Huh? You can cook?

Kyle observed the crowd of fighting women. He saw one stab her opponent nearly to death before moving on to another.

Noticing her ruthlessness, most stayed clear of her path—except the daring ones who attacked.

He also noticed another woman who fought with bare fists; each of her attacks hit the vital points of her opponents—rendering them immobile or unconscious. He mentally noted her down as he continued watching for potential fighters.

After a few minutes, he caught himself. ‘Why am I doing this?’ He was only supposed to meet a certain quota—nothing more.

Kyle frowned, feeling infuriated with himself. Shaking away every distracting thought, he watched as the number of standing women gradually diminished.

An hour later, Kyle raised his voice. "Stop." Once silence settled, he spoke calmly, "Welcome to DESIRE Island.'"

Amelia’s legs trembled, and she fell to her knees—the willpower holding her up was replaced by relief at Kyle’s words. ‘I made it.’