Ray stood in the dimly lit parking lot, his large frame casting a shadow over the two subordinates behind him. He caught his reflection in the side mirror of a nearby car—a dark-skinned man with a bulky build and fashionable hairlocks stared back at him. His gaze was intense, his expression unreadable.
One of his subordinates broke the silence. "A few Awakened mentioned that some Poachers were active in this area a few days back."
Ray turned slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Anything else?"
The other subordinate pointed towards a CCTV camera installed in the corner of the parking lot. "Sir, there's that CCTV as well."
Ray followed the direction of the pointing finger, his blank expression hardening as he stared directly at the camera. The lens seemed to reflect back the cold, calculating look in his eyes.
***
The room was dimly lit, with a beam of sunlight filtering through a small basement window, casting long shadows across the floor. The air was thick with an atmosphere of seriousness and darkness, amplifying the gravity of the conversation taking place within these walls.
The Manager, dressed in his usual dark clothes and the eerie mask that obscured his face, sat at the head of the room. The light caught the edge of his mask, creating a haunting silhouette as he leaned forward, his posture relaxed yet commanding.
This room, situated at the highest point in the underground establishment, was one of the few that received any natural light. It was a stark contrast to the suffocating darkness that pervaded the rest of the building.
The tension in the air was almost palpable, thickened by the presence of the two other figures seated in the room.
Blackthrone, dressed in formal attire reminiscent of an office worker, sat on one side. His black hair was meticulously combed back, and his sharp blue eyes gleamed with intelligence. He exuded an air of calm authority, his handsome features betraying none of the ruthlessness that lay beneath. "Your plan is great," he said, his voice smooth and confident. "My people will support you completely."
The Manager nodded gently, his mask giving nothing away. "Great," he replied, his tone measured. "What about you, Miss Tanuki?"
Tanuki remained silent, her legs crossed as she sat back in her chair. She radiated a cool, mysterious aura, her short, layered emerald hair framing her face in a sleek bob. One side swept across her forehead, partially covering her left eye, giving her an enigmatic edge. Her dark, skimpy dress clung to her lithe form, the choker around her neck adding a touch of fashionable rebellion. Her expression was inscrutable, her brown eyes reflecting the dim sunlight that seeped into the room.
Slowly, she stood up, her movements graceful yet deliberate. "I am not quite sure," she said, her voice soft but firm, "but I believe in you." Her gaze lingered on the Manager, searching for something in the depths of his masked face. "But, I am still not convinced to actually sacri—"
The door suddenly burst open, and Emi, breathless and wide-eyed, rushed into the room. "His match is about to begin," she announced, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere.
Tanuki's words hung in the air, unfinished, as all eyes turned toward Emi. The Manager slowly stood, the eerie mask hiding any trace of emotion. The brief moment of contemplation was gone, replaced by the cold reality of the next phase of their plan.
"I'm sorry guys, but it seems like I'll have to go." The Manager said before he left the room along with Emi.
But, before they left, there was a fleeting moment where Emi and Tanuki's gazes intertwined. In that brief instant, Tanuki's cold gaze turned warm, while Emi's provocative eyes wavered for the first time.
After they left, Blackthrone smirked, eyeing Tanuki up and down. "You know, for someone who acts all mysterious, you're really just a walking cliché. Who do you think you are? A discount goth?"
Tanuki shot back without hesitation, "And for someone who thinks he's hot shit, you're really just full of it." She glanced at his neatly combed hair and snorted. "I bet your reflection cringes every morning, but hey, denial's a hell of a drug."
Blackthrone's smirk faltered, but Tanuki was already walking away, her parting words cutting through the air. "Keep trying, maybe one day you'll actually be half as intimidating as you think you are."
Blackthrone's gaze lingered on Tanuki's legs, as she prepared to leave. The scar on her right thigh was striking, it looked like a mix between a burn mark and a deep wound inflicted by a blade. Each movement of her toned muscles made the ink seem almost alive, slithering with her graceful strides. Her hips swayed hypnotically as she exited the room, leaving an indelible impression.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Blackthrone leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction, his smirk resurfacing. The room was now his sanctuary of solitude, a perfect moment to revel in his own thoughts. He stretched out comfortably, the tension of the recent encounter slowly easing from his shoulders.
"Bitch, you can talk all you want," he murmured to himself, a glint of determination in his eyes. "But mark my words, I'll be the one left standing when this is all over."
***
Kazuki found himself standing in the center of the fighting ring, the cold metal beneath his feet sending a chill up his spine. Above him, the metallic dome slowly descended, enclosing the space in an oppressive, inescapable cage.
The roar of the crowd was a distant thunder in his ears, but the chant that echoed through the arena was unmistakable—"Fat Bastard! Fat Bastard!" The words pounded in his head, each one a reminder that no one had bet on him this time.
His heart thumped wildly in his chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the rising tension in the air. Fear gnawed at the edges of his mind, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps.
Yet, somewhere deep within that fear, a spark of determination flickered, refusing to be snuffed out. He clenched his fists, the rough fabric of his bloodied tracksuit scratching against his skin, grounding him in the moment.
In front of him stood his opponent—a hulking mass of a man, the Fat Bastard. He was a giant, his body a wall of flesh and muscle that seemed to defy logic. The sumo's presence was overwhelming, his every movement a display of raw power and might. Kazuki couldn't help but feel a shiver of dread as he looked up at the man who towered over him, his shadow swallowing Kazuki whole.
The Fat Bastard's eyes locked onto Kazuki, a cruel grin spreading across his face as if he already knew how this fight would end. Kazuki's legs felt like they might give out at any moment, but he forced himself to stay upright, his gaze unwavering. He was terrified, yes—but he wasn't going to back down.
The crowd's chants grew louder, filling the dome with a deafening roar. Kazuki's heart pounded in sync with the rhythm, his body tensed, ready for whatever came next. The fear was still there, but so was the spark, growing brighter with each passing second. He knew the odds were against him, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Not now. Not ever.
Kazuki took a deep breath, steeling himself for the battle ahead. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the Fat Bastard, blocking out the noise, the fear, and everything else that threatened to overwhelm him. All that mattered now was the fight—and the slim chance that he might just come out on top.
The sumo raised his hand and signaled to Kazuki to come at him, taunting him. He was smirking and his eyes were dripping with overconfidence and ridicule, he was going to enjoy this one.
But, unbeknownst to the Fat Bastard, someone in the crowd was glaring at him, someone much stronger than anybody in the crowd could even imagine. Somehow this person could seal his killing intent within him, but his expression was filled with rage.
The sea of rage within Junpei was on the edge of spilling.