[ Darkspire VIP Room 0 ]
As the door to the VIP Room 0 creaked open, a voluptuous silhouette sauntered in.
Long pink curls framed her face, and a pink mask concealed her expression.
Her big hat added a sense of mystery as she entered the darkened space.
The room was lavish, but the only light emanated from the glass wall opposite the entrance, casting the underground arena below in full view.
Chewing noises interrupted the silence.
In the room's corner, a fat man sat, his jaws working on what disturbingly appeared to be a human arm.
"Ah, Lust! How delightful! It's been nearly a decade!"
"Mmmph, Lust? It's been, mmm, almost a decade, hasn't it?"
He spoke, still chewing.
Blood from his gruesome meal stained his chin and clothes.
Turning her gaze toward the source, the woman's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Taking up almost an entire corner of the room was Gluttony.
His form was round, almost shapeless in its sheer mass, resembling a giant blob with sporadic limbs.
His eyes were small and beady, barely visible under the rolls of fat that composed his face.
His mouth, disproportionately small for his massive frame, chomped down on the arm as though it were a turkey leg.
Lust sighed.
"Fancy seeing you here, Gluttony."
He swallowed with a contented groan.
"Ahhh~! Wrath made sure we SINS got ourselves a private room in all of his Fight Clubs. I come here once in a while for the...cuisine,"
He snickered, taking another bite of the hand.
"Mhmmm~ Thought you were dead… mmmm… What brings you here today?"
"I'm here to watch a match,"
Lust replied, her voice cool and detached.
"Oh? Which strapping young lad caught your eye?"
Gluttony's mouth curved into a bloody smirk, his small eyes glinting maliciously as he took another bite.
Her glare could have curdled milk.
"Watch your tongue."
"Relax, relax,"
He chuckled, swallowing another mouthful.
"I know, I know, you've remained...untouched all these years. Quite ironic, an old virgin awakening the powers of Lust back when you were Tier 3."
The voluptuous shadow turned away, opting not to indulge him further.
Her eyes fixed on the glass wall, ready for the match below to distract her from the distasteful company she found herself keeping.
As she looked at the fight below, Lust found herself wondering how she ever tolerated Gluttony's repulsive behavior in the past.
'Focus. I'm here for ....'
She reminded herself silently.
=========
[ Darkspire UFC Arena ]
The stadium erupted in cheers and roars as a scrawny fight announcer hobbled into the center of the arena.
Snake scales covered one side of his body, a contrasting pattern against his otherwise human flesh.
His walking cane doubled as his microphone, a crafty device that fit the chaotic aesthetic of Darkspire Underground Fight Club.
The arena itself was a marvel of dark architecture, designed to amplify the ferociousness of every fight. Chains and metal spikes dangled from the walls.
In the center was the fighting ring—more a pit than anything else, surrounded by walls too high for anyone to escape from but low enough to allow the crowd an unhindered view of the bloodshed.
And what a crowd it was!
A sea of rowdy Antagonians filled the stadium, each villain or criminal more unique and grotesque than the last.
Faces adorned with menacing tattoos, bodies armored in improvised weaponry, and eyes that spoke of treacherous deeds—they were all there.
Witches from the East conversed with pirates from the Misted Sea; assassins elbowed their way through pockets of thieves and swindlers.
The air was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and dark magic.
"Bastards and Bitches of Antagonia! ARE YOU READY FOR THE FIGHT OF THE YEAR?"
The announcer's voice crackled through the arena's shoddy speaker system.
The response was immediate and deafening.
Fists were thrown into the air, and the crowd howled, a cacophony of villainous anticipation.
"Come on, make some noise if you're rotten to the core!"
The announcer goaded, swinging his cane-microphone in a dramatic arc.
If possible, the stadium grew even louder, each individual trying to prove their level of villainy through sheer volume alone.
"Ah, yes! That's the wicked spirit I love! Brace yourselves, this is gonna be a fight no one will forget!"
The announcer's words reverberated through the crowd, their excitement reaching a fever pitch.
It was a gathering of Antagonia's worst, all united by the promise of violence, a spectacle of mayhem, and the thrill of a fight.
===========
[ VIP Room 1 ]
The VIP room was fancy but not over-the-top, just how Darkspire liked its villainy.
Mayor Malachor stood near the glass wall, peering down at the spectacle below.
He was an imposing figure despite his age—an elderly man with muscles that told of past battles and scars that did the same.
He wore a vest over a white formal shirt, its sleeves rolled up, revealing even more scars on his burly arms.
Mayor Malachor broke the silence, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"I hear you're planning to take that route once you've hit tier 3 and awakened,"
Fizsure waved his hand dismissively and grinned,
"Don't listen to such baseless rumors!"
Mayor Malachor sighed, his face a mixture of admiration and concern.
"You're the pride of Darkspire, Pinnacle of T2 and your first year isn't even over."
He patted Fizsure's shoulder affectionately.
"Let me know if you need any help. I know the road is expensive... Your—"
"Old man, don't worry about me!"
Fizsure interrupted, but then his eyes narrowed, a sign of his usually-hidden seriousness.
"So, spill. Why are you watching a low-tier match like this, and why did you make sure I'd join you? Aren't you making a mountain out of a molehill?"
Malachor shook his head, his gaze still on the arena.
"I've received news that [5] is a local Darkspirian— and a young one at that. You've returned to Darkspire High School. Didn't that old snake Stillwater tell you about the Department of Education breathing down our necks? We need another star, Fizsure, or we're going to face a whole mess of problems."
Fizsure's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a focused intensity.
Although he often played the carefree young villain, he understood the weight of being Darkspire's hometown Villain star.
He felt a responsibility not just for himself but for the young talents that would follow.
"So, you want to get this [5] to compete in this year's Villain Ascendancy Trials. Did you manage to get the UFC to reveal his identity?"
Malachor sighed, shaking his head.
"The Underground Fight Club belongs to the Wrath Clan. Some of their rules are... sacrosanct. Even I can't bend them."
Fizsure nodded, understanding the limitations but not entirely pleased about them.
"Alright, but keep an eye out, and let me know if there's a way I can help. Darkspire High could use another rising star, and so could Darkspire"