The dim light of the underworld sky filtered through the jagged canopy of steel and rust that loomed above the inn. The faint hum of distant machinery and murmurs of tension from the nearby faction quarters whispered the arrival of something grim and violent. Within one of the sparse, reinforced training lodges carved into the foundations of the underworld arena district, Renji's team gathered.
Mika Ishida stood before a cracked concrete wall, arms wrapped tightly around her torso, her face hard with focus. With a sharp exhale, she released a blast of kinetic energy that cracked the wall further. The force of her power echoed through the chamber, drawing a sideways glance from Takeshi Mori, who was completing push-ups with ease, each repetition creating a subtle tremor in the floor.
"Keep that up and you'll collapse the building," Takeshi muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"And you'll lift it back up again," Mika shot back, the fire in her voice barely hiding her nerves.
Kaito Nakamura sat cross-legged, electricity crackling gently around his fists, blue arcs illuminating the veins in his arms. "We all felt it," he said quietly. "The bloodlust from those Spiral Fangs bastards... They were brutal. The next round won't be easier."
Yumi Takahashi leaned against the wall, half-shrouded in a veil of shadows she had conjured unconsciously. "We'll need to go deeper," she said softly. "Not just our powers. Ourselves. They'll be coming for Renji first."
Renji stood in the center of the room, silent. His eyes burned with an eerie intensity, the kind that came from having seen too much and survived it. He wore a simple black combat vest over his scarred skin, the mark of his monstrous evolution faintly glowing beneath it.
Their preparation was more than physical—it was spiritual, mental, primal. The elimination stage of the tournament would not only test strength but will, psychology, and instinct.
Suddenly, a familiar presence entered the chamber like a breeze slipping past unseen. Elyra.
Clad in a sleek white cloak that shimmered faintly under the low lights, her golden eyes met Renji's with a look equal parts admiration and concern.
"You survived the qualifying round," she said, voice like velvet against steel. "But don't let that trick you into thinking the worst is behind you."
Renji nodded. "I never do."
Elyra stepped closer, folding her arms. "The elimination stage draws out the real monsters—not the ones beneath the skin, but the ones hiding behind ambition, fear, and ego. The factions you defeated were hungry. The ones you'll face next... they're desperate. That makes them dangerous."
Renji's expression didn't shift, but his hand tightened around the hilt of his blade. "Thanks for the warning."
"It's not a warning," Elyra corrected with a faint smirk. "It's a prediction. Don't prove me wrong."
She turned on her heel and vanished into the corridor, her presence leaving a chill in the air.
Meanwhile, deep in a derelict chamber beneath one of the abandoned spires of the underworld, the silver-haired mutant Iris crouched beside a rusted console. Her eyes were distant, reflective, and tinged with hunger. Her partner, Draven, loomed behind her—massive, arms folded, his metallic prosthetic humming faintly with residual energy from a recent tune-up.
"He's unpredictable," Iris murmured, watching the flickering projection of Renji's last match. "He adapts... faster than expected."
Draven scoffed. "Then we take him out after the tournament. Quietly."
A third presence emerged from the shadows. Their leader. Cloaked in an abyssal shroud, the figure's face was hidden, but the energy they radiated was suffocating.
"No," the leader said. "We don't strike until the perfect moment. After the elimination round. After they show us everything. Then we erase them."
Iris nodded slowly. "Understood."
The stage was set. The combatants sharpened their claws, not just for the ring, but for the war that brewed just beyond it.
And Renji... stood at the center of a gathering storm.
---
The air in the emergency cabinet room of Japan's National Defense Division was dense with tension, the low hum of security systems and murmured chatter the only sounds breaking the silence. Surveillance screens lined the walls, streaming real-time footage of recent dungeon activity from across the nation and reports from foreign territories. Each screen showed different horrors—creatures tearing through cities, mutated zones engulfing nature, and fading signals from exploration teams lost within dungeon depths.
At the heart of the room sat Minister Hiroshi Takeda, a sharp-featured man in his late fifties with a permanent furrow on his brow. His steel-gray suit and bloodshot eyes spoke of sleepless nights and unrelenting pressure. Across the table, Prime Minister Takashi Ishida looked no better—his normally calm expression replaced by a strained focus that barely masked the anxiety beneath.
"Begin the recording," Minister Takeda ordered, waving to the operator seated behind the surveillance console.
A secure connection blinked to life as the holographic image of the United Nations Security Council emblem materialized in the center of the war room. Around the world, similar secure rooms flickered to life—Washington, Berlin, Moscow, Beijing, Cairo, and beyond. A digital roundtable formed, uniting the most powerful figures on the planet in the face of a crisis they could no longer contain.
Secretary-General Elena Vos of the UN appeared in the center feed. Her voice rang with authority, laced with urgency. "We are initiating the first unified Global Containment Summit. The emergence of dungeons across all major continents can no longer be treated as isolated anomalies. We are at war with a phenomenon we barely understand."
The Japanese cabinet members sat straighter, their attention sharpened. Prime Minister Ishida nodded slowly, gesturing for Takeda to speak on behalf of Japan.
Minister Takeda cleared his throat and leaned toward the mic. "Japan has suffered severe military casualties during our latest dungeon incursion beneath the capital. Our experimental infected units—though effective—are becoming harder to control. We've lost countless operatives, and we now suspect the dungeons are evolving... or responding to something."
A grim silence followed. In the French delegate's feed, a screen showed a city being swallowed by a collapsing rift. In Russia's feed, a general muttered something about "intelligent dungeon cores."
"Minister Takeda," the Secretary-General asked, "what is your analysis on the origin of these anomalies?"
Takeda hesitated. Then, with no sugar-coating, he replied, "We believe the dungeons may not be natural. They're not just phenomena—they're deliberate constructs, and we suspect there's an intelligence behind them. Possibly something ancient... or alien."
The room shuddered with murmurs.
Prime Minister Ishida intervened, "We need more than theory. The international cooperation task force must be activated. Joint research, shared tech, unified hunter regulation, and if necessary... shared militarization."
Across the feeds, agreements began to ripple—nods, verbal confirmations, brief statements of support. But not all countries looked convinced.
The Chinese representative narrowed his eyes. "And who gets to lead this 'cooperation'? If this is about control of resources from dungeon cores, I guarantee we won't stand down."
Takeda responded immediately. "This isn't about resources anymore. It's survival."
From the background, an aide hurried over to Takeda and whispered something urgently in his ear. He turned pale.
"Another dungeon just opened," he muttered. "Osaka."
Gasps. General Matsuda, patched into the meeting from his own military base, gritted his teeth. "That's the third one this week. We're barely holding Tokyo's perimeter as it is."
The Secretary-General leaned forward, voice cold. "Then we proceed with emergency protocol. The Global Containment Summit is to convene in Geneva in 72 hours. All national leaders are expected to be present in person or virtually. Anyone who delays risks international sanctions."
The feed cut.
The cabinet room in Tokyo fell into a brief, stunned silence before Prime Minister Ishida turned to his team. "We need to prepare our delegation. And… send word to the Black Crow faction and our other underworld informants. We'll need them in the loop."
Takeda raised an eyebrow. "Involving the underworld?"
"If what you said is true—about dungeons not being natural—then we'll need answers from those who don't live by our laws," Ishida replied, grimly.
---