Chapter 1 — Born in Chains
Underground, in a deep, dark, and forgotten city, the air was heavy with rot, blood, and sweat. The stone walls did not see the sun. No birds were heard here, no flowers were smelled. Only the screams of pain and the roar of the crowd.
And he.
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The boy woke up in a cold cage, not understanding where he was. He was ten. He only remembered the fire. The village. People in masks. Mother's screams. Then the darkness.
His hands were bound with enchanted chains that dug into his skin. Around his neck is a slave collar with a dark symbol. He didn't know what it meant. But I felt it was pain. It's fear. This is the end of freedom.
A man in a black robe and a mask decorated with a red lightning bolt sign came to the corner of the cage.
"You are now the property of Lord Taros, the God of Violence. You're not human. You're a weapon.
The boy looked at him in silence. There are green reflections in the eyes. There is pain in the body.
But inside... there was something more. Something... sleeping.
Anger.
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From that day on, hell began.
The boy was thrown into the Colosseum. Not for the spectacle, but for survival.
The food is rotten. The water is dirty.
They didn't give me any clothes. He grew up fast. Too fast. In a few months, the body changed: the bones became thicker, the muscles more massive. The skin began to darken, turning into a black-green shade, like a monster's.
He was left unarmed in the first battle. Against the warrior.
— If he survives, he will move on. If he dies, we'll burn him," said the overseer.
The boy was silent. My heart was beating like a war drum.
When the enemy rushed with the sword, he caught the blade with his hand. And squeezed.
Steel crunched like wood.
And then he hit me in the chest. And the enemy's body flew off like a rag doll, crashing into the wall and not getting up anymore.
The crowd roared. The god Taros watched from the podium, pleased.
"His name is... the HULK,— the announcer said. — Our new Colosseum beast!
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A year later.
He was given falna. But not the usual one.
It was a curse column created by Taros himself. Not a blessing, but a chain. Instead of strength, rage. Instead of protection, it's pain.
She grew up with him, tormenting, maiming, pushing him to rage—and making him stronger.
The Hulk became level 1 when he tore apart three adventurers in the arena in a rage.
Then - 2.
3.
4.
5.
With every fight, his body became a monster. His eyes glowed like two emeralds in the skull of a beast. He was almost four meters tall, even bent over.
The crowd was bowing down.
The guards were afraid.
Taros... was laughing.
The Hulk never said. He just roared. I just fought.
And only at night, sitting in the shadow of the cage, looking at the chains biting into his wrists, he whispered faintly.:
—I'm... not a weapon." I'm... human.
But Taros's voice was always in his head.:
"You're anger. You are the rage. You are my creation. And you won't escape. Never.
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The Hulk raised his head, looking through the bars at the ceiling of the Colosseum.
To where the sky once was.
He didn't know what would happen tomorrow.
But he knew one thing: the day the chains fell, the whole world would shake from his scream.
And then the real battle will begin.