The sand under his feet stuck to his skin, dark and wet.
The air was thick — smoke, blood, noise.
Everything smelled like metal. Everything droned.
Kai stood there, barefoot, thin, shaking.
The guy across from him was wider, calm, almost relaxed.
He rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles.
"Hands up, kid."
Kai didn't.
The punch came fast.
A twist — then a dull crack against his jaw.
His head snapped sideways, balance gone.
He stayed standing.
No pain.
Just pressure.
But real.
Second punch — straight to the gut.
Air gone.
He gasped, bent forward.
The man grinned.
"You're too stiff. Loosen up or—"
Then the third hit — right to the chin.
Light. Noise. Black.
Kai dropped, caught himself, stumbled.
One step.
Then the man shot in low — a double-leg takedown, perfect drive through.
The ground slammed his back.
Dust, blood, breath — too much at once.
The guy climbed over him, passed his guard.
Full mount. Heavy pressure.
Fists dropping, elbows cutting through air.
Each strike dull, solid, real.
No rhythm. Just violence.
Kai raised his arms — half instinct, no form.
He tried to shrimp, to bridge — nothing.
The guy's weight crushed his lungs.
Sweat dripped onto his face.
I can't get out.
Don't know how.
Just… breathe.
A hammerfist to the temple.
An elbow to the jaw.
He felt the blood, not the pain.
Only the pounding in his skull.
Then the world turned.
He twisted — bad angle, sloppy — but the man overcommitted.
Kai rolled, took half-guard, tried to pull him off.
Didn't work.
The guy sprawled, took his back — arm under chin, pressure.
Not clean, not sport — raw.
Kai gasped, kicked, clawed.
I'm choking.
That's it?
Really?
The crowd screamed.
Then — silence.
Just heartbeat.
Heavy.
Slow.
Yuto's voice.
"If you don't feel anything, you're already dead, Kai."
Something inside him snapped.
No rage.
No thought.
Just reflex.
He tucked his chin, grabbed the wrist, rolled sideways — slipped out barely.
His elbow came back blind.
A hit. A grunt.
The choke broke.
Kai rolled free, coughed, half-stood.
Body shaking, blood dripping from his chin.
The man got up too, rubbing his ribs, grinning.
"Well, look at that. He's alive."
He stepped in again.
Kai backed off, hands open, no guard.
But his eyes had changed.
Not cold. Not empty.
Just… awake.
The man threw a jab.
Kai slipped — late, but enough.
A right hook grazed past his cheek.
He moved without thinking.
His body just… reacted.
Why am I moving?
I never learned this.
Is this… instinct? My will… to fight?
A punch — this time from Kai.
Weak, messy, but real.
It hit the man's shoulder.
Didn't hurt him.
But Kai felt it.
The man grinned.
"You're no fighter," he said.
"I'll crush you, kid."
Then came the finish —
a fake low,
a fast right cross,
clean to Kai's chin.
Perfect timing.
Blackout.
Fight over.
Kai on the floor.
Breathing rough.
Blood in his mouth.
The ground shook.
He barely heard the crowd.
Only that slow, heavy beat in his chest.
I lost.
But for the first time… I felt it.
"Get up," he growled.
He leaned closer, his breath thick with smoke and sweat.
"I should kill you right now. But I ain't doing you that favor. You live with this, yeah? You feel it."
He chuckled, ugly and dry, and tapped Kai's cheek with two fingers like a fucking joke.
Then — footsteps.
Slow ones. Heavy boots.
The crowd went quiet, real quiet, like dogs waiting to see who gets kicked first.
From the dark came a man — long coat, hood low, eyes cold.
He flicked his cigarette away, pulled out a gun.
No words.
Just — bang.
The sound cracked through the whole pit.
The fighter's skull popped back, red mist painting the sand.
He dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
For a second, silence.
Then chaos —
Screams, laughter, hands in the air.
The crowd went wild.
"YEAH!"
"FUCKING KILL HIM!"
"TOOK TOO LONG, BITCH!"
It wasn't fear. It was celebration.
Blood always sells better than mercy.
Kai barely heard it — everything muffled.
His head rolled to the side, eyes half-open.
The man with the gun didn't move, didn't blink.
He holstered the pistol like it was part of his heartbeat.
Someone yelled, "Why'd you smoke him, boss?"
The shooter didn't even look up.
"He hesitated," he said. Voice dead flat.
"He had one job — finish the kid. No mercy in here. He broke the fucking code."
He stepped closer to the corpse, kicked it once like trash.
"You don't stop mid-kill in The Pit. You do, you pay for it."
Another guy laughed in the back. "That's what you get for showing pity, dumbass!"
Someone else shouted, "Hell yeah, one less weak fuck in the ring!"
The crowd fed on it.
The shooter looked at Kai.
"You're lucky, kid. They want you breathing. Broken, not gone. You sell better that way."
Then he turned, waved his hand. "Clean this shit up. Next round!"
Workers jumped in like it was routine —
Dragged the body away, tossed sawdust on the blood,
wiped the ropes like nothing happened.
The host grabbed a mic and screamed:
"NEXT FIGHT IN FIVE! KEEP THAT ENERGY UP!"
Everyone cheered.
Music hit.
The whole place came back to life, loud and filthy.
Kai stayed down, half-dead, half-awake.
The body that almost killed him was gone now —
face open, eyes blank.
He tried to move. Couldn't.
Blood leaked from his nose, thick and hot.
His vision blurred.
Why didn't he just kill me?
Because it's not mercy they sell here.
It's suffering.
Hands grabbed him, dragged him out of the ring.
Feet scraped concrete.
He didn't fight it.
Voices blurred —
"f*ck Kai... thank you...you safed me." Kenji said.
Then it all faded again.
They kept me alive so I can bleed more.
They kept me alive 'cause pain's worth money here.
Guess that's my price now.
His eyes closed.
No dreams.
Just the echo of the crowd still cheering for blood.
The crowd chanted, voices melting together —"Broken one! Broken one! FIGHT AT THE PIT!"
High above the chaos, behind tinted glass, Mina watched.
Next to her — her father, hands behind his back, suit perfect, expression colder than the floor.
Below them, Kai's body was being dragged off, leaving a red trail.
She didn't say a word.
Didn't flinch.
Just stared.
Her father smirked. "That one…he doesn´t feel pain."
She didn't answer.
Didn't even look at him.
Her eyes stayed on the ring.
On the boy who didn't die.
And for a second —
she wasn't sure if she felt pity,
or if she just wanted to see what he'd become
once this city finally finished what it started