In the land of Medyline, deep inside a dark and forgotten place, there was something terrifying known only as the Blood Cage. To most people, it was just a story, something they heard about but never really believed. But for those who lived near it, the Blood Cage was as real as the ground beneath their feet. It was a place where creatures, monsters, and even people who had been cursed or abandoned were locked away. Some of them had been there for centuries.
The Blood Cage was always noisy. It was never quiet. From the moment the sun started to rise, you could hear the loud screams and cries coming from inside. Some people thought it was just the prisoners shouting in pain or fear. Some people thought the prisoners were just angry. But no matter what the reason was, the sound never stopped.
The guards, the men and women who watched over the cage, were used to it. They had been standing guard for so long that they didn't even hear the screams anymore. They had done this for thousands of years, and nothing seemed to bother them. The cage was old, and the creatures inside it were even older.
But today was different.
For the first time in a long time, the screams sounded strange. They weren't just the usual cries of pain or anger. There was something darker, something deeper in the air. It was a growl, a low, rumbling sound that came from the very heart of the cage. It made the ground tremble underfoot. The guards, who had long ago stopped paying attention to the screams, paused. They looked at each other with worried eyes.
"This isn't right," one of the guards whispered to the others.
The Captain of the guards, a tall man named Oren, turned his head sharply. He had been guarding the Blood Cage for a long time, and he was no stranger to danger. His face was old, his skin tough, like leather, but his eyes were still sharp. He could sense when something was wrong, even if the others couldn't. He raised a hand to quiet the guards.
"Everyone stay alert," Captain Oren said quietly. "Something feels off."
Captain Oren's boots scraped against the dirt as he and the guards made their way closer to the source of the noise. The growls grew louder, shaking the ground beneath their feet, but Oren's expression remained calm. He had seen many things in his years guarding the Blood Cage, but this... this was different.
"Keep your distance, but stay sharp," Oren muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
The other guards nodded, gripping their weapons tighter, their eyes scanning the dark, twisted shape of the cage. They could hear the sharp screeches of metal being bent, as if the cage itself was fighting back. The strange sounds coming from within were growing louder by the second, almost as if the very earth was shaking with the fury inside.
Suddenly, without warning, seven figures leaped from the shadows of the cage. Green ropes, tightly wound around their bodies, snapped in the air as they landed, their feet thudding heavily on the ground. These were no ordinary prisoners. These were the Green-Tied, the ones who were believed to have shown signs of change. They were supposed to be the ones who might one day be released, reformed, ready to face the world outside the cage.
But that was before.
Now, as the seven prisoners stood in front of Oren and his men, it was clear they weren't what they had once been. Their eyes glinted with madness, and their faces twisted into snarls of rage. There was nothing reformed about them. They were still monsters, and they had been trapped in this cage for far too long.
"They never change," Rika whispered, her sword trembling slightly in her grip.
"They've been here too long," Oren said, his voice calm, steady. "Let's finish this."
The prisoners lunged.
Without hesitation, Oren moved first. His blade flicked from its scabbard with a smooth, practiced motion. It was almost like the sword was an extension of his own arm, flowing with purpose. The first Green-Tied man charged at him, his arms wide, aiming to crush Oren with his sheer strength. But Oren was faster.
With a swift step to the side, Oren slashed, the tip of his sword cutting across the prisoner's chest. It wasn't a deep wound, but it was enough to stagger the man. Oren followed up with a swift kick to the prisoner's knee, sending him to the ground with a heavy thud.
"One down," Oren muttered under his breath, his eyes now scanning the rest of the prisoners.
Rika was the next to strike. The youngest of the guards, she was fast, her movements quick and fluid. A Green-Tied woman came at her with a wild swing of her fists, but Rika ducked low, her sword slicing upward in a perfect arc. The woman howled in pain as Rika's blade cut into her side.
But the woman didn't fall. Instead, she spun, blood dripping from her wound, and struck back with a brutal swipe of her own. Rika blocked the blow with her sword, the clash of metal ringing through the air.
The other guards weren't far behind. One of them, a broad-shouldered man named Lars, swung his sword with all his strength. The prisoner he faced, a large, burly figure, raised his arms to defend, but Lars was too powerful. With one clean strike, his sword cut through the prisoner's defenses and into his shoulder. The prisoner grunted in pain but didn't fall. Instead, he bellowed, his fury only growing.
"Keep pushing forward!" Lars shouted to his comrades as he stepped back, ready to fight again.
The remaining prisoners closed in, each one wild-eyed and determined. Oren's sharp eyes flicked between them, calculating their next moves. They were fast, skilled in their own way—probably from years of battle in the cage. They weren't just mindless beasts; they were dangerous, trained by necessity.
A second prisoner lunged at Oren, but Oren was already in motion. He pivoted, his sword meeting the prisoner's blade in a clash of steel. The force of the strike sent sparks flying, and Oren's blade slid down the prisoner's sword with a practiced flick of his wrist. With a swift, downward strike, Oren cleaved through the prisoner's defense, his sword biting deep into the man's shoulder.
"That's two," Oren said, barely a whisper, as the prisoner staggered back, clutching his wound.
The remaining four prisoners were getting desperate, and their attacks grew wilder. One tried to circle around Lars, but the large guard anticipated the move. With a quick spin, Lars turned, bringing his sword in a wide arc. The prisoner's sword collided with Lars' blade, but the force of the hit sent the prisoner's weapon flying from his hands.
Lars wasted no time. He drove forward, knocking the prisoner to the ground and holding his sword to the man's throat.
"Down!" Lars growled, and the prisoner, now subdued, raised his hands in surrender.