The ring smells like blood.

  Rell stands shirtless in the dirt pit again, arms bruised, lip split. His leg still limps from last month’s tendon slice. But the goblins don’t care.

  They throw in another beast.

  This one’s new. Bigger than the last — wiry with too many teeth and a tail like a flail.

  The drums pound.

  The crowd howls.

  The gate slams shut.

  [THOUGHTS]

  This never ends.

  Unless I end it.

  The beast rushes.

  Rell ducks the first claw, steps under the second, then spins low — using a modified jiu-jitsu roll to wrap its front leg with his arm.

  The beast stumbles. He climbs its back.

  Elbows rain down — Muay Thai strikes, hard and wild. One hits the jaw hinge.

  The beast rears, slams backward.

  Rell rolls off, recovers into a Wing Chun stance — centerline tight.

  [SPEAKS]

  “…No more.”

  The creature charges again.

  Rell sidesteps — channels his new form — raw instinct + rhythm + rage.

  His fist slams into its side with a sickening pop. Bone cracks. The creature screams.

  He grabs a jawbone shard from the floor.

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  One clean stab.

  It stops moving.

  The goblins boo.

  Rell doesn’t care.

  [THOUGHTS]

  No more shows. No more screams.

  I break out. I burn this place.

  Up on the ridge, a cloaked figure watches silently. Not breathing hard. Staff in hand.

  ---

  PRISON TRAINING MONTAGE – PROGRESS

  - Day 1: Rell memorizes the guard rotation. Two beast-men always slack near the west wall during sundown.

  - Day 3: He sharpens a spoon handle on the rock bed. Hides it inside the floorboard crack.

  - Day 5: Fakes leg pain to get assigned to the waste pit duty. Maps out the tunnel bend by touch.

  - Day 8: Stops eating. Shrinks slightly. Fits through the cell bars easier now.

  - Day 10: Steals rope threads from the guard’s boots — weaves a wrist-bind cutter under his sleeping mat.

  [THOUGHTS]

  Not strong yet. But smart.

  Each piece matters.

  ---

  ESCAPE NIGHT

  He’s ready.

  The guards sleep light. He waits for the third snore rotation.

  Then—

  BOOOOOOM.

  A violent shockwave tears through the ground. The world quakes.

  Screams echo outside.

  His cage door rips off its hinges and slams into the dirt.

  Jarrell bolts. Doesn’t think. Just moves.

  The jungle glows red.

  The beast village is burning.

  [THOUGHTS]

  What the hell happened?

  He sprints toward the screams.

  ---

  He stops.

  Eyes wide.

  The cloaked woman — slender, silent — skates through flame like death on air.

  Her feet don’t touch the ground.

  Beams of light spiral from her staff — each blast hits with surgical precision.

  One goblin lunges.

  She spins, plants her heel, lifts her staff — BLAST.

  His head explodes in light.

  Another tries to flank her — she twists mid-air, throws a sigil that expands mid-flight, slicing clean through three in a row.

  She glides forward, steps onto the air itself, fires another series of elegant, high-pressure bursts.

  [THOUGHTS]

  She not human. Not jungle.

  Something else.

  She lands.

  Only the leader remains.

  The same beast who chained Rell. Who laughed. Who whipped him when he coughed blood.

  He roars. Charges with a jagged axe.

  She walks.

  He swings — she ducks, plants her staff to pivot, and blows his arm off with a light spear.

  He howls.

  She turns. Blasts off a leg next.

  Then the other arm.

  He screams, face contorting in fear now — crawling away, weeping in his language.

  She steps up.

  Her staff twists — the metal spirals and shifts into a scythe.

  She tilts her head.

  [SPEAKS – Cloaked Woman]

  “…I thought you liked torturing the weak.”

  One clean slice.

  His head drops before the echo fades.

  She turns, cloak still hiding her face.

  But her eyes lock with Rell’s.

  Two survivors.

  Watching each other in firelight.