The chant below rose again.
“LU-CA! LU-CA! LU-CA!”
It rolled up the stairwell like thunder trapped in a concrete pipe, shaking dust loose from the exposed rafters overhead. The Yard didn’t react the way normal crowds reacted to noise.
No one turned in surprise.
No one asked what was happening.
Instead, heads tilted slightly. Smiles sharpened. Conversations paused just long enough for people to listen, evaluate, and then continue exactly where they’d left off.
Which meant whatever was happening down there wasn’t unusual.
It was expected.
Haley leaned lightly against the railing near the betting boards, eyes half-lidded like she was bored with everything in the room. To anyone watching, Jade looked like talent waiting to see if the stage was worth her time.
But her voice, when she spoke quietly beside me, had lost the lazy edge.
“That name mean anything to you?” she murmured.
“No,” I said.
Sherlock flickered across the inside of my lenses again.
Crowd Chant Recognition:
LUCA / LUCA / LUCA
Database search…
Result: none
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
Interesting.
Not even a street-level match.
Either he was Dangerous… or the kind of person who hadn’t existed in the system long enough to be cataloged.
Below us, the chant erupted again — louder this time, followed by a crash that reverberated through the floor.
Metal against concrete.
Then cheering.
Real cheering.
Not the shallow betting-floor excitement upstairs. This had weight to it. Blood in it.
Haley pushed off the railing.
“Well,” she said quietly. “That’s not a warm-up crowd.”
“No,” I agreed.
Two men in suits brushed past us toward the stairwell. Neither looked like fighters. Too clean. Too careful about their shoes.
Buyers.
One of them carried a slim metal case handcuffed to his wrist.
Sherlock tried to read them.
Subject identification:
Records incomplete
Financial markers detected
Probability: procurement agents
Haley’s eyes tracked them too.
“Market night,” she said under her breath.
“Looks like.”
Another group approached the stairs — this time three men who absolutely were fighters. Their hands were wrapped. Their shoulders rolled loose and ready.
One of them had faint silver scales running along his collarbone where his shirt hung open.
The clipboard guard at the stairwell lifted his hand to stop them.
“Name.”
The fighter rattled something off.
The guard checked his list.
Then stepped aside.
The other guard — the blank one Sherlock couldn’t read — never looked away from the room.
He was scanning the crowd.
Looking for problems.
Looking for predators.
Haley nudged my arm lightly.
“You ready to meet the neighbors?” she said.
I adjusted my glasses.
“Let’s go see what all the noise is about.”
?
The door to the kennel slammed open.
Three men stepped inside.
The handler with the clipboard. The butcher-looking medic. And a third one Luca hadn’t seen yet.
This one was thin.
Tall.
Wrong in a way that made Luca’s instincts shift immediately.
His skin had that pale gray tone some supernatural types carried — not sickly, not dead, just… off. His eyes were dark enough to swallow the light in the room.
He leaned casually against the bars, studying Luca like a man inspecting livestock.
“That him?” he asked.
The handler nodded.
“Dropped Gorrak,” he said. “Round five. Got up from a nine-count.”
The thin man hummed quietly.
“That’ll do it.”
He crouched slightly so he could look Luca straight in the eyes.
“Name,” he said.
“Luca.”
“Last name.”
“Santiago.”
The man smiled faintly.
“You hear that noise out there, Luca?”
The chant rolled through the concrete again.
LU-CA. LU-CA. LU-CA.
Luca didn’t answer.
“You made an impression,” the man continued. “Crowd likes lions.”
He stood again, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves.
“The boss especially.”
The medic shifted beside him.
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“Star blood’s active,” he said quietly. “I can feel it.”
The thin man’s smile widened a fraction.
“Oh?”
He looked back at Luca.
“Then tonight just got interesting.”
?
The guard at the stairwell stopped us with a hand against my chest.
“Access?”
His voice was flat.
Professional.
Haley didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Just let me handle it.
I held up the black token the runner had given us earlier.
The guard took it, inspected it briefly, then nodded toward a metal bowl sitting on a folding table beside the stairs.
“Phones,” he said.
“Don’t carry one,” I replied.
He glanced at Haley.
She lifted her hands slightly.
“No tech,” she said.
He watched us for another moment.
Then stepped aside.
“Rail only,” he said.
“Touch nothing.”
We started down the stairs.
The noise grew with every step.
First the chanting.
Then the roar of hundreds of voices layered on top of it.
Then the sound underneath all of it.
Impact.
Flesh.
Bone.
Concrete.
The stairwell opened into a massive underground chamber carved out beneath the warehouse foundations.
And suddenly the Pit made sense.
The arena floor was circular, surrounded by chain fencing and reinforced railings. The concrete had been stained dark over years of use, patched and repatched where damage had cracked it open.
Above the pit, metal catwalks wrapped the walls in layers.
VIP booths hung like cages near the ceiling.
And surrounding the entire thing…
The market continued.
Betting tables.
Weapon vendors.
Drug stalls.
Bookies screaming odds into microphones.
Men with clipboards cataloging fighters like auction animals.
The air smelled like blood, money, and electricity.
Haley slowed beside me.
“Jesus,” she muttered.
“Yeah.”
Sherlock pulsed again.
Crowd estimate: 400-500
Supernatural presence: moderate
Illegal combat probability: confirmed
Below us in the ring, two fighters circled each other.
One of them was enormous.
Green-skinned.
Tusks.
Gorrak.
Or what was left of him.
He was on one knee.
Trying to stand.
The other fighter stood across the ring, chest rising and falling, sweat and blood streaking down his body.
Young.
Human.
But something about him was… wrong.
Sherlock tried to scan him.
And hesitated.
Subject identification: pending
The crowd began chanting again.
LU-CA.
LU-CA.
LU-CA.
Haley leaned closer to me.
“That our boy?”
“No but, something about him feels different.”
Down in the ring, the fighter lifted his head.
And for the briefest moment…
Mateo felt it.
Not magic exactly.
Not power.
More like a pressure wave moving through the room.
Something waking up.
Something the Pit hadn’t expected.
Sherlock’s display flickered.
Anomaly detected
The chant grew louder.
And somewhere high above the arena…
A man in a dark suit leaned forward in his private box.
Watching.
Smiling.
The chant rolled across the Pit again.
“LU-CA! LU-CA! LU-CA!”
The sound bounced off the concrete bowl of the arena, climbing the walls and shaking the catwalks where bettors leaned over railings with drinks and bloodshot eyes.
Mateo rested his forearms on the rail beside Haley and watched the ring below through the thin reflection of his glasses.
The fighter standing over the fallen orc looked young.
Too young for this place.
His chest rose and fell in sharp breaths, sweat running down his ribs, fists still clenched as if he hadn’t quite realized the fight was over.
Across the ring, Gorrak tried to push himself up.
Failed.
The referee finished the count.
The crowd exploded.
For a moment the noise was so intense the entire underground chamber vibrated with it.
And then—
Belmont gasped.
The sound wasn’t physical.
It was a sharp intake of breath somewhere behind Kain’s thoughts, the way a memory sometimes surprises you before you remember why.
Impossible…
Kain’s posture didn’t change, but his focus sharpened.
“What?” Doc’s voice drawled lazily from the same internal darkness. Did you finally see something interesting down there, old man?
Belmont didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, the voice carried that rare tone Kain had only heard a few times before.
Recognition.
That boy…
Kain’s eyes drifted back to the ring.
The young fighter had lifted his head slightly. For a brief second the arena lights caught his eyes.
Something bright flickered there.
Something that didn’t belong in a place like this.
Belmont’s voice lowered.
Star blood.
Doc chuckled.
Oh good. Another one.
Belmont ignored him.
But not lupus line…
The voice paused again, thinking.
Different constellation… but similar honor thread. Similar resonance.
Doc whistled softly inside Kain’s mind.
Well that explains the fireworks.
Kain didn’t react outwardly. From Haley’s perspective he was just watching the fight like every other bettor leaning on the rail.
Inside his head the conversation sharpened.
What’s a Star Bloodline doing in a pit like this? Belmont muttered.
Doc answered immediately.
Bleeding.
Belmont’s tone hardened.
This isn’t coincidence.
Doc laughed.
Everything is coincidence.
Kain’s gaze shifted to the VIP level.
Three tiers above the arena floor, private boxes overlooked the Pit behind tinted glass and reinforced railing. One of them had movement—someone leaning forward slightly, studying the aftermath of the fight.
Watching Luca.
That boy does not belong here, Belmont said quietly.
Doc snorted.
None of them belong here. That’s the business model.
Kain’s jaw tightened slightly.
Belmont continued.
Star Bloodlines are rare. Ancient. Families built on oaths and honor. The constellation houses do not produce fighters for criminal arenas.
Doc clapped slowly inside Kain’s head.
Congratulations, Belmont. You’ve discovered corruption.
Belmont ignored him again.
If that boy is here willingly, something is wrong.
Doc’s tone sharpened slightly.
And if he isn’t?
Belmont didn’t hesitate.
Then we cannot leave him here.
Doc barked a laugh.
Oh here we go.
Kain finally shifted slightly against the railing.
Below, Luca was being escorted toward a side gate by two handlers.
Doc’s voice leaned closer to the surface of Kain’s thoughts.
You know what would be easier?
Belmont sighed.
No.
Yes, Doc insisted cheerfully. You drop the mask. You rip the place open. Absorb whatever you can absorb, break whoever needs breaking, and walk out stronger than when you came in.
Kain didn’t respond.
Doc continued, voice silky with temptation.
Why play this little farce? Look at them. Criminals, monsters, parasites feeding off blood sport. The world loses nothing if you tear the whole pit apart.
Belmont’s reply came immediately.
And you lose everything.
Doc scoffed.
Dramatic.
Belmont’s tone sharpened.
You remember the Coyote.
That word hit harder than the arena noise.
Doc went quiet for half a second.
Then chuckled softly.
Ah. That.
Belmont pressed on.
You lost control once already. If Kain unleashes the full spectrum of our abilities here, the cost will not be measured in broken criminals.
Doc leaned back inside Kain’s mind.
You’re afraid.
Belmont didn’t deny it.
Doc’s voice turned playful.
Really? Is that what this is?
A beat.
Then the teasing came.
Is that why you’ve been letting him play with that little lightning toy instead of our real talents?
Kain’s fingers curled slightly against the railing.
Doc continued.
All that power sitting there… and you’re scared of it.
Belmont didn’t respond.
Doc’s tone turned mocking.
Tell me, Belmont…
Is that why you’re whispering now?
Because you’re afraid what happens if he actually uses what we gave him?
Kain exhaled slowly.
And ignored both of them.
Haley glanced sideways at him.
“You just got real quiet,” she said.
He nodded toward the arena floor where Luca was being escorted out.
“You see that kid?” he said.
Haley followed his gaze.
“The one who just folded the orc?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She watched him a moment longer.
“Hard to miss.”
Kain lowered his voice.
“We need to talk to him.”
Haley’s eyebrow lifted slightly.
“Why?”
Inside his head, Belmont answered first.
Because his bloodline may be one of the oldest honor houses in existence.
Doc chimed in immediately.
And because Belmont has decided the universe gave him a rescue mission.
Kain ignored both of them.
Out loud he said simply:
“He’s important.”
Haley studied Luca again as the handlers pushed him through a reinforced gate leading into the fighter corridor.
“Getting to him won’t be simple,” she said.
“No.”
The corridor entrance was guarded.
Two enforcers.
Keycard locks.
And a third man checking fighter credentials.
Haley tilted her head slightly.
Then smiled.
“Actually,” she said, “there’s probably only one way.”
Kain already knew what she was thinking.
“Yeah?”
She nodded toward the ring.
“You’re not the only one who noticed something weird about that kid.”
The crowd was still buzzing.
The bookies were updating the odds boards.
And new fighters were already being called toward the preparation cages.
Haley cracked her knuckles lightly.
“If we want access to the fighter holding area…”
Her grin sharpened.
“…then it’s time for me to become a fighter.”
Kain sighed quietly.
Doc perked up instantly.
Now we’re talking.
Belmont groaned.
