The time is 1:00 a.m., and most people in the Republic of Greesha are asleep. But in the capital, the undercity is wide awake.
Near the ticket counter of the illegal fighting arena, people push and shove each other, desperate to get inside. The arena itself roars with life. Spectators scream, coins clink in the waves of money, bells chime, and some people drink heavily. Almost 200 people are watching the fight.
Suddenly, the crowd goes silent.
A seven-foot-tall, massive fighter slams into the ground. His mouth hangs open, tongue lolling, eyes wide.
On top of him, a six-foot, seventeen-year-old boy stands tall. He raises his arm into the air.
The announcer's voice booms:
"Soono wins the match—again!"
The crowd erupts, cheering and screaming. The sound bounces off the stone walls like thunder.
Amid the chaos, one man stands out.
He wears a black suit and a hat, looking every bit the businessman. Middle-aged, with a neatly trimmed mustache, he smiles—but only on one side of his mouth, forming a slow, unsettling curl. His eyes never leave the boy in the arena.
It's 3:00 a.m. The fights are over, and people are leaving. Some stumble, drunk, collapsing on the floor. Others are shoved roughly by guards as the arena empties.
Amid it all, the underground arena manager screams, "Soono!"
The man's face twists into anger. He storms toward the arena bathroom and kicks the door open. Inside, Soono is showering. The arena manager glares.
"How many times have I told you? This bathroom is for special guests only! If anyone knew someone like you was using it, they'd never touch this place again, you filthy bastard! And here's your payment for today."
Soono laughs, water dripping from his hair.
"Geez, boss… I'm just showering. I'm not doing anything weird here. You're the one acting weird, watching a naked, handsome boy bathe! Ha ha ha! Anyway… why only half my salary?"
The manager frowns.
"Because you broke the iron fence in the arena. And remember—I'm not here to watch you shower. Now get out, you bastard!"
Soono dries himself with a towel, thinking:
Only 5,000 Rin, huh? 2,000 for rent… that leaves just 3,000 for this month. How am I supposed to feed myself and that old man with this? Argh… I'm too young to deal with this kind of economic crap. What a drag.
He gets dressed, closes the door, and walks down the hallway, hands in his pockets, hoodie up.
Tomorrow, I'll head to the capital. Sell something good… and for a good price. Sounds perfect.
He leaves the arena and enters the slums. The streets are alive in their own way—some people passed out, some stumbling, addicts of all kinds weaving through the shadows.
He finally reaches his small home in the middle of the slums and collapses onto his bed. Exhaustion hits him like a hammer, and he drifts off almost immediately.
It's 11:00 a.m. when Soono wakes up to the smell of something burning.
He sprints to the kitchen and finds the old man, who lives with him, has started a fire in the middle of the room.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Soono yells.
The old man shrugs.
"I saw a big fat rat. Thought a little fire might help kill it."
Soono groans and runs to grab a bucket of water.
"You stupid old man! Stop the fire before you turn us into ashes!"
Muttering under his breath, he adds:
I think his brain goes out every time he takes a shit, because apparently it lives in his ass.
He returns with the bucket, only to see the old man peeing on the flames, convinced it will put them out. Somehow, after chaos, shouting, and water flying everywhere, they finally manage to stop the fire.
After the fire dies down, Soono notices a 500 Rin note—half burned—lying on the floor.
He turns to the old man, eyes wide, voice shaking.
"What did you use as fuel?!"
The old man grins.
"I tried using wood, but it was too wet. Then I saw some notes in your room… thought they'd make good fuel. Pretty smart,
huh?"
"I must be dreaming," Soono mutters, slamming his head against the wooden wall. His scream echoes through every corner of the slums.
Soono heads toward the capital, hoping to steal something or maybe find a day's work.
Giant speakers mounted on every corner blare the news. There's no television—just old, crackling speakers, their sound echoing across the streets.
"The Empire of Estania attacked East Noura Village yesterday," a voice booms.
"Greeshians are fighting to reclaim it. Our King, Aurelius Vanee, sends his greetings. Good morning to all my dear citizens. We are doing everything in our power to defeat the Red Eyes. I believe they will soon launch a full-scale attack—but we will not fall back. Our shoulders will fight until we defeat the Red Eyes and erase their race from existence."
Soono weaves through the bustling streets, observing the city. People have mechanical arms and legs. Carts drawn by horses clatter over cobblestone roads. Guards patrol everywhere, their armor gleaming in the sunlight.
Lost in thought, he rounds a corner—and freezes. Ahead, he sees the person he defeated in the arena last night, surrounded by about thirty others.
Soono's stomach drops.
I'll probably die today…
He runs for his life, heart pounding, adrenaline screaming in every vein.
"If I make it out today… maybe I'll join the military! I can't do this anymore!"
He holds his breath, cutting off the interference of oxygen. Focus… focus…
Neel—energy stored in every living cell—flows from deep inside him. He feels it coursing through his muscles, reinforcing every step, every heartbeat. His body reacts before his mind even catches up. Strength, speed, endurance… everything sharpens.
He dashes faster than his pursuers can follow, senses alert to every corner of the streets.
The thirty people chasing him struggle to keep up.
With each step, he feels Neel pushing him beyond natural limits.
Night falls. Soono crouches in the shadowed corner of a building in the undercity , breathing hard, battered, every muscle screaming.
I never thought using Neel could exhaust me this much… he thinks.
It feels like I'm dying.
Every muscle is ripping apart… I don't think I can make it to the arena today.
He slowly tries to make his way home only to freeze.
Seven-foot-tall man and eight others block the street. They look just as tired, but their eyes fix on him like he's prey.
Suddenly,
from the other half of the street, a sharp inhale cuts through the silence.
The attackers stop, tense.
Seconds later, seven of them collapse unconscious to the ground.
A massive wave of air slams into the seven-foot man's face.
Before he can even react, a flurry of punches strikes him—nearly a hundred blows in seconds. He crashes to the ground, defeated.
The attacker exhales slowly,
the quiet hum of power lingering in the air.
Then, the black-suited man with the hat appears, stepping into the shadows.
"Haki," he says. "Do you have a lighter?"
Haki nods. "Yes, sir," and hands it over.
The man lights his cigarette slowly, deliberately, taking a single drag. Smoke curls around him, sharp and controlled.
Soono swallows hard, words spilling out all at once.
"Ah… who are you, by the way? Thanks for the help! Nice to meet you! See you around!"
The man raises an eyebrow.
"Wait, boy… you look like you've had a rough time. You know, I'm a big fan—your fights in the arena, the way you use Neel… impressive."
Soono stammers.
"Oh… thanks… but now isn't really a good time for meeting fans. Heh… so if you want an autograph, come back later."
The man chuckles, flicks the cigarette away, and fixes his gaze on Soono.
"I have an offer. Come with me as a fighter in the city arena. I pay 70,000 Rin per week. What do you think?"
Soono can't find words.
"Don't give me an answer yet,"
the man continues. "Give me one before tomorrow night. I don't want just anyone here—you have real potential. If you want in, come to 7th Street, north side of the capital, Building No. 11. Bring this."
He hands Soono a business card.