Micheal lunged at Evander, his dagger gleaming as he aimed for Evander's shoulder. But Evander sidestepped with ease, his movements precise and controlled. In one swift move, Evander closed the gap, driving his shoulder into Micheal's chest and slamming him to the ground with a bone-crunching force.
Before Micheal could react, Evander loomed over him. His fist shot down, cutting through the air with a whistle. The punch connected squarely with Micheal's face, sending a shockwave of pain that numbed his senses. Blood spattered from Micheal's mouth, painting the stone floor as his head snapped to the side.
The world spun as Evander's relentless assault continued. Another punch, and then another, each one driving Micheal deeper into the ground. The impact echoed through the arena, a sickening rhythm that drew gasps from the crowd of inmates.
CORE's laughter rang out, sharp and mocking, slicing through the air. The sound twisted in Micheal's ears, mingling with the jeers and cries of the prisoners. His body battered and broken under the sheer force of Evander's strikes.
Dazed and bloodied, Micheal's vision blurred, the edges of the arena fading into a haze. But through the pain, one thought climes its way up: he couldn't give up—not here, not like this.
Micheal clawed desperately at Evander's face, his nails raking across skin. It wasn't much, but it forced Evander to step back. Micheal collapsed onto the ground, his body battered and his breaths shallow. Blood dripped from his lips as he struggled to speak, his voice dry and cracked.
"Stop it, Evander…" he rasped, barely audible. "Just… stop fighting for yourself."
The effort to push himself to his knees felt insurmountable, every movement agonizing. His trembling arms finally steadied him, but it took longer than it should have. Tears mingled with the blood on his face as they streaked down his cheeks.
"You were going to kill me," Micheal choked out, his voice breaking with emotion. "One more hit, and I'd be unconscious, or worse! Damn it, Evander, we're not supposed to be fighting each other!" His words came in desperate gasps. "We should be fighting for everyone! We can… we can find another way, another game! Maybe even get out of here—together!"
Evander stood frozen for a moment, his fists still clenched. Then his frown deepened, and his voice came out low and rough, each word biting. "Fighting for myself?" His gaze bore into Micheal, his jaw tight with frustration. "You think this is about me? I'm fighting for everybody here!"
Micheal's expression faltered, confusion and heartbreak washing over his face.
Evander's voice rose, his shout echoing through the arena. "We've suffered enough! All of us! I can't take it anymore! Do you understand that?" His chest heaved with the force of his words, his anger raw.
The air between them felt charged, every breath heavy with tension. Around them, the other prisoners watched in silence, their expressions a mixture of fear and hope.
"I've suffered too—" Micheal started, but Evander cut him off with a thunderous shout.
"NO, YOU CLEARLY HAVEN'T!" Evander's voice boomed, echoing off the walls of the arena. "If you had, you'd already know what needs to be done! You'd make the sacrifice! You have to die for us to live!"
Micheal frowned, his lip curling in disbelief. A dark, humorless laugh bubbled out of him as he shook his head. "Me? Die? Are you insane? You're an idiot if you think I'm just going to roll over and let that happen! You bastard! Maybe you should try putting yourself in someone else's shoes for once in your damn life!"
Evander's rage boiled over, and in a flash, he lunged at Micheal, tackling him to the ground. The two wrestled, their movements frantic and brutal, the raw tension in the air almost tangible.
"Watch your mouth, you bum," Evander growled through gritted teeth, pinning Micheal beneath him. "Things die. People die. Sacrifice is part of life. And for the sake of everyone here—for all of us who've endured this endless suffering—you need to make the sacrifice. It's the only way."
Micheal, his body trembling with exhaustion and fury, gripped Evander's shirt by the collar. The fabric burned against his raw, bloodied hands, but he didn't care. His voice was low, sharp, each word cutting like a blade.
"For the sake of everyone, huh? Then let me live."
Evander froze for a moment, his intense gaze locking onto Micheal's. He exhaled sharply, his face hard with resolve but his eyes betraying the slightest flicker of doubt.
Micheal shook his head, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. "Y'know what?"
Evander narrowed his eyes. "What?"
The air around them seemed to still as Micheal spoke, his words slicing through the silence like a knife. "All that 'together' crap? Nah."
Something shifted in Micheal's expression. His eyes gleamed with a misty, unnatural light—neither the cold gaze of a killer nor the feral hunger of an assassin. It was something deeper, something primal. They were the eyes of death itself.
Evander's grip faltered, and for the first time, a crack appeared in his hardened demeanor. His intimidating presence softened, replaced by a flicker of hesitation.
Micheal's voice dropped to a deadly whisper, each syllable carrying an unshakable weight. "Listen here, Evander… I. Will. Kill. You."
From the raised stage, CORE's lips curved into a cruel smirk as he leaned forward in his seat, watching the scene unfold with predatory delight.
"He has awakened," CORE murmured, his voice dripping with amusement.
Evander's eyes widened, the weight of Micheal's statement sinking in like a stone. From his stage above the arena, CORE smirked with cruel satisfaction.
"Stop the trial," CORE commanded, his voice sharp yet amused. "I've seen enough."
A nearby guard nodded and raised his voice. "The trials are over! All inmates, return to your cells—"
Before he could finish, CORE placed a firm hand on the guard's shoulder, leaning in with a devious grin. "Except MR1," he said darkly.
The guard hesitated for a moment before shouting again, louder this time. "EXCEPT MR1!"
A wave of despair swept through the arena. The inmates' faces fell, some breaking into quiet sobs. Any flicker of hope they'd held onto was snuffed out.
As if summoned by CORE's will, guards began to rise from the acid that encircled the arena, the bubbling liquid receding to reveal their alarming forms. The air grew heavier with dread as massive stone doors groaned open, one to the West and another to the East, signaling the end of the trial.
Before long, the guards descended upon Evander and Micheal, prying them apart. The two men locked eyes, their stares burning with unspoken fury and defiance. Despite the physical distance forced between them, the tension in the air only seemed to grow.
The inmates were ushered toward the West door, their shackles clinking against the stone floor as they trudged back to their cells. Meanwhile, Micheal was dragged toward the East. Both groups moved like shadows, but Evander and Micheal never broke their gaze, each silently promising the other that this wasn't over.
The arena itself seemed to hold its breath, the weight of their unresolved battle hanged like a storm cloud. Even as the stone doors began to grind shut, the intensity of their connection lingered, as though the space between them had become an invisible battlefield.
Beneath the fury and defiance that burned within him, there was a flicker of something else—an ache he couldn't quite define. Was it regret? Or was it the bitter realization that Evander's words, despite their brutality, held an unsettling kernel of truth?
His mind churned with questions. He wanted to scream, to demand answers from a world that only seemed to take, but the rawness in his throat silenced him. Instead, he let his gaze linger on Evander's face.
For Evander, the separation was like a slow tear through his chest. His hands still tingled from the fight, the sensation of Micheal's blood warm against his skin. Yet, it wasn't the violence that haunted him—it was Micheal's words. They echoed in his mind.
"I. Will. Kill. You."
Those four words clawed at him, unraveling the certainty he'd built around his mission. Was he wrong to demand the sacrifice? Or was this hesitation proof of his weakness? He clenched his fists as doubt crept in, a dark, unwelcome guest in his mind. He had told himself this was for everyone. For the prisoners. For a future free of suffering.
The two men, locked in their own silent turmoil, maintained their stare until the last sliver of light between the stone doors disappeared.