RISE OF THE VOID SYSTEM

Chapter Six – Blood and Calculations

The cell smelled like rust and rot.

Not the kind of rot you get from food no, this was the deep, metallic stench of blood soaked into stone, layered over years.

Kael opened his eyes to the dim flicker of the ceiling light. The chains on his wrists had been removed, but his shoulders still ached as if they’d been torn from their sockets. His ribs felt like cracked glass. A copper taste lingered in his mouth, thick and unpleasant.

Brakk was there, crouched in the shadows, a wet cloth in one gnarled hand. His single good eye studied Kael the way a butcher eyes a half-dead animal, weighing whether it’s worth saving.

“You’re awake,” Brakk rasped. “Shame. I was starting to think the Void had eaten you whole.”

Kael pushed himself upright, every muscle screaming in protest. “You patched me up?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Brakk muttered. “I just didn’t want the smell of your corpse in my cell. Rot draws the wrong kind of attention.”

Kael let his head rest against the cold wall, staring at the flickering light. His last match played in his mind how close he’d come to losing, how close he’d come to being devoured by someone else.

You’re not meant to survive, the Void’s voice purred inside his head. You’re meant to feed.

He clenched his fists. The System’s hunger had grown worse. It wasn’t enough to win anymore. It wanted the kill. It wanted the flesh. And if he didn’t give it what it wanted…

A faint chime echoed in his skull.

[Void System Notification]

New Skill Branch Available: Predator’s Instinct.

Allows the user to sense opponent weaknesses, structural flaws, and vulnerabilities.

Requirement: One kill per arena match.

Failure to meet requirement will result in penalty.

Penalty? Kael didn’t have to ask what that meant. The System never gave without taking something worse in return.

The Whisper of a Bounty

Later that day, Brakk returned from a water run, his shoulders hunched. “You’re in trouble,” he grunted.

Kael looked up from the bench. “More than usual?”

Brakk tossed him a half-empty tin cup of water. “Word’s out. The gang leaders have put a bounty on you.”

Kael sipped. “Why?”

“You’ve embarrassed too many fighters. You’ve made too much noise too fast. And…” Brakk’s lip curled, “…you’re not from here. Outsiders who climb the ladder? That makes the old sharks nervous. Nervous sharks bite.”

“How big’s the bounty?”

“Enough food and privileges to make every half-starved animal in this place dream of your head on a spike.”

Kael leaned back. So that’s how it was going to be. No more random fights every match from now on would be a trap.

The Smile of a Snake

That evening, a shadow fell across the cell doorway. Kael glanced up. A tall man stood there, shaved head gleaming under the dim light, a jagged scar splitting his upper lip into a permanent sneer.

“You’re Kael,” the man said, voice smooth but edged with steel.

“And you are?”

“Moro.” The man stepped closer, his movements lazy but calculated. “I’ve been watching your matches. You’ve got… potential. And in The Pit, potential means survival. If you know how to use it.”

Kael didn’t respond.

Moro leaned on the bars. “I can make sure you don’t end up gutted in the sand. Allies, Kael. That’s what I’m offering. There’s a match tomorrow. Two on two. I’ll pair with you. We win, you get half the bounty that’s on your head.”

Brakk snorted from the corner. “You’re wasting your breath, snake. I can smell the poison from here.”

Moro’s smile didn’t falter. “Old men always think they know the game. But Kael? You’re not old. You’re smart. And smart men know when to accept help.”

Kael gave a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Moro’s grin widened. “Good. Don’t be late.”

The moment Moro’s footsteps faded, Brakk hissed, “It’s a trap.”

“I know,” Kael said.

The Trap Sprung

The next day, the arena roared like a living thing. Chains clanged as gates rose, spilling Kael and Moro into the sun baked sand. Across from them, two fighters emerged both massive, both grinning like executioners who’d just been handed their next victim.

Kael’s gaze flicked to Moro. The man’s stance was too relaxed, too loose for someone about to fight for his life. The Void System whispered.

[Predator’s Instinct Activated]

Target: Moro   Weakness detected: Left knee, scar tissue tear. Secondary weakness: Trust issues will betray allies at earliest opportunity.

The whistle blew.

Moro didn’t hesitate. He lunged not at their opponents, but at Kael. His fist was a blur aimed for Kael’s jaw.

Kael twisted aside, feeling the air split where the punch would have landed. One of the enemy fighters rushed him, swinging a spiked club. Kael dropped low, sweeping the man’s legs out from under him. Sand exploded around them.

Moro’s partner a bald brute with tattoos like roadmaps charged. Moro darted back, giving the illusion of helping, but Kael caught the gleam in his eye.

The Predator Wakes

The fight became a blur of movement and blood. Kael’s breath came ragged, but the System fed him bursts of clarity flashes of red glowing over weak points on his enemies.

He slammed an elbow into the brute’s jaw. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed. The man staggered.

Moro took that moment to kick Kael’s knee. Pain shot through him like fire.

Kael turned, the Void’s hunger flooding his veins. Kill him.

He caught Moro’s next strike, twisting his wrist until it popped. Moro screamed. Kael drove his head into Moro’s nose, feeling the cartilage break.

The crowd roared.

Kael didn’t stop. He tackled Moro to the sand, straddling him, his fists falling like hammers. Each blow smeared more blood across Moro’s face until it was unrecognizable.

“Mercy!” Moro gasped through shattered teeth.

Kael’s smile was cold. “The Void doesn’t do mercy.”

Black tendrils erupted from his palms, sinking into Moro’s chest. Flesh withered. Skin stretched tight over bone. Moro’s screams turned to wet gurgles as the Void devoured him from the inside out.

[You have consumed: Moro]

Gained Skill: Agility Surge (Level 1)

Predator’s Instinct kill requirement satisfied.

The Shift

The enemy brute had frozen mid strike, staring at the horror in Kael’s hands. That hesitation cost him. Kael moved like a shadow, driving a knee into his ribs. Something broke.

The brute crumpled. Kael didn’t need to kill him the Void had been fed, and the crowd had already seen enough to crown him the most dangerous thing in The Pit.

When the whistle blew, Kael stood alone in the arena, chest heaving, blood dripping from his hands.

An Invitation from the Devil

As he walked toward the exit, a guard stepped forward. “The Warden wants to see you.”

Kael’s pulse slowed. The Warden wasn’t in the habit of inviting fighters to his office unless there was something he wanted or something he wanted destroyed.

They led him through corridors he’d never seen, past reinforced doors and armed guards. Finally, they stopped before a steel door with no handle. It slid open with a hiss.

The Warden sat behind a desk of black glass, his suit immaculate, his eyes like shards of ice.

“You’ve been making quite the spectacle,” the Warden said, voice smooth as silk over steel. “I like that. But tell me, Kael…” His lips curved into something too thin to be a smile. “…do you know what happens to predators when there’s a bigger predator in the room?”

Kael didn’t answer.

[System Notification]

Warning: High Level Predator has taken interest in you.

The Warden’s eyes glinted. “Let’s find out if you’re worth keeping alive.”