The training ground still reeked of dust and blood. The younger generation whispered in low voices, eyes darting between the battered forms of Mg Kaung and Shwe Poe Gyi, both lying broken and moaning in pain. Soe Gyi stood silently in the center, his axe still slick with crimson, his breathing calm, as if the two fights had been no more than sharpening exercises.
Before he could step away, a new voice cut through the murmurs.
"Well, well. What is this mess?"
The crowd parted as Shwe Mg Mg Gyi, son of the Blood Gang leader and Shwe MaMa Gyi's elder brother, strode onto the field. He carried himself like a lion, broad shoulders draped in dark armor, a long blade strapped across his back. His eyes swept over the defeated youths, then fixed on Soe Gyi with a spark of arrogance.
"You crushed my brothers-in-arms?" Shwe Mg Mg Gyi asked, though the smirk tugging at his lips made it less a question and more an accusation.
Soe Gyi said nothing. His axe hung loosely at his side, his expression unreadable.
The arrogance sharpened into provocation. "Why don't you test that axe on me? Or are you afraid?"
He tilted his head, taunting, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade. The spectators gasped, the air tense with the promise of yet another bloody duel.
But before the clash could ignite, a familiar voice rang out.
"Enough."
Shwe MaMa Gyi stepped onto the training ground, her presence drawing all eyes. Her gaze was cold as she looked at her brother. "Father has summoned Soe Gyi. Do not waste his strength on your pride, brother."
Shwe Mg Mg Gyi chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Always protecting him, are you? Or is there something more?" His eyes narrowed, then turned back to Soe Gyi. "Very well. Another day, carpenter. I'll see how sharp your axe truly is."
Shwe MaMa Gyi ignored the tension and gestured for Soe Gyi to follow. Together, they walked past the murmuring crowd, leaving the training ground's dust and broken bodies behind.
The corridors of the fortress grew darker as they advanced, torches casting long shadows across the stone walls, their path led them to a place where noise seemed to vanish—the leader's chamber.
At the massive double doors carved with bloody wolf sigils, Shwe MaMa Gyi paused. She glanced at Soe Gyi, her expression unreadable. "Father waits inside," she said softly.Soe Gyi simply nodded.
The heavy doors closed behind him with a thunderous echo, sealing the chamber in shadows and firelight. The hall was vast, its walls lined with banners dyed crimson, each marked with the snarling sigil of the Blood Gang. At the far end, upon a blackened wooden throne, sat Shwe Min Gyi, the gang's leader. His frame was broad though age bent his shoulders, his sharp eyes gleamed with authority, and the scars across his cheek whispered of countless battles. Elders flanked him on both sides, silent as stone, their eyes narrowed on Soe Gyi like hawks sizing up prey.
Soe Gyi walked forward, his axe strapped firmly to his back. When he reached the foot of the throne, he bowed respectfully. His voice was calm. "Soe Gyi greets the Blood Gang Leader."
A silence stretched, heavy and tense, before Shwe Min Gyi finally spoke. His tone was low, carrying both command and curiosity. "You are the one who slew the Tiger King ." His eyes flickered, sharp as daggers. "Some praise you as a storm; others whisper you are nothing but a passing flame. Tell me, —are you worthy of standing here?"
Soe Gyi did not answer immediately. He only inclined his head slightly, a gesture that neither confirmed nor denied.
A thin smile touched Shwe Min Gyi's lips. "Good. Words are cheap. I deal in deeds." He leaned forward, his eyes burning. "I have a task for you. There is a man named Yatkha—a small gang leader who fancies himself bold. He prowls on my borders, picking fights with my people, stealing goods from caravans, and spreading lies in nearby towns. He is nothing more than a nuisance, but nuisances grow into plagues if left unchecked."
The elders muttered among themselves. One scoffed, "Yatkha is vermin—sending this one after him is hardly a test." Another chuckled darkly, "If he cannot slay vermin, he has no place in Blood Gang halls."
Shwe Min Gyi raised a hand and silence fell. His eyes bored into Soe Gyi's. "You will find this Yatkha and end him. No noise, no survivors. Bring me his head."
For a heartbeat, the room felt like it was closing in. The elders leaned forward, eager for Soe Gyi's reply. Shwe MaMa Gyi, standing to one side, watched quietly, her expression unreadable.
Soe Gyi lifted his gaze, his voice firm. "I will complete this mission."
A rumble of approval swept the chamber. Shwe Min Gyi leaned back into his throne, satisfied. "Good. Do this, and Blood Gang's doors will open wider to you. Fail…" His tone dropped to a growl. "And you'll join the wolves' feast."
The next day, Soe Gyi picked up his blades and strapped them across his back. He stepped out of his room. As he made his way toward the fortress entrance, a sudden commotion broke the morning silence. Groups of youngsters rushed past him, their voices loud and eager.
"Quick! To the torture chamber!"
"There's a death match!"
Soe Gyi's sharp eyes narrowed. Death match? His steps quickened, carrying him along with the tide of bodies.
When he arrived, the iron gates of the torture chamber loomed like the maw of a beast. Inside, a circle had formed around a bloody stage. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, metal, and fear. Shouts of encouragement and mockery mixed together, rising like waves.
At the edge of the crowd, Soe Gyi noticed Shwe Mama Gyi. She turned when she felt his presence. A faint smile curved her lips, though her tone was indifferent.
"Nothing unusual," she said, walking closer. "Just trash being punished, that's all."
Soe Gyi's brow arched. "Punished? Through death?"
Her eyes glittered. "The Blood Gang never spares weakness. If a man fails… he is no longer a man."
Soe Gyi said nothing, but his gaze turned toward the center of the chamber.
There, chained only by shame, stood Ma Kaung—the boy who once boasted of his top-ten ranking. His face was swollen from previous defeat, his body trembling yet stubbornly upright. Before him prowled five enormous wolves, their silver-gray fur bristling, fangs glistening with saliva.
A roar from the crowd:
"Rip him apart!"
"Let the dogs eat him!"
The fight began with a whistle. One wolf leapt first, aiming for his throat. Ma Kaung swung a rusted spear wildly, catching the beast across its snout. Blood splattered, and the wolf yelped.
"You won't take me so easily!" Ma Kaung screamed, eyes red.
Another wolf darted low, teeth sinking into his leg. Ma Kaung cried out, smashing the spear butt into its skull. Bone cracked. The crowd howled in savage delight.
Shwe Mama Gyi folded her arms, speaking softly to Soe Gyi. "Pathetic, isn't it? He once thought himself strong. Now he is nothing but prey."
Soe Gyi's eyes didn't leave the arena.
The third wolf lunged onto Ma Kaung's back, claws tearing through flesh. Ma Kaung roared in agony, stabbing backward blindly. The spear pierced the beast's belly, warm guts spilling onto the sand. He staggered, half-dead, half-mad, but still swinging.
Two wolves remained. They circled, cunning and hungry. Ma Kaung, drenched in blood, raised his broken spear like a final banner.
"Come on then!" he shouted, voice hoarse. "I'll drag you to hell with me!"
The pack struck together. One from the front, one from behind. The spear shattered on impact. Jaws closed around his neck, claws shredded his chest. His defiance ended in a spray of crimson.
The chamber echoed with laughter and applause.
Shwe Mama Gyi leaned close to Soe Gyi, her whisper like a blade.
"See? Weakness always dies. Remember that."
Soe Gyi's face was unreadable, but deep within, his thoughts sharpened.
After the carnage in the torture chamber, Soe Gyi moved toward the entrance gate, Shwe MaMa Gyi fell into step beside him, watching him with a curious half-smile. "Do you need a guide?" she asked, voice low. He glanced at her once, eyes cold and steady. "No," he replied. He tightened the strap of his gear and walked on, leaving the fortress behind.