The second round cages reeked of fear, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. Most Pokémon in these cages were fast, yet weak—Rattata, Sentret, and similar creatures. Even with a dagger in hand, handling a Rattata was trickier than dispatching a Caterpie.
This round wasn't about sheer strength. It was designed to strip away hesitation, to eliminate those with fragile bodies or minds, those unable to act decisively under mortal pressure. Survival depended not on luck, but on instinct, courage, and ruthless precision.
"Number 136! What are you holding? Why haven't you killed it yet? Are you trying to die?" The Rank Red Killer's voice echoed in the chamber, unusually sharp, almost anticipating the spectacle.
Lucas Kaige held Zorua tightly against his chest. Calm, measured, he replied, "I caught it… that counts as passing, right?"
The Rank Red Killer laughed, a cruel sound that bounced off the cage walls. "Of course not! Kill it now, and maybe you'll survive!" He stepped forward, Houndoom looming by his side, its fangs bared and glowing faintly in the dim light.
Lucas' expression remained unreadable. He recalled his previous life—then, capturing Zorua in such a cage had been harder than killing it. Now, the rules had changed, but his strategy remained the same: protect Zorua without exposing weakness.
He hugged Zorua closer, instinctively shielding it from view. His mind flicked to the Rank Blue Killer, who had remained silent. The true authority here, the one who could decide life or death with a mere gesture.
"I said, kill it!" The Rank Red Killer's voice snapped, stepping closer. His aura, paired with Houndoom's, pressed down like a weight.
Zorua trembled, yet refused to turn away. Its fierce blue eyes glinted, a small flame of defiance in the face of overwhelming power.
Lucas' hand moved gently to cover Zorua's vision, calculating their combined strength. Every muscle in his body tensed, every instinct sharpened. He sent a pulse of Dark Power into the Pokémon, bolstering its courage while keeping it from provoking the larger threat.
The room fell silent. Even Houndoom shrank back, tail tucked, whimpering and submitting to Lucas' presence.
"Return to your ranks," the Rank Blue Killer finally ordered, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Carlo, wait—" The Rank Red Killer began to object, but Lucas' gaze alone froze him mid-word. It was calm, terrifying, and impossible to challenge.
Yes… Carlo, Number 163, quickly return to your ranks!" The Red Killer barked, eyes dark and unreadable, clearly nursing a grudge.
Lucas lowered his head and silently fell in line at the back. Zorua's trembling lessened, but its rapid heartbeat pulsed strongly against his chest. That single snarl, the fierce glare, had been no less than a life-and-death duel in its eyes—a test of instinct, trust, and survival.
Lucas gently stroked Zorua's messy fur, letting scattered Dark Power flow through his palms into the little Pokémon. Its tense muscles slowly relaxed, and the pulse of fear and aggression faded.
Lucas' own eyes were pitch black, focused and calculating. He had memorized the unique Dark Type energy fluctuations of Houndoom, preparing for the inevitable confrontation that would come sooner than expected.
He whispered softly to Zorua, "It's okay… you're safe with me now."
Zorua nuzzled closer, instinctively leaning against Lucas' chest. For the first time, under the harsh glare of life-and-death trials, a bond began to form. Not from friendship, not yet from loyalty, but from mutual survival and understanding.
The Rank Red Killer scowled, but dared not intervene further. The Rank Blue Killer's gaze lingered, unreadable, before finally shifting away. Lucas allowed himself a quiet breath. For Zorua, this small victory—the choice not to be killed, the trust extended—was monumental.
Outside, the corridors of the training facility were quiet, the echoes of past screams fading. Inside, a boy and a small, dark fox-shaped Pokémon began the slow, fragile forging of a partnership that would shape the trials ahead.