The training area was already active when Lucius and Odd arrived just past 9 AM. Most fighters were either still sleeping off their previous matches or preparing for the day's scheduled bouts in their own private ways, but the gym space was available.
Lucius stood in the center of the smaller adjacent room, arms crossed, watching Odd move through the defensive drill they'd practiced before.
"Again," Lucius said. "Transition faster."
Odd's body shifted—rubber state to hardened to slippery and back. The changes were smoother now, more instinctive than they'd been days ago. His breathing was controlled, his movements more confident.
"Better," Lucius acknowledged. "But in a real fight, Reaper won't give you time to think. From what I noticed during his first match, he'll attack from angles you're not expecting. Shadow constructs don't follow normal physics—they can extend, retract, appear from any dark surface."
Odd nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead. "So I need to—"
"Stop predicting and start reacting. Your gel responds faster than your brain. Trust it."
They'd been at this for over an hour. Drilling transitions, practicing impact absorption, working on the mental framework Lucius had outlined. Not techniques, exactly—Odd wasn't going to become a master martial artist in a few days. But understanding. Tactical thinking. Using what he had more efficiently.
"Come at me," Lucius said, shifting into a ready stance. "Full contact. Use your abilities however feels right."
Odd hesitated for just a moment, then moved forward. His approach was more measured now, not the desperate street-brawler style from before. He threw a combination—jab, cross—his rubber-state arms extending slightly for extra reach.
Lucius slipped both punches easily, but he noticed the improvement. Odd wasn't overcommitting. Wasn't leaving himself open.
"Good. You're thinking about your positioning. Now—"
The gym door opened.
Both of them turned to see Liu Yan entering, a towel draped around his neck, clearly intending to use the space for his own training. He stopped when he saw them, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.
"King," Liu said, then looked at Odd. "And... Odd, right?"
Odd nodded, still catching his breath.
Liu's gaze shifted between them, taking in the obvious training scenario—the defensive positioning, the focused atmosphere, the clear teacher-student dynamic. A slow grin spread across his face.
"Wait, are you seriously giving out free training sessions? Because if I'd known that was an option, I would've signed up." He walked closer, genuinely curious now. "What is this, Fight Club office hours?"
Lucius's expression remained neutral, but there might have been the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. "You already lost your match. Bit late for training."
"Ouch. Fair point." Liu set his towel down on a bench. "Still, would've been nice to know before I got my ass handed to me by William Walker's displacement spam."
"Short-distance displacement. Not teleportation."
"Felt like teleportation when he was kicking my head from three different angles." Liu's tone was self-deprecating but not bitter. "Speaking of which—where's your friend? Wu Dan, wasn't it? The guy you were always with during the first round."
Liu's expression shifted, the humor fading slightly. "He left. Went home right after his loss."
Lucius's head tilted slightly. "Wait. You can just... leave?"
Liu blinked, then laughed—a genuine, slightly bewildered laugh.
The door opened again. Morrison stepped in, another guard behind him—Mack, the older veteran with the buzz cut going gray. Both were doing their rounds, checking the training areas.
Morrison stopped mid-step, a surprised smile crossing his face.
"Of course you can leave," Liu said, his tone caught between amusement and disbelief. "What, you thought they were keeping us prisoner or something?"
Mack let out a low chuckle from the doorway. "Son, you're free to walk out anytime after you're eliminated. This ain't a prison camp."
Morrison shook his head, still smiling. "Fighters can leave whenever they want. That's always been the case. You're participants, not inmates."
Lucius looked between the three of them. "With all the death and violence, the whole 'mystery location' thing, the armed guards everywhere..." He gestured vaguely. "Seemed like the kind of place you don't just walk out of."
Liu's grin returned, wider now. "I mean, yeah, the vibes are definitely 'ominous murder tournament with questionable ethics,' but technically we all came here voluntarily. Well, most of us." He glanced at Odd, who looked slightly uncomfortable with that topic.
Mack walked further into the gym. "Look, kid, this tournament's got a lot of problems, but false imprisonment ain't one of 'em. You sign up, you compete, you lose or you win, you leave when you're ready."
"Though I gotta admit," Morrison added, leaning against the doorframe, "you're not the first person to assume they're stuck here. Had a fighter last tournament who completely freaked out about it. Tried to force his way into the executive section thinking that was the exit."
"What happened to him?" Odd asked.
Morrison's expression darkened slightly. "He didn't make it. Security doesn't mess around when people try accessing restricted areas."
That statement hung in the air for a moment—heavier than the previous levity.
Liu's smile faded. "Yeah. There's 'free to leave' and then there's 'don't go where you're not supposed to.' Two very different things."
"Exactly," Mack said. "You want out? Fine. Walk to the exit, someone processes you, you're gone. But you try breaking into places you shouldn't be..." He shook his head. "That's when things get ugly."
Lucius filed that information away silently.
"Anyway," Mack continued, his tone lightening, "you're a practical one, I can tell. Most fighters either love the drama or can't handle it. You seem to just focus on what matters."
"Caring about the wrong things doesn't help."
"Can't argue with that." Mack nodded approvingly. "Alright, we'll leave you boys to your training. Just wanted to make sure everything was above board."
Morrison gave them a final nod, his eyes lingering on Lucius for just a moment—thoughtful. Then both guards continued their patrol.
Liu watched them go, then turned back. "But seriously, you're training him? What if you face him later on? Round 3, Round 4, finals?"
"We'll get to that when we get there."
"That's not really a strategy."
"It's the only one that matters. Deal with what's in front of you first."
Liu studied him for another moment, then shook his head with a slight smile. "You're an interesting guy, King."
"Is there a point to this observation?"
"Not really. Just making conversation." Liu grabbed his towel. "I'll use the other training area. Don't want to interrupt whatever wisdom you're dispensing here."
"Appreciate it."
Liu paused at the doorway. "For what it's worth, what you're doing—helping him survive—it's more than most would do. This place doesn't exactly encourage that kind of thing."
"Most people are idiots."
Liu laughed at that—genuine and full. "Can't argue with that logic. Good luck with your match, Odd. Try not to die."
"Thanks, I think?" Odd replied.
Liu left.
Odd let out a breath. "So we CAN just leave? I honestly didn't know that either."
"Doesn't matter. You're here. I'm here. And you've got a fight this afternoon." Lucius moved back into position. "Back to work."
They trained for another three hours. By 2 PM, Odd was drenched in sweat but moving with real confidence.
"That's it," Lucius said. "Get some water. Rest. Eat something light. Be ready by 3:30."
Odd grabbed a bottle from the vending machine. "You really think I can win this?"
"I think you'll fight smart. That's all you can control."
"Inspiring."
"I'm not here to inspire you." Lucius headed toward the exit. "I'm here to keep you alive. Don't waste it."
---
Lucius didn't attend the 1 PM fight between Davis Brown and Akira Kenji. Wasn't interested in watching. Instead, he spent the time in his quarters, resting, thinking through the next phase of his plans.
At 3:50 PM, he made his way to the fighter viewing section. The arena was already preparing for the next match.
Seung spotted him and waved him over, tablet in hand. "King! Where were you? Davis's fight was brutal—guy's a monster. Completely dominated Akira."
"Wasn't interested in that match." Lucius sat down next to him.
"Fair enough." Seung pulled up the match information for the upcoming fight. "So, Odd versus Reaper. You've been working with Odd, right?"
"I have."
"And?"
"And what?"
Seung gestured at his tablet. "Betting's about to open. Should I put money on him?"
Lucius was quiet for a moment. "Put it on Odd."
"You sure? Reaper's got a solid record. Shadow manipulation is—"
"I'm sure."
Seung hesitated, then nodded and started placing his bet as the betting window opened. "Alright. I trust your judgment. You've been right about everything so far. Got me completely out of debt, actually. First time in years I'm not drowning."
"Good."
"Yeah, it's more than good, man. I can actually breathe now."
The betting window closed. The arena lights shifted.
At 4 PM sharp, the match began.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Jamal's voice boomed. "Round Two, Fight SIX!"
The Jumbotron displayed both fighters.
ODD. 5'9". PREVIOUS MATCH: VICTORY VS SON TEC.
REAPER. 6'0". PREVIOUS MATCH: VICTORY VS HAWK TOMAS.
"In the blue corner," Haurang announced, "the man who survived one of the most brutal Round 1 matches through sheer determination—ODD!"
Odd emerged looking composed. The crowd gave him solid support—he'd earned real respect with how he'd fought before.
"And in the red corner—the shadow-wielding veteran returning for his third tournament—REAPER!"
Reaper entered with cold confidence.
They reached their positions.
"BEGIN!"
Both fighters started cautiously. Reaper circled, studying Odd's stance. Odd stayed centered, watching for patterns.
Reaper tested with a few shadow tendrils—probing attacks to gauge reaction speed and defensive capabilities.
Odd hardened partially, deflecting them, then shifted back to rubber state for mobility.
They traded a few blows—feeling each other out, looking for openings and weaknesses.
Then Reaper committed. Multiple shadow constructs erupted from the floor, attacking from different angles simultaneously. Dark tendrils, grasping hands, blade-like projections—all coordinated.
Odd adapted on instinct. Hardening against direct strikes, going slippery to escape grapples, using his gel's properties to stay mobile and unpredictable.
The fight intensified. Reaper had superior range and years of experience, but Odd's defensive versatility kept him in it. He used the techniques Lucius had drilled—three-dimensional movement, forcing divided attention, exploiting momentary openings.
Minutes passed. Both fighters sustained damage. Reaper's shadows caught Odd multiple times, leaving cuts and bruises. Odd's counters landed solid hits when he managed to close distance.
The critical moment came when Reaper overextended—creating too many constructs at once, trying to overwhelm Odd completely. His attention divided across six different shadow attacks.
Odd saw it. That fractional delay in response time Lucius had told him to watch for.
He feinted left, drawing two constructs that direction. Then exploded right, getting inside Reaper's guard before the man could adjust his shadows.
Odd hardened his fist and drove it into Reaper's ribs with everything he had.
CRACK.
Bone broke. Reaper gasped. The shadow constructs flickered and collapsed as his concentration shattered.
Odd didn't give him time to recover. He pressed forward with a brutal combination—body shots to the broken ribs, a hook to the face, forcing Reaper backward.
Reaper tried desperately to create distance, to rebuild his constructs, but the pain and the relentless pressure disrupted his focus.
The final exchange was desperate on both sides. Reaper managed one last shadow blade, a wild swing aimed at Odd's head.
Odd hardened his body completely, took the hit on his shoulder, then shifted to soft gel to absorb Reaper's follow-up punch. The force distributed harmlessly.
Then he hardened again and delivered a devastating headbutt directly to Reaper's already-damaged face.
Reaper's eyes rolled back. He dropped, unconscious before hitting the sand.
The arena exploded with noise.
"WINNER BY KNOCKOUT—ODD!"
Jamal was on his feet. "HOLY SHIT! The underdog just TOOK DOWN Reaper! That was NOT what anyone expected!"
Seung stared at the arena, then at his tablet showing his winnings, then at Lucius. "You called it. Again. How do you keep doing that?"
Lucius didn't answer. Just watched as medical personnel rushed in.
---
After medical cleared him—bruised, battered, but nothing broken—Odd found Lucius outside the examination area.
"I won," Odd said, exhausted but smiling through split lips.
"You used what I taught you."
"Everything. The transitions, the tactical thinking, waiting for him to overextend. It worked."
"It worked because you trusted it and executed when it mattered." Lucius started walking. "Come on. You need food."
They made their way to the mess hall. The space was moderately busy with evening diners.
Lucius and Odd got their food and found a corner table. Odd ate like he was starving, which he basically was after that kind of fight.
"Round 3 in two days," Lucius said. "You'll face whoever wins tomorrow's matches."
"Think I can keep this up?"
"Depends on the matchup. We'll see."
Movement caught Lucius's attention.
A rat. Small, young, scurrying along the wall toward the kitchen.
Then another. And another. All small. All clearly newborns.
Someone nearby noticed. "Is that a rat?"
More appeared—six, seven, eight small rats moving toward the food source.
Big Mama emerged from the kitchen, saw them, and her face went from scowl to fury.
"NOT AGAIN! We JUST exterminated last week!"
The mess hall erupted into complaints. People pushed food away in disgust.
A staff member rushed over. "Should I call the exterminators?"
"YES! Call them NOW! This is completely unacceptable! How are there already new ones?!"
People started leaving. Staff tried cornering the rats with brooms. The creatures scattered into vents and cracks with practiced ease.
Mack appeared at the entrance, surveyed the chaos, sighed heavily, and pulled out his radio. "Yeah, this is Mack. We've got another rat situation in the mess hall. Gonna need the exterminators back. Again."
Lucius watched with complete neutrality, continuing to eat methodically.
Odd noticed. "Doesn't bother you?"
"Rats show up wherever there's food. They'll handle it."
The chaos continued around them—staff frustrated, Big Mama shouting about sanitation protocols, rats disappearing into the facility's hidden spaces.
Lucius finished his meal and stood. "Get some rest. You've earned it."
Odd nodded, still working through his food despite the situation.
Lucius left the mess hall and made his way back through the facility's evening routines. Fighters heading to rooms, guards changing shifts.
He passed Morrison in a corridor. Brief eye contact. A nod exchanged.
Back in his quarters, Lucius sat on his bed, processing the day.
Odd had won. The training worked. The rats were reappearing—exterminators would be called back.
Everything moving forward.
Lucius lay back and closed his eyes.
Time to rest. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges.
---
TO BE CONTINUED