"They don't really care about us."
That has always been the case.
They being the people at the pinnacle of socio-economical hierarchy, and us being at the bottom.
"What are you mumbling about, Marcello?", the middle aged woman wearing a grey colored apron asked from behind the counter.
Her long blonde hair tied into a ponytail exemplifying her striking features.
She is beautiful.
My beautiful mother.
"The association doesn't really care about this small diner is what I was thinking.", I said, fixing the CLOSED sign outside the entrance.
"Well, we are behind the tax payment schedules, that's why they are causing problems.", she replied with a grim expression.
"Huh. They are just angry that we didn't treat their members for free.", I scoffed.
"....You don't need to worry about that. I will handle it.", she affirmed looking directly into my eyes.
There was sadness in her eyes.
This small diner doesn't attract much customers, as there is a lot of competition in this area.
Despite the quality of food we provide is far better than theirs, this damned association spreads false rumors about our diner, due to which people avoid us.
She is a single parent, yet she has raised me, while working here all her life.
We had never caused any trouble, but those greedy bastards taking a fight with us is definitely because of my deceased father.
"I am going to clean up the kitchen, you go wash up the plates.", she said.
"Alright."
"Bring the food to your sister after you are done. She is in her room."
"Alright alright."
"Also ..."
"There is more?"
"Don't remain outside for too long."
I averted my eyes from hers.
There was no answer within me for her order.
She knew it too, that I won't heed to her advice.
There are things I must do.
***
"It has been 10 years since the appearance of the gates....."
The reporter read the script, reminiscing of the reminder that the world is not the same anymore, as it has changed over these past 10 years.
Gate.
The mysterious black hole type entrances, from which mysterious beasts appear and wreaked havoc when it first appeared.
It was as if hell had fallen on earth.
I was just 8 years old, when this happened.
My father got caught up in it and was killed by one of the monsters.
Sirens of the patrolling vehicles could be heard in the vicinity, as I passed the deserted road quietly avoiding them.
And, a worn out building with broken walls, danger sign hanging from the roof came to my sight.
It was really cold outside, and the leather jacket I was wearing didn't do any good.
So, I quickly got inside.
The air underground was thick with sweat, dust, and anticipation.
The moment I stepped down the cracked concrete stairs, the noise hit me—laughter, taunts, casual chatter. It wasn't the sound of criminals.
It was the sound of people who had nowhere else to go.
A single bulb swung from the ceiling, throwing crooked shadows over the circular space cleared in the middle of the room. Chalk marked the boundary on the floor.
The arena.
I wasn't the one who built this place.Wasn't the one who gathered them.Wasn't the one who wrote the rules.
That was Ryu.
Nobody knew his real name. He was twenty, maybe. Broad shoulders. Scar running from his brow to his cheek. Not awakened. Not special.
But strong.
He started this after getting rejected from the Hunter Association's physical screening for the third time.
"No abilities detected."
That was the sentence that divided humanity.
Ten years after the Gates opened, the world worshipped the Awakened. Hunters were celebrities. Government assets. Walking weapons.
The rest of us?
"Support personnel.""Civilians.""Evacuation statistics."
Ryu didn't like that.
So he built something different.
No money involved. No betting. No rankings posted online. No streaming. If anyone tried to film, they were banned permanently.
Just fists.
Just bodies testing their limits.
The only rule that mattered:
Step outside the circle, you lose.
Break a limb intentionally, you're out of the club.
If a new member joins, they fight the second newest member.
That's why everyone was staring at me.
I had joined three days ago.
Which meant tonight—
I was fighting the newest one.
Everyone went silent, as the man in charge entered.
Ryu.
That was the name he introduced himself with, when he gave me a card containing details of this club.
Broad shoulders, face scarred, taller than most guys his age, and lean but strong.
More like the strongest of this bunch.
That's why they call him their leader.
"Good evening, leader!", everyone screamed in unison, including myself.
He scanned the arena, with a cigarette in his mouth.
"The two newbies step forward.", he said with a smile on his face.
I stepped forward when my name wasn't called, because it didn't need to be. Everyone knew who the second newest member was.
My shoes scraped against the chalk dust. The circle looked smaller from the inside.
Someone else stepped in from the opposite side.
Slim frame. Wrapped hands. Hood up.
No reaction from the crowd — just the low hum of people waiting to see whether someone would fall hard enough to satisfy whatever itch brought them here every night.
She pushed the hood back.
I stopped.
Now this is a fighting club, no shady business of the countryside.
That's why Ryu didn't prohobit girls from entering the club.
There was no gender based rule at all, for which there were quite a few female members here.
But, her?
Are you serious?
Even among the awakened ones there are a few persons called celebrities.
They are mostly used as faces of the Hunters' Association to convey things to commoners through media.
People mockingly call them poster heroes.
And she would be one of the prime examples of one such being.
"Now, introduce yourselves.", Ryu's command snapped me from astonishment.
"Marcello.", I said.
She gave a small nod.
"Aika."
Her voice was soft, but it carried.
We stood still for a moment.
This was the ritual.
Respect before violence.
I extended my hand.
She looked at it briefly, then shook it.
Her grip was warm.
And frighteningly firm.
Ryu stepped between us, smoke drifting from the cigarette at the corner of his mouth. His eyes moved from her… to me… measuring something neither of us could see.
Around us, the room had gone completely silent.
No laughter.
No chatter.
Only expectation.
Ryu raised one hand.
"You greet."
We nodded to each other.
"You introduce."
Done.
He looked at us for one long second — the corner of his mouth curling slightly.
Then he spoke the words every member here heard before their first fight.
"WELCOME TO HELLFIRE."
The room erupted.
Cheers slammed against the walls. Boots stomped the concrete. Someone pounded metal piping like a war drum.
My pulse roared in my ears.
Ryu stepped back.
The arena belonged to us now.
Wait, is this alright?
Isn't she an awakened hunter?
Is she allowed here?
I looked at Ryu for a brief moment, as he gave me a small nod, as if he understood what I was going to ask.
So this was allowed.
Of course it was.
If strength was the only currency here, it would be strange to reject someone simply for having more of it.
I turned back to her.
Up close, she looked the same as she did in class — composed, distant, untouchable in a way that made people behave themselves without being told to.
She met my eyes without hesitation.
"I won't use my ability," she said.
I didn't answer.
"If I did, this wouldn't be a fight."
Her tone wasn't arrogant. Just factual.
A pause.
"You can refuse," she added. "No one will stop you."
Ryu said nothing behind us.
The room waited.
I stayed where I was.
Her gaze sharpened slightly, as if confirming something.
"Good," she said.
We stepped back.
Raised our guards.
No ceremony left. No excuses remaining.
"Try not to step out," she said quietly.
I exhaled once.
She moved first.
And the circle closed around us.
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A/N:
i am new to writing on this platform, please add a comment about your thoughts.
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