Chapter 93: The Predator in the Cage
The heavy iron gates of the courthouse creaked open, and a black armored police van pulled up. The guards didn't handle Ren with any mercy; they shoved him into the back, his chains clanking against the cold metal floor. As the van drove away, the sirens fading into the distance, Ren looked through the small, barred window. He saw the courthouse getting smaller, but his mind was only on one person.
Back on the stone steps, Mr. Go stood with a stack of official documents in his hand. He had just finished the transfer. 20,000 Silver Coins. A fortune for any citizen, but to Go, it was simply a necessary expense for a larger game. He walked toward Hana, who was sitting in her wheelchair, her shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs.
Hana's eyes were swollen and red. "It's all my fault," she whispered, her voice breaking. "He took the blame for everything... 173 deaths... Go, they're going to kill him, aren't they?"
Go sighed, his golden-yellow eyes looking down at her. "Crying is a luxury we don't have right now, Hana. Ren made his choice. He gave you your life back, so the least you can do is not waste it by crying on the street."
He stepped behind her and pushed the wheelchair toward his sleek, black luxury sedan. With a practiced movement, he lifted Hana and placed her gently into the passenger seat. He then grabbed the wheelchair—it was a high-tech model from the Inner City. He pressed a small silver button on the frame, and with a series of mechanical clicks, the chair folded itself into a compact, light square. He tossed it into the trunk (dikai) and got behind the steering wheel.
As they drove through the bustling streets of Athelgard, Hana stared out the window, her reflection ghost-like against the glass. "He's in danger because of me," she repeated.
"Listen to me," Go said, his voice dropping into a serious, commanding tone. "We aren't going to sit around. I'm taking you to your house first to look for any evidence your brother might have missed. Silas is already working on the legal side, but I have a Secret Backup Plan if the court doesn't rule in our favor. Ren is strong, Hana. Don't underestimate a man who has nothing left to lose."
Rollv 13: Block 4 - The Death Row Cell
While Hana was being driven to safety, Ren was being ushered into a part of the prison he hadn't seen before. This wasn't the holding area. This was the "Pit."
The guard unlocked a heavy steel door and pushed Ren inside. To Ren's surprise, they didn't put the handcuffs back on. They just slammed the door shut and locked it. Ren stood there for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the dim, flickering orange light of the cell.
The cell was large, smelling of stale tobacco and sweat. There were four other prisoners already there. In the center, sitting on the only decent bunk, was a massive man. He was a bodybuilder, his muscles bulging through a tattered jumpsuit, his chest covered in scars from knife fights. This was Joni, the undisputed boss of Block 4.
Ren didn't say a word. He walked silently to a far corner and sat down on the cold floor, pulling his knees to his chest. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, to plan his survival for the next Sunday.
But in Rollv 13, silence is seen as weakness.
Joni stood up, his massive frame casting a long shadow over Ren. He walked over, his heavy boots thudding on the stone. Without warning, he reached down and grabbed Ren by the collar, lifting the boy off the ground as if he weighed nothing.
"Look at this," Joni laughed, his voice like grinding gravel. "The guards brought us a toy. Hey, kid, what are you doing in a place like this? Did you steal a loaf of bread? Or did you just look at a noble the wrong way? Tell me your name and your crime before I decide which part of you to break first."
Ren's expression didn't change. His eyes remained hollow, staring directly into Joni's soul. "My name is Ren," he said calmly. "And I'm here for the death of 173 people."
The cell went deathly silent. Joni's smile faltered for a split second before he burst into a loud, mocking laugh. "173? With that skinny body? You think I'm stupid? I've killed five men and I'm the biggest monster in this block. You expect me to believe a brat like you wiped out an entire sector? I hate liars, kid."
"He's not lying, boss," a voice piped up from the shadows. One of the other prisoners, a thin man with a twitchy eye, stepped forward. "I saw the news on the guard's monitor during lunch. That's him. He's the one who attacked the Church of the God of Curses to save his sister. They're saying he caused the plane crash and the fire. 173 deaths. He's the 'Butcher of Sector 7'."
Joni's grip on Ren's collar tightened. He felt a surge of jealousy. In the world of criminals, a "kill count" is status. If Ren really killed 173 people, he was technically the "King" of the prison.
This brat thinks he can come in here and be a hero? Joni thought. I'll show him that numbers don't matter when I'm crushing his skull.
Joni let go of Ren, pushing him back, and then signaled to one of his lackeys. "Test him. Let's see if those 173 people died because of him, or because of luck."
A lean, scarred prisoner stepped forward, a cruel grin on his face. He wound up a massive punch and lunged at Ren's face.
Ren didn't flinch. Just as the fist was an inch from his nose, Ren's hand moved like a blur. He caught the punch in mid-air, his fingers locking around the man's knuckles like iron clamps. The prisoner's eyes widened in shock—he couldn't move his arm.
Ren stood up slowly, his height almost matching the attacker now. With a swift, brutal motion, Ren delivered a counter-punch straight to the man's jaw. CRACK. Before the man could fall, Ren grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head down, and drove his knee into the man's face with devastating force. The prisoner collapsed, unconscious and bleeding.
The other two lackeys hissed and prepared to jump in, but Joni stepped forward, placing a massive hand on their chests to stop them. He looked at Ren, his eyes now filled with a dark, twisted respect—and a lot of rage.
"You've got some fat on you, kid," Joni growled, cracking his neck. "You think hitting a subordinate makes you a big man? You want to fight? Fine. But if you lose to me, your 173 deaths belong to me now."
Ren wiped a drop of the other man's blood from his cheek. He didn't want this fight, but he knew that in this cage, you either eat or get eaten. He centered his gravity, his Fane-energy simmering just beneath the surface.
"I don't care about the numbers," Ren said, his voice ice-cold. "I just want to make sure I'm alive by Sunday. So if you're going to move... move now."