"The Algorithm?"
"A training protocol we used in Lab 4. Before the incident. We tried to teach subjects to analyze threats mathematically." Valerius sighed. "Most of the subjects died. Only one showed promise. Subject 744."
"The one who died in the explosion?"
"Yes. A pity. He had excellent blood."
Valerius dismissed the thought. It couldn't be him. 744 was dead. Buried under a mountain of rubble.
"Keep an eye on them," Valerius said, closing the datapad. "If they survive the next round, put them against something... sharper. I want to see how 'lucky' they really are."
The Locker Room
Varian kicked the locker door shut.
"We got the payout," Iron-Jaw's voice came through the secure earpiece. The cyborg merchant was hiding in a van outside the city, monitoring their funds. "5,000 Credits deposited to the dummy account."
"Good," Varian said, stripping off his fake cast to check the Cryo-Gauntlet. The canister was half empty. "Buy the Data-Spikes. And get Rix a better collar. This one is chafing him."
Rix was sitting on the bench, chewing on a piece of the Chem-Dog's tube he had snagged as a souvenir. "Rix likes collar. Makes Rix look tough."
"We have the money," Varian said. "Now we need the intel."
He turned to the group.
"Rix, tonight you go for a walk. Take the ventilation ducts. I need you to find the Server Room of the Coliseum. Use the Data-Spikes to download the prisoner manifest."
"What are we looking for?" Venom asked, wiping her makeup off.
"The Main Event," Varian said. "Valerius isn't here watching Chem-Dogs. He's waiting for something big. I want to know what monster they have locked in the basement."
The Night Shift
At 02:00 hours, the city of Rust-Jungle never slept, but the Coliseum grew quiet.
Rix slipped out of their holding cell. He didn't pick the lock; he simply dislocated his shoulders and squeezed through the bars.
[Ability: Contortionist (Max Level).]
He scurried up the drainpipe, moving like a shadow. The Void Essence he had consumed was starting to manifest. He didn't just hide in the dark; he seemed to blend into it. When he stopped moving, he became invisible to the naked eye.
He reached the ventilation shaft overlooking the Data Core.
Two guards stood by the door.
Rix didn't fight. He waited. He watched the keypad.
Beep-Boop-Beep.
[Genetic Archivist (Shared Link): Code Acquired - 7734.]
Rix waited for the guards to change shift. In the three-second gap, he typed the code and slipped inside.
The server room was cold. Banks of blue lights hummed.
Rix found the main terminal. He pulled the Data-Spike—a jagged USB drive—from his fur and jammed it in.
Downloading...
He watched the progress bar. 50%... 80%...
Suddenly, a file name popped up on the screen.
[ASSET: THE ABYSSAL KNIGHT][Class: Emperor Rank (Dormant)][Status: Awakening in 3 Days.]
Rix's eyes widened. Emperor Rank.
That was a catastrophe class beast. A city-killer.
He pulled the drive.
Click.
The door behind him opened.
Rix froze. He activated his stealth, pressing himself flat against the server tower.
Dr. Valerius walked in. He wasn't alone. He was walking with a tall, pale woman in a black suit.
"The awakening protocols are ahead of schedule," the woman said. Her voice sounded like breaking glass. "The Abyssal Knight is hungry, Doctor."
"Let it hunger," Valerius smiled. "Hunger sharpens the mind. Is the bait ready?"
"The bait?"
"The fighters. The winners of this tournament. We will feed them to the Knight to finalize the bonding process."
Rix held his breath. His heart beat so fast he thought they would hear it.
We are the food, Rix realized.
Valerius stopped. He sniffed the air.
"Do you smell that?" Valerius asked.
"Smell what?"
"Wet fur."
Valerius turned, looking directly at the spot where Rix was hiding.
Rix squeezed his eyes shut. I am a shadow. I am nothing.
"Probably just the ventilation," the woman dismissed. "Come, Doctor. The auction begins soon."
They left.
Rix exhaled, nearly fainting.
He scrambled back into the vent. He had to tell Varian.
They weren't just fighting for money. They were fighting for the right to be eaten by a god.