Nova's heart pounded in her chest as the door to her cell swung open. She had barely gotten a moment to breathe since she was thrown into this hellhole. The clang of chains and footsteps echoed down the narrow corridor, growing louder as two guards appeared, their faces masked behind faceless helmets.
"Up," one of them barked.
Nova's eyes flickered to the floor for a split second. The cold, concrete floor seemed to mock her, her boots scraping across it like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She pushed herself off the cold wall, her legs still shaky from the stress, and stood tall.
"Let's move," the second guard growled, grabbing her roughly by the arm and yanking her toward the open hallway.
Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn't ready for this. She had barely made it through her training, let alone facing the chaos that awaited in the rink. But she had no choice now.
With a final shove, they escorted her through a series of dimly lit hallways and into a massive elevator shaft. The elevator doors opened, and they shoved her inside.
The ride up was torturous. The rumble of machinery and the hum of energy-filled air filled the silence, drowning out the thoughts that raced in Nova's mind. But the constant beat of her heart was louder than everything. What am I even doing here?
The doors opened, and she was suddenly hit by the roar of the crowd.
Nova stumbled out into the arena, her eyes wide, taking in the scene before her. The rink was a massive, bloodstained battlefield. Worn metal walls, jagged edges, and cracked concrete were everywhere.
And the worst part? The puck.
She had seen it before, on the screens when they introduced the game, but it looked even more ominous in person. A gleaming black orb that could take a life just as easily as it could grant immunity.
The announcer's voice boomed above the chaos, sending a shiver down her spine.
"Welcome, fighters! Today's match is about survival. Only one can emerge victorious. But if you score a point with the puck, you'll earn immunity for today. The top ten players who accumulate the most points in the tournament will have their charges dropped and be set free. You heard that right. Freedom! But it's not going to be easy. The death toll? High."
Nova's eyes darted around. Twenty players. Twenty lives. And the bloodshed...
Her face flashed up on the scoreboard, and a new nickname beneath it appeared:
"Rose" – #047
What? Nova thought, momentarily distracted. Who the hell had given her that name? It wasn't important right now, though. The puck slid into the center of the rink, glowing ominously.
She was about to step into the chaos. She barely noticed the other players surrounding her. Then she saw him... Butcher, the savage brute. Nova recognized him instantly.
"You're fresh meat, pretty Rose." Butcher's gravelly voice rumbled from behind her. His beady eyes locked onto her, and Nova tensed. He looked ready to tear her apart.
A shrill whistle cut through the tension as the announcer's voice blared through the loudspeakers again.
"Let the match begin!"
Nova's breath hitched. The puck rolled to the center of the rink, and the players erupted into chaos. It was every fighter for themselves. Weapons clashed, blades flashing through the air. Screams and the sound of skates cutting through the blood-slicked ice filled the arena.
Nova scrambled, her instincts kicking in as she tried to keep her balance on the slippery surface. A sharp pain in her leg made her flinch, one of the players had slashed her with a blade. She barely dodged another, skidding backward.
Her breath quickened. She could feel the panic rising, but she forced it down. This was no different from running from bots and cops back in the city. She had to think, to fight back.
Her eyes locked on the puck, which was rolling away from the chaos. That's it, she had to get to it. She surged forward, barely avoiding another slash from an opponent, and lunged.
Just as she reached it, a blur of speed appeared in front of her. She nearly crashed into him.
His sleek black mask gleamed in the light. He was fast, impossibly fast, and before she knew it, he was there, the puck already in his possession. He raised his blades to her.
But then, something happened. A flash of recognition crossed his eyes as he saw her.
A growl escaped his lips. He looked like he was about to strike. But then, he hesitated. That's when the other player snatched the puck.
He turned away, going after them all.
What? Nova was too confused to act as he skated off. But she didn't have time to think about it. The game was still going on.
She spun around and darted back into the fray, skidding around a group of players who were already fighting over the puck.
But then, she saw it. Butcher, grinning as he bulldozed his way through a group of players, headed straight for her.
Nova's heart dropped.
"Shit."
This was it.
She didn't have time to be scared anymore. She had to act. She dug in her heels, turned, and skated like she had never skated before.
Nova's breath came in ragged gasps, the pounding of her heart the loudest sound in her ears. Her skates felt like they were dragging her down, the cold bite of fear creeping up her spine as she glanced over her shoulder.
His hulking figure was closing in fast, his wild grin growing as he swung his massive cleaver through the chaos. Players around her collided, but she couldn't focus on anything but the brute who was getting closer with every second.
" Come on, common girl you got this!"
She skated faster, her body stiff and uncooperative. She didn't have a plan. Her mind was screaming, heart thundering as she tried to dodge, slipping on the slick surface. The ice felt like a trap, the walls of the rink closing in.
Then, the clang of metal against ice echoed beside her, and Butcher's cleaver swung in a wide arc, barely missing her shoulder. She stumbled, but the instinct to survive kicked in, run. Just like you did with the cops and bots before. Just run.
She pushed forward, her body burning as the adrenaline flooded her veins. She thought she wasn't going to make it when she saw it. A dim glow from her gloved palm. The chip suddenly started glowing, sending a searing pain throughout her body. It, whatever it was, was kicking in. Her skates surged across the rink, her movements more fluid, faster. She felt stronger, her mind clearer. She could feel it, the power, the speed. She looked back seeing Butcher further behind her. She could do this! She faced forward.
The puck.
She saw it, right ahead of her, sliding across the ice as a few other players scrambled for it. Her mind locked onto it, and in one fluid motion, she used her stick to knock it in front of her. She was on track. She had this.
But Butcher wasn't giving up. She could hear his heavy steps behind her, like a freight train barreling down on her, the sound of his cleaver slicing the air as he swung wildly. He was gaining on her.
The puck was close now. She just needed a shot.
Nova's fingers gripped her stick tighter, her eyes focused on the net in front of her. Butcher's voice bellowed from behind, a low growl of anger, his footsteps loud and relentless. "You think you can escape me baby?!"
She couldn't hesitate.
As she neared the goal, she swung the stick, aiming with precision. The puck shot forward, racing toward the goal, and,
CRASH.
Butcher swung his cleaver down hard, aiming for Nova's back, but just as the puck hit the back of the net, the entire arena went wild, throwing off his aim. Instead he hit cold hard ice.Nova smirked. The goal was scored. Immunity.
Nova's knees nearly gave out as the lights blared, the crowd roaring like a wave crashing down. Her body was shaking, but she held herself up. She had done it. She was alive. She had scored.
But Butcher wasn't done. His eyes locked onto her with murderous rage as he charged, the cleaver in hand.
In that moment, Nova froze, the terror rushing back. She had nowhere to go, no one to help her.
And then, like a shadow through the chaos, the mysterious boy appeared. His movements were precise, quick, he was a blur. He cut between Butcher and Nova in an instant, his red eyes glowing beneath the mask, and,
Swoosh.
In one swift motion, he swiped his dual blades, knocking Butcher's cleaver from his hand with a skill so fluid it looked like something out of a nightmare. Butcher stopped, stunned for a moment, and then growled as he backed away.
He didn't speak. He just stood there, silently watching Butcher, his posture relaxed, his blades still glinting in the harsh lights of the rink.
Nova didn't know what to make of it. He hadn't saved her for some noble reason. No. He was playing his own game.
But she didn't care. For the moment, she was safe. She had scored the goal.
Her name flashed on the giant screen above: #047 Rose.
The announcer's voice echoed, "Immunity earned! Rose secures a spot for the next round!"
She didn't have time to celebrate, though. Her legs were still shaky, her body screaming for relief. But she had made it. She was alive. For now.