Hunt/Dreams

The alley they stepped into was more than just dark—it felt suffocating. The walls, slick with moisture, carried the stench of damp wood, rotting trash, and something metallic, like old blood., the cracks filled with murky rainwater that hadn't dried despite the day's heat. It was the kind of place where footsteps echoed too loudly, where the shadows stretched too far.

Ahead, a wooden door loomed, its surface carved with a sacrilegious sigil—a jagged circle marred by a deep gash at the top right. Yulli stared at it, a cold weight pressing against his ribs. Something about it felt… wrong. Not just ominous, but fundamentally unnatural, as if whatever lay beyond wasn't meant to be seen by ordinary people. His fingers twitched at his sides.

Bruce knocked. Three slow, deliberate taps.

The silence stretched. Then—creeeaak.

The door eased open just enough for an eye to appear, scanning them like prey. The pause felt eternal before the figure fully opened the door. The man standing there was a student— or at least, he dressed like one. But something was… off. His uniform was tattered, the colors dulled, as if he'd been here far too long. His gaze was hollow, his lips stretched into a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Bruce and his friends walked in without hesitation, their boots clacking against the stone floor.

Yulli hesitated. His gut twisted. This was a mistake. He could feel it.

A light tap on his shoulder. Muetaki. His face was unreadable as always, but his presence was solid, grounding. "You're not alone."

Yulli swallowed, exhaling shakily. Right. He wasn't alone.

The hallway stretched before them, dimly lit by flickering fire sconces. But what truly unsettled him were the figures standing along the walls. At first glance, they seemed like ordinary students, yet… they weren't.

They stood too still and monitored our every move.

No casual chatter. No shifting from foot to foot. No emotion in their eyes. They didn't carry weapons, yet their presence was just as menacing. They weren't guards in uniform, but they might as well have been.

Yulli forced himself to walk past them. He could feel their stares crawling up his spine, pressing against his back like cold hands.

They reached a spiral staircase, the metal railing rusted and icy to the touch. The steps led downward, deeper into the unknown, lit only by candles of blue fire that cast unnatural shadows on the stone walls. The deeper they went, the more the temperature dropped, and Yulli swore he could hear whispers—faint and distant, but undeniably there.

His fingers grazed the wall, tracing the deep engravings along the stone. The same twisted sigils from the door were burned into the surface.

"Muetaki, do you know what these mean?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Muetaki's eyes scanned the symbols. "No… I've never seen these before." A pause. "But if I had to guess, it's some kind of deity worship."

That only made it worse.

Yulli's stomach churned. What the hell had he walked into? More importantly—what had he dragged Muetaki into?

Muetaki, however, didn't seem fazed. He walked as if this was just another errand, his usual disinterest masking any discomfort he might've had.

At the bottom of the stairs, they stopped before another door. The noise behind it was growing louder.

A mix of voices. Cheering. Chanting. Screaming.

Bruce turned to them, grinning. "You ready?"

Yulli didn't answer. He just nodded.

Bruce pushed the door open.

Blinding light flooded in.

Yulli flinched, his vision adjusting. But once it did—

His stomach dropped.

A roaring crowd. A ring of students. A fight.

It wasn't a cage match.

The students themselves were the cage.

Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, forming an impenetrable wall of shouting, jeering figures. In the center—two fighters. One of them Yulli recognized immediately.

It was one of Bruce's friends in the cafeteria. The one who snitched on Hare.

He looked like he had been through hell. Bruised. Bloodied. Barely standing.

His opponent? Not even winded.

He was in the practical test earlier he was using a bow with long blond hair. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he loomed over his battered opponent.

The moment Yulli stepped in, he realized something.

This wasn't just a fight.

It was a slaughter.

The crowd was a beast, a living, breathing monster of sweat, screams, and stomping feet. The air was thick with the stench of blood and adrenaline, like a battlefield long after the war had ended but before the bodies had been cleared.

In the center of it all, Castor swayed, a puppet with its strings nearly cut. Blood dripped from his face, pooling at his feet, staining the already-soaked floor. He wasn't fighting anymore—he was just trying to stay standing.

Across from him, Marko stood tall, grinning ear to ear like a wolf that had just torn out a throat.

"Come on, Castor, is that all you've got?"

There was no response. Just a weak, wheezing breath.

Marko's smirk widened. "Welp, this is what happens when you decide to snitch."

And with one last, sickening crunch, Castor hit the floor. Face-first.

A moment of silence.

Then—the explosion.

"MARKO! MARKO! MARKO!"

The students howled, chanted, and pounded their fists against the walls like a pack of rabid animals. Marko drank it in, arms raised, basking in the glory of their praise, his eyes glazed over in drunken euphoria.

Yulli felt his stomach twist.

He had seen fights before. He had seen people get beat up before. But this?

This wasn't a fight. This was entertainment. This was a bloodsport.

As Castor's motionless body was dragged away like a discarded ragdoll, Yulli could still hear the crowd roaring for more.

And then Bruce's voice cut through the madness like a blade.

"Our turn is next, Yulli."

He turned.

Bruce was grinning. His eyes burned with hunger. This wasn't just about a fight—this was about proving something.

Yulli swallowed hard. His hands felt cold. His heart pounded against his ribs like a drum of war.

His body was screaming at him to run.

He glanced at Muetaki.

"What did we get ourselves into?"

Muetaki met his gaze, unreadable as ever. Unshaken. But his words were blunt, cutting through Yulli's doubt like a knife.

"There's no turning back now. You wanted this."

Marko passed Bruce on his way out of the ring, pausing just long enough to throw him a grin full of wicked amusement.

"What's the plan this time?" His tone was light, almost mocking.

Bruce rolled his shoulders, the anticipation already thrumming under his skin. "Same as always."

Marko chuckled, eyes flicking to Yulli before back to Bruce. "Just don't break your toys too fast," he mused. "Since, y'know… it's not here."

Bruce let out a low laugh. "No promises."

Marko shot Yulli a fleeting glance, something unreadable behind his eyes. Then, just like that, he was swallowed by the roaring crowd.

And now, it was just them.

The ref stepped in between them—expression blank, tone dull, like he was just going through the motions.

"I suggest you two strip down," he said. "This is going to get messy."

Bruce wasted no time, ripping off his shirt with ease. His body was a temple to brutality, sculpted from sheer violence. He stood there like a gladiator, soaking in the reaction—his name already being chanted.

Yulli… hesitated.

He could already hear the whispers before he even moved.

Thin. Weak. Pathetic.

He took a breath and pulled his shirt over his head. Silence—just for a second. Then, laughter.

Bruce's grin stretched even wider.

The ref continued, ignoring the reaction.

"Since this isn't an official duel, let me remind you of the rules."

A cruel, drawn-out pause.

"There are none."

The crowd erupted.

Bruce cracked his knuckles, rolling his neck from side to side. This was exactly what he wanted.

"No knockouts, no limits. Fight until you can't. If you find a weapon, use it. Match ends when one of you stops moving." The ref's tone barely changed, like he was talking about the weather.

Yulli barely processed the words. His eyes flicked to the wooden plank lying discarded on the ground. His fingers twitched slightly. That was his best shot.

The ref raised his arm.

"You two ready?"

Bruce grinned like a wolf. "Always."

Yulli took a slow breath, heart hammering.

"…Ready."

The crowd exploded.

The air turned wild, electric, and violent. They weren't here for a fight. They were here for a slaughter.

Muetaki stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Watching. Waiting.

The ref dropped his hand.

"Begin."