Kazuki sat in his cold, dimly lit cell, staring blankly at the cracked concrete wall in front of him. His thoughts swirled like a storm, crashing into one another with no clear direction. The weight of everything pressed down on him, suffocating him in the small, confined space. How had it all come to this? How had he ended up in this hellish place? The question echoed in his mind, but no answers came.
The sound of footsteps approaching snapped him out of his reverie. The guard appeared at the cell door, his cloaked face obscured by the shadows cast by the flickering light in the hallway.
"Get ready," the guard's voice was gruff, indifferent. "Your match is in 20 minutes."
Kazuki's heart skipped a beat. The nerves that had been simmering under the surface now flared into full-blown anxiety. He had known this moment was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. He nodded silently, trying to steady his breath as the guard turned and walked away, leaving him alone once more.
Twenty minutes later, Kazuki found himself standing in a small room, the air heavy with the scent of oil and metal. The walls were lined with an array of weapons—blades, clubs, spears, and more, each one more deadly than the last. The dim lighting cast long, eerie shadows across the room, making the weapons gleam with a sinister edge.
Kazuki swallowed hard, his mouth dry as he took in the sight around him. His nerves were on edge, every fiber of his being screaming at him to run, to escape this nightmare. But there was no way out. Not now. He had to fight, and to fight, he needed a weapon.
"Pick any weapon of your choice," the cloaked guard standing by the door instructed, his voice cold and detached.
Kazuki hesitated, his eyes darting from weapon to weapon. Each one looked more menacing than the last, and the thought of wielding one in battle made his stomach churn. He walked slowly along the wall, his hand hovering over the different weapons, but not quite touching them. His mind raced, trying to weigh the pros and cons of each choice. What would give him the best chance of survival? What could he handle?
As he moved, his gaze fell on a particular weapon…
Kazuki brought the weapon to the cloaked guard, showing it to him as he tried to use different types of grips on it.
The guard nodded approvingly. "Good choice," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Soon after that Kazuki found himself standing on the stage of the fighting ring, his heart pounding in rhythm with the deafening bass that reverberated through the arena. The crowd's chants filled the air, their voices blending into a chaotic roar. "Bank Robber! Bank Robber!" they yelled, their excitement palpable as they waited for the fight to begin. The spotlight beamed down on him, a harsh, glaring light that illuminated every inch of his trembling form.
He wore his black ski mask, a part of his identity now, but it was far from pristine. Three jagged ruptures ran through it—scars from his fight with Elyas—matching the fresh scratch still etched into his face. The mask, once a shield, now felt like a reminder of his vulnerability. Kazuki's hands clenched into fists at his sides, blood dripping from it.
The commentator's voice boomed through the speakers, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. "Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves for a spectacle like no other! Our masked contender, the Bank Robber, is here to claim his next victory! But can he withstand the force that's about to be unleashed?"
Kazuki's nerves tightened into a knot. Fear coursed through his veins, but something else stirred within him—an emotion that had been bubbling up ever since he stepped into this hellish place.
The nightmares that plagued him each night were like chains, dragging him down into a pit of despair, yet somehow, they also fueled him. They ignited a fire, a determination he hadn't felt before. He was scared, yes, but he was also ready. He had to be.
Kazuki had accepted his reality. He didn't know when Junpei will come to save, if he will ever come, as he had already told him that he had a lot of enemies. From Lucy, Kazuki had also learnt that after losing continuously, you are discarded, and killed. But, Kazuki needed to survive, he needed to see his parents smile at him again.
Suddenly, the spotlight shifted away from him, leaving him momentarily in the dark. All eyes turned to the other side of the stage, where another figure began to emerge from the stairs. The crowd's cheers grew louder, their anticipation reaching a fever pitch.
"Harley! Harley! Harley!" The crowd started to cheer.
She stepped into the light—a girl, no, a vision. Long golden-brown hair cascaded down her back, shimmering under the stage lights like liquid gold. Her olive skin glowed with a warmth that made her stand out in the cold, harsh arena. Her figure was stunning, curvaceous yet athletic, with an undeniable allure that captured everyone's attention. Everything about her seemed foreign, exotic—she had the look of a Latina beauty, a striking contrast to the brutal world around them.
She wore a black long jacket that billowed around her like a cloak of shadows. Underneath, a stylish white crop top hugged her body, revealing just enough to tantalize, while ripped jean shorts showcased her toned legs. As she walked, there was a confidence in her stride, a lethal grace that told everyone she was no ordinary fighter.
Kazuki's breath caught in his throat as she looked at him, her dark eyes full of disappointment, as if she were already bored with what she saw. The judgment in her gaze stung more than any wound he had ever received.
She turned her head slightly, glancing back at the stairs behind her. Then, without warning, something flew through the air towards her. With lightning reflexes, she reached out and caught it—a large, two-handed sledgehammer, heavy and menacing.
The crowd erupted as she effortlessly hefted the weapon, its weight seemingly nothing to her. She turned her gaze back to Kazuki, the same disappointed look still on her face. It was as if she was telling him, 'Is this all you've got?'
The commentator's voice boomed again, dripping with excitement. "And here she is, the golden goddess with a hammer of fury! Harley has arrived! Can the Bank Robber withstand her might, or will he be crushed under her power?"
Kazuki's heart pounded harder, the thumping in his chest matching the rhythm of the music. He was scared, but he couldn't back down. Not now. Not ever. The nightmares had shown him horrors, but they had also shown him one undeniable truth—that he was weak.
Yet, here he stood, ready to take on another Awakened, Ghoul or whatever bullshit the beauty was.
***
The two hooded figures struggled to move through the dense, raucous crowd, their shoulders brushing against sweaty bodies as they pushed forward. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, and the thumping music reverberated through the walls, creating a pulse that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. The chaotic energy of the crowd was almost suffocating, as different chants mixed with the booming bass, forming a dissonant symphony of chaos.
They passed by one stage where two master swordsmen clashed in a flurry of steel, one had short orange hair, while the other had long black hair and a eyepathc, their blades moving so fast they were nearly invisible. Sparks flew as metal met metal, and the crowd roared with excitement. The crowd chanted "Strawberry!, Strawberry!, Strawberry!". The hooded figures were mesmerized by their techniques, yet barely spared them a glance before moving on.
At the next stage, the hooded figures caught sight of a monstrous abomination, its twisted flesh battling against a man who wielded a unique power. The man created circular shields of shimmering energy. As the abomination charged, its massive fist crashed down toward him. With precise timing, the man conjured a portal, causing the creature's punch to vanish and reappear from another portal behind it, striking itself.
The crowd erupted as the abomination, disoriented, struck again with even more force, only to be outsmarted repeatedly. Each punch landed back on the creature, until, with one final blow, it knocked itself to the ground, defeated. The hooded figures, momentarily impressed, pressed on through the chaos.
They passed by another fight, this one between a man with a shield and another with armor that glowed with a strange, kinetic energy. The armored fighter absorbed the blows from the shield, storing the energy before releasing it in devastating blast beams that sent his opponent staggering.
Soon, their attention was caught by a particularly brutal fight. In the middle of the ring stood a bald man, his expression cold and unyielding. Across from him, another fighter was leaping around the dome cage like a ping-pong ball, moving with incredible speed and agility. The leaping fighter brandished a blade, darting in and out of reach, trying to land a hit on the bald man.
The bald man remained unfazed, his eyes tracking his opponent's movements with chilling precision. Then, as the leaping fighter made his move, the bald man struck with terrifying speed, delivering a crushing blow to his opponent's crotch. The crowd winced in unison, a collective gasp rising above the noise.
"That must've hurt bad," one of the hooded figures, Endo, thought grimly, unable to suppress a wince of his own.
Frustration began to set in as the hooded figures, Endo and Eiji realized that despite seeing all these impressive fighters, they still hadn't found who they were searching for. It felt like they were wading through an endless sea of violence and chaos, with no sign of their target. Just as they were about to lose hope, a voice cut through the noise.
"Our masked contender, the Bank Robber, is here to claim his next victory..." the commentator's voice boomed through the arena.
The two hooded figures exchanged glances, the words confirming that their search was finally over. They pushed through the crowd with renewed determination, their eyes fixed on the stage where the spotlight now illuminated a lone figure—a man with a black ski mask, the person they had come to find.