In a cold, dimly lit place...
Demian lay motionless, still unconscious.
His body rested upon the damp, uneven stone floor of a small prison cell. In front of him, thick iron bars separated the cell from a long corridor stretching endlessly into the darkness.
At a single glance, anyone could tell that this place had long been abandoned by time itself.
The walls were built from ancient stone, covered in patches of moss and deep cracks carved by countless years. Moisture clung to every surface, while the stale smell of mold, rust, and dried blood hung heavily in the air, making every breath feel oppressive.
The only source of light came from a handful of torches mounted along the walls.
Their flames flickered endlessly, casting restless shadows throughout the corridor.
Whenever a cold draft swept through the underground prison, the flames danced, causing those shadows to twist and move like silent creatures watching from the darkness.
The corridor seemed endless.
On both sides, countless prison cells stretched into the distance, each sealed behind the same rusted iron bars.
Inside them...
People.
Men.
Women.
Some were barely older than children.
Others looked far too old to endure such suffering.
Whispers echoed throughout the prison.
Muffled sobs.
Quiet prayers.
Desperate pleas.
Endless murmurs of grief.
It was as though hope itself had died within those walls long ago.
While those sorrowful voices continued to fill the underground prison...
Demian remained inside his cell.
Almost perfectly still.
Almost.
His body slowly began to twist from side to side.
It was as though he were trapped inside a terrible nightmare.
Pain was written across his face.
His brow remained tightly furrowed.
His breathing grew heavier with every passing second.
Beads of sweat continuously rolled down his forehead despite the freezing air surrounding him.
He was in agony.
Not physical agony.
Something far worse.
It felt as though his very mind were being torn apart.
At that very moment...
Memories that did not belong to him were forcefully flooding into his consciousness.
Knowledge he had never learned was being engraved directly into his mind.
Unknown images appeared one after another.
Languages he had never heard.
Ancient symbols.
Magic circles.
Spells.
The fundamental principles of mana.
Knowledge that no ordinary human could ever hope to comprehend all at once.
Everything was being poured into his consciousness without mercy.
Like an endless flood that refused to stop.
Every fragment of information struck his mind with unbearable force.
It felt as though thousands of needles were piercing his brain simultaneously.
Even while unconscious...
His body reacted instinctively.
His fingers trembled.
His breathing became increasingly erratic.
Sweat continued pouring from his body.
From time to time, violent spasms rippled through his muscles.
All of this suffering unfolded while his consciousness remained buried within complete darkness.
...
Several minutes passed.
"...Ngh..."
A faint groan escaped Demian's lips.
His fingers slowly twitched against the cold stone floor as his eyelids trembled, struggling to open.
The dim light from the torches gradually came into focus.
Everything around him seemed to spin.
His head throbbed violently, as though it were about to split apart.
"...Ugh..."
He raised one hand to his forehead, desperately trying to ease the unbearable pain.
Then...
In the very next instant...
The memories returned.
Like an unstoppable avalanche.
Luna's face appeared before his eyes.
She was smiling.
The same warm, gentle smile that had always brought him comfort.
Then...
The scene changed.
She rushed in front of him.
Spreading her arms to shield him.
Tears streamed down her face.
"Please... don't kill my brother..."
Her voice echoed inside his mind.
Then...
The crimson light.
The shot.
Luna's body slowly collapsing to the ground.
"..."
Demian's eyes widened.
For a brief moment...
He forgot how to breathe.
"Sister..."
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
Yet...
Not a single one fell.
Because alongside that overwhelming grief...
Something far greater was born within his heart.
Hatred.
A hatred so profound that it made his chest ache.
His fists slowly tightened.
His nails dug deeply into his palms.
Then...
Another face surfaced within his memories.
The man dressed in white.
Tall.
Approximately six feet tall.
His youthful appearance made him seem younger than he truly was, yet it was obvious he had already passed his thirties.
His black hair was neatly combed back in a simple, elegant style.
At first glance...
He looked like an ordinary gentleman.
Almost refined.
But there was one thing Demian could never forget.
His eyes.
Those dark brown eyes.
Deep.
Cold.
Empty.
Every time Demian remembered them...
A chill ran down his spine.
They were not the eyes of an ordinary man.
They were the eyes of someone who had taken countless lives without the slightest trace of guilt.
The eyes of a true killer.
Demian's body began to tremble.
Unable to control himself, he clenched his fists even tighter.
But...
Even he couldn't tell why he was shaking.
Was it because of the freezing cold inside the prison cell?
Because of the boundless rage consuming his heart?
Or...
Because fear still lingered whenever he remembered that man?
Perhaps...
It was all of those things at once.
After several long moments, Demian slowly took a deep breath.
Using the damp stone wall for support, he struggled to his feet.
His legs still felt weak.
Every muscle in his body screamed in pain.
Even so...
He remained standing.
Only then did he finally look around.
The thick iron bars.
The damp stone walls.
The flickering torches lining the corridor.
The endless murmurs coming from the surrounding cells.
Everything was unfamiliar.
Everything was foreign.
At that moment...
Only one question occupied his mind.
"...Where am I?"
The question was still echoing through Demian's mind.
But before he could even begin searching for an answer...
Tap... Tap... Tap...
Footsteps.
Demian immediately raised his head.
Someone was walking through the corridor.
The footsteps were calm.
Soft.
Yet at the same time...
There was something distinct about them.
Every step echoed against the stone walls, slowly drawing closer to his cell.
Demian remained completely still.
His eyes fixed on the iron bars in front of him.
"Someone is coming..."
The sound continued.
Tap... Tap... Tap...
Until, after several seconds...
A woman finally appeared within Demian's field of vision.
She walked casually through the corridor.
She wore a pair of short heels that added several centimeters to her height, making her appear to be approximately five feet five inches tall.
Demian continued staring at her in silence.
She took several more steps...
Until she finally stopped directly in front of his cell.
Then she crossed her arms.
She was a young woman.
She wore beige pants along with a white belt that had several metallic-looking objects attached to it.
Her upper garment was purple, leaving part of her shoulders exposed.
She also wore a rather revealing neckline that showed part of her moderately sized bust.
However...
None of that was what held Demian's attention the most.
His gaze was fixed on her face.
The woman had long purple hair that reached approximately halfway down her back.
Her eyes were a bright, pale purple, resembling rare jewels beneath the flickering torchlight.
Her lips were painted with vivid red lipstick.
To Demian...
The sight was truly striking.
He had spent his entire life in the Black Zone.
His reality had always consisted of old houses, simple clothing, dirt, and people who cared about nothing except surviving another day.
He had never seen a woman so well-dressed.
So clean.
So completely different from everything he knew.
A thought naturally appeared in his mind.
"Without a doubt..."
"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
The woman then smiled.
"I'm glad you're finally awake."
Her voice was sweet and surprisingly gentle.
"I was starting to get worried. After all, you've been here for two days already."
Demian remained silent for several seconds.
"Two days...?"
His eyes widened slightly.
"I've been unconscious for that long?"
The woman noticed his expression and smiled.
"I imagine you want to know where you are, don't you?"
She gave him a friendly smile.
Demian simply nodded in confirmation.
"My name is Mira, by the way."
She introduced herself.
After saying that...
Mira fell silent.
As though waiting for Demian to do the same.
It took him a few seconds to realize what she was waiting for.
"Is she expecting me to introduce myself?"
However, before he could answer, Mira continued.
"So..."
She gestured subtly toward the surroundings.
"The place you're in right now is called the Coliseum."
Demian remained attentive.
"It's a place hidden beneath the City of Paradise."
She smiled again.
"A place where rich people come to place bets."
Demian frowned.
Finally, that was enough to make him speak.
"Bet on what?"
Mira let out a small laugh.
"What else could it possibly be?"
Her smile widened.
"People trying to kill each other."
...
A chill ran down Demian's spine.
"People... trying to kill each other?"
The words made his stomach tighten.
Yet Mira continued speaking as though she were explaining something completely ordinary.
"The person who brought you here sold you to me for a rather friendly price, you know?"
She shrugged.
"That's why I was starting to get worried when you wouldn't wake up."
"That man..."
The memory immediately returned.
The man in white.
That face.
Those eyes.
And then...
Luna.
His sister.
The memory of her dying to save him flashed through his mind.
Tiny sparks began crackling around Demian's hands.
Crack...
Mira watched the sparks.
But she didn't seem surprised.
"Well..."
She smiled once again.
"Now that you're awake, I wanted to let you know that your first fight will be in a few hours."
Demian gritted his teeth.
"No."
His voice was low.
But firm.
"I'm not going to be part of this kind of show."
Mira simply continued smiling.
Then...
Rrrrr...
The metal bars separating them began to move.
Slowly...
They descended.
Until they disappeared completely into the ground.
Demian's eyes widened.
Mira took a small step forward.
"You don't have much of a choice, Demian."
"How does she know my name?"
Demian immediately took a step backward.
Mira took another step forward.
Demian responded by taking another step back.
Tiny sparks began jumping from his hand once again.
His body shifted into a defensive stance.
He didn't know who this woman was.
He didn't know what she wanted.
And he certainly didn't trust her.
Then...
Demian blinked.
Just once.
When he opened his eyes again...
Mira was no longer standing in front of him.
"What...?"
Demian quickly looked around.
Nothing.
There was no sign of her.
Then he heard her voice.
Now...
Behind him.
"Ah!"
Demian spun around immediately.
Mira was standing there.
A syringe in her hand.
"And there's one more thing I wanted to tell you..."
She smiled.
"Besides my name..."
Mira brought the syringe closer.
"I'm also the owner of this place."
Demian's eyes widened.
"What—?!"
He tried to react.
But it was already too late.
The needle pierced his neck.
Click.
Mira pressed down on the plunger.
An unknown substance was injected directly into his body.
Demian immediately felt his strength disappearing.
"Ngh..."
His arms became heavy.
His legs lost their strength.
His vision began to darken.
"What... did you..."
His body went limp.
He tried to remain standing.
He tried to fight.
But he couldn't.
His body slowly began falling toward the stone floor.
Mira watched as consciousness slipped away from him.
Then she leaned down slightly.
Her smile remained calm.
"Have sweet dreams, Demian."
Demian's eyes closed.
His body finally collapsed onto the cold stone floor.
And once again...
Darkness swallowed his consciousness.