The air reeked of metal and rot.
Nameless and Ryne walked down streets paved with cracked black stone. The cracks were full of dried blood, almost like veins in the ground. Above them, huge crimson banners hung from pillars made of polished bone. They swayed in the wind—a wind that didn't feel natural. It felt like the city itself was breathing.
And everywhere—eyes. Humans.
Not free. Locked in cages built into the walls like decorations. Skin pale and stretched tight over ribs. Their wrists and ankles tied with living tendon cords that twitched as if they had their own heartbeat.
None of them looked at Ryne.
They all stared at him.
Nameless.
Their gaze was strange—not quite hope, not quite disbelief. More like a dying man seeing rain for the first time.
Humans weren't supposed to be here unless chained. This was turned into a demon city. Their sport for decades.
The Arena in the center of the city wasn't a place for fair fights.
It was where demon lords gambled on which human would still be breathing at the end.
As they got closer to the arena, the crowd around them thinned. The noise ahead grew from low murmurs to loud, rhythmic chants. The arena's gate was made from two giant ribs joined at the top by a skull that still dripped black ichor. The air beyond was heavier—thick with screams.
They stepped inside to see what is going on in there.
The arena was massive, shaped like a giant bowl. Its walls were jagged black stone with glowing red cracks that pulsed in time with the roar of the crowd. Tier after tier of seats spiraled up toward the open sky.
The crowd was a nightmare of shapes—some demons wore stolen faces, others had no face at all.
In the middle of the sand pit, two humans fought—thin, starved, and bleeding. They didn't fight with skill, just desperate survival.
The audience—demon lords in robes made from human hair, witches with knives for teeth, eyeless demon children chewing bones—laughed and screamed. One man fell, the other jumped on top of him and began punching.
The crowd chanted:
"FEED! FEED! FEED! FEED! FEED! FEED!..."
Nameless didn't move. But his pupils widened.
"Why does a place like this exist?" he thought. "Why is the First Realm so broken?"
He looked at Ryne. She glanced at him, then looked away.
"You're not ready to know," she said, exhaling smoke. "They wiped your memories, not mine."
"Then why never help them?" he asked, nodding to the cages.
She smirked. "Because forever is a long time. You learn to pick your battles."
The chanting changed—another fight was starting.
Nameless started walking toward the center of the arena out of frustration . No one called his name. No one invited him. He just walked.
The sand shifted under his boots.
The crowd noticed.
Chanting slowed. Then stopped.
Every eye turned to him.
From the stands, Ryne muttered, "Here we go… can't control him after all."
From above, something descended.
A bloated demon lord draped in gold chains, with eyes too big for its face. It floated on a cloud of black mist, smiling with teeth dripping red.
Its voice echoed unnaturally:
"You are not of this city. You even look like a human. And you dare step on my stage?"
Nameless looked up, smirking.
"No. I belong in every hell like this."
The beast chuckled. "Then perhaps I will feed the crowd something new."
Its eyes narrowed. Then—recognition.
"Wait… I feel like I've seen you before."
Nameless tilted his head. "Oh? And here I thought I had one of those forgettable faces."
The beast lord's grin returned, hiding whatever it had realized. "Your name…uh... doesn't matter."
"Oh, so we're playing mysterious now? Fine. I'll just start guessing. Am I a war criminal? Your ex? Did I kill your pet?"
The beast's claws twitched. "I'm not gonna answer shit, You shouldn't be here."
Nameless smiled wider. "I get that a lot."
Chains exploded out of the sand, wrapping around nameless's arms and legs. They pulled tight, biting into his skin.
The beast lord raised its hand. "Let's see if you can save yourself."
Nameless lowered his head, breathing slow.
The second crystal in his spine hummed—not glowing, but awake.
The beast lord's eyes widened. "Those crystals… You—uh..."
Nameless looked up, voice sharp. "Feels like you really know me. Which is great, because I sure as hell don't, you cruel fuck."
The chains turned to dust as he tried to come out of it.
The Strike...Nameless moved.
One heartbeat, and his hand was inside the beast's chest—not to kill, but to grab. His fingers closed around a sphere of swirling light and shadow—a demonlord's memory orb.
The orbs weren't hearts.
They were worse.
Every high demon carried one—an "essence core orb." It wasn't just their life: it was their mind, their memories, every identity they'd ever stolen.
When a demon devour a soul, the memories don't fade. They sink into the orb, swirling like trapped fireflies, each one a fragment of someone else's life.
Pulling one free was more than a death sentence—it rips open their whole history. And if you were foolish enough to touch it with bare skin, you don't just see their memories.
You risk keeping them.
Visions flashed in nameless's perspective—centuries of cruelty, the beast running the arena, tearing memories from humans and drinking them like wine.
Nameless shoved it back into its chest right away.
The beast screamed, convulsed, and collapsed in on itself until nothing remained. though he wanted to have more talk, those memories were too disturbing to hold any longer.
The crowd broke. Demons fled into their domains. The arena emptied out of fear, because they have sensed nameless as a threat.
"does everyone know me except for myself?" nameless sighed at himself as he watched every demon flee.
He looked at the sand which littered with cages and half-dead humans. Nameless began tearing them open. The living tendon cords writhed and screamed before turning to dust.
The freed didn't cheer. They just stared, unsure if this was another trick.
Ryne stepped forward, smoke curling around her. "he is not from here," she told them. "But he broke the rules for you people". That means you might have a chance to escape."
Nameless glanced at her. "Where's the next gate?"
"You don't want to save them?" she asked.
"At least help me clear the place first," she said.
For the next hour, the arena echoed not with cheers but with the sound of locks breaking and stone shattering. When the last cage was empty, Ryne finally spoke:
"South. Past the Grave Bloom Valley."
"And what's there?"
She smiled faintly. "Depends on which part of you wakes up next. Let's go. They'll have to survive on their own now, if we keep waiting any longer, everything might just come to an end—At least they are free to choose their path now."
Nameless looked back once at the arena. The second crystal in his spine pulsed—dim. Warning. Not ready yet.
He turned and continued to follow her.