"Bro, what are you thinking?"
"Just thinking about how I'm going to earn money other than hacking those illegal sites. Do you have any idea?"
Greg scratched his head, saying, "No idea."
I gave him a side-eye. Why did I even bother asking him? Just as I expected, I shouldn't expect.
"Well, maybe I could leverage my tech skills for ethical hacking or cybersecurity consulting. A lot of companies are ready to shell out for securing their systems. It's a legal and pretty lucrative way to put my expertise to good use.
Yeah, that's right, the school will have its event for computer programming. I can show off my skills and have free advertisement, and that will be the start of my business empire."
My eyes lit up with confidence, and a triumphant smile formed on my lips as the idea became clear in my mind, while Greg looked at me with a blank expression.
Knock knock...
Greg and I suddenly looked at each other when we heard the knock.
Vince was busy with the homework I gave him that he didn't even pay attention to what Greg and I were talking about. So who's gonna be knocking at our door?
I paused, my attention shifting to the door as the knocking persisted. Before opening it, I called out, "Who is it?" trying to figure out who might be on the other side before I swung it open.
"This is Rendon. I just came back; I brought some souvenirs for you."
Knowing it was him, I opened the door and let him in.
"Mr. Rendon, when did you come back?"
"Blaze, my son, how are you?" He paused after seeing Greg then looked around and saw Vince busy at the side.
"Oh, you have company? Friends? Why don't you introduce them to me?" Mr. Rendon asked me teasingly.
"They're my friends, and they're gonna live here for long. Is that okay with you, Mr. Rendon?"
"Sure, no prob. As long as you want. I'm glad you have friends now. Do you guys want some chocolates and cookies? I have some here."
"Hello, I'm Greg; nice to meet you," while pointing at Vince, "That one there, his name is Vince."
"Good boy! Nice to meet you too. My name is Rendon; you can call me Mr. Rendon."
"Hmm, are you Blaze's father?"
"Hahaha, you have a good eyesight. Yes, I'm his father; we're both handsome, right?"
"Wow, Brother Blaze, you didn't tell us you have a father." Greg has that look of bewilderment.
"He isn't really my father. But he is now." I know they will eventually find out, so better tell them the truth now.
Vince, who had been quietly observing, looked up from his homework; curiosity is evident on his face.
"Things just happened that way." I brushed it off.
We settle at the sala set. They're happily listening to Mr. Rendon's stories about his trip. While I busy myself watching the news on TV.
But then the news shifted to the Urban Development that Veilhaven Country is about to do at Pyra City. The project incorporates a variety of functions, including residential, commercial, and recreational elements.
I scowl and clench my jaw as I watch the news, frustrated and resentful, seeing those I'm mad at living a good life.
Without any warning, I got up then went to my room. I can feel them staring at my back while I entered my room.
I feel so frustrated and mad. Is that Urban Development the reason why they burned Pyra City? The very incident that somehow led my family to their death.
Those happy faces of them I'll make sure to rip them apart.
I can't contain the boiling anger inside my heart that I found my tears keep falling from my eyes.
Mom, Dad, Bro, Sis... I promise I will make them pay. I won't stop until I get my revenge.
---
I don't know what Mr. Rendon told them, but after that day, Vince and Greg became more obedient towards me. It's as if no matter what I want and do, they're gonna support me. Seems like Mr. Rendon told them about my story.
The passing days go smoothly, but another tragedy befalls us once again.
Greg also goes to school; well, he may be dumb sometimes, but he's still quite smart. He's in the same grade as me. While Vince is one grade lower than us.
Greg loves to join extracurricular activities, but he's mostly present at the Taekwondo Club. He surely loves to fight.
But because of that, we're now in this situation where he has to fight for his life.
It's either you kill or you'll be killed.
I looked at him intensely as blood flowed out of his mouth. His body was covered with wounds, and his clothes were shattered, stained with blood. He wore a Phantom Mask that was torn enough to reveal the blood flowing from his mouth.
The scene before me is something I wish I wouldn't witness at all.
He might die any second while fighting inside that ring. While people were happily chanting... "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"
I clenched my fist so tight. I wish to escape this place and save Greg from this hell of a place. But I have no choice but to stand still and watch the fight. Pray to God to save his life if there is indeed a God.
His enemy is the adopted son of the owner of this underground arena. They were both in a Taekwondo club.
Since Greg joined this club, they are always being compared to each other to see who is the best. They often end up in a tie.
The adopted son is full of pride; he taunts Greg to fight him for real, but Greg declined. So he asked his men to kidnap me, which leads us to this situation.
After all, I'm still a 13-year-old kid. I can't win against a group of men who are pros at killing people. I'm just lucky before that Mr. Hough's men were just ordinary bodyguards, unlike these people who seem to be former armies.
Mr. Brandon, the owner of this underground arena, just watches quietly at the front as his adopted son and Greg fight for their life. Seems unaffected by whatever the outcome would be.
Greg and his opponent fought desperately, throwing quick punches and dodging each other's moves. They traded blows, trying to overpower the other. Greg landed a strong kick, but his opponent retaliated with a flurry of punches. The fight continued with raw intensity, both fighters giving their all in a struggle for survival.
With a burst of energy, Greg seized an opening, delivering a decisive blow that brought his opponent to a halt. A powerful punch landed squarely, leaving his adversary incapacitated. The atmosphere was tense as the realization of defeat set in. Greg emerged victorious, his final strike ending the intense battle for survival.
Then the crowd goes wild while shouting "Striker! Striker! Striker!" They give him that name because of his final strike.
I finally breathe a sigh of relief knowing he won. But how are we going to leave this place?
I run towards Greg after the fight. I help him sit down and give him water to drink. Mr. Brandon walks towards his adopted son. Feeling his pulse, he then said something to him.
The rule in this arena when you fight a Battle of Death is that one must truly die for the battle to end.
Looking at Greg now, I wished he wouldn't suffer the same thing I'm suffering right now. Where your conscience will eat you up knowing you killed someone. I'm quietly gotten used to it somehow. But what about him?
While contemplating how we are going to leave this place, Mr. Brandon walks towards us. While looking at Greg, he said to him, "From now on, you're my son."
We looked back at him in surprise, as if we heard it wrongly.
"The documents you signed earlier were his will. He stated in case he lost and died, you will take his place as my son. He asked me to approve that deadly match because he wants to prove himself worthy as my son.
The deadly match here only happens if there will be a change of successor. So you are now the successor.
Our organization is called The Protector Agency. Outside, we are known as a security agency where we provide bodyguards to rich people and those in politics.
This underground arena is just for them to have some fun and bet money to watch fights."
"What if I don't agree?" Greg asked.
"You need to fight with someone to death. If he wins and you die, then you will no longer be the successor. That's the rule!
If you still don't agree, your family and friends must die along with you. The moment you enter this place, you are bound by the rules."
We both gulped, hearing his words. It's like we are ants in front of an elephant. His voice is full of authority, as if we have no choice but to follow.