Chapter 4: The Next Trial
Ryo leaned against the cold metal wall, his body sore from the brutal fight with Kuro. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored them. Every inch of him was still tingling with the adrenaline rush, and the rush of victory felt like a distant memory. The real fight was just beginning. He had only scratched the surface of what Beast's Maw had in store.
The fighters who'd watched his match were beginning to disperse, but their gazes lingered on him like hungry wolves circling a freshly wounded prey. Ryo could feel their eyes on him, weighing him, assessing him. The air in the corridor was thick with unspoken tension, and he could almost taste the fear, the hunger, the desire to survive.
As he made his way toward the fighters' quarters, the sound of footsteps echoed behind him. He didn't turn around. The last thing he needed right now was another lecture from someone who thought they had it all figured out.
But the footsteps drew closer, and a voice called out to him, low and gravelly.
"Impressive... for a rookie."
Ryo stopped in his tracks and turned, eyes narrowing. Standing before him was Taro, the hulking veteran of Beast's Maw, the one fighter who had been here long enough to witness the fall of many like him. Taro had scars that told stories of pain, bloodshed, and survival. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were full of something more—something that made Ryo feel like prey in a predator's den.
Ryo didn't respond at first. What was there to say? His fists still tingled with the memory of the fight, but he wasn't here for small talk. He was here for something much bigger.
Taro cocked his head to the side, his gaze lingering on Ryo's hands, which were still streaked with Kuro's blood. "You won, but you barely survived. Don't mistake luck for skill in this place. The real test comes next."
Ryo clenched his jaw. "I'll survive," he muttered, his voice low and filled with determination.
"Is that so?" Taro's voice softened, but there was no kindness in it, only cold truth. "The fights here aren't just about strength. It's about knowing when to fight, and when to step back." He paused, looking Ryo up and down. "And more importantly... knowing the cost of survival."
Ryo didn't want to hear it. He didn't have time for more advice. "I didn't come here to listen to you lecture me. I came to find my brother."
Taro's eyes flickered, a faint glimmer of something—sympathy, maybe? "Ren Kazan," Taro murmured, as if tasting the name on his tongue. "I heard the rumors. But if your brother's here... then he's no longer who you remember."
Ryo's fists clenched tighter, but he forced himself to stay calm. He wasn't about to let some seasoned fighter tell him that Ren was lost. He would find him. "He's alive," Ryo said firmly, though doubt gnawed at his insides.
"Alive, yes," Taro replied, his voice tinged with something darker, "but the Fang Serum doesn't leave people... whole."
There it was again. The warning. The fear of what the Fang Serum could do. Ryo had seen it before, in the twisted bodies of the fighters who had already succumbed to its power. He knew it could strip away humanity, replacing it with something monstrous. But he didn't care. He wasn't going to abandon Ren, no matter what.
Taro seemed to read his thoughts, and his expression softened, just for a moment. "You're not the first one to chase a ghost down here. Many come, looking for someone they lost, only to find... something else. Something worse."
Ryo's eyes narrowed. "I'll handle whatever I have to."
Taro studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "You're determined. I'll give you that." He exhaled, as if the words he was about to say were heavy. "Listen, kid. You'll need more than just strength to survive this tournament. The Fang Serum makes you stronger, but it also warps you. If you keep going down this path, it will break you. You'll lose yourself before you even realize it."
Ryo didn't flinch. "I'll risk it. I'll become what I have to become."
The veteran fighter sighed deeply, his gaze distant, as if lost in a memory. "I've heard that same resolve from many before you. And most of them didn't make it." He paused, and for a moment, Ryo saw something flicker in Taro's eyes—something that seemed almost like regret. "But... maybe you'll be the exception."
Ryo remained silent. He didn't need Taro's pity. He didn't need anyone's sympathy. His brother was out there, and nothing was going to stop him from finding him. He turned his back to Taro, his mind already set on what lay ahead. He wasn't here for advice. He was here to win.
"Get some rest," Taro called after him. "The next round is coming, and it's not going to get any easier."
Ryo didn't answer, his footsteps echoing louder as he walked away. The fighter's quarters were just ahead, and the thought of resting felt like a distant luxury. There was no time to rest. Every minute that passed was another minute that could bring him closer to Ren—or to his own destruction.
As he entered the dimly lit room, the weight of the reality ahead began to settle on him. The other fighters were scattered about, each one either training, recovering, or sharpening their weapons. Their faces were grim, their eyes calculating. There was no camaraderie in Beast's Maw—only competition, only survival.
Ryo found an empty cot in the corner of the room and dropped onto it, his body aching from the battle. His mind, however, refused to shut down. He kept thinking about Ren. What had happened to him? What had the Fang Serum done to him?
The words Taro had spoken echoed in his mind: You'll need more than just strength to survive.
Ryo's mind was racing, the thoughts spiraling. He couldn't afford to lose control. He had to stay focused. He had to stay human.
But the truth was, the deeper he ventured into Beast's Maw, the more he could feel something inside him stirring. Something dark. Something that, if he wasn't careful, would take him just as far down the path of no return as Ren had gone.
He had no choice. The serum was his ticket to finding Ren, and to surviving the hellish tournament. But every victory came at a cost. And in this place, that cost was higher than he could ever have imagined.