The Manager's eyes were fixed on the CCTV screen, watching Kazuki's brutal fight unfold. The ragged, masked fighter had just taken down the Fat Bastard, and the crowd was still in the throes of excitement. Next to him stood Emi, her pale face barely containing her anticipation.
"Go and get rid of that person I told you about," the Manager said, his voice calm and measured.
Emi's eyes lit up with sadistic glee. "Really? Can I devour him?" she asked, her excitement bubbling to the surface.
The Manager gave a slow nod. "Yes."
Without another word, Emi practically skipped out of the room, a twisted smile spreading across her face. As the door closed behind her, the Manager turned to Shoda, who had been silently observing.
"Let's go," the Manager said, and both men left the surveillance room, stepping into the dimly lit corridors of the facility. They moved swiftly and purposefully until they reached a smaller, more secluded room. A single beam of sunlight filtered in through a small window, illuminating the figure sitting idly on the sofa.
Blackthrone, was lounging in a posture that could be mistaken for disinterest. His piercing eyes, however, betrayed a readiness that never left him.
"They're here," the Manager said coolly. "Get ready. Inform Tanuki as well."
Blackthrone stood up without hesitation. "Alright," he muttered, his voice deep and gravelly. Without any further discussion, he left the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway.
The moment Blackthrone disappeared, Shoda's body slumped as though life had been drained from him. He collapsed onto the floor in a heap, motionless and limp, as if dead.
Now alone, the Manager walked slowly to the small window, the beam of sunlight casting a golden glow on his dark attire. With deliberate care, he removed his mask, revealing his cold, sharp features. His dark onyx eyes drank in the sunlight, the light making them gleam with a quiet intensity. He took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, a sly smile curling at the corners of his lips.
He had always trusted in fate, and fate had helped him more times than he could count. But now, the time had come for him to bend fate to his will, to take what had been given and use it to secure his ultimate victory.
The sunlight grew brighter, almost blinding, as the Manager stood there, basking in the moment, savoring the impending chaos he had set into motion.
***
A group of men wearing black nylon jackets stood in a forest clearing, surrounded by towering trees and the scent of damp earth. The air was still, save for the rustling of leaves in the faint breeze. In the middle of the group, Subaru stared intently at the red dot on his smartphone, the only indicator that their target was close.
"It's somewhere around here," Subaru said, his voice gruff but certain, his eyes scanning the seemingly endless woods.
"But, sir, there's no building anywhere," one of his subordinates pointed out, his eyes darting around nervously, trying to make sense of their location.
Subaru clenched his jaw, his mind racing. He was certain that Naito couldn't have been killed this quickly. If Naito was still alive, this had to be the right place.
Looking up, Subaru observed the sky. It was clear, with only a few white clouds drifting lazily overhead, giving no sign of what lay below them. His brows furrowed in frustration as he considered their options.
"Sir," another subordinate chimed in cautiously, "what if it's underground?"
This suggestion hit Subaru like a lightning strike. His eyes flickered with realization, and he fell into deep thought. An underground facility would make sense. The fight ring, Naito, all the activity—they had to be hiding beneath the earth.
"Search the area," Subaru ordered. "Look for any openings. Anything that could lead underground."
With that, the Poachers dispersed, spreading out into the dense foliage, their footsteps muffled by the soft forest floor. The tension was palpable as they combed through the underbrush, searching for hidden entrances or concealed pathways.
Unseen by most, the subordinate who had made the suggestion stood back for a moment, a sly smile curling on his lips. His eyes glowed faintly with a dim purple hue, a flicker that went unnoticed in the bright light filtering through the trees.
***
Kazuki sat in the cold, dimly lit cell, his back pressed against the cold steel wall. The thumping bass from the arena above vibrated through the metal, a constant reminder of the bloodthirsty crowd still enjoying the chaos outside.
He pressed his hands to his temples, trying to block out the sound, but it was useless. It wasn't the noise that bothered him—it was the thoughts swirling inside his own head.
He had killed again. For the second time, his hands had taken a life. The Fat Bastard's mangled face flashed before his eyes, and Kazuki felt a wave of nausea churn in his stomach. It wasn't like before when saving Rika had been the only thing driving him, when instinct had taken over, pushing him to kill.
Nor was his bloodlust similar to his previous fight where he didn't know what happened.
No, this time, he had been aware. He had felt it. He knew, deep down, that he could've escaped without delivering the fatal blow, that there had been a choice.
But he hadn't taken it.
He took the easier option.
He clenched his fists, staring at the faint bloodstains still smeared across his knuckles. They felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else. The room felt colder now, as if the guilt and the weight of his actions had sucked all warmth out of the air.
While still deep in thought his gaze drifted upward to the corner of the cell, where a spider, that same spider was silently making its way toward a fly, hopelessly caught in the web. Its wings fluttered in a vain attempt to escape, but it was useless. The predator approached slowly, with patience, knowing that its prey had no chance. Kazuki's chest tightened as he watched, the image eerily reflecting how he felt.
Trapped. Helpless. Waiting for the inevitable end.
He was no different from that fly. Stuck in this nightmare of an arena, tangled in the web of Ghouls, Poachers, and the Manager's sick game. This wasn't just a fight for survival anymore. This was a slow, agonizing death march—one he couldn't break free from. Maybe it would've been better if he had died that day. The day he had died as a human.
The dim lights flickered for a moment, and his thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of voices. Murmurs. Guards. The sound grew louder, more frantic, and then came the hurried footsteps of several people running across the metal balcony above. Something was happening. Something big. But Kazuki didn't move. He didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to.
Because, no matter what happened next, he was still that fly caught in the web.