A massive head hit the arena floor with a deafening bang, a brutal eruption of blood flowing freely across the ground.
Damian breathed heavily. He didn't know who wouldn't feel a sense of satisfaction in that moment. Waves of adrenaline kept crashing through him, again and again.
On his shoulders, the little furry beast, Kitsuul, narrowed her fiery silver eyes. Those glowing orbs now carried a deadly gleam as they stared down at the headless body of the cybernetic human.
Unlike the first beast—driven by madness and pain—this one… Kitsuul knew it had wanted to kill her master.
The only one compatible with her in this world!
She absolutely couldn't allow that.
Her tails had erupted in a burst of radiant light to ensure her master didn't die. Out of her six tails, one now shimmered faintly—its luster dimmed, momentarily depleted. No one knew how long it would take to regain its glow.
Seconds? Minutes? Hours?
But for Kitsuul, it had been worth it.
"Kitsuul~!"
She cried out gloriously, victoriously—having once again triumphed over an enemy threatening her master.
"Holy fucking shit!"
The hostile arena operator's voice boomed out, snapping Damian from his reverie. His gaze had been fixed on the bisected head lying on the floor.
With adrenaline still coursing through him, the realization sank in as he saw the rivers of red.
His path of revenge—until he reached the Drunken Butcher—was going to be a bloody one.
Just to get the money he needed… just to earn enough credits for the equipment that would help him gather information on the Butcher, he'd already spilled the blood of two monstrous beings.
And this was only the beginning.
But turning back? That wasn't even an option. The only path was forward!
His eyes sparked with fire as he looked up at the neon orb hanging above—the one from which the voice of the Hostile Arena Operator always echoed.
He raised his spear and roared out.
"Bring the next one. Same stakes!"
…!
His voice thundered across the arena, leaving the shocked audience frozen. No bottles thrown. No jeers. Just bubbling excitement and stunned silence.
They watched with bated breath.
The Wild Beast had just pointed his spear at HAO and demanded the next fight—with the same wager.
He'd won his first fight and earned ten thousand credits. After winning the second, with stakes multiplied by ten, he now held a hundred thousand credits.
If the same wager held—and he won again—he'd walk away with a million credits.
"…."
For once, the Hostile Arena Operator was silent.
Then, with venom in its voice, it responded:
"You wanna make a fuckin' bet with HAO?! Okay, tough guy! I raise the stakes by twenty—not ten! HAO's filthy fuckin' rich with credits—but do you know who your next opponent's gonna be?!"
…!
The crowd erupted as HAO's voice echoed.
Twenty.
Twenty!
That was two million credits.
With that kind of money, you could afford safe, genuine cybernetic augmentation from the prestigious Skyglass Heights.
People were practically drooling now as they stared at Damian.
Even if he somehow won against the next opponent—unlikely now that he'd pissed off HAO—would he even make it out of the Rustblood Circuit Arena alive with that kind of prize?
Two million credits.
Damian considered it.
One more fight. That's all it would take. It would be more than enough.
His eyes retained that hardened, ruthless gleam as he answered HAO.
"Who will the opponent be?"
Who would make the Hostile Arena Operator confident enough to raise the stakes to twenty?
"HuHu! HiHi!"
HAO's robotic laughter, soaked in malice, rang out.
But this time, the opponent didn't come from the usual doors—not like Damian, not like Big Mom, not like any of the others.
No, this one came from the box rooms at the very peak of the Rustblood Circuit Arena—those reserved for the powerful and wealthy of the Hollow Stacks.
"Ladies and Gents," HAO's voice turned sharp and cold.
"Hold your motherfuckin' applause for the Big Stepper. The one and only—Lucian."
…!
Lucian.
Lucian?!
At first, the name didn't register. But the crowd quickly caught on.
From one of the VIP rooms above, the whirring of a drone buzzed loudly. A figure chugging from a bottle stood atop a descending, massive drone.
A drone.
An Enforcer Drone.
Specifically, an X-7 Vigilant Enforcer Drone—an advanced surveillance and suppression unit used by the Skyglass Heights Enforcers.
It was 2.5 meters tall and equipped with anti-gravity stabilizers that kept it afloat, allowing for high-speed, silent movement through the air.
Its sleek, matte-black body gleamed with gunmetal plating. Shaped like a metallic avian predator, its wings and talons were fitted with Integrated Aether Cannons—lethal weapons capable of devastating firepower.
Where there was an Enforcer Drone… there had to be an Enforcer riding it.
Sometimes, they descended from Skyglass Heights into the Hollow Stacks, just to feel like kings among peasants.
Now, one of them floated down, bottle in hand, his figure arrogant and untouchable atop his drone.
From the arena floor, Damian looked up.
His eyes turned blood red.
There was a reason.
That scene—someone descending from the sky, drinking casually—was already a seared trauma in his mind.
And now, it was repeating.
The rage that ignited inside him painted his mind utterly red.