The music pounded through the floor, but Mako could barely hear it over the buzz in his head. He and Bill were making their way toward the registration booth set up beside one of the rings, when suddenly, Bill froze mid-step.
Mako stopped too, confused. "What's wrong?"
Bill's eyes had widened. He wasn't looking at Mako anymore—his gaze was fixed on a group of men walking by them, laughing and chatting as if they owned the place. Bill quickly turned his back to them and lowered his head.
Mako followed his gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary—just a few rough-looking guys who clearly belonged in a place like this. Then he looked back at Bill, whose face had gone pale.
"What are they doing here?" Bill whispered, panic creeping into his voice.
"They?" Mako repeated.
Bill leaned in, speaking low and fast. "They're from El Diablo's crew. I know those guys. One of them trained with me. This doesn't make sense—we're in Dark Raven territory. That's Diablo's biggest rival. I picked this place specifically to avoid any of his people."
Mako's eyes narrowed. "So what now?"
"If they see me fight, they'll recognize my style. I can't risk that. If word gets back to El Diablo that I'm active again... it won't end well." Bill's fists were clenched. "We need to leave. Right now."
But Mako didn't move.
"Or," Bill added hesitantly, "you fight alone."
They stared at each other for a long moment. Bill's gaze was sharp with warning. Mako's was steady.
"We came here for a reason," Mako said finally. "If I fight, you place the bets. We'll make double—maybe even more. You wanted money. Here's our shot."
Bill shook his head. "Don't get cocky. This isn't school. These people are different. They don't care if you walk out of here in one piece."
"I know," Mako said with a smirk beneath his facemask. "But I'm not walking out of here as a loser either."
Bill didn't like it, but he knew better than to argue. He grabbed Mako's shoulder. "Just don't get caught up in the moment. Win, get the payout, and leave. You hear me?"
Mako nodded and walked off before Bill could say another word.
The registration booth looked out of place in the chaos—two middle-aged men sat behind a battered desk, with a terminal and some paperwork spread across it. One of them had no hair on his face except a beard streaked with grey. The other had a sharp scar on his cheek, jet black hair slicked back and not a strand out of place.
Mako stepped up.
"Excuse me, I would like to register for the Rookie Brawl!" he said politely through his mask.
The bald man narrowed one eye, his iris glowing faintly purple as he scanned Mako from head to toe. The stare lasted longer than it needed to—long enough to make things awkward. Then, without a word, he leaned over and whispered something to his partner.
The man with the scar nodded and handed Mako a pen and form. "Certainly, sir. Just fill this out."
Mako quickly skimmed the form. No personal info required—just a stage name, ability level, and a signature waiving liability. He jotted down:
Stage Name: BlazeAbility Level: 3Signature: [Signed]
As he wrote, he used his Analyze skill to scan the bald man.
[Analyze]
[Profile: Tyler Smith][Ability: Omni Eye (Level 1)]
[Health: 120/120][Energy: 95/150][Perception: 15][Charisma: 1]
Omni Eye (Level 1): A perceptive support ability allowing the user to detect minute details and read energy. Rare, but difficult to level. No offensive use.
'So that's why he was staring at me like that,' Mako thought. 'He's not just sizing me up—he's seeing if I'm worth betting on.'
Mako handed back the form.
"Okay, sir," the scarred man said. "Entry fee is 7,500 credits."
Mako hesitated for a second before swiping his card. The screen flashed green—payment accepted.
A few minutes later, he was directed to a bench on the side of the ring where other fighters waited. Mako kept his head low, not in the mood to chat. He made a discreet hand signal—two fingers down, one swipe left. Bill, standing at the edge of the crowd, caught it. That was his cue.
Bill made his way to the betting booth and dropped 10,000 credits on Blaze to win at least one round.
Mako's first fight was against a brawler with a minor Earth ability—stone knuckles and enhanced durability. The crowd didn't know who Blaze was, but when the bell rang, they quickly found out. Mako ducked the first wild swing, stepped in close, and used a burst of energy-enhanced speed to slam his opponent in the ribs. A few more strikes, a well-placed shockwave, and the fight was over in under a minute.
The crowd cheered, surprised.
His second match was trickier—a Level 3 Wind user who liked to stay at range. But Mako adapted. He stayed low, deflected the gusts, and used a burst of Energy to close the gap. A feint, a spin, and a quick lightning-enhanced kick to the temple finished the fight.
More people were watching now. Cheers grew louder.
His third opponent brought Fire, creating a ring of flames to control the space. Mako smiled behind his mask—he'd trained against Fire users before. He absorbed the heat with his Energy aura, rushed through the flame barrier, and slammed the guy to the ground in one sweeping move.
Fight four was a brute with no powers—just raw strength. Mako danced around him, dodging and striking with surgical precision until the man dropped to one knee. A final jab to the chin ended it.
By the fifth fight, the crowd was shouting his name. Or rather—his stage name.
"BLAZE! BLAZE! BLAZE!"
The fifth opponent was another Level 3, a woman with magnetism powers. She tried to pull Mako's katana away, only to find out too late that he wasn't relying on it. With quick footwork and sharp timing, he sent a pulse of lightning through the metal flooring, stunning her long enough to close the gap and knock her out with a blow to the gut.
The crowd exploded. Bets surged. Blaze was now a fan favorite.
After the fifth fight, Mako sat down to catch his breath. He was sweating but far from tired. His Energy reserves were solid. The thrill of battle had lit something in him—he was riding a high.
Then Tyler, the bald man from the registration booth, walked over.
"You've been invited to the Battle Royale main event," he said flatly. "It's tonight. Large crowd. More bets. More eyes. You in?"
Mako looked past him for a second—and saw Bill on the far end of the room, waving both hands, shaking his head violently. He was trying to tell Mako no.
But Mako didn't notice.
Or maybe he did—and chose to ignore it.
"I'm in," he said.
The ring for the Battle Royale had been cleared and expanded. The lights above dimmed, leaving only the main ring glowing under powerful white beams. The announcer's voice echoed through the building:
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! IT'S TIME FOR THE MAIN EVENT!"
Cheers erupted.
"Ten fighters enter, one walks out as the last man standing!"
Mako stood in the lineup backstage. One by one, names were called, followed by thunderous cheers. Some had fought earlier. Others were new.
"And last but not least… the mystery man! The rising fire! The lightning storm! The undefeated—BLAZE!"
Mako stepped out.
Silence.
Not a single cheer. Not a sound.
The awkwardness of walking to his starting position in complete silence might have made most fighters uncomfortable. But under his mask, Mako was grinning.
'Bill's gonna make a fortune.'
"FIGHTERS READY?"
Mako took up a stance.
"BEGIN!!"
DING!
[New Quest Received][Win the Group B Battle Royale][Condition: For every opponent knocked out, the reward increases.][Reward: ???][Penalty: None]
Mako's eyes widened for a moment—but there was no time to reflect.
Chaos erupted.
A flurry of abilities lit up the ring—ice shards flew, walls of stone rose, a wave of sound knocked two fighters off their feet. Mako ducked low, weaving through the crowd. He didn't charge in like the others. He watched. Picked targets. Waited for moments.
Then he struck.
His first knockout came when a wind user turned his back. Mako slid in behind and landed a clean strike to the neck. One down.
A fire-user tried to blindside him—Mako spun and sent a pulse of Energy forward, knocking him back. He followed up with a burst of lightning that sent the man crashing into a support post.
Two down.
The third was trickier—a guy with stone armor, slow but sturdy. Mako danced around him, tiring him out, before using his katana in a sweeping motion across the back of his knees. The man dropped, and Mako sent a final jolt into his spine.
Three.
The crowd went wild.
And Mako?
He had never felt more alive.