Aka, still dizzy, somehow managed to stand up. He looked around. The children were all walking in the same direction, so he followed them. He could feel their eyes on him—some cold, some indifferent.
Will I ever be able to make friends here? he wondered, not entirely by choice.
As they walked, Aka kept observing everything around him. When the group finally stopped, he realized they were inside an enormous cave complex carved deep into a mountain. The children slowly spread out into a vast stone chamber, which gave Aka the chance to take a better look.
The room was, as far as Aka could guess, around five hundred square meters in size and four or five meters high. Yet it easily held the countless children gathered there. Straw dummies stood everywhere, and the chamber was split into different training areas. In each section, two or three adults—people who looked very much like instructors—were watching over the children.
Aka slowly walked toward the nearest instructor and stood there silently, not knowing what to say, until the man finally spoke to him.
"What is it?"
"I… I don't know how to train, sir," Aka said quietly. "How am I supposed to learn?"
"You can either watch others or ask someone to teach you," the instructor replied. "But first—do you have a weapon you know how to use? Or at least one you think suits you?"
"No, sir. I don't know how to use any of them. Do you have a suggestion?"
The instructor studied him for a moment. "Judging by your build, you don't have the strength for a hammer or a battle-axe. Honestly, you might not even handle a sword well. Go to the instructor on the right and ask for gloves or dual daggers."
"Thank you, sir."
Aka did as he was told—but chose the gloves. In a place like this, he thought, someone wearing gloves seemed less likely to slash or stab others outright.
He soon noticed a crowd gathered around a group of children fighting in a rough circle. Curious, Aka slipped into the edge of the group and began watching—but the fighters didn't appreciate the audience.
One boy stepped forward. The number 71 was written across his clothes.
"I know you're new, rookie," 71 said, "but you need to learn the rules."
"I'm sorry, sir," Aka replied automatically.
"Don't call me 'sir.' Just 71. And get used to that—your family and your name don't matter here."
"Okay… sorry—71."
"First, learn the important rules. Power is everything here, rookie. And if you want to learn from us, you have to teach us something in return. Just watching isn't allowed."
"If I knew anything, I'd teach you. But… I don't know anything."
71 laughed softly. "You're cute, rookie. All we want you to teach us is what your survival instincts make you do. That's all we're really being taught here anyway. Enough talking. Come on—let's see how you do in the ring."
Before Aka even realized what was happening, the boy 71 had been fighting slipped out of the circle, and Aka was nudged—then shoved—forward until he stood alone in the open space.
He didn't even have time to react before 71's fist crashed into his face. Dazed, he staggered back—only to be kicked hard and sent flying.
Only then did Aka understand: this was a fight to the death.
His thoughts sharpened. His heart pounded. His blood burned with adrenaline. He raised his hands in something like a guard and slowly advanced toward 71—but 71 didn't hesitate. Another punch smashed into Aka's nose. Pain exploded through him. He could barely think.
71 came again. He swung. This time, by pure luck, Aka slipped aside. He even tried to punch back. 71 dodged easily—but something about Aka's attempt seemed to excite him. He grew more serious.
Using Aka's own momentum, 71 threw him to the ground, pinned him—and Aka's nightmare began.
Blow after blow rained down. Fists. Knuckles. Bone. Aka blacked out after the first few strikes. The last thing he vaguely remembered before darkness swallowed him was a voice from the crowd whispering:
"Welcome The Nest."
When Aka opened his eyes again, he was lying on the cold stone floor. An adult stood over him—someone who looked like an instructor.
"Thank you, instructor," Aka murmured weakly.
"I'm not an instructor," the man said flatly. "Call me Healer. And if you call me instructor again, it'll end badly for you."
"Thank you… Healer."
The Healer walked away. Aka sat up. He realized he had been moved close to the fighting circle. Someone else was already battling there. He touched his nose—no blood, no break. Only then did he truly understand why the man was called Healer.
A hand landed gently on his back. He turned. The number 29 was printed on the boy's clothes.
"Rooookie," 29 said with a teasing tone. "You were terrible. Why didn't you fight back? You could've thrown 71 off you."
"I'm sorry. It just… didn't occur to me."
"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to yourself—for wasting your chance." 29 smirked. "So? Did you at least feel the thrill of fighting?"
"I was just trying to survive," Aka said. "There was no thrill."
"You'll understand soon enough."
While they talked, the fight ended. A few kids dragged the unconscious loser away. The winner left too, and the circle opened again.
That was when 29 stepped forward, looked right at Aka, and beckoned.
Aka froze.
He didn't want to go.
But the crowd shoved him again—until he stood opposite 29 in the ring.
He barely had time to think before 29 lunged and punched him straight in the face.
"Always be ready when you're in the ring," 29 said calmly, as Aka stumbled back. He recovered faster this time and raised his guard.
Slowly, something inside Aka shifted. The thought of running disappeared. All that was left… was the desire to win.
He darted forward, trying to sweep 29's leg. He failed—and paid with a brutal punch-kick combo. As Aka hit the floor, 29 chuckled.
"Do everything you can, rookie."
Someone in the crowd shouted:
"Bite! Scratch! Pull his hair! Do anything! That's how you grow!"
The words dug into Aka's mind. He stood again—this time with fire in his eyes.
29 smiled. "I like those eyes, rookie."
He struck again. Aka dodged—and even tried to counter, just like before. It didn't land, but he avoided the trip that followed and, for the first time in his life, landed a real punch.
29 barely reacted. He laughed.
The fight dragged on—punches, kicks, dodges. Slowly, Aka began to evade more hits. Confidence crept in.
I can do this…
He formed a plan. When 29 kicked, he would grab the leg and bring him down.
The moment came. The kick flew toward him. Aka seized the leg—
—but 29 slipped free with ease and punched him clean across the face.
Aka was exhausted. He gathered everything he had left and charged one final time. He swung.
29 stepped aside.
Effortlessly, he took advantage of Aka's fatigue, threw him to the ground, and pinned him.
"You need to get a little stronger first, rookie," he said softly—
—and then, like 71 before him, he began to rain down blows.
Aka blacked out after the first punch.
Hello again! To be honest, I'm not even sure if the people reading this are real, but creating something for the first time in my life — and knowing that, even if it isn't real, someone out there might be reading it — is such an interesting feeling. If there really is anyone reading this, thank you so much.If you have any positive or negative feedback, please don't hesitate to leave a comment.. It turns out that writing a story is much harder than I expected. I think it's going to take around 50 to 100 chapters before it really starts to turn into something like Reverend Insanity. I hope I can keep writing that long.Anyway, once again, thank you to everyone who's been reading. It really means a lot to me.