Varen was the first to speak.
"I'm in," he said, crossing his arms. "It's better than fighting in that hell."
The masked man tilted his head slightly, his unreadable gaze shifting to the rest of the group. "So, I assume it's the same for everyone here?"
Bruno, Raine, and Silas exchanged glances but remained silent. There was no easy answer. Accepting meant getting pulled into this city's structure—whatever that entailed. Refusing meant going back into the Abyss, where survival was nothing more than borrowed time.
Before anyone could answer, a heavy knock came from the metal door. A soldier stepped inside, clad in black combat gear. He saluted.
"Sir, they're ready for escort."
The masked man gave a small nod. "Then take them."
The halls they walked through were narrow, the walls lined with thick metal plating. Dim overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a cold glow over everything. Occasionally, Bruno would hear muffled voices from behind locked doors—some urgent, others distant and empty.
The facility wasn't a prison, but it felt like one.
When they arrived at their assigned quarters, the soldier turned to Bruno, handing him a folded piece of paper.
"You'll receive your license and weapons soon. Until then, you're free to explore the city. Don't cause trouble."
Bruno gave a slow nod. No response was needed.
The guard left, boots echoing down the corridor.
The room they were given was small but functional. A wooden table sat in the right corner, a narrow bed in the left, and a door leading to a tiny bathroom. The air was dry, carrying the faint scent of metal and dust. It wasn't much, but compared to the Abyss, it was a luxury.
Bruno sat on the bed, rubbing his face. His mind cycled through the same thoughts.
What was this place? Why were they here? Was this really survival, or just a different kind of slow death?
Sleep didn't come.
Hours later, Bruno finally stepped outside.
The city was larger than he expected. Streets wove between reinforced buildings, some tall and narrow, others wide with rusted balconies. The air smelled of iron and ash, though here and there, the scent of cooked food slipped through. It tried to resemble something normal, something human, but it couldn't fully hide its true nature.
He noticed children playing near the edge of an alleyway. They laughed, their voices bright—but there was something unnatural about it, as if they had learned to imitate joy rather than feel it.
Bruno reached into his pocket and unfolded the map he had been given. The city had a rough layout—the central district where most people lived, the outskirts where the exiles stayed, and key locations like the marketplace, the Watchers' headquarters, and something labeled "The Pit."
He started walking, observing.
Food stalls lined certain streets, though everything seemed rationed. Vendors traded dried meat, preserved vegetables, and what looked like compressed nutrient bars in exchange for Abyssal Crystals.
A man nearby groaned in frustration, arguing with a vendor.
"This is a joke. Five shards for stale bread?"
The vendor, an older woman with tired eyes, sighed. "Prices are rising. The last scavenger team came back with barely anything. If you don't want it, someone else will."
The man cursed under his breath but handed over the glowing blue shards.
Bruno watched closely. Those shards weren't just currency—they were survival.
His stomach twisted slightly. He had zero.
His eyes drifted to a small gathering near an alleyway. A group of men stood in a half-circle, speaking in hushed voices. One of them noticed Bruno watching and locked eyes with him.
"You new?"
Bruno nodded.
The man smirked. "Then let me give you some advice. Get some shards fast, or you'll be eating scraps. Jobs pay, but the real money's in scavenging or fighting. Pick your poison."
Bruno didn't answer and walked past. The idea of trading for food when he had nothing to offer put an uncomfortable weight on his chest.
As he turned onto another street, he spotted a fortified building, taller than most structures around it. Black-cloaked figures stood guard at the entrance. Their posture was rigid, their presence enough to deter anyone from stepping too close.
Bruno took a few steps toward them, but one of the guards immediately moved to block his path.
"Registration, please. If not, leave this place."
The words were direct. Not threatening, but absolute.
Bruno didn't push it. He turned and left.
Elsewhere, Varen was following a different path.
He had stopped in front of a rusted bulletin board, where various papers were pinned—job postings, warnings, and hand-written notes looking for missing people. Among them, a particular poster caught his eye.
===== DUEL PIT =====
Test your strength. Earn shards. Prove your worth.
– Rules: No killing. No outside weapons. Victory means rewards. Defeat means lesson.
=================
Varen smirked. A chance to fight for shards? That was exactly what he needed.
He memorized the location written at the bottom of the poster and started walking. It led him through several narrow alleys until he reached an entrance to what seemed like an underground passage. The walls here were reinforced steel, the dim lights flickering slightly as he descended.
When he reached the bottom, the air shifted.
The Duel Pit wasn't some makeshift fighting ring. It was a large, reinforced underground arena. Fighters were scattered across the room—some warming up and others wrapping their fists or stretching. The ground was stained in old remnants of past battles.
A man with a scar running down his cheek spotted Varen approaching and raised an eyebrow. "New guy?"
"Just looking," Varen said, his tone casual.
The man chuckled. "You won't be looking for long. If you want shards, you fight. That's how it works down here."
"Good. I was starting to get bored."
The man grinned, stepping aside. "Then welcome to the Pit new guy"