The iron doors of the fighting pit screeched open, vomiting steam and the stench of sweat, blood, and burning oil. A hundred voices howled from the shadows of the coliseum, eager for carnage. They weren't cheering for a name—they didn't know it yet.
They would.
Ryden stepped into the dirt.
His boots crunched the dried blood that had never washed away. The cold, metal cuffs still hung from his wrists like trophies—remnants of the past he hadn't come to forget, but to bury. His coat, torn at the shoulders, drifted behind him like a shadow. Underneath, muscle carved by violence flexed with every breath.
He wasn't the same boy who had been dragged through these gates five years ago.
No longer the dog.
Now he was the blade.
From the opposite gate, a mountain of a man entered—"Gorr the Slaughter", a pit favorite. Masked, shirtless, soaked in crimson body paint. The crowd roared. Gorr raised his war hammer high, the arena thundering with bloodlust.
But Ryden? He didn't flinch.
He rolled his neck and stepped forward.
A voice exploded from above:"IN THIS CORNER, THE SLAUGHTER BEAST OF THE RING—GOOORR!AND IN THIS CORNER... the Ghost of the Chain!"
Ryden's eyes didn't blink.He had given up his name.Tonight, he'd earn it back in blood.
The bell rang.And hell broke loose.
Gorr came fast for someone his size, swinging the hammer like a wrecking ball. Ryden ducked the first strike, sidestepped the second. Dust flew. Steel whistled through the air. The crowd screamed.
Then Ryden struck.
A blur—low, then up, then spin—his elbow cracked against Gorr's jaw with a thunderclap. Gorr stumbled. Surprise flashed in his eyes before rage swallowed it.
"You should've stayed dead!" Gorr roared, spitting blood.
Ryden didn't answer.
He dropped low, swept Gorr's legs. The beast hit the ground with a quake. Ryden followed—knees first into his chest, fists raining like war drums.
Left. Right. Left. Right. CRACK.
Teeth flew.
The crowd turned. Cheers mixed with gasps. This wasn't just a fight. It was a reckoning.
Gorr flailed, grabbed Ryden's arm, yanked him off. He rose, blood pouring down his face, hammer forgotten. "WHO ARE YOU?!"
Ryden stood tall, shadows cloaking his face.He finally spoke.
"The end of your chain."
He dashed forward, fists igniting with fury. A whirlwind of strikes—jab, cross, hook, uppercut. Gorr staggered with each hit, steps growing heavier. One final roar escaped his throat before—
Ryden spun. Spinning back kick—full force—into Gorr's temple.
The giant crumpled.
Silence.
Then, the arena erupted.
The gates screeched open again—not for Gorr, but for the cleanup crew. Ryden didn't look back.
He turned and walked through the smoke, the shadows swallowing him whole. But behind him, one voice whispered in awe.
"...Ryden."
END OF CHAPTER 1