?Far from Planet Horizon, in an uncharted corner of the universe, silence reigned over a dark, high-domed chamber.

  ?The only source of light came from faintly pulsing tubes of medical fluid surrounding an ancient stone throne. Upon that throne, a leader sat leaning back. Hoses pierced his body, hidden beneath a cloak, pumping artificial life to keep the anomaly breathing.

  ?"The stones on that planet..." His voice was hoarse, heavy, and echoed, vibrating through the atmosphere of the room. He stared at several silhouettes kneeling before him. "Sooner or later, they will react. I want one of you to intervene. Make sure those stones never awaken."

  ?Before any of the silhouettes could answer, the relaxed tapping of footsteps broke the tension.

  ?"If this mission is top secret, I believe I'm the most suitable candidate, Master."

  ?A man interrupted from the corner of the room, his tone light, almost as if he were making a joke. He smiled broadly, radiating absolute confidence. "Besides, I am the one who remembers the scent of that planet the most. And while I'm at it... there is someone I really want to meet there. Hahaha."

  ?A brief silence. The leader on the stone throne only stared intently at the man before finally letting out a soft snort.

  ?"Then... I leave it in your hands."

  ?The man turned around. Without bowing in respect, he walked casually through the pitch-black darkness, preparing to head to his destination.

  ?"...Hawks."

  ?Planet Horizon. Beneath a night sky thick with industrial smoke, the air felt much colder in the Gorgonid Settlement.

  ?Uncle Gorgonid stroked Tira's head with his rough hand, then looked at Arin, who was still sleeping pale on the rickety cot. He took a deep breath, pulled his old coat tighter, and stepped out of the hut. Tonight, his mind was made up.

  ?However, as soon as the wooden door opened, his steps halted.

  ?Behind the shadow of the hut, Lucas and Blade were already standing, waiting for him. The two young men's gazes were sharp, locking onto his movements.

  ?"Looking to die again, Uncle?" Blade's voice broke the silence, cold yet full of concern. His eyes glanced at the bandages still seeping blood on the middle-aged man's arm. "Even your wounds from yesterday haven't closed yet."

  ?Gorgonid gasped. "Why are you here, boys? I have to go..."

  ?"We know you intend to participate in that event in the city," Blade cut in quickly. "But you need to know, this isn't a tournament. It's purely a trap."

  ?Gorgonid swallowed hard, his hands clenching into tight fists. "I know. But Arin—"

  ?Suddenly, Lucas stepped forward. The young man didn't shout or show anger. Instead, he bowed his head deeply before the old Gorgonid. A gesture of sincere pleading.

  ?"Please, Uncle... leave everything to us," Lucas said, his voice trembling slightly as he held back his emotions. "I deeply respect your struggle as a father. A father can risk everything for his family... except his life."

  ?Lucas slowly raised his face, looking straight into Gorgonid's eyes. "Because to your children, a father is far more precious than any victory or medicine. If you die out there, that serum will be worthless to Tira and Arin. So please... let us handle this."

  ?Those words hit Gorgonid harder than any punch. His legs lost their strength. The tough man fell to his knees on the dirty ground, tears welling up in his eyes as the image of his two daughters crossed his mind.

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  ?Without wasting time, Lucas and Blade turned around. They walked through the night fog, leaving the village toward the city center. At the threshold of the hut, Gorgonid and Tira stared at the backs of the two young men—backs that now carried the hopes and the weight of all their lives.

  ?Deafening cheers could be heard from a radius of several kilometers.

  ?In the middle of the city, right beneath the shadow of the giant Thor Faction factory that continuously belched out waste, a modern gladiator arena had been erected. Spotlights swept across the spectator stands, which were packed with upper-class city citizens. They cheered, laughed, and held glasses of liquor.

  ?In another corner, in the squalid lower area, hundreds of villagers gathered with pale and desperate faces.

  ?The giant screen above the arena suddenly flickered to life, displaying the face of Varg—a high-ranking official of the Thor Faction. His arrogant smile was clearly displayed, looking down on everyone watching him.

  ?"Good evening, prosperous citizens! And of course... good evening to the hard workers from the corners of the settlements," Varg's voice echoed through the loudspeakers, drawing cheers from the upper stands.

  ?"Tonight, the Thor Faction will not only provide entertainment, but also a demonstration! Behind those gates..." Varg pointed toward the giant iron doors at the edge of the arena. "Lies the pinnacle of our scientific evolution. A mutant specimen that knows no fatigue, knows no pain, and is created to be the future of this city's military!"

  ?A savage roar resounded from behind the iron doors. It didn't sound like a human or a wild animal, but rather a struggling amalgamation of mechanics and flesh.

  ?"But don't worry, we at the Thor Faction are very generous," Varg continued, his eyes narrowing cunningly. "I know many of you lowly folks came here tonight because your families' lives are on the line. You need the healing Serum, don't you? Well, the rules are very simple!"

  ?The screen switched to show a glass case containing a bottle of serum glowing with a bluish light. The villagers held their breath.

  ?"Step into the arena. Survive, or even better, take down our specimen! Whoever manages to make it fall will earn the right to take this serum home absolutely free! A fair price for a miracle, isn't it?"

  ?The city citizens cheered even more madly. However, down below, the villagers realized a horrifying reality. This wasn't a competition. This was a testing facility, and they were the lab rats.

  ?But desperation overshadowed logic. For the sake of dying children, wives, and families, dozens of men from the village leaped into the arena one after another.

  ?The iron doors opened.

  ?What happened next was not a battle, but a one-sided slaughter.

  ?A three-meter-tall mutant with blistering muscles and bulging black veins rampaged like a meat grinder. The thin bodies of the villagers were thrown around, the sound of breaking bones ringing out loud amidst the cheers of the audience. Fresh blood quickly dyed the arena sand a deep, dark red.

  ?In the thick glass-paneled VIP room above the arena, Varg sat with his legs crossed, sipping wine. Behind him, a row of scientists in white coats were busy typing on holographic screens.

  ?"Specimen heart rate is stable. Muscle response increased by 12% after catching the scent of blood," reported one of the scientists.

  ?Varg chuckled softly. "Excellent. Let the rats keep coming. The data we gather tonight will perfect the next generation of mutants."

  ?An hour passed. The arena had now turned into a silent slaughterhouse. The metallic stench of blood evaporated into the air. The spectators in the upper stands began to fall silent, some holding back nausea at the sight of the scattered lumps of flesh.

  ?No one else dared to step down. The remaining villagers could only cry in silence, mourning their relatives who were destroyed in the center of the arena. The mutant roared in challenge, tearing at the air.

  ?"Oh? Is it over already?" Varg's voice echoed once more, his tone full of mockery. "Are there no more unfortunate heroes interested in entering the arena?! How truly disappointing!"

  ?Many spectators had already stood up, preparing to leave the stands, assuming the spectacle of slaughter was over.

  ?But suddenly, heavy and rhythmic footsteps echoed from the participant entrance corridor. The tapping was so calm, shattering the silence of the arena.

  ?All eyes—the spectators, the villagers, even Varg in his VIP room—instantly turned to the source of the sound.

  ?From within the shadows of the dark corridor, a young man stepped out alone. The clothes he wore fluttered slightly in the night breeze. He carried no weapons whatsoever, and his face did not show a single ounce of fear.

  ?It was Lucas.

  ?He stopped right in the middle of a pool of blood, stared straight at the VIP room where Varg was, and then shifted his gaze to the giant mutant in front of him. There was a dense aura radiating from the young man's body—a cold and lethal aura of someone who had come not to survive, but to hunt.

  ?"Let's begin."

  ?To be continued...

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