The Challenger
Cain sat hunched forward.
In his hands—a length of rattling chain.
He twisted it between his fingers, as if it weren't a chain,
but a rope spun by fate.
There was no fear in his eyes. No peace, either.
Only that tired, endless recognition.
Chains... A life of chains.
Three years in the mines: stone, blood, hunger.
The brand on his neck—16 19 14. A slave number.
Burn it—it returns.
Cut it off—it stays.
A mark that could never be erased.
He remembered how even in the desert, he wore a hood.
Hiding the number,
as if he could hide from himself.
Now—there was nothing left to hide.
He and Ko'oni barely spoke.
They just sat.
Each in their own silence.
But finally, she asked:
"Cain… did you come to this city to remember?"
He didn't answer right away.
Stared at the floor.
And in that moment—a tremor.
A deep rumble.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Ko'oni pressed herself to the wall.
"An earthquake?.." she whispered.
BOOM.
The ceiling collapsed.
Light burst into the cell.
Stone rained down.
And he appeared.
He didn't enter.
He smashed into the world like a sledgehammer through concrete.
Tall. Massive.
A body carved from stone,
his chest wrapped in red cloth like a second skin.
Arms—unnaturally long, reaching almost to his knees.
Eyes—blazing, electric blue.
He wasn't looking for a target.
He was looking for a fight.
A white haori-cloak flared behind him,
as if even the air was afraid to touch him.
He didn't introduce himself.
Didn't look at Ko'oni.
His eyes were fixed on Cain.
"So it's you... the Challenger?"
His voice rolled like thunder.
Cain didn't move.
Their eyes locked—and the battle had already begun.
Impact.
No wind-up. No warning.
Just a flash—
and a fist like a battering ram.
Cain crossed his arms just in time.
The blow slammed into his block—
and still sent him crashing into the wall.
Crack.
Cain didn't fall.
He stood.
Breathing.
Dust slid from his shoulders.
The beast grunted:
"You'll do."
He charged again.
Chains on Cain's ankles slowed him.
He tried to dodge—but not fast enough.
The hit smashed into him like a train.
CRUNCH.
They crashed through the wall—into the next cell.
There were other prisoners there. Half-dead.
The predator loomed over Cain.
His hand hovered over the white hair,
but didn't touch.
Cain caught his wrist.
Managing to grab only two fingers.
The second fist rose—
Cain jerked to move,
but the shackles held.
Smash.
And he was flying again.
Another wall.
And another.
Until at last—they broke into open air.
Cain hit the dusty ground.
Blinding sunlight scorched his eyes—
he hadn't seen daylight in four days.
The predator raised a fist to finish him—
And in that instant—
a hand.
Thin. Black. Soundless.
A dark figure in a white mask appeared,
as if grown from the very air.
He stopped the strike without effort.
"Ombre," the beast growled. "Don't ruin my fun."
"He is needed by Lord Osher," came the reply.
His voice—cold as ice.
The beast looked at him like a tiger studies prey.
And suddenly—screamed.
AAAAAAAARRRGGHHHH!
The ground shook.
Walls cracked.
Windows shattered.
Cain clutched his ears.
Silence.
The beast lowered his arms. Exhaled.
"You're right. He's needed alive.
Take the girl.
Bring them to Osher."
Ombre gave a small nod.
"He's not broken yet."
The beast laughed. Loud and full-throated:
"You sadistic bastard… Look in his eyes."
Ombre turned.
He stared at Cain.
Cain lay in the dust.
Face—bloody.
Breath—ragged.
Body—scraped and beaten.
But his eyes—
They weren't the eyes of a beaten animal.
It was a look ready to gnaw its way through.
The predator grinned. Wide.
Respectful.
"Ones like him don't break."