Chapter 6: A Glimpse of Hope
The arena had gone eerily quiet.
Ryo stood alone in the pit, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths. Gorath's massive body lay crumpled behind him, motionless. The crowd had fallen silent—not out of respect, but out of awe. Another newcomer had survived, and not just survived, but conquered one of the Maw's most brutal beasts.
The bell's final toll echoed through the chambers of the underground coliseum, sealing the fight.
Ryo could barely stand. His legs trembled under the weight of exhaustion and pain, his ribs aching from Gorath's earlier assault. But his mind was elsewhere, lost in the haunting thought that had pierced him just before victory.
Was he becoming the monster?
He didn't know. But he didn't have time to dwell.
Two armored guards entered the ring and approached cautiously, dragging Gorath's limp body away like discarded meat. No applause. No celebration. Just the cold, indifferent machine of the Maw preparing for its next sacrifice.
As they took him away, Ryo collapsed to one knee. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his vision blurred.
He couldn't afford to pass out.
"Up," came a voice—a sharp whisper on the edge of the arena.
Ryo blinked and turned his head. A fighter was leaning against the shadowy archway that led back into the quarters. He was slim, wiry, with deep-set eyes that seemed far too calm for this place. His arms were crossed, his posture relaxed, but something about him set off Ryo's instincts.
"You need to move before the scavengers come. They don't just clean the blood here—they take the bodies of the weak."
Ryo forced himself to his feet. Each step back toward the hall was agony, but he moved, one foot after another, until he passed the fighter in the shadows.
"You fight like someone with a reason," the man said quietly as Ryo walked by. "That'll either save you or kill you."
Ryo turned his head slightly, just enough to see the man's expression. Calm. Watchful. Like someone who had seen too much.
"And you?" Ryo asked, voice hoarse. "Why are you here?"
The man gave the faintest smile. "Maybe I'm here to help someone like you. Name's Kael."
Ryo paused. That name—it wasn't on the leaderboard. He would've remembered it. He had studied every name on the betting walls. This man wasn't a regular fighter.
"What do you know about Ren Kazan?" Ryo asked, barely able to keep the desperation out of his voice.
Kael's eyes flickered. "Meet me in the lower chamber tonight. If you're still breathing, I'll tell you what I know."
And then, just like that, Kael disappeared into the maze of corridors.
Hours passed.
Ryo had returned to the fighters' quarters, his body wrapped in cheap bandages and soaked in ice packs. The pain in his ribs had dulled to a steady throb, and the scent of blood never left his nose. The walls were filled with the distant roars of another match.
Taro came in briefly, dropping a bowl of gruel by his bedside and muttering, "You shouldn't have survived that. Don't get cocky." Then he left again.
But Ryo wasn't thinking about Gorath anymore. He was thinking about Kael. About the name Ren Kazan passing through someone else's lips.
That night, once the corridors had quieted and the guards thinned, Ryo slipped out.
The lower chambers were an older part of the Maw, unused for public fights. The stone walls were cracked, overgrown with moss and grime. Pipes hissed from the ceiling. He found Kael waiting beside an old generator, seated on a crate.
"You came," Kael said without looking up.
"You said you knew something," Ryo replied, still cautious.
"I know more than something," Kael said, standing slowly. "But I need to know you're not just another desperate fighter chasing rumors. If I tell you what I know, you'll be marked. They'll watch you differently."
"I'm already marked," Ryo said, voice steady. "Now talk."
Kael studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Ren Kazan. I saw him. Months ago. He wasn't fighting—he was leading."
Ryo's heart stopped.
"Leading?"
Kael nodded. "A group of enforcers. They weren't like us. They were clean. Uniformed. And they moved with precision. I saw your brother giving orders. And I saw what they were protecting."
"What?" Ryo's voice trembled.
"A lab. Deep beneath the Maw. Where they refine and test the Fang Serum. Ren was supervising a delivery. His face was stone cold. Like a ghost."
Ryo staggered back a step. His mind reeled. Was it possible? Had Ren truly become part of this place?
"He wouldn't do that," Ryo said, but the words tasted bitter. "Not unless they forced him."
Kael tilted his head. "Maybe. But you need to understand something—no one stays clean down here. Even the best intentions get buried. You want to find him? You'll need to go deeper. Past the prelims. Past the blood."
"How do I get there?" Ryo asked, fists clenched.
Kael looked around, then handed Ryo a small coin. It was black, etched with a serpent's eye.
"Win your next match. Don't die. When they move you to the Inner Tier, show this to the Broker."
"The Broker?"
Kael nodded. "He trades favors. Secrets. Lives. If Ren is down there, he'll know."
Ryo stared at the coin. It felt heavy in his hand, not from weight, but from what it represented. A path. A chance. A glimpse of hope.
Back in the quarters, Ryo lay on the cold stone floor, staring up at the ceiling. The flickering lights cast brief shadows over the cracked cement. He didn't sleep. He couldn't. His thoughts spiraled.
Ren. Alive. Involved.
But what kind of man had his brother become?
Ryo remembered the nights they had spent under the stars as kids, talking about dreams and escape. Ren had always protected him. He had been the light when everything else went dark.
And now, he was a shadow. A piece of the machine Ryo was fighting against.
He touched the coin again. Cold. Real.
If Kael was lying, he'd deal with that. But something in the man's eyes had felt honest. Painfully honest.
The door creaked open again. Taro stepped inside and looked down at him.
"You're fighting again tomorrow," he said. "Someone new. Someone worse."
Ryo sat up slowly. "Good."
Taro raised a brow. "Why 'good'? You're still limping from the last fight."
"Because I'm getting closer," Ryo said, his voice like steel. "And I'm not stopping until I find him."
Taro stared at him for a long moment, then turned to leave. "You're gonna need more than hope."
The next day dawned like all others in the Maw—no sun, no sky, just the cold march of time marked by screams and the smell of iron.
But for the first time, Ryo walked into the arena not just to survive—but to reach someone. To break the chains of this nightmare. To find his brother and drag him back from whatever pit had swallowed him.
Kael watched from the shadows.
And in Ryo's clenched fist, the black serpent coin pulsed with possibility.
The war wasn't just in the ring anymore.
It had become a war for truth.
And Ryo was ready.