Chapter 24: Unholy Bonds
The ground trembled as Ryo stepped into the lower arena—an isolated battlefield deep beneath the main coliseum, one that reeked of chemicals, rust, and something darker. This wasn't just another trial. This was a trap disguised as a match.
The crowd was absent.
There were no roaring cheers or flashing lights—only silence, broken by the echo of dripping water and the low mechanical hum of machinery hidden in the walls.
Ryo glanced around, alert. His instincts screamed that something wasn't right.
And then, he saw him.
Emerging from a far corridor, the figure walked slowly—each step echoing like the toll of a war drum. His body shimmered faintly with sweat and serum, rippling with unnatural muscle. His skin bore the mottled pallor of heavy transformation, but his eyes were sharp—calculating. Not mindless like the others.
He looked human… but barely.
"Name?" Ryo called out.
The man stopped, smiling slightly.
"They call me Garo, the last successful evolution," he said. "I'm what the organizers dream of when they created the serum. Controlled. Powerful. Efficient."
Ryo narrowed his eyes. "You're one of them."
"No," Garo said, tilting his head. "I am what's left when you remove fear, pain, hesitation. I was like you once—angry, desperate, fighting for someone. But eventually, I understood... love, guilt, hope—they're chains."
He spread his arms wide. "The serum freed me."
Ryo clenched his fists. "No. It broke you."
Garo chuckled, stepping forward. "We'll see."
The clash was immediate—violent and explosive.
Ryo moved first, channeling the burning heat inside him into a swift, punishing punch. Garo blocked it with ease, his forearm barely flinching. He countered with a spinning backfist that sent Ryo crashing through a rusted pillar.
Blood dripped from Ryo's mouth. But he got up.
Garo stalked him like a beast playing with its prey.
"Pain means nothing to me," Garo said calmly. "I've shed it. You still fight with emotion—you're weak."
Ryo dashed in again, ducking low and delivering a knee to Garo's ribs. The impact cracked bone—but Garo didn't even flinch. He grabbed Ryo by the throat and hurled him across the arena.
Ryo smashed into the wall. Debris rained down. His lungs burned.
This wasn't just physical strength. Garo's control over the serum was perfect. No loss of speech. No twitching. No madness.
He was a glimpse of what Ryo could become.
As Garo approached again, Ryo saw it—his own reflection in Garo's movements. Precise. Deadly. Efficient.
Too efficient.
"What did you give up?" Ryo rasped.
Garo paused. "What?"
"To control the serum like that… what did you sacrifice?"
For a moment, Garo's expression shifted. The smile cracked.
"I gave up my brother," he said softly. "The serum demanded I choose. Him… or survival. I chose to win. I killed him with my own hands."
The words hit Ryo like a blade through the chest.
"And you live with that?"
"I don't live," Garo said, lunging again. "I endure."
The fight resumed, more brutal than before. Every strike Garo landed chipped away at Ryo's will. His bones ached. His mind burned. Blood blurred his vision.
But each blow reminded him of Ren.
Each pain made him feel alive.
And he realized—Garo wasn't stronger because he had control. He was hollow. He had nothing to protect. No reason to live.
But Ryo did.
Ren's face. Daigo's ghost. The tears of the boy who had lost his sister. Taro's warnings. Yurei's sacrifice.
He carried them all.
And as Garo charged again, Ryo moved differently. Not with rage—but with purpose.
He ducked under Garo's punch, grabbed his arm, and drove his elbow into Garo's shoulder with a sickening crack. Garo roared—his calm cracked, just for a moment.
Then Ryo slammed his fist into Garo's ribs—again and again—until the flesh buckled.
He stepped back, gasping. "You're wrong. We aren't meant to endure alone. We're meant to fight together."
Garo staggered.
And in that moment, Ryo saw something change in him.
A flicker of pain. Memory. Regret.
"…Ren," Garo whispered, before collapsing to his knees.
Ryo didn't finish him.
He stood over Garo, breathing heavily, watching the man bleed—both from wounds and from a lifetime of silence.
As the guards entered to retrieve the fallen fighter, one of them leaned toward Ryo.
"You could've killed him. Why didn't you?"
"Because I've already lost too many," Ryo replied. "I don't want to become like you."
Later that night, Taro found Ryo staring at the sky, the moon half-hidden by storm clouds.
"You survived."
"Barely," Ryo said. "He wasn't a man anymore. He was what the Maw wanted me to become."
"You resisted."
"For now."
Taro placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then you're still winning."
But Ryo didn't answer.
Because deep inside… he knew Garo wasn't done. And neither was the Maw.
The worst was yet to come.