Chapter 7: Reaper
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~~~ [START]
Death Bringer had a body-hardening quirk. But that was simply ineffective, because the male testicles have the thinnest skin when compared to the rest of the body. And in terms of sensitivity, they were 20% more sensitive, which only meant more pain. His quirk did allow him to harden his whole body, but the hardness would prove less effective when looking at that specific part of the body.
And another thing, before Ken could split his privates, his template for Mei Mei had again increased from 16% to 28%, an unbelievable leap that only confused Ken with its numbers.
This was an advantage. Because of the percentage increase, his Curse energy manipulation had increased from level 1 to level 2, which gave him the ability not only to use cursed energy with more proficiency but also to imbue it on the objects he held. This meant the scissors he had used were not ordinary, but had up to six times their original strength.
Imagine a knife six times stronger, stabbing at the body's weakest point. Death Bringer's death was simply inevitable.
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Now sitting in an empty white room that had a one-sleeper bed suspended by the corner of its wall, Ken was seated on top of its comfort.
Near him, placed on a neatly arranged coffee table, was some food, its most notable trait being the protein that overfilled its pallet.
This was the Gauntlet, where only three rules applied.
One: after winning a match, you were given a room and a meal to eat as compensation.
Two: each win equaled a night. Fighting every day was compulsory. As long as you won, you could stay, and free food would be issued. If you didn't take part in a match on any given night, you would be kicked out or executed, depending on your corporation.
Three: power is law. Those without it die.
The Gauntlet was the only place that took fighting for survival to a whole other level. And because of its rules, no homeless or drug addicts would even consider participation. It was brutal; too brutal.
Thud!
A knock on the door caught Ken's attention, so he quickly stood up and opened it.
The woman, the one who was earlier responsible for taking him to the arena, stood before him. Her eyes locked directly on Ken, and her dark, tied-up hair matched the color of her newly worn suit. In her hand, she held a box of medicine, and without warning, she stormed in, pushing his figure slightly with her entrance.
"You asked for this," she said, her back still facing him, and her eyes moving around his room as though acknowledging its emptiness. "From now on, I'll be your sponsor." She turned her body and stared right at him. "Don't disappoint me," she said, her words sounding as serious as they always did.
He was bleeding. She hadn't noticed him before, but now he wasn't wearing a shirt, so his scars and previously covered wounds became apparent; they seemed terrible.
Looking at him, she couldn't bring herself to consider him a child, not after what he had done.
She wanted to place the box of medicines on his bed and leave, but his expression interrupted her.
"Some help," he said, awkwardly smiling. "I need stitches." He pointed to his red-bandaged, covered chest.
She sighed after his words, shaking her head slightly and pondering her predicament.
Without a word, she moved to the bed, and he followed. He placed the box down as he took a seat.
Without question, he started unwrapping the bandages that had now dried on his skin. It seemed painful, yet even then, not once did he flinch.
He could feel pain, and she did notice, but this was only because he was grunting as he removed them.
She took out some cotton and started the procedure when he finished.
"Aren't you worried that I can see your face?" she questioned, her hands moving the cotton over his large wounds.
"I'm not trying to hide it," he said. "It doesn't matter."
"Then why wear the mask?" she asked again, her eyes now moving to the white doctor's mask that was carelessly thrown to the floor in the middle of the room. It was dirty, and its face had a smile that was drawn in blood.
"It's intimidating," he replied rather too quickly. And he grunted again, which she mistook for a grunt of pain. "You might already know this," he continued. "The mask is the only reason I was allowed in here." He turned his head to the wall, the one that was closest to the door.
"You can sense him?" She questioned, truly taken aback by what Ken had done.
"I can see him," he corrected. His eyes, although looking forward, seemed too distant.
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It took 30 minutes, and Ken's wounds had all been patched up. His blood no longer proved problematic.
"I'm done," she said, cleaning her hands with a wipe, walking to the door. "Take a bath. You stink," she advised. "Odin."
The door opened as she walked out. And right before it could shut, right before she closed it, Ken saw the figure of Iron Wall, the bouncer who had once let him in.
Thud!
The door obstructed, just as quickly as it revealed.
But he still saw him. He saw him through the baby crow he had stationed in the vent outside his room, far enough for him to know who or what was at the door at any given time.
She had revealed a lot of things in those 30 minutes she used to patch his wounds.
First, her name, which was Meg, and the fact that from then on, she would act as his sponsor.
A sponsorship: a simple term for a person who ensured you survived, at the expense that they made bets and chose who you fought. These sponsors were responsible for supplying most of the things you would need, like weapons, armor, and clothes. He would fight, and she would provide. Simple.
Of course, the money she would make when making those bets belonged only to her, and he wouldn't get shit.
This was the gauntlet, not a charity, not a job.
It was hell. Home of the devil.
Ken knew that the hell he had signed up for was his solution to getting stronger.
He knew the world he lived in; it had too many laws for a power like his own.
A power that gave him strength, with the condition of a pending war.
Pending death.
Reaper.
~~~ [END]
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Join my PT for extra Chapters ~ p*tr-eon name is DUSK_IS_MEE
.Extra chapters available.
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