Ravon's breath was still ragged as he wiped the sweat from his brow. The fight had been over too quickly. His fists clenched at his sides, still tense with the thrill of the battle. He'd never fought anything like that before—an alien beast, with its strange anatomy and unexpected agility—but he had won.
The mysterious warrior stood in front of Ravon, arms crossed, a confident grin on his lips. He wore simple black pants and a black tank top that highlighted his muscular build. Despite his casual attire, the way he carried himself exuded an air of authority, signaling that he was far from an ordinary fighter.
"Well, that wasn't too bad, for your first time," the warrior said, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and something else, something calculating. "I'll give you credit. You handled yourself well, especially with no powers. Most would've been dead after the first attack."
Ravon narrowed his eyes. The warrior wasn't wrong, but his tone—infuriatingly smug—was getting under his skin.
"You're not disappointed?" Ravon's voice was rough, his pride pricking at the edges of his words. He wasn't used to being looked at with that mix of assessment and interest.
The warrior chuckled, unfazed by Ravon's sharp tone. "Disappointed? No. I'm interested. You've got guts, and I respect that. But let's see if you can last longer in this world, eh?"
Ravon's brow furrowed. "Huh?"
The warrior's smile widened, and he motioned toward the door. "If you want to become stronger, you'll need more than just raw strength. But I've got a few tricks up my sleeve that'll teach you more than that." He paused, studying Ravon's reaction. "I'll make you an offer, Champion. Training. Not just the usual crap you've probably been fed before. But real training. And in return, you work for me. I'm sure we'll have plenty of fun together."
Ravon hesitated. The warrior's words had a ring of truth to them—he could feel it. And despite his irritation at the man's arrogance, Ravon found himself intrigued. He was desperate for power in this strange new world, and maybe, just maybe, this man could help him get it.
"Well?" the warrior pressed, his smirk never fading. "Do we have a deal?"
Ravon's gaze hardened as he looked the warrior up and down. He still wasn't sure what to make of this man—too smug, too self-assured—but the truth was, Ravon was desperate. He had no place in this strange future, no way to grow stronger on his own.
After a long moment of silence, Ravon finally nodded, his voice low but firm. "We have a deal."
The warrior's grin widened, pleased by Ravon's decision. "Good. You'll be part of the team now. Let's see how long you last, Champion."
Ravon was soon taken away from the arena, where the warrior's offer was fulfilled. He had been bought out from the government and was now an asset of the Voidstalkers. His future was set in motion, but what lay ahead was still unclear.
-
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Ravon woke up slowly, the soft hum of the room buzzing in his ears. For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was—he blinked, his surroundings unfamiliar. The bed he was lying in was soft and unlike anything he had ever felt. It wasn't a straw mat or a fur blanket—this surface felt too smooth, almost unnatural, as if it could shift under him if he moved too quickly. His mind foggy, Ravon swung his legs off the edge, his bare feet meeting a cool, hard surface. The floor beneath him was smooth and unfamiliar, and he hesitated, almost instinctively looking for something to help him regain his bearings.
Everything around him felt… strange. The walls were smooth, not rough stone or timber like in his time. Instead, they gleamed with a kind of strange brightness, as though they were alive. He reached out, his fingers brushing the surface of a table beside him, only to find it cool to the touch. Where had he ended up? This place, this world—nothing was familiar.
He stood up, the clothes that had been provided for him yesterday still neatly folded beside the bed. They were unlike any garments he had ever seen—there were no heavy layers of armor, no worn leather, no fur. Instead, there was this thin, tight-fitting material, dark and soft. The pants were snug, but comfortable, and the shirt—strange in both texture and fit—covered his torso like a second skin. There were no laces or clasps to worry about. Just pull it on, and it fit. A simple process, if a bit too easy.
His gaze shifted toward the door he had noticed earlier. He hadn't been told much about what he was supposed to do in this place, but one of the Voidstalkers had mentioned a "bathroom" to him—a place where he could clean himself. The word was unfamiliar, but the concept sounded simple enough. His mind wandered back to the explanations he had been given, and he figured it was time to see for himself.
He moved cautiously toward the door, which slid open automatically as he stepped close. Another oddity—there was no handle, no latch. The door just opened. Stepping into the next room, he saw a white, polished basin-like fixture. Water came from it, flowing smoothly. Ravon had been told this was where he could "wash," as it had been explained. It still didn't quite make sense to him, but it was as good a place to start as any.
Approaching the strange contraption, he noticed the shimmering quality of the water, the warm stream cascading over his hands as he placed them under it. There was a sense of simplicity to it, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that everything around him was built to be as efficient and convenient as possible. The way the water appeared, how it responded to him—it didn't feel natural, but it certainly made sense.
Ravon rubbed his hands together, still unsure of the full process. As his fingers dried on a cloth, he glanced at the reflective surface. He couldn't help but pause for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied the figure staring back at him. His reflection was… strange. The person in the mirror looked like him, but there was something subtly different. His features seemed sharper, perhaps even more defined than he remembered, though he couldn't place why.
He tilted his head slightly, still trying to reconcile the image with his memories. It was unsettling, yet oddly fascinating. After a moment, he shook his head, dismissing the thought. It didn't matter. What mattered now was moving forward.
His attention shifted to the small, almost unnoticeable device on his neck—something the Voidstalkers had installed into him yesterday. It was a translation device, allowing him to understand and be understood in this strange new world. When he had first been shown it, he hadn't fully grasped how it worked, but now, he could hear the words clearly in his mind as if they were his own language. It was an odd sensation, hearing words he didn't know being spoken to him, but it was another puzzle piece in this bewildering world.
With a determined sigh, he turned away from the mirror, now ready to step out of the room. The door slid open automatically, and Ravon took a cautious step into the unknown.
Ravon moved through the hall, his steps steady but filled with curiosity. He'd learned more than he ever expected to in the last day, but he was still piecing together the strange new world around him. The Voidstalkers, the group he'd been sold to, weren't quite what he had imagined. They were hunters, but not in the way he understood the term. Back in his time, the word "hunter" meant someone who tracked down animals, hunted for food or sport, but these… Voidstalkers? They didn't just hunt beasts. They hunted humans too—mercenaries, criminals, anyone who posed a threat. It was as simple as that.
They traveled across different planets, seeking out dangerous individuals who needed to be taken care of. They didn't work for any government, nor did they answer to anyone but themselves. They were a group of highly skilled individuals, each with their own set of abilities. Ravon wasn't sure how he fit into all of this yet, but the more he learned, the more he realized how much power these people wielded. Their work wasn't about survival or justice—it was about control, money, and power. They killed when they needed to, and they did it for a price.
He arrived at a small, sleek panel embedded in the wall and stared at it for a moment. The Voidstalkers had explained that it was a button, something he could press to call for the elevator. He still wasn't sure how it worked—how the walls, floors, and doors seemed to move on their own—but it made sense. He'd been told it would take him to different levels of the complex, and after the brief explanations yesterday, he had figured it out. He pushed the button and heard a soft hum as the elevator doors slid open.
Before he stepped in, a voice called out, gentle and welcoming. "Good morning! You must be Ravon."
Turning, Ravon saw a young woman standing nearby, smiling at him. She had short brown hair and wore a simple, form-fitting outfit similar to his own.
"Yes, that's me," Ravon replied, still slightly off-balance from the whirlwind of the past day. "And you are?"
"My name's Lyra," she said, her voice warm, almost reassuring. "I've been assigned to help you get acquainted with the complex."
Ravon nodded, intrigued by her calm demeanor. The Voidstalkers weren't exactly known for being warm, so her kindness stood out.
"Thanks, I appreciate it," he said. "I'm still trying to figure out what's going on here."
"Don't worry," Lyra said with a light laugh as she stepped into the elevator. "It'll all start making sense eventually. For now, just take it one step at a time."
Ravon followed her inside, and the doors closed with a soft whoosh. He wasn't entirely sure where the elevator was taking them, but it didn't matter. Right now, the only thing that mattered was surviving this strange, new reality.
With the quiet hum of the elevator moving beneath their feet, Ravon found himself wondering just what kind of challenges awaited him next. But for now, he had no choice but to trust the Voidstalkers—whatever they were—and take whatever they offered.