Murim – Year 0**
Darkness.
The first thing Min-jun felt was the cold bite of iron around his wrists. His head pounded like a war drum, his mouth dry as sandpaper. The stench of sweat, blood, and something rancid filled his nostrils.
*Where… am I?*
His vision swam into focus. Stone walls. Rusted bars. The flickering light of a torch casting long shadows across the dirt floor.
A boot slammed into his ribs.
"Up, worm."
A masked figure loomed over him, clad in black leather armor, a curved blade strapped to his hip. Min-jun's instincts screamed—*danger*—but his body refused to move. His muscles felt like lead.
The man grabbed him by the hair and yanked him upright. Pain lanced through Min-jun's scalp as he was dragged across the floor, his bare feet scraping against rough stone.
"First rule of the Blood Pits," the man growled. "You fight, or you die."
A gate groaned open, and blinding sunlight seared Min-jun's eyes. The roar of a crowd hit him like a physical force—hundreds of voices chanting, screaming, hungry for violence.
He was thrown forward, stumbling onto sand. The heat of it burned his feet.
The gate slammed shut behind him.
Min-jun blinked, his vision clearing.
He stood in a massive arena, surrounded by towering stone walls. Above him, tiers of spectators leaned over balconies, their faces twisted in excitement. Some wore fine silks, others ragged furs, but all shared the same bloodlust in their eyes.
And across from him—
A *thing* crouched, saliva dripping from its fanged maw.
It looked like a wolf, if a wolf had been stitched together from nightmares. Its fur was patchy, revealing pulsating veins beneath. Its claws scraped the sand, leaving deep gouges.
*This isn't real.*
The beast lunged.
Min-jun barely dodged, rolling to the side as claws whistled past his face. His body moved on instinct, years of military training kicking in—but this wasn't a human opponent.
The creature twisted midair, its tail whipping around to slam into Min-jun's chest. He flew backward, hitting the ground hard. His ribs screamed.
The crowd roared.
*"KILL HIM!"*
*"TEAR HIS THROAT OUT!"*
The beast stalked forward, yellow eyes gleaming. Min-jun forced himself up, spitting blood.
*No weapons. No armor. Just me.*
The creature pounced again.
This time, Min-jun didn't dodge.
He *charged*.
At the last second, he dropped, sliding beneath the beast's belly. His fingers dug into the sand, finding a sharp rock—
And he *rammed* it upward into the creature's throat.
Hot blood gushed over his hands. The beast howled, thrashing, but Min-jun held on, twisting the rock deeper until the creature collapsed, twitching.
Silence.
Then—
The crowd *erupted*.
Min-jun staggered to his feet, chest heaving. The beast's blood dripped from his hands.
A gate creaked open. The masked man from before stepped forward, his expression unreadable behind his helm.
"Congratulations," he said. "You've just earned the right to live another day."
He grabbed Min-jun's arm, dragging him toward the shadows.
As the gate closed behind them, the man leaned in, his breath hot against Min-jun's ear.
"Welcome to the Murim, *outsider*."
**TO BE CONTINUED...**