Battle Royal

He stood up, leaving Sanjay to the men, and walked out of the room. His bodyguard, always close by, followed him and hesitated before speaking.

"Sir, why did you let him fight? Wouldn't it be easier to just torture him and get the gold's location?"

The man glanced back at the unconscious body on the floor, his expression unreadable. "You wouldn't understand," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Money isn't the issue for me. If that boy dies, my younger brother's gold supply will be completely cut off."

A slow, cruel smile curled his lips. "And before I'm done, he'll serve one last purpose—to bring my dear younger brother down."

Without another word, he continued deeper into the building, his steps steady, unhurried. He reached a heavily guarded door and pushed it open.

"Has he arrived?" he asked, his tone indifferent.

"Not yet, sir," one of his men replied. "But your younger brother is already here, waiting inside."

A slight smirk crossed his face. Without hesitation, he stepped in.

Inside, Raghav sat stiffly in a chair, his expression dark, his fingers clenched into fists.

"Younger brother," he greeted, his voice smooth, almost warm. "How have you been?"

Raghav's glare sharpened. "I heard you were in jail," his elder brother continued casually. "I would have visited, but… well, you know how busy I am."

Raghav's jaw tightened. "You're the reason I was in there in the first place."

His brother chuckled. "Oh my, such accusations. I never told the police where you were, did I?" His smile widened, taunting.

Raghav's anger flared. "You'll pay for this," he growled.

His brother leaned back, amusement dancing in his eyes. "And how do you plan to do that? With the help of your friend? What was his name again? Ah, yes—Sanjay."

Raghav's heart pounded. He knows. If he tracked all the gold… If he removed Sanjay from the equation… The loss would be devastating. He needed more gold. More power. He couldn't afford to be outmaneuvered.

"What are you planning?" Raghav asked, his voice tense.

His brother's smile faded, replaced by something far colder. "You should've stayed in that prison where you belong. But now… you've started meddling in my affairs." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And I make sure my enemies regret that."

Raghav opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak—

"What happens to your enemies, Veer?"

A deep voice echoed from the doorway.

Veer and Raghav immediately stood up as a man in his fifties stepped into the room. His presence was commanding, his sharp eyes scanning them with quiet authority.

Both brothers bowed in respect.

"Nothing, Father," Veer said smoothly. "I was just telling my younger brother how I dealt with one of our enemies."

Their father smiled, his expression unreadable. "Ah, and it seems the younger one has been making moves of his own."

Veer's jaw tightened at the comment, but Raghav's lips curled into a smirk. "I do my best, Father," he said, his tone almost playful.

Their father chuckled. "Sit. It's been too long since we've talked properly."

They obeyed, settling into their seats as their father casually asked about their recent endeavors. The conversation remained light, but tension simmered beneath the surface. Veer watched his younger brother carefully, analyzing every word, every glance.

Just as their father was about to speak again, a sudden roar erupted from outside. The ground seemed to vibrate with the sheer energy of the crowd. All three turned their heads toward the stadium.

A voice boomed over the speakers.

"Welcome, everyone, to the 150th Underworld Fighting Tournament!"

Boom! A blast of confetti exploded into the air, shimmering under the bright lights. The audience went wild, their cheers echoing through the massive arena.

On stage, the host grinned, soaking in the electric atmosphere. "First, let's all give our thanks to the Gatekeeper for gracing us with his presence today!"

He turned and bowed toward the VIP cabin—an enclosed space high above the arena, its black-tinted glass hiding the figure inside from prying eyes.

A hush fell over the crowd for a split second before a wave of murmurs spread through the stands. Then, as if on cue, the entire audience bowed in respect.

Raghav and Veer remained seated, but their father's smile widened ever so slightly. He never tired of this moment—the reverence, the recognition. Even after all these years, it still pleased him.

"Now, let's introduce our fighters!" the host continued. "This year, we have a record-breaking 1,000 participants! More fighters mean more action, more excitement… and more blood!"

A massive hologram flickered to life above the stadium, displaying the faces of all 1,000 competitors. The crowd erupted once again, hungry for the carnage to come.

Veer's eyes scanned the images, and when he spotted Sanjay's face among them, his lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. But he said nothing.

Raghav, on the other hand, didn't notice. The sheer number of participants made it nearly impossible to focus on just one face.

"And now, let's talk about the prize!" the host announced. "Our final champion will walk away with 10 billion quarks!"

Another deafening cheer rang out.

"Due to the sheer number of participants, the first round will be a Battle Royale format!" the host continued. "Each round will feature 100 fighters, selected at random!"

The hologram split, dividing the contestants into ten separate groups of 100.

In the waiting area, Sanjay watched the screen, his fists clenching at his sides. His name appeared in Group 2.

His stomach churned. He hated that he had to do this—but there was no choice. Maya's life depended on it. He needed to buy Iris more time to locate her.

His gaze flicked to the small completion bar hovering in his vision—only 7%.

Too slow.

And the worst part? If Veer moved more than five kilometers away, the entire process would fail.

Sanjay exhaled slowly, steadying his nerves.

The first batch of 100 fighters stepped onto the battlefield, their movements tense, eyes scanning the arena filled with deafening cheers. The air vibrated with excitement, and the audience roared in anticipation.

A voice boomed through the speakers.

"Place your bets! Choose the fighter you believe has the highest chance of survival!"

On the massive screen above the stadium, real-time odds appeared next to each fighter's name. The numbers flickered as the bets poured in, adjusting the payouts for each potential winner.

In the VIP section, the Gatekeeper leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at his sons. "Let's have some fun, boys."

Without hesitation, he placed 1 billion quarks on a fighter.

Veer chuckled, shaking his head. "Father, you're about to lose that money," he said confidently, pointing toward the screen. "My best fighter is in this round."

He gestured toward a massive man covered in gleaming metal plating—Neon.

The odds reflected his strength. His payout stood at 1:2, meaning he was heavily favored to win. The betting trends showed that many others shared the same confidence.

The Gatekeeper raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Even Raghav, who had been watching in silence, furrowed his brows at the revelation.

"Oh?" their father mused. "Looks like I underestimated you, Veer. This just got interesting."

Raghav remained quiet. I'll wait for my fighter's turn. But as his gaze lingered on Neon, a knot of doubt formed in his stomach. Can anyone in my lineup actually defeat him?

For now, he chose not to place a bet.

Veer, noticing his hesitation, smirked and casually placed 100 million quarks on Neon.

The rules were brutal but simple. No firearms. However, body augmentations blurred the line between man and machine, allowing fighters to wield terrifying strength. Even those without attack-based enhancements carried weapons—swords, hammers, knives, and more.

The countdown flashed on the screen.

3… 2… 1…

A deafening horn blared.

The Battle Royale began.

Chaos erupted as the fighters lunged at one another. Blades clashed. Bones cracked. Blood sprayed.

And just like that… the killing started.

The arena turned into chaos. Blood splattered, weapons clashed, and screams echoed through the battlefield. Neon stood like a giant in the storm, his blood-red eyes scanning for his prey.

A fighter charged at him with a massive hammer, swinging with all his strength. Neon barely moved—he grabbed the hammer mid-air and crushed it with his bare hands. The fighter's eyes widened in horror before Neon grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground. The impact cracked the floor, and the fighter's body twitched before going still.

Another group saw this and attacked together. One swung a blade reinforced with vibrating edges, another aimed with a whip that crackled with energy, and the last one wielded steel claws attached to his arms. Neon grinned. This was getting fun.

With a burst of speed, he caught the blade mid-swing and shattered it in his grip. The fighter screamed, clutching his broken weapon, but Neon showed no mercy—he grabbed his arm and tore it off with brute force. Blood sprayed everywhere as the man collapsed in agony.

The whip user tried to entangle Neon's legs, but Neon yanked the whip, pulling the fighter toward him. A knee to the chest sent the fighter flying like a broken doll. He hit a wall and didn't move again.

The claw user was smart. He backed away, realizing he stood no chance. But Neon didn't let him escape. With a single leap, he covered the distance and crushed the man's skull with his fist. One punch. One kill.

The crowd watching the battle screamed in excitement and fear. Fighters hesitated before attacking Neon, realizing the monster they were up against. But hesitation was weakness.

Neon grabbed an abandoned axe, its blade humming with energy. A group of fighters tried to take him down at once. He laughed and swung the axe. Limbs flew. Heads rolled. Blood painted the battlefield.

More and more fighters fell. The ground became slippery with blood and bodies. In just a few minutes, Neon had turned the battlefield into a graveyard.

At last, only one opponent remained. A warrior with a body reinforced by layers of metal plating. He was strong, his fists like battering rams. But Neon was stronger.

The warrior charged, throwing a punch that could shatter concrete. Neon caught it with one hand. The force made the ground beneath them crack, but Neon didn't even flinch. With a grin, he tightened his grip, crushing the warrior's metal fist like paper. The warrior roared in pain.

Neon yanked him forward and slammed his knee into the warrior's stomach. The metal plating bent inward. Ribs shattered. The warrior gasped, blood spilling from his mouth.

With one final move, Neon grabbed his opponent's head and twisted it. A sickening snap.

The warrior's body dropped lifelessly.

Neon won this round. 

Seeing this, a smile appeared on Veer's face, while worry crept onto Raghav's. If Veer's fighter won today's tournament, their father's favor would surely shift toward him.

P.S.: Hi everyone, author here! Please check out my new novel as well: I Carry a World in the Zombie Apocalypse.