Part C – Two Shadows Enter
The iron door groaned open.
Torchlight spilled into the cell, cutting across the floor and painting Kuangren in shades of orange and red. He didn't move. He sat cross-legged where he always sat, his crimson eyes half-closed, lips curled in that faint, unsettling smile.
The guard who stepped in hesitated, spear trembling slightly though he tried to hold it steady. Two more hovered behind him in the hall, as if proximity itself to the boy might invite death.
"Tomorrow," the first guard rasped, voice dry. "You fight again."
Kuangren tilted his head, a lazy predator acknowledging prey. His eyes opened fully, glinting sharp as fresh blood.
The guard swallowed. "Not one. Two. Together."
Silence.
Then, slowly, Kuangren laughed.
It started low, deep in his chest, then rolled out into the damp air, filling the cell with a sound too alive, too raw. The guard flinched, his grip on the spear slick with sweat.
"Two?" Kuangren whispered at last, his voice cutting like a blade dragged across stone. "Good."
He rose in one smooth motion, towering over the man at his full 205cm, the torchlight gleaming across the sharp edges of his face. His long black hair swayed as he leaned forward, his crimson eyes boring into the guard's.
"Tell your master…" Kuangren's voice was almost gentle, a caress of steel. "…that I'll make it worth their coin."
The guard stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet as he retreated into the hall. The door slammed shut, the lock sliding home with a clang.
Kuangren stood alone again, the echo of his laughter still hanging in the stone air.
His tongue ran across his teeth, savoring the phantom taste of blood.
"Two shadows," he murmured. "Two bodies. Two screams."
His smile widened.
"This will be fun."
The next night, the Arena roared.
Torches blazed around the square, casting the pit in molten light. The crowd pressed against the iron rails, drunk on wine, lust, and the scent of violence. They screamed his name — not in reverence, but in hunger.
"Kuangren!"
"Crimson eyes!"
"Beast-boy!"
The chants blended into one monstrous voice, a wave of sound rolling across the stones.
The gate creaked open.
And Gu Kuangren stepped into the square.
His crimson eyes glowed like twin flames beneath his long black hair. He carried no blade — they had given him nothing but a chipped iron sword, rust flaking from its edge. He didn't care. He didn't need more.
Across from him, two figures emerged from the opposite gate.
One was tall and wiry, a chain coiled around his shoulders, its links clinking with every step. His eyes burned with the twitchy madness of a killer who loved to choke the life from his prey.
The other was broad, scarred from throat to hip, wielding twin axes that gleamed even in the torchlight. His grin was too wide, his tongue sliding across yellow teeth as he stared Kuangren down.
The crowd howled. Bets flew.
Two against one. A slaughter. A spectacle.
Kuangren rolled his neck, joints cracking, crimson eyes never leaving theirs.
His lips curved upward, slow and certain.
"Let's see," he murmured, just loud enough for the closest spectators to hear.
"Will you break first… or will I?"