Death row

Chapter 9

Ronan barely had time to react before the frail man lunged.

A blur of motion—then pain exploded through his ribs. The force sent him staggering, barely catching himself before another hit slammed into his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, trying to counter, but the moment he even thought about moving, another blow came.

It was brutal, Precise and Calculated.

The frail man wasn't just attacking him—he was dismantling him.

Ronan gasped as a sharp strike caught his diaphragm, knocking the breath from his lungs. He staggered, trying to regain his footing, but the next second, his legs were swept from under him. He crashed to the ground, coughing, his vision bluring.

He barely pushed himself up when a foot slammed against his chest, pinning him down.

"You're pathetic," the frail man muttered, his voice laced with disappointment. "I expected something better from the man Nathaniel recommended himself."

Ronan clenched his jaw, frustration burning inside him. He couldn't land a single hit. The frail man didn't even use any abilities—just pure skill. And yet, Ronan was completely outmatched.

A slow clap echoed through the field.

"That's enough," Nathaniel's voice rang out smoothly.

Immediately, the frail man stepped back, the pressure on Ronan's chest easing.

Nathaniel strolled forward, hands in his pockets, eyes lazily scanning the scene before settling on Ronan's battered form. His gaze held amusement.

"What happened?" he asked, tilting his head.

The frail man scoffed, placing his hand nonchalantly in his pockets. "He isn't fit. He's too weak to join my squad."

Nathaniel smirked. "Then why don't I show you something interesting?"

Ronan barely had time to process his words before a deep clank echoed through the space.

The ground vibrated beneath him. Then, with a mechanical whirr, massive iron gates ascended from the ground, surrounding the area like an arena. The clang of metal locking into place reverberated through the air, sealing them in.

Ronan pushed himself to his feet, his heart pounding.

Nathaniel turned to him, his smirk widening. "Ronan, this is your first test. I've noticed something... your power only seems to unleash when you're in real danger."

His eyes gleamed with amusement.

"So get ready, because you're about to be."

He raised a hand.

"Bring them in."

The heavy doors at the far end of the arena groaned open. Chains rattled.

Three figures emerged—towering, broad-shouldered men with thick scars lining their bodies. Their hands were cuffed, but even restrained, they radiated pure violence.

Death row prisoners.

Ronan's stomach twisted as realization sank in.

Nathaniel gestured lazily at them. "These men were set to be executed. But we made a deal—if they defeat you, they walk free."

His smirk darkened.

"So Ronan, it's a fight to the death. Show us what you've got."

The prisoners' chains were unlatched. The moment they were freed, one of them—an especially massive man with a jagged scar running down his cheek—cracked his knuckles, grinning.

"Let's make this quick," he mocked. "Just give up now, and I'll make your death easy."

Ronan's jaw tightened.

He knew what kind of people these were. Murderers. Butchers. And yet, the ones playing with human lives right now weren't just them—it was Nathaniel's faction. They treated this like a game. His life was just another bet to them.

Had he made a mistake coming here?

The prisoners moved forward, their steps slow, deliberate, taunting.

Then—

A wave of bloodlust crashed over him.

His chest tightened. His heart pounded. The System reacted instantly.

Ding!

[THREAT DETECTED]

[Activating code survival protocol]

[TARGETS: 3]

[Time limit: None]

Ronan sucked in a sharp breath as something inside him snapped.

His vision sharpened. His muscles tensed, a dark energy surging through his veins. Then,

The change happened.

A pulse of raw power erupted from him. His irises flared an unnatural, glowing blue. A swirling black aura coiled around his body like smoke, shifting and writhing as if alive.

Everything felt clearer. Stronger. Faster.

The prisoners, who had been advancing confidently, froze.

Their smug expressions twisted into hesitation. Their hands trembled.

It wasn't just fear. It was instinct.

Somewhere deep inside, their bodies recognized what stood before them.

A predator.

Something stronger.

Something they shouldn't provoke.

Ronan stepped forward, tilting his head slightly. His voice was eerily calm.

"What's wrong?"

He lifted a hand, flexing his fingers, feeling the surge of energy coursing through him.

"You said 'let's make this quick,' didn't you?"

A cold smirk played at his lips.

"Then shouldn't you attack me already?"

The prisoners exchanged uneasy glances. Their bodies were tense, rigid, as if something primal inside them refused to move.

Ronan took another step forward, his dark aura rippling like smoke. The moment his foot touched the ground, the scarred men flinched.

A second ago, these men had been eager to kill him. Now? They hesitated.

Ronan narrowed his eyes. "Hesitating now?"

One of the man snarled, shaking off his nerves. "Tch, quit acting tough!" He lunged first, his fist swinging straight for Ronan's face.

Ronan didn't dodge.

His hand snapped up, catching the incoming punch mid-air. The impact never reached him. Instead, the moment their skin touched, a surge of raw strength ripped through the prisoner's arm.

Crack!

The scarred man's eyes bulged as his wrist snapped backward with unnatural ease. A choked scream tore from his throat, but before he could react, Ronan twisted his grip—

And hurled him.

The massive man was flung like a ragdoll, his body slamming against the metal gate with a sickening clang. He crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain.

The two remaining prisoners took a step back, their confidence vanishing.

"What the hell…" one of them whispered.

The other clenched his fists, trying to suppress his nerves. "Don't be scared! He's just bluffing—"

Ronan moved.

In a blink, he closed the distance, appearing in front of the man mid-sentence.

His hand shot out, gripping the prisoner's throat.

A wheeze. The man's eyes widened in pure terror as Ronan lifted him off the ground with one arm. His legs kicked helplessly, his fingers clawing at Ronan's grip, struggling for air.

"You were saying?" Ronan asked, his voice low, almost curious.

The prisoner let out a strangled gasp, his face turning red. He flailed wildly, trying to break free.

"Pathetic," Ronan muttered.

With a flick of his wrist, he slammed the man into the ground. The impact sent a tremor through the floor. The prisoner convulsed before going completely still, blood pooling around him.

Silence.

The last remaining prisoner stood frozen, his entire body trembling. He looked at his fallen comrades, then back at Ronan. His breath came in short, panicked bursts.

And then—

"I-I surrender," he stammered. "Please, I don't wanna die!"

Ronan's expression didn't change. He took a slow step toward him.

The prisoner collapsed to his knees, bowing his head. "P-Please, have mercy!"

Ronan loomed over him, watching the way his shoulders shook, the way his lips quivered.

Just minutes ago, this man had been ready to kill him without a second thought. But now, he was nothing more than a sniveling coward, begging for his life.

The sight disgusted him.

His fingers twitched.

The dark aura around him flickered, his System pulsing with an unspoken command.

Kill.

End him.

Finish the job.

Ronan clenched his jaw. His breathing was heavy, his blood thrumming with power.

It would be so easy. Just one strike. One movement.

But—

Is this really me?

The thought slashed through the haze of his instincts, making him hesitate.

A low chuckle snapped him out of it.

"Interesting," Nathaniel murmured.

Ronan turned, his glowing blue eyes locking onto him.

Nathaniel stood there, arms crossed, his smirk wider than ever. "That was quite the transformation, wasn't it?"

Ronan's aura flickered again, his chest heaving as the last remnants of his System's influence began to fade. The dark energy around him receded, and his irises returned to normal.

His hands were shaking.

The final prisoner, still kneeling before him, was alive. Barely.

Nathaniel let out a slow exhale, stepping forward. "See?" He turned toward the frail man, who had been watching the fight in silent observation. "Told you he wasn't weak."

The frail man's expression was unreadable. He didn't speak, but something in his eyes had changed.

Nathaniel glanced back at Ronan, his smirk still in place. "Welcome to your first lesson, Ronan." He gestured toward the defeated prisoners. "You're either the predator… or the prey."

Ronan stayed quiet. His body ached, his mind racing.

He wasn't sure what disturbed him more—the fact that he had won so easily…

Or the fact that, for a brief moment, he had wanted to kill them too.