The noise inside the stadium was like a physical weight pressing down on Ren's chest. Thousands of people were screaming, their faces twisted with greed and excitement. In the middle of the crowd, two men were shouting to be heard over the roar.
"I'm telling you, Carlos is going to win this in seconds!" the first man yelled, pointing at Carlos's massive, scarred arms. "Look at him. He is a mountain of iron. That skinny 17-year-old kid in front of him looks like a piece of paper. Carlos will crush him with one hit."
The second man laughed and nodded. "You're right. I don't even know why they let that kid in the ring. He looks like a lost student. This is going to be a very short and very bloody match. My money is on the big man."
On the other side, right at the front of the ring, Ren and Dante stood behind the iron bars. Ren was staring at the boy in the center of the ring, but he felt a strange, cold pressure in the back of his head. He felt like he had seen this before—this silence, this dark energy. His head started to ache with a sharp, stabbing pain, but he ignored it. He had to watch.
Suddenly, the commentator's voice boomed through the speakers, shaking the floor. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... START!"
The referee waved his hand, and the match officially began. Ren was lost in his own dark thoughts until Dante leaned in, his voice low and serious.
"Watch this fight carefully, Ren. Look at how he moves. Look at his eyes. Learn everything you can. Soon, it will be your turn to show what you are made of."
Ren looked at Dante, then he took both his hands and gave himself two light, sharp slaps on his face. Focus, Ren. Focus. He pushed away the memories and the fear. He locked his eyes on the ring.
The 17-year-old boy did something that made the whole stadium go quiet. As soon as the match started, he didn't attack. He didn't even stand up. He sat down on the floor in a "chaukri" position. He rested his right hand on his knee, made a fist, and placed it under his chin. Then, he closed his eyes.
The crowd stayed silent for a second, then erupted into laughter and insults. "Is he taking a nap?" "Does he want to die that badly?" "Hey kid, this isn't a library!"
The rules were simple: the fight only ends if someone gives up or can no longer move.
Dante looked at Ren. "Tell me, Ren. What do you see? Who has the 'knife' in this game?"
Ren's brain was already working like a high-speed machine, scanning the boy's posture. "This game is designed to look like a test of strength. Everyone thinks the kid is just sitting there because he's afraid. But they are wrong. If Carlos attacks him now, he won't be able to land a single hit."
"Why?" Dante asked.
"Just watch," Ren replied, his voice cold.
Carlos was furious. He felt insulted that a "shrimp" was sitting down in front of him. He took a giant "monster step" that made the entire ring shake and ran toward the boy. He pulled his fist back, his muscles bulging, and threw a punch with full speed at the boy's face.
The punch was so fast it whistled through the air. Everyone was sure the boy's head would pop like a balloon.
But at the very last millisecond, the boy moved his face back just a tiny bit. He was so calm, so balanced. As the fist passed his nose, a scary, jagged smile appeared on the boy's face.
"CARLOS! GIVE UP! STOP NOW!" Ren screamed at the top of his lungs.
Everyone was shocked. Why would Ren tell the bigger man to give up? But then, the boy reached out with both hands and grabbed Carlos's moving fist. He didn't just hold it; he used Carlos's own massive weight and speed against him. He twisted the arm with a force that seemed impossible.
CRACK!
The sound of the bone snapping echoed through the stadium. Carlos let out a low, guttural groan of pain. His right hand was broken, the bone pushed out of place.
"You broke one hand," Carlos growled, sweat pouring down his face. "But I have another!"
Carlos tried to swing his left, but the boy jumped back like a cat, laughing quietly. Dante and the boy were both looking at Ren now, wondering how a kid in the stands could have predicted that move.
Suddenly, the lights flickered, and a heavy silence fell. A second player stepped out from the shadows on the opponent's side. He was tall, thin, and moved like a snake. His eyes were cold and sharp.
The commentator shouted, "WE HAVE A SECOND PLAYER! This is now a 2-on-2 match! Carlos needs a partner right now, or he faces two killers alone!"
Dante started to climb over the railing, but Ren put a hand on his shoulder. "No, Dante. You stay. I'm going in."
"Ren, no! You have no experience in a pit! You'll be killed!" Dante hissed.
"I have to," Ren said, and for the first time, his eyes looked exactly like the boy's eyes in the ring—cold, calculated, and dangerous. "If I don't go, Carlos dies today."
Dante saw the steel in Ren's gaze and slowly let go. "Go. But remember: use your head, not your fists."
Ren stepped into the ring. As he entered the boy's "space," the mental thread between the boy and Carlos snapped. Carlos fell to his knees, gasping for air. But before Ren could even say a word, the most terrifying thing happened.
Carlos's eyes went completely blank. His left hand, his only good hand, slowly curled into a fist and turned toward his own jaw.
BAM!
Carlos punched himself. Then he did it again. BAM! He was breaking his own face under the boy's mental control. The crowd froze in horror as blood sprayed onto the dirt floor.
"CARLOS! STOP!" Ren screamed.
Ren moved forward, but the second player—the tall, snake-like man—blocked his path. The man moved with incredible speed, his fingers like claws. He struck Ren across the chest, and Ren felt like he had been hit by a car. Ren flew back and hit the ropes hard.
"Ren!" Dante yelled from the sidelines.
Ren tried to stand up, but his vision was blurry. The tall man didn't stop. He kicked Ren in the ribs, and Ren felt a rib crack. He fell to the ground, coughing. The crowd started laughing again.
"Look at the little hero! He can't even stand!"
The tall man picked Ren up by his shirt and punched him in the stomach. Ren felt the air leave his lungs. He was losing. He was being beaten to a pulp. The 17-year-old boy watched from a corner, his scary smile wider than ever. He was still making Carlos punch himself. BAM! Carlos's nose was gone. BAM! His eye was swelling shut.
Ren lay in the dirt, blood dripping from his mouth. I can't... I'm too weak, he thought.
But then, he saw Haru. In his mind, he saw Haru's face in the rain, the blood on the pavement. He remembered the feeling of the "Twist." He remembered the promise he made to himself: No one else dies.
Something snapped inside Ren's brain. It wasn't a physical change; it was like a dam breaking. The "fog" in his mind cleared, and everything became slow. He could see the vibration in the air. He could see the electrical signals in the tall man's muscles.
The tall man stepped forward to finish Ren. He raised his foot to stomp on Ren's head.
TWIST.
Ren didn't move his body. He moved his mind. He focused on the man's knee. He didn't just imagine it breaking; he forced the man's brain to send a signal to the muscles to snap the bone.
CRUNCH.
The tall man's knee buckled outward with a horrific sound. He screamed and fell to the floor, clutching his leg. The crowd gasped. No one had even seen Ren touch him.
Ren stood up slowly. His clothes were torn, his face was covered in blood and dirt, and his ribs were screaming in pain. But his eyes... his eyes were glowing with a terrifying, red light.
He turned toward the 17-year-old boy. "Let. Him. Go."
The boy's smile vanished. He realized Ren was no longer a victim. He let go of Carlos's mind and focused everything on Ren. The boy launched a massive mental wave at Ren, trying to crush his brain.
Ren felt like his skull was being crushed by a vice. His ears started to bleed. A thick stream of blood poured from his nose. His vision turned red.
[LIMIT REACHED: 95%]
[NEURAL OVERLOAD IMMINENT]
Ren didn't back down. He took a step forward. Then another. He wasn't just resisting the boy; he was pushing back. He visualized a giant, iron hand grabbing the boy's consciousness and twisting it into a knot.
"You think... you are the only one... who knows... how to twist?" Ren hissed through his teeth.
Ren put every ounce of his life, his pain, and his memories of Haru into one final mental strike. He didn't just attack the boy's mind; he attacked his very soul.
"TWIST!" Ren roared.
The boy let out a scream that didn't sound human. He clutched his head and fell to his knees. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. The tall man was already crying in pain on the ground.
The stadium went into a dead silence. No one knew what had happened. They only saw a bleeding, broken 15-year-old boy standing over two elite fighters.
Ren looked at Carlos, who was lying in a pool of his own blood, unconscious but breathing. Ren tried to take a step toward him, but his legs gave out.
[SYSTEM SHUTDOWN]
Ren collapsed. His head hit the dirt. He had used every single drop of energy he had. He was at his absolute limit.
Dante jumped into the ring instantly. He grabbed Ren and Carlos, pulling them both toward the back exit. "We're leaving! Now!"
Dante threw a smoke grenade to cover their path. PHOOSH! The grey fog filled the ring, and by the time the crowd could see again, Ren, Carlos, and Dante were gone.
They reached the car, and Dante floored the engine. Ren lay in the back seat, his eyes half-open, staring at the ceiling. His brain felt like it was on fire, and every bone in his body was broken.
"You did it, Ren," Dante whispered, looking at him through the mirror. "You actually did it."
Ren didn't answer. He just looked at his shaking hands. He had won the fight, but he had lost his humanity just a little bit more. The Twist Maker had truly awakened.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]