The arena was a cratered battlefield scorched by clashing abilities, pulsing with raw energy and the deafening roars of conflict. Dust and debris hung in the air, illuminated by streaks of unnatural light from kinetic blasts, electrical surges, and flickering shadows. Above it all, the audience—a mix of underworld elites, hunters, and spectators—watched with wide eyes, unable to tear themselves away from the chaos unfolding below.
Renji stood at the heart of it, his form tense and sharp like a drawn blade. Blood matted his arms and spattered his face, yet his stance was steady. His breaths were controlled, despite the overwhelming pressure surrounding him. All four leaders of the rival factions had entered the battlefield—Asano of the Black Crow, Kiyoshi Takeda of the Forgotten Dawn, Dante Varek of the Crimson Pact, and Vera Corbin of the Smiling Rats—and each had brought their most elite fighters to crush Renji's team.
What they hadn't anticipated was Renji's evolution.
He moved like a storm given form. One moment he was intercepting Kiyoshi's whirlwind strikes with calculated parries, the next he launched forward in a blur to dodge Vera's needle-fast attacks, his counterpunch sending one of her lieutenants crashing through a stone pillar. His teammates battled fiercely beside him, backs to one another as the arena became a cyclone of destruction.
Mika Ishida unleashed wide arcs of kinetic force that slammed through enemy lines, buying time and space. Takeshi Mori was a blur of motion and raw strength, breaking limbs and shields alike. Yumi Takahashi danced in and out of shadows, her attacks swift and surgical, while Kaito Nakamura roared as electric punches shattered barriers and scorched the ground.
But it was Renji who became the centerpiece of dread.
His opponents began to falter—not physically, but psychologically. There was something in his eyes… something feral. It wasn't rage. It was hunger. A monstrous, cavernous hunger that rose like a tidal wave behind his composed mask. Every strike he landed seemed to sap more from his foes, not just physically, but spiritually. It was as if the battlefield had become his feeding ground.
From his perch near the edge of the combat zone, Asano of the Black Crow halted mid-attack, sweat dripping down his face despite the cold aura of his ability.
He stared at Renji—not with hatred or anger, but with growing unease.
This isn't just some upstart fighter, Asano thought, eyes narrowing. What… is he?
His mind drifted back to old rumors. Tales of failed experiments and cursed survivors. Of individuals who had survived infection by dungeon energies and come out stronger… but never quite human again. Most dismissed the stories as underworld myths.
But watching Renji—his fluidity, the terrifying precision of his moves, the aura of something ancient and predatory seeping off him—Asano felt a chill deeper than anything his ability could generate.
"Varek!" Asano shouted across the arena, briefly pausing in combat. "This kid's not just a fighter. We might be dealing with something else entirely!"
Dante Varek gritted his teeth, narrowly avoiding a lightning-empowered strike from Kaito. "You think I haven't noticed? This bastard's tearing through us like we're nothing."
Renji's voice cut through the chaos like a cold blade.
"You wanted to test me," he growled, his tone low but filled with promise. "Now see what happens when you wake something you can't control."
A surge of dungeon energy exploded from him—brief, but enough to make the very floor quake beneath their feet. Dust and rubble scattered, and a silence fell over the arena for a heartbeat. Everyone knew—something inside him had changed.
And the elimination round had just taken a terrifying turn.
---
Rising Power
The underground arena trembled beneath the intensity of battle. The very air shimmered with the clash of mutant energies, each collision echoing like thunder in the iron-blooded coliseum. The flickering lights cast jagged shadows across the bloodstained floor, and the crowd of underworld denizens roared from the observation chambers built into the walls, masked in glass and secrecy. Every heartbeat felt like a drumroll for violence.
Renji stood in the center of the chaos, his breath slow and steady despite the bruises on his skin and the faint, unsettling glow in his eyes. Across from him, Asano—the infamous leader of the Black Crow faction—gritted his teeth, blood dripping from his lip, his pride dangerously bruised.
For the first time in years, Asano wasn't in control. And he hated it.
Asano had always been a man of superiority—cold, calculating, revered and feared. In the underground world, his name was spoken with both reverence and caution. Mutant, tactician, leader, predator. He had built Black Crow from the shattered bones of his enemies. Weakness was foreign to him, inferiority intolerable. But here, right now, Renji's monstrous presence clawed at the fortress of his ego.
He lunged again, eyes glowing a sickly crimson as his enhanced body blurred through the air. His arms twisted into obsidian talons mid-strike, slashing for Renji's throat with deadly precision.
Renji didn't dodge.
Instead, Renji moved into the strike, letting it tear through the side of his coat, his body twisting with inhuman fluidity. Before Asano could complete his motion, Renji's fist surged forward, cloaked in an eerie black aura—raw and pulsing. It connected with Asano's chest like a falling meteor, sending the Black Crow leader skidding backwards, feet dragging furrows in the stone floor.
The crowd silenced for a moment.
Asano staggered. Not from the damage—his mutant body could take more than that—but from the humiliating realization. He'd been outpaced. Again.
A deep growl tore from Asano's throat. He crouched low, his muscles expanding grotesquely beneath his uniform. Jet-black feathers erupted from his back like wings soaked in shadow, and his skin shimmered with hardened chitin beneath.
"You think this is strength?" Asano snarled. "You haven't seen power yet."
He erupted forward, vanishing in a blur, reappearing mid-air. He slammed both of his clawed fists into the arena floor, unleashing a shockwave that cratered the stone and sent Renji flying backward. Kaito and Yumi darted out of the way as rubble flew across the battlefield.
The other faction leaders, watching from the perimeter, felt the shift in atmosphere. A new intensity now pulsed from Asano's form.
Dante Varek of the Crimson Pact narrowed his crimson eyes. His serpentine tongue flicked briefly. "He's serious now."
Kiyoshi Takeda of the Forgotten Dawn folded his arms and remained silent, but his aura sharpened like a blade pulled halfway from its sheath.
Vera Corbin of the Smiling Rats chuckled softly, eyes glinting with mischief. "If that arrogant bastard is shedding his feathers, maybe it's time we stopped holding back too."
The faction leaders shared a glance—unspoken, yet unified. Whatever Renji was, he couldn't be allowed to dominate. Not in the tournament. Not here.
Asano's mutated form blurred again, his speed amplified. He appeared behind Renji mid-recovery, raking a talon down his back.
Renji hissed in pain, twisting and slamming his elbow into Asano's face. Blood flew. The impact cracked the ground beneath their feet. But Renji didn't stop. He moved like a beast—his eyes now fully glowing, his breath coming in slow hisses, and veins pulsating with dungeon energy.
There was something wrong—something primal—rising inside him. A hunger. A heat that made his skin burn and his vision blur. It wasn't bloodlust. It was worse. It was the hunger of something barely contained beneath his human shell.
Asano noticed it too.
And it terrified him.
Still, desperation fed his fury. With a roar, he summoned a wave of obsidian feathers, launching them like missiles toward Renji.
Renji raised his hand—and the feathers stopped mid-air, floating.
A pulse of shadow burst from behind him—Yumi's power had snapped in place, her hands clasped together as she shaped the darkness. She nodded at Renji, and he surged forward again.
Takeshi was already engaging Dante Varek in a brutal melee near the edge of the arena. Crimson flames licked across the floor from Dante's body, but Takeshi pushed through, each blow of his enhanced fists causing miniature shockwaves.
Mika unleashed a blast of kinetic force that tore apart the projectile rain of Vera Corbin's smirking barrage. Kaito blinked through flickering electric pulses, dancing between the leaders, intercepting and disrupting attacks aimed at his teammates.
The leaders of the underworld factions were no longer sparring.
They were at war.
Kiyoshi's calm voice echoed across the arena. "Time to crush the anomaly."
Golden energy surged from his body, wrapping around his limbs like runes of judgment. He drew a blade—shaped from pure dungeon light—and stepped toward Renji.
And Renji smiled.
A sharp, unhinged grin split across his face.
"Finally," he whispered. "You're all taking me seriously."
His aura exploded.
The arena darkened. Not from the lights—but from the sheer saturation of unidentifiable energy rolling off Renji in waves. Even Mika took a step back. Even Asano's sneer faltered.
Renji didn't hold back anymore.
He vanished—and reappeared above Asano, driving his knee into the man's spine. Then again, beside Kiyoshi, slamming a foot into his sword hand. Then again—too fast to track—leaving behind distortions in the air.
The crowd watching from behind glass began to scream.
Even the most hardened underworld observers were leaning forward now, transfixed by what was unfolding.
Inside the arena, the tide had turned.
Renji wasn't just winning.
He was hunting.
And the hunters—Asano, Dante, Kiyoshi, Vera—were now prey.