After Jero got wrecked, the atmosphere in the pit shifted.
The next fighter dropped in, took one look at still standing in the center, and raised both hands.
No fight. No posturing. He didn’t even bother with the formality of assuming a stance first.
"I yield," he announced with pride, as if he had declared himself the smartest man alive for surrendering.
I couldn’t bla him. Anyone with common sense wouldn’t dare co close to .
The crowd didn’t know how to react. A few people booed. Soone threw a cup.
The announcer cleared his throat and turned toward . I allowed the surrender.
The crowd erupted more in anger, but when I turned to face them, their voices died, and every mouth snapped shut.
Next one ca down the entrance ramp, got halfway to the center, looked at Jero’s outline still pressed into the far wall like a chalk drawing, and stopped walking.
He turned to the announcer.
"Can I — is there a form for this? For quitting?"
"There is no form." the announcer replied.
"There should be a form." he insisted.
"There is no form!"
He looked at . I looked at him.
"Yield," he said, then walked back up the ramp with his hands in his pockets, like a man who had simply decided the weather wasn’t right for a fight today.
The crowd booed louder.
By the fourth surrender, the announcer had developed a visible twitch above his left eye.
"Ladies and gentlen, Challenger — yields .Winner, Leon. Again."
Soone in the crowd stood up. "FIGHT SOBODY!"
Before I could respond, an attendant in clean clothes — notable given the surroundings — made his way toward .
"Mr. Leon. The mayor requests your presence in the VIP room."
Behind , the announcer was already calling the next bout in a flat voice.
"...Next match. Whoever shows up first versus — actually, you know what, it doesn’t matter. Whoever wants to fight soone who isn’t Leon, please descend."
The announcer had a sense of humor after all.
I followed the attendant upstairs, a smirk forming on my face.
He led down a corridor that belonged to a completely different building than the one hosting the bloody sport below.
Clean walls. Carpet that had never seen cent dust. Lighting that didn’t flicker.
Soon, the attendant stopped at a door, knocked twice, and opened it without waiting for a response.
I sat on a chair. A table stood in front of , filled with wine, cheese, grapes, and steak.
Now this was living the good life.
I swirled the wine glass and took a sip. It was good. The kind of good that made the cheapness of everything outside this room feel like a personal insult.
The mayor watched in silence. He let finish the glass before speaking.
"So, you’ve awakened your invader genes."
I raised an eyebrow. "Invader genes?"
"Yes."
"That’s an interesting word for it."
He studied for a mont. Then, almost to himself, he said, "Good. You’re careful."
"Tell — when the others fought today, what did you notice?"
"That none of them had any technique."
"Besides that."
I thought about it. The way the lean fighter’s missed punch had made a sound. The tremor through the pit floor from a single stomp.
"They’re physically strong. But that’s about it."
"You’re completely right." He settled back. "This year, sothing changed among the scavengers. They began manifesting strength far beyond what their augntation should allow. We call it Second Phase."
I leaned back slightly, turning the wine glass between my fingers. "Second Phase?"
The mayor nodded. "At first, we thought it was just humans adapting. Evolving under pressure. But then they began showing abilities we normally only see in the invaders."
He paused, studying my reaction.
"Our scientists now believe sothing else is happening," he continued. "Humans and the aliens... are beginning to integrate with each other."
My eyes lit up. This could be my path.
By taking in alien DNA, I might gain abilities that rivaled my own Dragon bloodline. And if I got lucky, I could mutate into sothing entirely different.
"Are you interested to know more?" he asked.
I nodded, leaning forward slightly. "Of course. Tell everything."
"What I’m about to explain... it’s not for the faint of heart. Once you start down this path, there’s no turning back."
"I’m ready,"
He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Very well. From the information we gathered, anyone could randomly awaken their Alien DNA, but the chances are far too low. We actually found a better way."
"And that is?" I asked, leaning forward.
He nodded. "Absorb the invaders core. Previously, anyone who tried died instantly from the toxins. Now... those who share their DNA survive, adapt, and grow stronger."
Both of us went silent for a couple of seconds.
"Mr. Leon, I actually have an offer for you."
"Go on." I gestured for him to continue.
"You see, we have already located the Invaders’ main habitat. Once we have more people like you—strong, capable—we plan to raid it."
I raised my brow. "And you want to join this strike team?"
He nodded. "Yes. You... could hunt Invaders, grow stronger, and help us turn the tide."
There was no need to think about it. Joining this strike team was the obvious choice.
Even though I relied on my Qi, I also noticed sothing else while cultivating—a foreign power inside Leon’s body.
If my guess was correct, this was the Invader’s genes.
However, I didn’t agree so easily. I wanted benefits first.
He cleared his throat. "Lodging. You’ll get the best we have. Food—only the finest. Drinks—top shelf, of course."
I leaned back slightly. "Not bad. Go on."
His lips twitched, as if he knew exactly which word would seal it. "And... won. High quality. To your heart’s desire."
I didn’t bother hiding my perverted grin. "Ah. Now that caught my attention."
He nodded, as if expecting it. "Everything you want, Mr. Leon."
I tapped my fingers on the table, still smiling. "Where do I sign up?"
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