That menacing demon stood tall, casting an aura so suffocating that even breathing felt like torture for the slaves. Every inhale scorched their throats, as if their necks were burning from the inside out.
The demon spoke in a deep, commanding voice,
"Slaves, this is your arena. You will fight each other to the death here. You will be given badges—each with a unique code. From this day forward, that code is your new name."
Suddenly, those ten demons—faces wrapped in white cloth—materialized pink-colored badges in their hands. Each badge had a strange combination of letters and numbers. These demons approached the slaves one by one and violently pierced the badges into their right chests using the sharp pins on the back, making them scream out in pain. Some sobbed quietly, others wailed uncontrollably, while some remained frozen in agony.
When it was Julius's turn, he had already felt the dread build up just from watching the others. But the real pain far exceeded anything he'd imagined.
Julius's badge read: J-216.
In ten minutes, every slave had been tagged. The chains binding their bodies were removed, but their hands remained cuffed.
Then, the regular demons—those who had been guarding them—returned. They grabbed the slaves by their hair and began hurling them onto the stages like garbage. Julius, too, was flung with full force. The impact shattered his left arm.
Some slaves died instantly from the brutal drop. Others landed with broken bones and bleeding limbs. Julius's right leg was also injured, and he groaned in pain. Still, somehow, he managed to stand—barely.
Across from him stood another living being—
A human.
A female.
Julius recognized her instantly just by her hair.
"Emily?" he asked, breathless.
She looked up, her black eyes locking onto his. Recognition flickered in her gaze.
"Julius?" she whispered.
Emily was the same age as Julius. Her long, messy brown hair framed an average-looking face. Her BB-sized chest was barely covered by a torn, sleeveless brown top. Her jeans had been ripped so badly they resembled shorts. Around her neck hung a small Christian cross.
They had known each other since childhood. Grew up together. But Julius was never the friendly type—so they were never that close.
"Julius, please… don't kill me," Emily begged, tears streaming down her face.
Julius asked in a low tone, "How are you still alive?"
She hesitated, trembling, blood trickling down from her forehead, arms twisted unnaturally from the fall. Bruises covered her entire body.
"I was caged with a human and this... ape-like creature," she said shakily. "That creature... it killed the man, brutally. But spared me. It spoke our language. It looked like a beast, but acted like a man. He said to me, 'If you want to survive, trade your body for your life.' I had no choice. I gave up my body... my dignity... just to stay alive."
Such things were tragically common in the cages. Especially for women. Julius wasn't shocked. Not because he was numb—but because it wasn't new. Even back on Earth, Emily had traded her body to get what she wanted, having no money and no support.
Emily sobbed, her spirit already breaking.
Then came the demon's booming voice again:
"Slaves—BEGIN THE FIGHT."
Emily relaxed slightly. She believed Julius wouldn't hurt her. She trusted him.
But as soon as Julius heard the command, he sprinted toward her like a predator.
Emily's eyes widened in horror.
"Julius, no! Please—don't! We know each other! You can't do this to a girl!"
Julius leapt and slammed his right leg hard into her left cheek, sending her crashing to the ground.
The arena was a circular platform—150 meters wide. The surface was hot, made of molten rock.
The kick worsened Julius's leg injury, making him wince, but he didn't stop.
Emily's nose bled. She screamed and cried in rage.
"You bastard! I'll kill you, you fucking bastard!"
Julius aimed another kick at her stomach, but this time, his injured leg dulled the force. Emily lunged forward and bit down on his right shoulder with savage desperation, drawing blood and leaving deep bite marks.
Julius shoved her away with that same injured shoulder, then kicked her in the stomach again with his left leg, knocking her down once more.
Her body was covered in bruises.
But Julius didn't stop.
He began stomping on her face repeatedly with his left leg. Again. And again.
Some of the watching demons stopped to admire his brutality—at that moment, Julius was the most savage fighter in the arena.
He kept striking until Emily's teeth began to break. Through blood and pain, she whispered,
"You can have my body for as long as you want... just let me live, please..."
The words made Julius pause for only a second—before he delivered one final, full-powered kick to her face. The force knocked her unconscious.
She wasn't dead. Julius knew that.
He crouched, grabbed the top of her shirt with his handcuffed left hand, and began dragging her body across the scorching platform toward the edge. His legs were burning. The molten rocks beneath seared his skin. But he kept going.
Finally, they reached the edge.
Without a trace of humanity, Julius delivered one last kick—sending Emily's limp body into the lava below.
She vanished into the molten abyss.
Julius had secured his breakfast.
One of the demons, his face still wrapped in white cloth, announced coldly,
"J-216 has successfully eliminated P-32 and secured his breakfast."
Every mortal on the nearby stages turned their eyes toward Julius. None of them had expected someone to move so fast... or fall so far. They hadn't thought anyone could become this inhuman this quickly.
Suddenly, a platform began to rise from Julius's arena, extending out and connecting to the pathway he had first entered from.
The same demon spoke again,
"J-216, walk up the path, collect your breakfast, and return to your cage."
Julius began walking up the narrow platform. But then, something caught his eye.
He noticed that every demon present had their gaze fixed—not on his stage—but on another one.
Curious, he turned around.
And when he did, his eyes widened.
He hadn't expected that.
What he saw was a scene so horrific, so grotesque, it froze him mid-step.