During the rare lunch break, when the recruits lined up for their meals, the black-haired boy approached Finn with a serious expression. "Hey, kid, what are you doing?" he asked, his tone flat.
Finn glanced up at the boy but remained silent.
"Ah, forget it. You don't have to say anything. It's nice to have someone crush on you," the boy said, suddenly brightening as he settled himself down next to Finn, as if they were old friends.
Finn frowned and shifted away, unwilling to be close to anything that radiated heat on this sweltering day.
"What's the matter? You don't need to be shy. Heh, I've already seen through your heart," the black-haired boy said, raising an eyebrow and winking in what he thought was an attractive manner.
Finn continued to stare at him, silent for a long moment. Even the boy's usually strong demeanor faltered under the intensity of Finn's gaze.
"Ugh, I'm so hungry! I'll go eat first and we can chat later," he said suddenly, springing to his feet and darting away.
"That look he gave me is really unsettling," the boy muttered to himself, shivering at the memory of Finn's unwavering stare.
As the black-haired boy walked past a few others, one of them glanced over and began joking with their companions, occasionally pointing back at him.
"Hey, what were you looking at?" the boy suddenly shouted, tilting his head back and glaring at the group.
"What's wrong, kid? Got a problem?" one of the loudest among them replied, raising an eyebrow and sneering.
"No problem, what about it?" the black-haired boy shot back defiantly, swaying his neck as he moved closer to the group.
Finn turned his attention toward the commotion, noting that the black-haired boy was facing several hired muscle from LB Arena. Though Finn was still new here, he recognized that these men were not veterans but had been brought in recently for the upcoming grand event.
"Little guy, do you not understand the difference between a slave and me?" the leader, a burly man with a buzz cut and a long, bull-like face, glared down at the boy, appearing menacing.
"Don't waste time talking to him. Beat him up so he knows his place. He's just a little slave, good for nothing," one of the men next to him chimed in, his voice mocking.
"Exactly," the leader grinned wickedly.
At the edge of the training area, some of Augustus's men were having their meals and began to worry as they noticed the crowd gathering. "Looks like something's going down over there," one of them said, eyeing the growing tension.
"Should we go tell Supervisor Augustus?" one of the men downed a drink and asked.
"I don't think that's necessary. Nothing serious will happen," another replied, disinterested, as he continued to pick at his frozen meat.
"That's not a good idea. How about we check it out first? If everything's fine, we won't bother Supervisor Augustus. But if things escalate, we can call him over."
"Really? Just when I was enjoying my meal, I have to get involved in this mess. Those thugs from the outer arenas keep coming here; otherwise, there wouldn't be so many problems. I don't know what Augustus is thinking, letting them run rampant."
Reluctantly, a few of Augustus's men set their appetites aside and headed toward the crowd.
"Even pigs are starting to think highly of themselves these days," the black-haired boy said, his gaze growing increasingly intense. His cold black eyes revealed a hint of madness, and though his expression was grim, the corners of his mouth curled slightly, as if mocking. His muscles tensed and relaxed rhythmically, mimicking the steady beat of a heart.
"Hmm?" The leader of the thugs raised an eyebrow, tightening his fists. "What's wrong, kid? You really want to throw down?"
"Not interested," the black-haired boy replied flatly. "Killing pigs doesn't require any sort of challenge."
"Damn it…" Enraged, the thug leader drew a knife from his waist and charged at the black-haired boy, his furious underlings following suit, weapons drawn.
"Pigs can only be eaten, no matter how many of them there are," the black-haired boy slowly lowered his head. His hands curved, not into fists, but into claws.
Finn's eyes were drawn to a swirling mass of darkness before him, an irresistible force gripping not just his sight but his entire being. That dark presence loomed closer, sending a wave of inexplicable energy surging in his chest. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage, as if it were drawing his whole body toward that black vortex. Tremors ran through him, his blood turning cold as if the congealed plasma were screaming and shouting within his veins.
"Stop!" The black-haired boy hissed, uttering an unclear command, and his body surged forward like a whirlpool of blackness toward the approaching thugs.
"It's him again," the Augustus men murmured among themselves, recognizing the source of the disturbance by that peculiar growl alone.
"I think we should go inform Supervisor Augustus," one of Augustus's men sighed.
"Alright, I'll head over now. You all keep an eye on things," another replied before hastily departing.
"Thud!" A figure was sent flying, landing awkwardly on the ground. It was one of the thugs, his face so mangled that it was barely recognizable after taking a punch.
"Wow, that was fast." The remaining thugs stood in stunned silence, unsure of what had just transpired as they lost a comrade without even understanding how it happened.
"What's wrong with these thugs these days?" A gladiator walked slowly from the direction of the arena, his body barely covered by a few tattered rags. He mumbled something as he glanced at the gathering crowd, then turned to walk in the opposite direction, slumping against a wall. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that resembled a cowboy's, and from beneath the slightly upturned brim, a pair of shadowy eyes watched a black figure in the crowd.
"I don't have time to play with you all; if this escalates, I'll be called to the old witch's place again," the black-haired youth muttered, clenching his fist as he set his sights on another thug.
"Damn it, brothers, take him down!" The thug leader shouted, drawing his knife and charging at the black-haired youth with fierce intent.
"Shut up!" The black-haired youth suddenly stopped, turning to face the pursuing thug leader.
Before he could think, the thug leader swung his knife down. The black-haired youth raised his arm, bringing it up sharply against the gleaming blade. In the moment their paths met, he swiped outward with force. The collision of muscle and steel produced a sharp, snapping sound, and two metal pieces shattered in the air.
"No, this can't be happening." The thug leader stood frozen in shock, only to feel a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, he saw a hand protruding through his heart, its owner smiling at him with a bloodthirsty grin.
"D-Demon." Gasping for breath, the leader managed to utter those words before he fell silent forever.
"Ooh~ it's party time now!" The black-haired youth laughed maniacally, turning around. In front of the onlookers, his expression shifted from dark to utterly insane.
"He's causing trouble again," Elmo said, bored, as he leaned against the windowsill, watching the lively crowd outside. He couldn't care less about the fate of those useless hired thugs, but it was at least entertaining enough to pass the time.
"Goldman, is that you? I thought you didn't like this kind of weather. What brings you out today?" A bald man with a heavy build approached, sitting down next to the hat-wearing figure in the corner.
"Pommai, you're out here too? I thought you never left the training room. What's up? Finally realized your own limits and stopped chasing after the three strongest gladiators?" The man named Goldman pushed his hat up slightly, giving Pommai a cold glance, his voice matching his icy gaze.
"Goldman." Pommai's voice deepened.
"Hmph." Goldman sneered indifferently, shifting slightly so the sunlight wouldn't hit his face. "Here to check on your apprentice?"
"I heard he had a bit of a falling out with that kid a few days ago, so I thought I'd come see. I didn't expect to run into this," Pommai replied flatly, nodding toward the black-haired youth.
"What, you still don't know?" Goldman said with a hint of curiosity. "That kid has stirred up trouble almost every few days since he arrived a month and a half ago. Of course, for someone like you, who never leaves the training room, such trivial gossip is probably unnecessary."
"Goldman." Pommai's expression darkened further.
"Don't want to hear it? Fine then." Goldman fell silent.
"Shut up." Pommai stood up in dissatisfaction and walked toward the training room.
"Aren't you going to check on your apprentice?" Goldman suddenly called out.
"No need." Pommai replied coldly.
"Ah, I really don't understand how he took that kid as his apprentice. In some sense, a kid who can make Pommai his apprentice must be even scarier than Finn. Heh, Finn, what a delightful name." Goldman smirked, watching Pommai's figure retreat, then lowered his head to avoid the annoying sunlight.
"Splatter—" Another spray of blood erupted from the crowd. Thugs fell one after another, some with their brains splattered, others with their guts spilled open; the scene was horrifying. Those still alive stood frozen in fear. It wasn't that they didn't want to flee; it was that they couldn't.
"Devouring souls, instilling terror, subduing the world with fear, and destroying lives with power. I truly don't understand how he made it here; that continent shouldn't have a sea route leading to this place." The wizard sighed softly, staring into the crystal ball. "If they get involved, then the situation will no longer unfold according to the demon god's will. Should I eliminate them or let them be?"
Inside the crystal ball, the image gradually formed, revealing the back of a black-haired youth. Behind him, a towering, fearsome black demon roared furiously, as if wanting to consume everything. The boy's hands, chest, and face were soaked in blood, creating a horrifying sight. Yet, in this bloody and despairing context, he continued to smile—his grin infused with an indescribable resilience and madness, as if the world's suffering and horrors could not shake the conviction and mockery deeply rooted in his heart.