Heaven breaker King: The Prison God Returns

CHAPTER 5 — WHEN A NAME BECOMES A WARNING

The prison went quiet. Not the normal kind of quiet, no distant shouts, no clanging metal, no muttered curses. This silence was alert.

Bruce felt it the moment he stepped back into the main cellblock. Heads turned. Conversations died mid-sentence.

A man dropped his spoon. Another inmate slowly backed away as Bruce passed, eyes wide, palms open as if facing a wild animal. Bruce leaned closer to Tian. “Why is everyone staring?”

Tian didn’t slow his pace. “Because your name just circulated.”

Bruce frowned. “My name isn’t famous.”

“It is now,” Tian said. “Red Status inmates don’t stay anonymous.”

A voice echoed from above. “Inmate Bruce Kane.”

Bruce looked up. The intercom crackled again. “Report to Yard C. Immediately.”

Murmurs erupted. “Yard C?”

“That’s not a yard, that’s a slaughter pit.”

“Who pissed off the warden this badly?”

Bruce exhaled slowly. “That sounds welcoming.”

Tian stopped walking. Bruce turned. “You’re not coming?”

Tian shook his head. “This one is yours.”

Bruce studied him. “You planned this.”

“Yes,” Tian admitted. “But not the timing.”

Bruce nodded once. “Figures.”

As Bruce moved toward Yard C, a large inmate stepped into his path. Bald. Muscular. Tattoos crawling up his neck. “You’re Bruce,” the man said.

Bruce stopped. “Depends who’s asking.”

The man grinned. “Name’s Holt. Leader of the Iron Chain.”

Bruce tilted his head. “Never heard of it.”

“That’s because people who meet us don’t talk after,” Holt replied casually. “We run this wing. And we’re curious.”

“About what?” Bruce asked.

Holt leaned in. “About whether you’re worth the price on your head.”

Bruce’s gaze sharpened. “There’s a price?”

“Oh yes,” Holt said. “High one. Alive preferred.”

Bruce chuckled. “That’s unfortunate.”

Holt raised an eyebrow. “For who?”

“For whoever tries,” Bruce said. Holt laughed loudly. “I like him.”

Then Holt’s expression hardened. “But I don’t like threats.”

He swung. Bruce moved. The punch skimmed the air. Bruce stepped inside Holt’s guard and slammed his elbow into Holt’s ribs. Crack.

Holt staggered back, coughing. The surrounding inmates exploded into chaos. “Fight!”

“Red Status is fighting!”

“Back up!”

Holt roared and charged again. Bruce didn’t dodge this time. He caught Holt’s fist. The ground cracked beneath their feet. Holt’s eyes widened. “What the”

Bruce twisted. The scream was immediate. Bruce released him and stepped back as Holt collapsed, clutching his shattered arm. Silence fell.

Bruce looked around calmly. “Anyone else curious?”

No one moved. Guards flooded the area seconds later, batons raised. “Down! On the ground!”

Bruce raised his hands slowly. “Escort him to Yard C,” a guard barked. “Carefully.”

As they dragged Holt away, Bruce heard him wheezing. “This isn’t over,” Holt spat. “The Black Market doesn’t forgive losses.”

Bruce paused. “Tell them to bring more people.”

Yard C wasn’t a yard. It was a concrete arena surrounded by high walls and watchtowers. No equipment. No benches. Just stains.

Bruce stepped inside. The gate slammed shut behind him. “Welcome,” a voice echoed. “To your evaluation.”

Warden Graves stepped into view above. Bruce looked up. “You enjoy theatrics.”

Graves smiled thinly. “They keep people honest.”

“Is this where you send all Red Status inmates?” Bruce asked.

“Only the interesting ones,” Graves replied. “And you, Bruce Kane… are very interesting.”

Bruce crossed his arms. “If you’re going to kill me, do it.”

Graves chuckled. “Kill you? No. That would waste an investment.”

The opposite gate opened. Three figures entered. All inmates. All different. One was lean, eyes sharp like a blade. One was massive, veins bulging, breathing heavy.

The last was a woman, short hair, calm eyes, expression empty. Bruce’s instincts screamed. “These are your peers,” Graves said. “Survivors of previous trials.”

Bruce glanced at them. “They don’t look friendly.”

“They aren’t,” Graves said. “Only one of you leaves.”

Bruce looked up sharply. “You said evaluation, not execution.”

Graves smiled wider. “Same thing here.”

The woman spoke first. “Name’s Nyx,” she said flatly. “If you surrender, I’ll make it quick.”

Bruce studied her. “That’s generous.”

The massive man cracked his neck. “I’ll take the head.”

The lean man said nothing. The gate slammed shut. Sirens blared once. Then stopped. Nyx moved first. She vanished. Bruce barely dodged as a blade slashed past his throat. He spun, heart racing. “Fast.”

Threat Level: Extreme.

The massive man charged. Bruce leapt aside as the man slammed into the wall, concrete exploding outward. The lean man appeared behind Bruce.

Pain flared across his back. Bruce hissed. “You like blind spots.”

He twisted and elbowed backward. The lean man blocked easily. “Predictable,” he said quietly.

Bruce grinned. “So am I.”

Bruce stomped the ground. A shockwave rippled outward. All three staggered. Bruce surged forward, grabbing the massive man’s arm and slamming him into Nyx mid-air.

They crashed together. The lean man retreated, eyes narrowing. “Interesting,” he murmured.

Above, Graves leaned forward. “Do you see it?” he asked someone unseen.

A distorted voice replied, “Yes. His fate bends.”

Bruce wiped blood from his lip. “You’re all strong,” he admitted. “But you fight like prisoners.”

Nyx rose slowly. “And you fight like what?”

Bruce’s gaze hardened. “Like someone who can’t afford to lose.”

Nyx attacked again. Bruce met her head-on. Their blows clashed, fast, brutal, precise. “You’re holding back,” Nyx said between strikes.

Bruce grunted. “You noticed.”

“Why?” she demanded.

Bruce shoved her back. “Because if I lose control… this place won’t survive it.”

Nyx froze. “What?”

The system pulsed violently. Warning. Bloodline Authority escalating.

Above, alarms flared. Graves’ smile vanished. “Containment levels rising,” a guard shouted. Bruce stepped back, breathing hard. Then, A sharp pain stabbed his chest. Bruce staggered. A voice echoed in his mind.

External threat detected. Bruce gasped. “What now?” The voice responded colder than before.

''Your bond has been targeted.''

Bruce’s blood ran cold. “My… bond?”

A second voice cut in, faint, distorted. “Bruce?”

His heart stopped. “…Luna?” he whispered.

The arena vanished. Sirens screamed. Graves stood abruptly. “What’s happening?!”

Bruce looked up, eyes blazing. “You crossed the wrong line,” he said. The system flared.

Warning. Emotional anchor under threat. Authority override imminent. Bruce clenched his fists. “If you touch her,” he growled, “this prison won’t be enough to hold what comes next.”

Far outside the prison walls, a woman froze mid-step. A black car rolled to a stop beside her. A door opened.

And somewhere between steel and fate, Bruce’s name became something far more dangerous than a Red Status inmate. It became a warning.