The Pit wasn't just a ring.
It was a city inside a city, a world governed by rules few outsiders understood.
Every fighter, every sponsor, every whisper of the crowd carried weight.
Every action had consequences far beyond the echo of a punch.
I moved along the corridor that led to the observation deck.
From here, I could see the entire arena floor spread out like a chessboard.
Fighters were warming up, stretching, sparring lightly.
Some moved with arrogance.
Some trembled.
And some… already looked dead.
The ranking system was brutal.
Tier One: veterans with flawless records and deadly precision.
Tier Two: dangerous but inconsistent.
Tier Three: newcomers—hungry, desperate, expendable.
I was Tier Three.
But surviving Kaine had shifted something.
Other fighters whispered my name now, some with curiosity, some with fear.
The higher tiers hadn't fully noticed yet.
That was my advantage.
Every match here was more than physical.
It was mental warfare.
Information was as lethal as a knife.
Watching a fighter flinch at a shadow could tell you more than hours of sparring.
And I watched.
I listened.
I remembered.
Mason had taught me that.
Not with lectures, but with observation.
He was the only one here who didn't pretend the Pit was a game.
He knew it was a war, and he measured every heartbeat, every twitch, every pause.
Some fighters tried to form alliances, whispers of deals and promises flowing like poison through the ranks.
But the Pit was cruel.
It only rewarded awareness, timing, and instinct.
Alliances could be bought… or betrayed.
Every corner, every shadow, could hide a knife—or an opportunity.
I walked past the edge of the ring, feeling the floor hum beneath my boots.
This arena was alive.
It was breathing.
And it knew who would survive and who would fall.
I paused, letting my eyes roam the faces of the new challengers.
Some had weapons hidden in their stances, some relied on brute strength, others on unpredictable movements.
Each one a puzzle.
And each puzzle had a rhythm.
I inhaled.
The crowd's roar faded into the background.
Everything else—the lights, the echoes, the metal beneath my feet—became clear.
I wasn't here to fight yet.
I was here to understand the rhythm of survival.
To map the hierarchy.
To find the cracks in the system before they found me.
And deep down, I knew the Pit would test me not for strength…
but for fear.
The fear of death, the fear of failure, the fear of losing control.
I had survived before, and I would survive again.
But this time, the game was bigger.
The stakes were higher.
And the rules… were just beginning to reveal themselves.