Marcus watched in silence as the battle unfolded before him. Dust rose in the air, power clashed against power, and roars of struggle echoed around the training grounds. People fought like beasts, no longer bound by courtesy or hesitation. It was as if their true selves had been drawn out—raw, unfiltered, desperate for survival or triumph.
And yet, amid the chaos, Marcus felt detached. His mind wandered, reflective as always.
"What brought me to this place?" he asked himself. "Was it curiosity? Was it fate?"
But he quickly shook his head. That kind of thinking wouldn't help now.
Instead, he let his eyes wander again—at the way someone's arm shimmered and became a blade, at the man whose body twisted and expanded like a beast, at the girl who summoned sparks and light with a simple gesture.
"This power is amazing," he whispered. "To summon a weapon from your hand, or change your shape completely… Even a single punch could shake the air." He chuckled to himself, nervous and oddly thrilled. "They could swat me like a fly."
And then, just as he said it aloud, someone nearby heard him.
The man paused mid-fight, his opponent dazed on the ground, and turned toward Marcus.
"Oh?" the man grinned. "I like that. I want to hit you."
Marcus blinked, confused.
"I want to hit you," the man repeated, pointing.
He walked toward Marcus slowly, not running—just walking with a calm, deliberate pace. In his hand, a weapon materialized: a long, black chain glimmering with faint violet light.
"Do you like it?" he asked, raising the weapon with pride.
Marcus forced a smile, the edges of his lips trembling. "Ha… ha ha… nice chain."
His thoughts raced. What do I do? Run? Fight? Scream?
The man was close now, eyes locked on Marcus like a predator with a new target.
But Marcus's body was already reacting—his legs shifting back, calculating paths, his power gently humming inside him like a heartbeat preparing for escape.
And as the chain swung, Marcus knew: this was his moment. He had to prove something. Or survive.