Shinchon Colosseum
Deep in the streets of Shinchon stood a building that resembled a colosseum.
It was tiny compared to the real thing, but at least its exterior was strikingly similar. That was why people called it the Shinchon Colosseum.
And just like the original, there was an arena inside.
"Woooaaah!"
"Kill him!"
Roars erupted from within the arena.
Hundreds of spectators had gathered to watch the fight.
"Fuck!"
"Uwaaaah!"
Under everyone's gaze, two men were battling it out.
Both were ordinary folk, far from Awakened.
Yet they swung their weapons at each other with demonic fury. They were already covered in serious wounds. Still, neither backed down—they were hell-bent on killing one another.
The crowd watching these two grew feverishly excited.
In the isolated top seat of the stands sat a single man.
A black man wearing a frayed baseball cap and sunglasses.
His forearms were as thick as a woman's torso, and his sturdy frame evoked a log.
He had his feet propped up on the seat in front, chewing gum with loud smacks.
This was Goran, the ruler of Shinchon.
Goran's father had come to Seoul as a student a century ago.
He'd planned to return to his Kenyan homeland after finishing his studies, but the world had changed in the worst possible way.
All transport back to Kenya vanished.
Stuck in Seoul, he ended up having Goran late in life.
These days, races mixed freely, but back then, Koreans and other Asians dominated.
Discrimination was inevitable.
Goran's father endured it while raising his son.
Watching his father, Goran naturally harbored a venomous grudge.
The grudge-filled boy grew up to become Shinchon's overlord.
Goran bellowed loudly.
"Hey, put some effort into it! This is about your families. Loser gets their whole family wiped out. Heh heh!"
The two fighters flinched at his voice.
Both owed Goran debts they couldn't pay, so they'd been dragged here.
The loser's family would all die too.
That's why they fought like cornered beasts.
Goran laughed as he watched their desperate struggle.
"Heh heh! Nothing beats watching these worthless fucks fight."
Fights between Awakened or skilled combatants ended too quickly to be entertaining.
That was why Goran threw debtors into the arena.
With their families' lives on the line, they'd fight to the death no matter the cost to themselves. That thrilled the crowd.
"Keurk!"
The fight ended with the loser's dying scream.
A knife was buried in the loser's chest, and the victor lay collapsed, gasping raggedly.
"Huff! Huff!"
The victor's face was smeared with tears and blood.
There was no joy of victory on it.
Relief at surviving mixed with guilt over the man he'd killed, twisting his features into a wretched mask.
Goran stood, asking a subordinate nearby.
"How many in the dead guy's family?"
"Two men, three women."
"Kill all the men. Send the women to the brothels."
"Yes, sir!"
The subordinate bowed and withdrew.
Then—
A neatly dressed man with a neat ponytail approached Goran.
It was Iton, one of Goran's trusted lieutenants.
He bowed his head.
"Boss!"
"What?"
"A guest is here."
"Who?"
"Me."
From behind Iton emerged a massive figure rivaling Goran's own bulk.
The moment Goran saw his face, his expression crumpled like paper.
Crocodile-rough skin, tattoos covering his face, and glaring yellow eyes.
Features impossible to forget.
There was only one man in the slums with such traits.
"Crocker? Didn't we agree never to meet again?"
"We did."
"Then why crawl out?"
"Circumstances changed."
"If you can't convince me, you won't make it back underground."
Goran rose and approached Crocker.
His comparable build and immense pressure radiated naturally.
The two glared at each other from so close they could feel each other's breath.
Crocker growled at Goran.
"I need a mana generator."
"I gave you info on one just days ago."
"You did!"
"And?"
"Failed to secure it."
"Failed? Fuck! I even gave you the transport route, and you failed to snatch it? You call that shit an excuse?"
"……."
Crocker bit his lip instead of arguing.
There was no room for excuses.
Goran and Crocker had a symbiotic relationship.
Crocker supplied Goran with drugs; Goran paid with cash or info.
Crocker's drugs were top-quality, high-demand. They made bank.
That was why Goran partnered with him.
Goran demanded.
"What happened?"
"The owner's owner tracked us."
"The owner himself?"
"The snatch spot was near his place."
"So you got punked by the owner?"
"At least C-rank strength."
"Ha! That's your excuse? Even if it was B-rank, you should've handled it. What if our connection gets exposed?"
"Won't happen."
"Fuck! You dumb bastard!"
"Watch your mouth."
"Watch it? That's rich coming from the fuckup. I risked pulling info from Dokkaebi Market for this."
"Give me info again, and I'll double the drug supply."
"What if I can't?"
"I'll go to Dongdaemun."
"Ha! Now you're weighing me against Yohan?"
Goran glared with bloodshot eyes. But Crocker's yellow gaze didn't waver.
There was no loyalty or bond between them.
Just business.
No profit? Cut ties and move on.
"Kah! Ptui! This is why I can't trust you underground rats. Ha! No loyalty!"
"Get me the mana generator, and our bond stays tight."
"Keep your promise, croc fuck."
"Don't worry."
At Crocker's assurance, Goran eyed Iton.
"Got any spare mana generators?"
"Not even Dokkaebi Market has extras, far as I know."
"Fuck! So that guy's got the only one? And he's that strong?"
As far as he knew, Crocker was a C-rank martial Awakener.
Low rank, but no slouch.
Especially in underground fights, where no sunlight reached—he was unmatched; even Goran yielded there.
Yet Crocker got robbed by someone who tracked him underground.
Proof the tracker was exceptional.
"Definitely C-rank or higher."
"And this guy's been squatting in my turf without permission?"
Goran's eyes flashed behind his sunglasses.
C-rank-plus Awakened were rare.
They preferred Neo Seoul's glamour over rundown slums.
Few chose slums when they could live clean in the city.
Slum-dwellers were mostly those barred from Neo Seoul for some reason.
Goran was one; so were his lieutenants.
Too many crimes from a young age.
They'd long given up on the city, aiming to conquer the slums instead.
That took capital.
Much of it came from Crocker and his Crocodiles.
Their drugs were unique, irreplaceable.
Couldn't ditch that.
Goran told Iton.
"You'll go see him."
"Negotiate? Or steal?"
"Meet and judge."
"Got it."
"And if possible, recruit him. C-rank's a solid asset."
"Yes, sir!"
Iton bowed.
He wasn't just a secretary.
A powerhouse rivaling action captain Dolkhan, and sharp too.
Iton would handle this cleanly.
＊＊＊
"Slurp!"
Zeon slurped his gukbap noisily.
The mystery beast meat made it delicious.
Today wasn't Clexy's stall. He'd frequented it at first, but now tried others more.
Zeon finished the bowl, set money on the table, and stood.
"Thanks for the meal."
"Come again."
"Sure!"
Despite the owner's gruff reply, Zeon kept smiling.
His simple joy: night market strolls for good eats.
Otherwise, he lounged at home, jobless.
Never bored.
No time in his life had been this fun.
After years of brutal survival, this peace felt perfect.
Zeon hoped it'd last forever.
"Rookie!"
Suddenly, Clexy's voice rang out.
Calling to Zeon passing his stall.
Zeon stopped and looked.
"Yeah?"
"You hit other spots more these days?"
"Gotta mix it up or get sick of one place."
"Not saying mine sucks, right?"
"It's decent."
"That's high praise. Even Neo Seoul insiders couldn't match this."
"Probably."
"You're mocking me! I'm serious."
"Yeah, yeah!"
Clexy glared at Zeon's half-hearted reply, but Zeon stayed bored-looking.
"You brat! Deflating my mood while I'm talking…"
"Can I go now?"
"Sit a sec. Got something to say."
"What?"
"Sit first."
Zeon sat reluctantly.
"What's up?"
"You gonna keep lounging forever?"
"Why?"
"Why? 'Cause there's work!"
"What kind?"
"Interested?"
"Send me off if not?"
"You brat, deflating…"
Clexy shot Zeon a dirty look.
"So, what is it?"
"Wanna do a gig?"
"What gig?"
"Delivery."
"Delivering what?"
"You gotta take it once you hear."
"Then pass."
Zeon stood without hearing more.
He didn't know Clexy well, but knew he had minions.
Coming to him meant top secrecy or no ties to Clexy.
Mess up, and he'd be the fall guy.
No upside.
Zeon said.
"Get someone else."
"Hey!"
"I'm out."
Zeon left without looking back.
Clexy clicked his tongue at Zeon's retreating figure.
"Sharp as hell."
It couldn't link back to him. That's why Zeon.
Quick-witted, capable.
Best: disposable if needed.
He'd floated it subtly, but Zeon sniffed it out and bailed.