He handed Damian a wristband flashing with a screen that had a tir ticking down and a few words blinking before the man shooed them away.
10,000 credits for the first fight, and three tis that for every win after!
Seed simple enough. That was the Rustblood Circuit Arena's business model. But those foolish enough to think they were invincible after one or two victories...would quickly find themselves up against a monster. Literally. Just to make sure they didn't walk away with any real winnings.
But...
They didn't usually get rare, noble Interstellar Beast Masters stepping into this cesspit.
They preferred their images to not even be tainted by coming to places like the Hollow Stacks.
As they moved back to the sidelines, Anastasia turned toward him.
"Alright, here's the plan. The first fight's just a feeler. They will likely be testing you to see how much they can milk you. Don't go all out, just enough to climb ahead. In the second fight...they will throw sothing nastier at you. Still not their best, but enough to kill any standard Cybernetic Human. If they think you're worth betting on, you might get two or three easy ones. After that... it's uncharted territory."
...!
Anastasia spoke like a veteran as Damian knew what he had to do.
He needed six wins.
Six, and they would have more than enough credits to get what Anastasia needed before infiltrating ZENTHRA.
Damian exhaled and rolled his shoulders. The weight of Kitsuul on his back was strangely grounding- like a living furball of quiet strength.
Her tails danced across his shoulders, and her fox-like face nudged his cheek, eyes brimming with curiosity and excitent for what was coming.
They stood amid the surrounding chaos. By the ti the arena floor was finally cleared, though blood and guts still stained the tal, the announcer's voice bood through the air.
An AI.
Its voice, cold and theatrical, echoed like a cartoon villain in a bad holographic movie.
"LADIES AND GENTLESHITS! Brace yourselves! Another contender enters the sacred Arena of Blood! Against him, we have an old favorite! May blood flow freely, and may Credits rain upon you all!"
...!
"OOOOH!"
The crowd exploded.
tal groaned. Bottles flew, and liquor splashed like confetti.
Damian's wristband blinked and flashed with a single ssage not long after.
MATCH 1. READY. REPORT TO GATE 3.
They worked ridiculously quickly when it ca to getting people killed.
Anastasia turned to him, her expression sharper than usual.
"You're up."
He nodded, took one steadying breath, and then headed toward the glowing red number marked above Gate 3 off to the side.
Therion, the Wild Beast, walked into the Rustblood Circuit Arena.
—
Gate 3.
A narrow corridor with walls lined in pulsing red panels, as if to remind him where he was headed- straight into a bloodbath.
Kitsuul looked around wide-eyed, clearly fascinated by the glowing lights as she bounced excitedly on his shoulders.
The air thrumd with a low hum from generators and the occasional snap of static. Every few seconds, a distant bang echoed behind the walls, like the arena itself was breathing, or worse, like it was a prison holding back things best left unntioned.
Damian stepped through the numbered door, and it sealed behind him with a tallic clang- the kind that sounded too final for comfort.
As if that door would never be opened again for the losers.
"Combatant recognized. Therion the Wild Beast. Match initializing."
The voice ca from his wristband, flat and chanical. The sa one the vile registration officer had handed him.
Kitsuul remained invisible on his shoulder, her tails curling tight as her curious eyes scanned the space ahead with anxious excitent.
They reached a preparation room- a wide chamber with a grated floor, a few mostly empty weapon racks, and a giant screen displaying a countdown: 00:43.
Less than a minute to prep.
Damian rembered that mont not long ago in his bathroom where he was bending tal pipes like they were candy straws. As he scanned the room, he spotted a thick, bloody spear in the distance as he went towards it.
No regular human could lift sothing like that, but when his hands wrapped around it, it felt...normal.
Like holding a plastic toy.
His eyes glinted, brutality creeping into his stare as the bloodied spear humd in his grip. The strength of Interstellar Beast Masters coursed through him.
He didn't know how rare Kitsuul was. How terrifying her potential was. He didn't fully understand the nature of their bond yet, or how the augntation of power passed from Beast to Master.
All he knew was this: since bonding with her, his strength had reached a level even he couldn't comprehend.
He picked up a rusty, thick blue shield off the side, sothing the size of a door, and held it with ease. His movents stirred the air like a pressure wave.
A weapon. A shield.
Kitsuul bounced on his shoulder, tails fluttering, eyes sparkling. She looked absolutely thrilled. He smiled faintly and bumped his head gently against her side.
"You ready?"
The countdown was nearly at zero.
Kitsuul let out a soft, multi-toned yelp- a clear, eager yes.
He didn't know if she truly understood what they were about to face, or the blood and gore that would follow.
But he did.
He braced himself as the wristband buzzed again with words.
Opponent: Shredhound X9-AI. Warning: A lone hound modified solely for hunting. Easy pickings...
...!
A Hound.
Modified who knew how many tis with cybernetics.
Before he had ti to fully process it, the countdown hit zero. The wall across from him groaned open with a chanical snarl as it revealed...the Arena Combat Zone.
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