Filthy, humiliating dust stained the uniform belonging to Black, who was currently hiding behind the ruins of the Forbidden City. The remnants of past glory looked dull, overgrown by creeping root vines that served as silent ornaments on old buildings abandoned hundreds of years ago. The silence of the place morphed into a mute witness to the crushing defeat he had just swallowed raw.
"Damn it! That orange girl was lucky to let me go," he clenched his fists so hard that his veins strained. His signature iron mask was now severely cracked, revealing his sharp jawline covered in dried bloodstains.
"Tiger... I swear I will pay you back for what you did!"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Black smashed his fists against the concrete wall in front of him repeatedly. Each blow landed with blind fury, as if the rough surface of the wall were Tiger's face, which he desperately wanted to obliterate. His breath came in gasps, leaving hot steam billowing from the gaps of his shattered mask.
The rhythmic pounding of his anger suddenly stopped. In the midst of the desolate ruins, the night wind blew through the concrete crevices, producing a faint sound like an ancient hiss. Along with it, a flash of an old memory spun in his head—a vague conversation with a foreign woman in a dim bar some time ago.
Black lowered his hands slowly. His eyes widened as he realized a massive puzzle had just been solved.
"Damn it... That woman with the mole was right," Black whispered to the darkness of the Forbidden City. "I should have looked for it from the very beginning."
"To the west..." Black hissed, before his shadow slowly dissolved, swallowed by a cold fog that instantly locked the visibility around him.
***
Meanwhile, the atmosphere around Glosum's Maw suddenly shifted drastically. Snowflakes began to fall, blanketing the lingering aura of death from the previous battle. Ten shadowed figures stood tall, staring straight at the moon that glowed a deep crimson on the horizon. Among them, the mysterious man who had now revealed his handsome face smirked faintly, bursting with ambition.
"I will pursue Tiger! None of you better dare to interfere with my business!" he shouted loudly, his voice cutting through the freezing silence of the night.
"Are you interested in cheap rumors? Or ancient legends? Suit yourself!" replied one of the shadows from the darkness. He stepped forward while slamming a giant axe—the heaviest and most lethal weapon in that place—until the concrete floor beneath him cracked and shattered.
"Don't let Black escape just like that," interjected a baritone voice from another shadow figure still shrouded in mystery. "He holds a valuable asset. The treasure he successfully plundered right at the time of Dragon's death recently. PETERUMMAN is looking for it; do not let them get what they want."
The man wielding the giant axe snorted, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust. "In that case, I will be the one to hunt Black. His destination is already clear: the Forbidden City to the west... The Whispering Ruins. That garbage dump will become his new grave!"
***
On the outskirts of the Sacred Forest that directly bordered the Forbidden City, colossal trees towered arrogantly with their broad leaves. The shrieks of monsters from the depths of the jungle howled back and forth, masking the sound of Tiger and Lina's footsteps.
"Stop it, Lina! Don't follow me!" Tiger snapped without breaking his stride.
"Why are you so obsessed with finding the cause of Dragon's death?!" Lina cried out, her voice trembling as she held back a surge of emotion. "Ask Lion!"
"Why do you keep avoiding me, Tiger? What exactly did you find in that rotten village?!"
Tiger's steps came to a sudden halt. His legs trembled violently against the ground, suppressing a discarding storm inside his chest. He left his back wide open—a dangerous position in front of a hunter. Yet, instead of turning around and explaining, he chose to selfishly step forward again.
"That is none of your business!"
"Did you meet her? Huh?! Answer me, Tiger!" Lina moved swiftly, gripping the handle of the Amok weapon at her waist.
Tiger stopped again. This time, he turned his face halfway—letting Lina see the exhaustion etched on his cheek from the side, without deigning to look her directly in the eyes.
"We are done, Lina! You will never understand." Tiger walked on again, turning his back on destiny.
"You know... Lion told me to bring you back. Alive or dead!" Lina drew the blade of her weapon slightly. The friction of metal gave a faint, metallic ring, displaying a reflection of blood-red color due to the extreme remnant light of the moon in the sky. The weapon was ready to be painted in blood.
Tiger snorted hollowly, defying the death that loomed behind him. "Hmm, do it if you can, Lina."
***
PETERUMMAN stood as the pinnacle of human civilization—a megacity that possessed everything. Yet, behind that glittering tyranny, ancient mysteries still hid tightly within the eternal darkness, waiting to be subdued by those strong enough.
Located directly to the west of the Forbidden City, The Whispering Ruins was the busiest city and a place where the hustle and bustle of conversation was a norm. Here, old buildings were forced back to life by the glow of neon lights darting around, as if the debris of a past from hundreds of years ago were whispering and retelling its glory.
Unlike the ferocity of The Abyss Glosum, this city was far more magnificent and slightly more peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, that various high-profile fugitives of PETERUMMAN could roam freely without fear. This city lived under one absolute iron law: violence was forbidden, unless it was spilled inside the gladiator arena.
The Silent Stage—a quiet stage that ironically had now mutated into a bloody altar for executioners and those who chose to settle disputes through feats of strength. In this city of refuge, the arena had transformed into the most sacred entertainment stage for the inhabitants. It made The Whispering Ruins the center of the world for the surrounding villages, a magical pivotal point for trade, barter, and a witness to the collapse of human dignity.
"Kill! Finish him!"
The cheers and hysterical screams of the spectators thundered, dominating every corner of The Silent Stage. Thousands of pairs of eyes sat squeezed together on long, seamless concrete benches that continuously looped around the center of the arena. The vibrations from the spectators' feet vibrated constantly along the circular concrete, locking in the atmosphere of tension under the extreme glow of the neon lights. In the middle of that ring of death, two fighters were risking their lives, battering each other for a shred of dignity and whatever breath they had left.
Amidst the screams of the crowd, a middle-aged man with a half-bald head and round black sunglasses jumped up and down. "Defeat him, Swordsman!" His voice was heavy like a crushing machine. "Smash him, my drink is already empty!" He pumped his fist which was clutching an empty bottle.
In the arena, a swordsman fought against Gepo, one of the reigning fighters who held his ground there. Gepo, a young man with a muscular, heavily built body, fought with boxing gloves modified with magic stone technology.
White smoke evaporated from his gauntlets. Gepo lunged forward rapidly. The swordsman, the new challenger, merely stood his ground, firmly locking his stance. Gepo leaped. The mid-air assault forced the swordsman to press his feet deeper into the ground.
"Stop your habits, old man, you'd better go back to work." A voice so gentle amidst those roars caught the attention of Kacuk. The old bald man who was always drunk turned around, only to find an elegant woman with a mole on her chin. Her face was flushed, as if she were overheating.
"Mira..." he uttered, his face flushing red.