Carey leaned casually against the railing, his arms resting lazily as he watched the brutal fight unfolding in the pit below. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, mingling with sweat and the primal roars of the crowd. As the combatants' bodies became stained with crimson, a slow, eerie smile spread across Carey's lips, and his eyes gleamed with a feverish excitement—an undeniable thirst for blood.
The arena resounded with deafening cheers and frenzied shouts, each voice trembling with exhilaration, as if the sheer violence on display ignited something primal within them…
Just as one of the fighters collapsed with a heavy thud, a short man wearing a baseball cap hurried to Carey's side and whispered urgently, "Boss, it's been days… but no one has come out."
Carey didn't spare him a glance, his gaze fixed on the bloodied body in the pit. Only when the fallen fighter failed to rise did he finally push himself up, satisfied, and stride toward the exit.
