Daichi moved around the party filled with the smell of perfume and alcohol. Laughter and soft phonk music echoed through the walls.
A young woman lounged across a counter, half-distracted, flipping through a holo-screen until her eyes caught Daichi. For a moment, disbelief washed over her face."Daichi?" she said, and before he could reply, she rushed to him, throwing her arms around him with a bright smile.
Kurogami stood a few steps behind, quietly observing. It was easy to tell from the warmth between them that they shared some kind of history.
After a few light words and teasing smiles, Daichi got straight to the point."I'm looking for the underground Battler zone. I'm guessing they've changed location again. Who's managing things now?"
The woman's smile faded slightly. "You guessed right. The Reaper Gang runs the underground Battler zone now. They've gotten… darker. The rules aren't the same anymore. The fights," she hesitated, "are worse. Bloodier. Be careful, Daichi."
Daichi chuckled softly, brushing it off. "No need to worry, my darling." He leaned in, kissed her cheek lightly, and smiled.
"Well," she sighed, "I can't just let you go blind. I'll show you the new entrance."
"Good," Daichi replied. "Let's go."
She glanced at Kurogami, raising an eyebrow. "And who's this?"
"My friend," Daichi said casually. "Kurogami."
"Oh? Friend?" she said, half-mocking, half-curious. "I didn't know you used that word." She turned to Kurogami and smiled slyly. "So, are we friends too?"
Kurogami blinked. "…I uh"
Daichi smirked. "We're more than that," he said, just to mess with her.
She rolled her eyes. "Always the smooth talker."
When she said she couldn't leave work, Daichi didn't argue. Instead, he flicked open his holo-band and transferred a small fortune into her account. The digital ping made her grin instantly."Fine," she said, "you're impossible to say no to. Come on."
They took a short ride through the undercity's back routes until they arrived at a dim, isolated zone, a cracked building with no signs, no light, and too much silence.
"This is as far as I go," she said, stepping out. Her gaze lingered on Kurogami. "If you ever need… help," she whispered, her tone heavy with suggestion, "you know where to find me."
Kurogami froze, his expression half-confused, half-unnerved. Daichi laughed quietly.
After she left, Daichi led the way to the building's entrance.
The guards outside looked tougher and stranger. Their prosthetics gleamed with purple Khaos circuits, and one of them was tattooing the Reaper Gang insignia on his metal arm. The air smelled like oil and smoke.
Daichi showed a small token. The guards scanned it, nodded silently, and stepped aside.
They descended the stairwell, narrow, dark, filled with graffiti and claw marks, until the muffled sound of roaring crowds grew louder and louder.
When they reached the bottom, Kurogami's eyes widened.
Before them stretched a massive underground complex. Arenas, dozens of them, built in circles of steel and light. People filled the stands, shouting, betting, and cheering as fighters tore into one another below. Sparks and blood flashed under the dim floodlights.
Some arenas were one-on-one. Others were wild brawls, all against all. The air itself seemed to vibrate with bloodlust.
Kurogami felt his chest tighten. He'd seen training before… but never this.
Daichi rested his hand on Kurogami's shoulder. "Crazy, right?" he said, grinning. "But look at it this way, chaos pays."
Kurogami turned to him; he could tell what would happen next.
Daichi's grin widened. "If we play this right, we can make a fortune before sundown."
Daichi and Kurogami sat side by side in the crowded, dimly lit lounge. The air smelled of sweat, iron, and burnt metal.Daichi raised his metallic hand, tapped a panel on his wrist, and a compartment opened with a quiet click.
He pulled something out, a small silver capsule."Here," he said, handing it to Kurogami.
Kurogami blinked, taking it. "What's this?"
"Lens chip. Right eye."
As soon as Kurogami placed it in, the contact lens flickered to life, a soft hum followed by an interface flaring before his vision. Data streamed across his sight like thin glass. Names, IDs, facial scans, body temperature, it all flooded in. He could even see people's registered gear, ranks, and money flow hovering faintly above them.
Daichi smirked, watching his reaction. "Now you get it. That's how I sent those transfers earlier. No cards needed."
Kurogami stared around the arena lobby, amazed. Everything glowed with lines of green and blue light, people, machines, even the weapons on the wall. His new lens mapped it all in real time.
Daichi leaned back and said, "This place… is called The Den. People come here to fight and make money. Bet enough and you'll either walk away rich… or get carried out dead. Depends on how good you are."
He nodded toward the nearest digital billboard flashing fight listings."There are categories. You can start with safe, one-on-one duels. Easy rules, low payout. Or…" he paused, a grin curving across his lips, "you go for the Clash Royale."
Kurogami looked at him. "Clash Royale?"
"Yeah," Daichi said, his tone low with excitement. "No rules. Dozens of fighters, twenty, maybe fifty, dropped into a single arena. The more people you knock out or kill, the more credits transfer straight to your account. Take down high-ranked fighters? You earn their bets too."
He pointed to a glowing exit symbol on the far holo-screen. "That green zone there, when it opens, you can withdraw your earnings. But only if you're still alive to reach it."
Kurogami was silent, his eyes on the arena feed showing blood, flashing weapons, and roaring crowds. The thrill of it was magnetic.
Daichi smirked. "So what will it be? Safe money or real money?"
Kurogami took a slow breath. "I need chaos crystals… a lot of them."
Daichi's grin widened. "Smart choice. A good run tonight could get you ten… fifteen million drakons."
Kurogami's mind raced, ten to fifteen million. Enough to buy crystals, equipment, and everything he needed to cultivate. His resolve hardened.
Daichi saw that look in his eyes and chuckled. "I knew you'd go for the big one."
Without another word, they approached the registration booth. The clerk, a man with cybernetic eyes, scanned Daichi's token, nodded, and pulled up Kurogami's data."White tier registration, no sponsor?" he asked.
Daichi placed his hand on the counter. "He's with me."
Seeing Daichi's red card, the clerk smirked. "That solved it then." To enter Clash Royale, one needs to have at least a hundred thousand Drakon bed on him, from a sponsor or himself
Hundred thousand Drakon will only get you to enter with a cheap weapon, but if you enter with more Drakons, you can enter with your full set of gears. It all depends on the amount your gear is worth. But not to worry, at some point in the process of the battle, weapons are spun in, so some players enter low and use weapons given to them in the arena.
Within minutes, Kurogami was processed. His name flashed briefly on the tournament feed, "White Monkey." This name was chosen for him by Daichi, which Kurogami ate by the way, but didn't do a thing about it. He wore simple cargo pants, a plain white shirt, his black gloves, and the mechanical mask that covered his face from nose to chin.
They led him into a waiting room full of fighters, men and women stretching, sharpening blades, checking guns. Some prayed. Others laughed. Everyone was wired with adrenaline.
Meanwhile, above, the Reaper Gang Overseer sat in a glass observation room. His body was half-machine, black steel arms, golden circuits running through his veins. A dozen assistants hovered behind him, operating holographic panels.
"Pull up the new entries," the Overseer ordered.
A holo-list appeared. The new name pulsed faintly in white."White Monkey… hm. Unranked. Brought in by an unknown person, tho registered, he seems to be part of the old records."
His assistant nodded. "Registered for the Clash Royale."
"One of the old records," the Overseer murmured, his metallic fingers tapping the armrest. "Let's see if this one survives."
Daichi didn't know that his name on the token was green monkey, so they had no idea who he was.
Down below, the lights dimmed. The crowd started chanting.
Then, a holographic dwarf-like figure materialized above the central arena, wearing a tattered coat and a manic grin.
His voice echoed through every speaker:
"Ladies and gentlemen…" he shouted, spinning midair.
"Welcome to tonight's Clash Royale! Let the blood sing and the credits flow!"
The crowd erupted, stomping, screaming, roaring in ecstasy.
Daichi went back to his seat, this time in the VIP spot. Only one lady attendant stood beside him; the VIP was covered with a strong glass.
Daichi's eyes brightened as he sat on the soft couch, drinking red wine. He smiled, "Let's see what you are capable of, Kurogami."