Bill started walking toward the registration booth set up beside one of the rings, and Mako followed closely behind, when suddenly, Bill froze mid-step.
Mako stopped, too, confused. "What's wrong?"
Bill's eyes had widened as his gaze was fixed on a group of men walking toward them, laughing and chatting as if they owned the place. Bill quickly turned around and lowered his head.
Mako tilted a bit to the left to see what had spooked Bill, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just a few rough-looking guys who clearly belonged in a place like this. Then he looked back at Bill, whose face had gone pale.
"What are they doing here?" Bill whispered, panic creeping into his voice.
"They?" Mako repeated.
Bill leaned in, speaking low and fast. "They're from El Diablo's crew. I know those guys. One of them trained with me. This doesn't make any sense... we're in Dark Raven territory. That's Diablo's biggest rival. I picked this place specifically to avoid any of his people. What are they doing here?!"
Mako's eyes narrowed. "So what now?"
"If they see me fight, they'll recognize my style instantly. I can't risk that. If word gets back to El Diablo that I'm active again... it won't be safe for me anywhere in the city, no matter whose territory I'm in." Bill said while clenching his fists.
One of the main reasons El Diablo's men hadn't tracked Bill down yet was because Mako's house was deep inside Dark Raven territory. In the world of gangs, lines were rarely crossed without consequence. No member of one gang would dare step into another's domain without permission, not unless they were looking to start a war. So Bill was safe there as long as he kept his head down and didn't draw any attention to himself, which would lead to El Diablo learning about his whereabouts.
"We need to leave. Right now," Bill said, his voice low and tense.
But Mako didn't budge.
Bill glanced at him, eyes filled with unease.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Bill's expression was tight with concern while Mako remained calm and focused.
"We came here for a reason," Mako said at last. "We don't have much time left. If we don't earn some real money fast, we can forget about passing the recruitment test."
"I know that..." Bill replied, his voice tight. "But if those guys recognize me, it's over. For both of us! El Diablo won't ask questions... he'll kill you just for helping me."
Mako met his gaze. "And what's to say his men won't show up at the next place you take me? We don't have the luxury of waiting anymore. If we're ever going to move forward, we have to start taking risks."
Bill clenched his jaw, frustration building. He hated to admit it, but Mako had a point. Still, the risk felt too high. Too soon.
After a pause, Mako offered a compromise. "Okay, how about this... tonight, only I fight. You stay out of the spotlight and just place bets on me. We'll make more off the odds anyway. Since no one here knows who I am, they'll bet against me, and that'll only raise the payout when I win."
Bill looked away, silent for a moment.
He slowly shook his head. "Don't get ahead of yourself. This isn't like sparring at school. These people? They'll break you without blinking... and they won't stop when you're down."
"I know," Mako said with a smirk beneath his facemask, "But I've taken worse beatings before..."
Bill paused for a moment, then let out a long, resigned sigh.
"…Fine. But if the second things go sideways, we're pulling out immediately."
Mako gave a small nod, "Deal."
Bill didn't like it, but he knew Mako wasn't going to change his mind. He grabbed Mako's shoulder. "Just don't get caught up in the moment. Win, get the payout, and leave. You hear me?"
Mako nodded and walked off before Bill could say another word.
As he approached the registration table, he noticed two middle-aged men sitting behind a battered desk, with a terminal and some paperwork spread across it. One of them had no hair on his face except a grey beard. The other had a sharp scar on his cheek, jet black hair slicked back, and not a strand out of place.
Mako stepped up to the registration table, his facemask in place, and his hands stuffed casually into his jacket pockets.
"Hey," he said, loud and clear over the hum of the crowd. "I wanna fight. Put me in."
The two men behind the table looked up. The bald one raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement, while the man with the scar let out a short, sharp laugh.
"You lost, kid?" the scarred man said, his voice rough. "This ain't a schoolyard brawl."
"Seriously," the bald one added with a grin. "You don't even look like you've finished growing. Come back after a few more years... and maybe a few more pounds."
The two chuckled, clearly enjoying themselves.
Mako didn't flinch. Bill had warned him this would happen... that looking young meant people wouldn't take him seriously. But Bill had also taught him exactly how to deal with it.
He leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. His voice was calm. Cold.
"If you're done laughing, hand me the form. Unless you're scared I'll embarrass your regulars."
That shut them up.
The scarred man blinked, then looked at his partner, a bit surprised by the shift in tone. The bald one, no longer amused, squinted at Mako. His left iris began to glow with a faint purple hue.
Mako could feel the man's aura flare just slightly... nothing threatening, but he definitely felt something probing, so he activated his own Analyze skill to try and figure out what the man was doing.
[Analyze]
[Skill Failed]
[User level too low to process information]
'Huh?!' Mako thought as he was visibly confused.
This had never happened before. Every time he'd used the Analyze skill, it gave him some information, even if the person was stronger than him. But now, nothing. Just a cold message telling him he wasn't high enough level.
'So… did it work, and I just couldn't understand the data?' he wondered. 'Or is this guy so powerful that my skill couldn't even scratch the surface?'
Either way, it wasn't a good sign.
The purple glow in the man's eye quickly faded, and he leaned back in his chair. "Hmm. Interesting."
He slowly turned and signalled his partner, and the scarred man quickly handed over the form, his tone a little less smug now. "Alright, alright. Fill it out, tough guy."
'So that's why he's scanning me,' Mako thought. 'Trying to read my energy to see if I could even compete.'
Mako quickly skimmed through the form. No real info needed... just a few basic parameters and a stage name was enough to enter.
He quickly filled it out and handed it back without a word.
"Entry fee is 5,000 credits," the man added as he began pressing buttons on a battered old portable credit reader.
"Five thousand?!" Mako repeated, a hint of confusion in his voice. That was way higher than what Bill had told him to expect.
"There is a small upcharge on first timers," the man replied with a casual shrug. "But hey, I'm sure you'll be able to make back your money in no time..."
Mako reluctantly swiped his card. The screen beeped. Transaction approved.
"Winnings for each fight depend on how much the crowd is betting. The more hype, the bigger the pot. Once you step into that ring, there's no backing out. You fight until there's a winner... no exceptions," the bald man explained some basic rules.
Mako gave a small nod, his face unreadable behind the mask.
"Alright then," the bald man said, tapping the table. "You'll be called soon. Try not to die."
A few minutes later, Mako sat quietly on a bench off to the side of the ring, surrounded by fighters who looked older, heavier, and more battle-worn than him. He didn't say a word. Just kept his eyes forward and waited.
From across the ring, he saw Bill melt into the crowd, keeping his head down. Hustlers and loudmouths were scattered among the crowd, calling odds to anyone with credits.
"Next up! We got a hot one!" a man in a red leather jacket called out near the edge of the crowd. "Returning champ from tonight... Rico the Tidebringer! Two wins, and now he wants to go for his third!"
Cheers erupted from the crowd as Rico stepped into the ring with a confident swagger. He was in his late twenties, broad-shouldered and solidly built, with a sharp jawline and ocean-blue tattoos running down both arms. He flexed his water ability to excite the crowd by moving the water around in beautiful swirls.
He raised one hand in the air and cracked his neck, grinning like he owned the place.
"And who's his opponent tonight?" the announcer added with a mocking grin. "Some fresh meat... new to the scene who goes by the name... Blaze!"
Mako took a breath and stepped into the ring, doing his best to look composed beneath his mask, but as his smaller frame and clearly younger build came into view, the crowd burst into laughter.
"You kidding me?" someone hollered.
"He's just a kid!"
"Rico's gonna mop the floor with him!"
The hustlers didn't waste a second. They sprang into action, calling out odds and collecting bets.
"Five-to-one on the rookie!" one of them barked. "Two minutes or less and he's down!"
Credit chips and digital wallets flashed in the air as people shouted their wagers.
Quietly, near the back of the crowd, Bill stepped forward and pressed Mako's holophone against one of the hustler's chipped transfer pads. With a soft beep, 500 credits transferred over.
"I'm betting on the new guy to win," Bill said calmly.
The bookie glanced at the screen, then at Bill, one brow arching in disbelief. "You serious? On him?" He tilted his head toward the ring. "Kid looks like he wandered in from a schoolyard."
Bill just gave a small shrug. "Doesn't mean he can't fight."
The bookie gave a half-laugh and shook his head. "Hey, your money."
He processed the bet and moved on, while Bill disappeared back into the crowd, eyes locked on the ring, waiting for the fight to begin.
Meanwhile, inside the ring, Rico cracked his knuckles and gave Mako a toothy grin to try and intimidate him.
"Didn't know they let high schoolers in here," he said loudly. "This ain't no playground, pretty boy."
Mako didn't respond. Just shifted into a low stance, his energy beginning to hum softly around him.
The crowd was ready, the air thick with anticipation.
"Alright, everyone. All bets are locked, and the match will begin shortly!" shouted the announcer. "The winnings of this match will be 4,000 credits!"
The crowd erupted in cheers as both Mako and Rico prepared for the countdown and the fight to begin.
*Ding!* *Ding!* *Ding!*
Mako's first fight was against a brawler with a minor Earth ability—stone knuckles and enhanced durability. The crowd didn't know who Blaze was, but when the bell rang, they quickly found out. Mako ducked the first wild swing, stepped in close, and used a burst of energy-enhanced speed to slam his opponent in the ribs. A few more strikes, a well-placed shockwave, and the fight was over in under a minute.
The crowd cheered, surprised.
His second match was trickier—a Level 3 Wind user who liked to stay at range. But Mako adapted. He stayed low, deflected the gusts, and used a burst of Energy to close the gap. A feint, a spin, and a quick lightning-enhanced kick to the temple finished the fight.
More people were watching now. Cheers grew louder.
His third opponent brought Fire, creating a ring of flames to control the space. Mako smiled behind his mask—he'd trained against Fire users before. He absorbed the heat with his Energy aura, rushed through the flame barrier, and slammed the guy to the ground in one sweeping move.
Fight four was a brute with no powers—just raw strength. Mako danced around him, dodging and striking with surgical precision until the man dropped to one knee. A final jab to the chin ended it.
By the fifth fight, the crowd was shouting his name. Or rather—his stage name.
"BLAZE! BLAZE! BLAZE!"
The fifth opponent was another Level 3, a woman with magnetism powers. She tried to pull Mako's katana away, only to find out too late that he wasn't relying on it. With quick footwork and sharp timing, he sent a pulse of lightning through the metal flooring, stunning her long enough to close the gap and knock her out with a blow to the gut.
The crowd exploded. Bets surged. Blaze was now a fan favorite.
After the fifth fight, Mako sat down to catch his breath. He was sweating but far from tired. His Energy reserves were solid. The thrill of battle had lit something in him—he was riding a high.
Then Tyler, the bald man from the registration booth, walked over.
"You've been invited to the Battle Royale main event," he said flatly. "It's tonight. Large crowd. More bets. More eyes. You in?"
Mako looked past him for a second—and saw Bill on the far end of the room, waving both hands, shaking his head violently. He was trying to tell Mako no.
But Mako didn't notice.
Or maybe he did—and chose to ignore it.
"I'm in," he said.
The ring for the Battle Royale had been cleared and expanded. The lights above dimmed, leaving only the main ring glowing under powerful white beams. The announcer's voice echoed through the building:
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! IT'S TIME FOR THE MAIN EVENT!"
Cheers erupted.
"Ten fighters enter, one walks out as the last man standing!"
Mako stood in the lineup backstage. One by one, names were called, followed by thunderous cheers. Some had fought earlier. Others were new.
"And last but not least… the mystery man! The rising fire! The lightning storm! The undefeated—BLAZE!"
Mako stepped out.
Silence.
Not a single cheer. Not a sound.
The awkwardness of walking to his starting position in complete silence might have made most fighters uncomfortable. But under his mask, Mako was grinning.
'Bill's gonna make a fortune.'
"FIGHTERS READY?"
Mako took up a stance.
"BEGIN!!"
DING!
[New Quest Received][Win the Group B Battle Royale][Condition: For every opponent knocked out, the reward increases.][Reward: ???][Penalty: None]
Mako's eyes widened for a moment—but there was no time to reflect.
Chaos erupted.
A flurry of abilities lit up the ring—ice shards flew, walls of stone rose, a wave of sound knocked two fighters off their feet. Mako ducked low, weaving through the crowd. He didn't charge in like the others. He watched. Picked targets. Waited for moments.
Then he struck.
His first knockout came when a wind user turned his back. Mako slid in behind and landed a clean strike to the neck. One down.
A fire-user tried to blindside him—Mako spun and sent a pulse of Energy forward, knocking him back. He followed up with a burst of lightning that sent the man crashing into a support post.
Two down.
The third was trickier—a guy with stone armor, slow but sturdy. Mako danced around him, tiring him out, before using his katana in a sweeping motion across the back of his knees. The man dropped, and Mako sent a final jolt into his spine.
Three.
The crowd went wild.
And Mako?
He had never felt more alive.