The arena was dead silent.
MIDAS: (Sputtering over the speakers) "Kiro... wins. That was... fast."
The crowd said nothing, too stunned to react.
MIDAS: "Now, now, fans! Don't worry! Tomorrow's fights will be better, I promise!"
A wave of hesitant cheers finally rose. Kiro allowed himself a small, cold smile.
He went to the automated pay kiosk. A robotic voice greeted him.
ROBOT: "Your payment is 80,000 credits. However, your outstanding debt to Midas has been deducted. Your net payment is: zero."
KIRO: "Oh, that's nice. So I don't get paid." He shrugged. "I don't need his dirty money anyway."
In one swift motion, he kicked the kiosk, shattering it. Four security robots activated. Kiro became a whirlwind of destruction a leap, a punch, a kick leaving four piles of broken metal in his wake.
He didn't stop. He went straight to Midas's office.
KIRO: "Tomorrow. I'll fight all five of your Top 10."
MIDAS: (Face reddening) "I'll make it six, you ungrateful, broke boy! You almost cost me a fortune tonight!"
KIRO: (A predatory grin spreading across his face) "That's nice. I didn't ask. Make it all of the Top 10."
For the first time, Midas's slick composure shattered into pure, unadulterated rage.
MIDAS: "ALL OF THEM?! You slum rat! You think you can order me around?! I say the amount, not you! Now shut up and win tomorrow, or else!"
KIRO: (Not even flinching) "Or else what, little rich man? You'll send more guys? You've messed with the wrong people."
He grabbed Midas by his collar. The promoter yelped as Kiro threw him against the wall like a ragdoll. Then, Kiro proceeded to systematically demolish the office the desk splintered under his fist, the door was torn from its hinges, everything was broken.
He stood amidst the wreckage, breathing steadily.
KIRO: "This is a message, Midas. Don't mess with me."
His eyes fell on a single, gleaming yellow credit stick on the floor, worth 100k. He picked it up.
KIRO: "I'll take this."
Midas could only watch, his face a mask of pure, trembling fury, as Kiro walked out.
Night had fallen by the time Kiro pushed open the door to his apartment. The air inside was warm, filled with the scent of baked dough and roasted herbs. A pizza and a plate of golden-brown chicken sat on the small table.
Veyra was there, waiting. "I made pizza. And chicken. Your favorite is chicken, right?"
He slumped into a chair, the day's adrenaline gone, leaving only a hollow exhaustion. "I'm not hungry."
She fixed him with a look that saw right through him. "I know you, Kiro. You have the metabolism of a hummingbird. Eat. You have a big day tomorrow." Her tone left no room for argument. Her eyes, firm yet deeply caring, said everything her words didn't: I'm here. I see you. You need to be strong.
Wordlessly, he picked up a piece of chicken and began to eat. They shared the meal in a comfortable, understanding silence.
The next morning, Kiro woke with the dawn. He dressed, his movements precise and focused, and headed out to meet Neo and Sosiego at the arena.
then he see the guys
SOSIEGO: "So, what's the plan? Run us through your thought process."
KIRO: "It's simple. King Croc is Veyra's brother."
NEO: "Oh, that's a surprise. What of it?"
KIRO: "Midas is using him. Exploiting his name and his strength. They need the money, and she won't say why, but I think it's also for protection against the government... because of Project White."
SOSIEGO: A dark shadow passed over his face. "That evil project. I was a victim, too. That's why I am the way I am. The white hair."
Neo gave a grim nod of understanding.
KIRO: "That... I didn't know. But here's the plan: make your fights quick. Abuse the system so badly that our fights are the only ones making Midas any money, and even then, not much."
Both men spoke in unison, a dark smile in their voices: "That sounds like fun."
They signed up immediately. Their fights were scheduled right away.
MIDAS: (Over the speakers, oozing false enthusiasm) "Well, look at this! Two new rookies requesting to join! Two more broke boys, let's see them get killed right away!"
The crowd cheered, hungry for blood.
MIDAS: "Up first! The rookie, Neo, the 'Shadow Assassin'! His opponent... The Crusher!"
A six-foot man built like a brick wall walked out, hefting a hammer that looked like it weighed 60 kilos. He pounded his metal-plated fists together with a deafening CLANG.
MIDAS: "NOW... FIGHT!"
The Crusher moved with shocking speed for his size, his hammer whistling through the air in a devastating arc.
Neo didn't dodge. He flowed into the attack, a wisp of shadow. There was a flicker of movement, the lightest tap of his fingers against the Crusher's neck.
The giant froze, his eyes rolling back. "What did youuuu... zzzz." He collapsed into a snoring heap on the ground.
MIDAS: "The... the Shadow Assassin wins! In record time!"
For the second day in a row, the crowd fell into a stunned silence, then turned their bewildered stares toward Midas's booth. The promoter was lost for words, his face a thundercloud.
MIDAS: (His voice a venomous snarl) "The next rookie... will die."
MIDAS: (His voice dripping with forced cheer) "Next rookie, step up! He calls himself 'The Mask'! Are you that ugly you need to hide it? And the white hair... get a new look, it's not good for your age!"
"His opponent? We've got a samurai. A bit short for a samurai, don't you think? Five and a half feet and slim. He should just retire he's never lost a fight and he never speaks! Now... FIGHT!"
The samurai dashed forward, blade held high. He went for a standard downward strike.
Sosiego mirrored the move perfectly, but with blinding speed. He flowed past the samurai's guard, delivered a light, precise tap to the small of his back to unbalance him, and then a controlled, cold punch to the gut that knocked the wind out of him. The samurai crumpled, gasping.
Midas stared, his face a mask of pure, incandescent anger.
The crowd didn't just boo; they erupted.
A FAN: "We want our money back! This is a scam!"
THE RICH GUY: (Slamming his drink down) "I lost 500,000 credits! This was supposed to be an easy win!"
MIDAS: (Snarling into the microphone, his composure gone) "No refunds! Just because you're all broke! Some people just can't handle a little bad luck!"
But the damage was done. The disgruntled murmurs turned into a mass exodus. The high-rollers, the ones who bet big, were the first to leave.
MIDAS: (Muttering to himself, watching his profits walk out the door)
one of fans". Better luck tomorrow for King Croc's fight..."
But the empty seats told a different story.
The three of them met in a shadowy corridor beneath the arena stands.
KIRO: "Nice work. I'm up next, but this still isn't good enough. He'll recover by tomorrow like nothing happened. Don't forget to collect your payment."
SOSIEGO: A dry, almost invisible smirk. "Sure thing. But the payout bots are broken."
Kiro wondered for a second, then let out a short laugh as he understood the joke.
NEO: "Good one. Breaking the system is the plan. We'll take away his other sources of income. Obviously, not your fights, Kiro."
SOSIEGO: "We'll request more fights. Back-to-back. We won't stop until we've ruined him."
With a shared nod, the three split ways again, their mission clear.
Kiro stepped into the pit, the sand still unsettled from the previous fights.
MIDAS: (His voice weary but trying to stir hype) "Now up next... a fighter! This should be a good one, broke people! It's Kiro the Super!"
Kiro the Super. The name echoed in his head, pulling him back to a recent memory.
VEYRA: "Maybe 'The First'? Or... 'The Foot'?"
KIRO: "The First sounds taken. The Foot just sounds dumb."
VEYRA: (A sigh) "Might have to take 'Kiro the Super' then."
Back in the present, Midas continued.
MIDAS: "He's fighting the Top 5! Not all at once, but one at a time a gauntlet! Let the mayhem begin!"
The first gate opened. "First up, a Top 5 guy... Coffee Man! His actual name is Mike, doesn't matter. He's been stuck at number five forever. BEGIN!"
Mike got into his stance, calmly sipping from a thermos. "I watched your first fight. You were good. You've gotten stronger." He threw the thermos down, then used the walls, rebounding back and forth before launching a surprising punch that connected hard.
KIRO: (Staggering back) "That actually hurt."
He aimed a counter-punch, but Mike was already gone, having touched his coffee cup and darted back. He chugged an energy drink, gulping it down before crushing the can. A blue energy aura flared around him.
He dashed forward, a blur of furious blows. Kiro blocked and weaved, but couldn't land a clean hit. He was doing no damage, and receiving very little in return just a trickle of blood from his lip.
MIKE: "I ate the Energy Cube. Rank C. Pretty average." He dashed back for another drink.
Just then, a flashback hit Kiro: Sosiego on the rooftops, teaching him the precise footwork for a powerful leap.
Kiro shifted his stance, mirroring that rooftop posture. He didn't dash forward; he leapt, putting his entire body weight into a single, devastating punch.
The blow sent Mike flying across the arena, smashing into the wall next to his discarded coffee thermos. He slid to the ground, out cold.
MIDAS: (Sounding disgusted) "Cheap. Real cheap. Kiro the Super wins."
Only about half the crowd cheered. The spectacle was losing its luster.
MIDAS: "Next fight, coming straight away! Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the Number 4 guy! He's stronger than number 5! He is... The Rose!"
(A single cough echoes in the silent arena. No one enters.)
MIDAS: "...He's late. Moving on! Kiro wins by default!"
MIDAS: "Next! Number 3! The Glyph! And who invited a woman? They should never be here!"
A woman stepped into the light. She had blonde hair that reached her neck and wore a sleek, powered tech suit and jacket.
MIDAS: "Now... FIGHT!"
She lifted a hand. Two drones shot out at high speed, peppering the area with bullets. Kiro weaved through them. She threw a pulse grenade; the BOOM staggered him for a second. Using the opening, she closed the distance with a stunningly fast kick to his face that sent him flying back.
A final, fly-sized robot zipped in, delivering a tiny, precise shock before he could recover.
Kiro got to his feet, brushing dust from his shoulders. "Nice. What was that?"
She simply lifted her hand again, this time in a gesture of peace.
THE GLYPH: "I give up."
MIDAS: "WHAAT?!"
The crowd erupted in a chorus of furious BOOs.
Kiro stood frozen for a second, confused by the surrender. Then, he felt a faint buzz in his palm. He looked down at the fly-sized robot.
It lifted from his hand, zipped to his ear, and a pre-recorded, digitally synthesized whisper played directly into his ear canal.
THE GLYPH'S MESSAGE: "I know what you're up to. Ruining Midas, that scumbag. I'm all for it. Just so you know... my eyes are everywhere."
The message ended, but the fly hovered for a moment longer, as if waiting. Then it delivered its final, devastating piece of intel.
THE GLYPH'S MESSAGE: "Oh, and your Number 4 guy? He's late because I beat him up. Let's just say... he's taking a good, long nap."
With that, the micro-drone zipped away, disappearing into the arena's gloomy heights.
Midas, fuming and desperate to regain control, seized the microphone, his voice a venomous snarl.
MIDAS: "Well! A... surprise ending! But the show must go on! Since you're so confident, let's make this interesting. It will be a 2v1! Both the Number 1 AND Number 2 ranked fighters... against Kiro! Good luck... no, scratch that. I genuinely hope you lose."