“The April tournament of the Chrono-Entropy Corporation’s 2030 branch—the Blood Arena—is about to commence! Stepping into the cage today we have: ‘Rustbone’ Sally, a former military-tech soldier! To treat the bone necrosis caused by his substandard cybernetic implants, he mortgaged 2,777 hours of his lifespan. His record: 25 wins!”
“Next, ‘Flesh Engine’ Marion, a former three-time champion! A catastrophic failure in a gene-modification experiment caused his metabolic rate to skyrocket, forcing him to burn through 48 hours of lifespan every single day. A single strike from his fist can shatter titanium alloy armor. His record: 196 wins!”
“And ‘Ghost’ A’Qiang, a courageous newcomer fighting solely to secure a future for his family’s lifespan reserves! He steps into the ring with a mere 2 hours left on his own clock—can he pull off a miracle against all odds? His record: 1 win!”
Within the heart of the arena, the mechanical announcer blasted the introductions with fanatical enthusiasm. The stadium groaned under the weight of fifty thousand spectators. Every time a name echoed through the speakers, the crowd unleashed a savage, bestial roar. In this colosseum-style cage, it felt as though the ones spilling blood were human, while those occupying the stadium seats were the true monsters.
“And finally, making his debut today—the Chrono-Entropy Corporation’s very own Time Cleaner… ‘Quicksand’!”
Suddenly, the mechanical announcer’s broadcast began to glitch and stutter. The spectators in the stands shifted uncomfortably, their expressions twisting into confusion before a wave of hushed whispers rippled through the stadium.
“Boasting flawless combat prowess, razor-sharp rhetoric, and an unforgettable countenance, he remains entirely undefeated! Placing a wager on ‘Quicksand’ is a guaranteed bet on an effortless victory!”
A lone figure vaulted onto the canvas, raising a megaphone to blast his own praise. The words hadn’t come from the announcer, but from Quicksand himself, deadpanning his own grand introduction before an audience of thousands.
The mechanical announcer’s eyes suddenly flashed a violent crimson: “ID authentication verified—behavioral pattern anomaly—ID authentication verified—behavioral pattern anomaly—”
A frantic group of branch personnel rushed toward the ring, shouting at the production crew below: “Cut the live broadcast! Verify the identity of the fighter on the stage immediately!”
The camera drone droned: “Classified entity detected. Live broadcast severed—”
The audience erupted into absolute chaos. Time Cleaners were legendary figures whose identities were closely guarded secrets; Quicksand was the sole anomaly. While most of the elite aristocrats had never gazed upon his actual face, his notorious reputation preceded him. Though the recording automated to a halt the instant Quicksand materialized, the live crowd had already devolved into utter madness.
Simultaneously, Diamonds’s infuriated voice crackled violently through the Clepsydra resistance’s comms channel:
“I am completely done with this guy! What on earth possessed him to go up there and disrupt the plan?!”
Snow Leopard let out a quiet snicker. “Deadbeat swindler, it’s a rare treat to see you lose your temper like this. What’s the harm? Either way, you guys were deployed as decoys to draw away the security forces. The bigger the scene he makes, the better.”
Diamonds took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down as he coordinated their objectives through the channel: “Remaining assault squads, Team One handle the hijacking of the security drones; Team Two fabricate a breach alarm and take down the firewall.”
Meanwhile, Quicksand was putting on a masterclass on the canvas. Swinging his heavy shovel with absolute precision, he felled opponents with single strikes as if chopping through firewood, drawing a continuous stream of gasps from the stadium. A frantic branch staff member dialed the Director’s terminal, only to realize a massive figure was already standing directly below the ring.
“Director!” the staff member stammered, pointing at the canvas. “Look at the stage…”
“The Cleaner ‘Quicksand’… what brings him to our doorstep uninvited?” the figure chuckled. He was a powerfully built man wearing a boxing headguard and a rich sable coat. His eyes were narrow slits that cast a sinister glint from beneath his lids, his lips perpetually curled upward into an arc resembling a protractor. He was the Director of the 2030 branch—”Monkey Face.”
“We… we have no idea, sir. Whether he is the actual Cleaner ‘Quicksand’ remains debatable, as his facial features are completely obscured…”
“Without a verified system clearance, how did he manage to penetrate the deep interior of our branch?”
The staff member pulled up the authentication logs from the mechanical attendants, his face instantly turning a ghostly white.
“The logs indicate that he cleared the automated protocols… The credentials belong explicitly to Cleaner ‘Quicksand’…”
“A bulletin regarding a stolen identification chip went out across the branches recently. Even if he clears the terminal, it doesn’t guarantee he’s the real deal. Drag him out of the ring for now, then contact the 2035 branch to verify his file.”
Right at that moment, a violent, buzzing swarm echoed from the primary entrance as a literal cloud of copper-clepsydra patterned drones flooded the arena. Before anyone could react, the drones clustered mid-air, deploying a massive, choking cloud of tear gas.
“Where are the security drones?! We’re under attack! This is a raid by the Clepsydra resistance!”
The dense capsicum mist forced tears from the eyes of the screaming spectators as the automated ventilation systems groaned to life to scrub the air. A contingent of Clepsydra resistance fighters wearing heavy gas masks and sporting copper clepsydra tattoos dropped into the arena from above.
In an instant, panic rippled through the massive colosseum. The upper-district elite scattered in every direction, their desperate coughing and shouting blending into a chaotic din. Due to the swelling, frantic human tide, the security drones were completely unable to intercept the resistance fighters effectively, systematically dismantled until their metallic chassis littered the floor.
As the arena devolved into absolute bedlam, the corporate staff panicked. Amid the chaos, Monkey Face merely grinned: “Activate the primary climate controls. Flood the air currents with magnetic dust particles.”
The staff immediately executed the command, and within moments, a heavy cloud of gray powder blanketed the stadium. The propellers of the resistance drones began to spin progressively slower as the magnetic dust clung to their metallic structures, dragging them down out of control.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted.
The crowd surged like a broken dam, bursting through the arena exits. Equipped with thermal-imaging visors, the resistance fighters systematically fired tranquilizer rounds through the dense fog, dropping corporate personnel one by one.
However, a fresh wave of reinforced security drones marched into the ring, forming an impenetrable metallic wall that halted the resistance’s advance. Suddenly, the concrete floor beneath the resistance fighters began to sink, severing their pathway to the upper tiers.
“The structural layout of this facility can alter dynamically! Clubs Cat, have you breached the core server room yet? I’ve already bought us fifteen minutes down here,” Diamonds shouted, vaulting onto the canvas as he tossed a spare gas mask to Quicksand. Though Quicksand’s rigorous training allowed him to withstand the tear gas, his eyes were still heavily bloodshot.
Snow Leopard’s anxious voice crackled over the comms: “Negative! The server room’s defenses are tied directly to the Corporation’s time-leap technology. The encryption algorithms cycle automatically at fixed intervals. Cracking the access keys requires an astronomical amount of time far exceeding standard parameters!”
“It’s up to you, clumsy cat. I’ll find a way to buy us more time,” Diamonds muttered, severing the link without hesitation.
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as a wave of intense, murderous intent locked onto his position. He executed a sharp pivot, barely evading a devastating fist that tore through the air from behind!
Quicksand sharpened his focus, raising his shovel as he stepped up to flank Diamonds. A massive figure had materialized on the canvas—a colossal man wearing a boxing headguard and a rich sable coat, his muscles shifting like carved stone. He stared at them with a narrow, smiling gaze, presenting an image that resembled an ape’s head grafted onto a tiger’s torso.
Diamonds offered a sharp grin. “Well, if it isn’t the Director of the 2030 branch, Mr. ‘Monkey Face.’ We’ve been waiting for your grand arrival for quite some time.”
Monkey Face looked back at him, his small eyes squeezed into thin lines by his grin. “Your grand leader, Anvil, didn’t bother to show up?”
Hearing Hearts’s former moniker, Quicksand flinched. Diamonds’s playful expression vanished, replaced by a freezing glare.
“And here I thought he would harbor a bit more sentiment for our branch. After all, the Corporation spent an absolute fortune to groom a superstar of his caliber,” Monkey Face mused, casting a glance toward the perimeter of the colosseum. Trapped behind the line of mechanical guardians, the resistance fighters had failed to liberate the slave cages, leaving the captives staring out at the chaos in sheer terror. “He was once an occupant of those very cages, crawling out from the absolute gutter, stepping over a sea of blood to claim the crown of the King of Boxers. Even after all these years, no one can forget the absolute brilliance he displayed. In layman’s terms, this place is essentially his ‘ancestral home.'”
“Our leader has absolutely no need for a blood-soaked home like this.”
“Indeed, he doesn’t—because that star of yours has long since crashed and burned. This is the year 2030, and the era belongs to the new King of Boxers… namely, myself, Monkey Face!”
Suddenly, a grotesque smirk split across Monkey Face’s features, his lips stretching almost to his ears. He bared his heavily veined forearms, showcasing a metallic combat gauntlet integrated with circuitry that pulsed like living blood vessels, centering a holographic screen displaying his lifespan reserves.
Diamonds’s posture turned exceptionally rigid; it was the first time Quicksand had ever witnessed the trickster looking so dead-serious. Monkey Face took a single stride forward, unleashing a punch with lightning speed! The strike fractured into three distinct afterimages, launching a simultaneous assault across their high, mid, and low guards. Diamonds and Quicksand combined their strength to parry the blow, but the impact was incredibly heavy and blindingly fast, matching the terrifying power of Hearts himself.
Diamonds whispered sharply to Quicksand: “Watch out! His quantum gauntlets utilize time-leap technology. They compress the three seconds required to execute a punch into a single fraction of a second.”
As Quicksand ducked to evade the follow-up strikes, he realized this was precisely the insurmountable technological chasm Diamonds had warned him about—the divide between the lower districts and the corporate elite. While the 2030 branch paled in comparison to the Corporation’s higher echelons, their mastery over temporal technology allowed them to forge an unbridgeable gulf against the lower world.
Dodging another lunging strike, Quicksand planted his foot and rotated his shoulders, his voice completely flat: “In the realm of combat, absolute speed breaks all forms of mastery.”
Diamonds blinked, completely bewildered. “Huh?”
“It means I am going to strike him at three times his speed,” Quicksand deadpanned.
Monkey Face’s narrow eyes widened in shock as he watched the youth in the traditional black coat charge directly toward him. The heavy shovel transformed into a blur of dark shadow in Quicksand’s hands, snapping forward like a predatory dragon! Transcending the constraints of standard time and space, the strike was blindingly fierce and possessed the force of a thunderbolt.
For a brief, terrifying fraction of a second, Monkey Face felt as though he was staring into the eyes of death itself. Quicksand’s gray eyes were entirely devoid of human emotion, looking down upon him as if inspecting an insignificant insect. As the shovel closed the distance to Monkey Face’s throat, Quicksand murmured softly:
“Your fists pale in comparison to Anvil, the King of Boxers.”
Two inches, one inch—the edge of Quicksand’s shovel was on the verge of splintering Monkey Face’s features. Yet, in that exact microsecond, Monkey Face let out a low snarl, driving his fist forward to intercept the blade! Simultaneously, the lifespan reserves flashing on his holographic screen fluctuated wildly. He had sacrificed 5 minutes of his own lifespan to construct a localized temporal loop, causing the impact of his punch to execute repeatedly within the same space.
Unable to withstand the stress of thousands of consecutive impacts occurring within a single millisecond, the heavy shovel shattered into a shower of metallic fragments. Quicksand’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Capitalizing on the sudden opening, Monkey Face retracted his gauntlet into a bare hand, clamping his fingers violently over Quicksand’s face to slam him brutally against the edge of the canvas. He raised his opposite fist high into the air, the holographic screen flashing an ominous, blood-red glare. Monkey Face’s lifespan reserves were plummeting exponentially—burning through a staggering 30 years of life within a single second!
“You’re right, I don’t match Anvil’s baseline. But this upcoming strike… is a blow that even the legendary Anvil failed to intercept!”
The hairs on the back of Quicksand’s neck stood on end as every instinct screamed of lethal danger. Right then, Diamonds lunged from the flank, discharging three rapid shots from his firearm. However, Monkey Face’s gauntlets possessed the capability to fracture time itself; the lead projectiles were systematically dismantled and ground to dust the moment they contacted his fist, cast away into alternate timelines.
In that single instant, Diamonds threw his entire body weight into a desperate tackle, straining every muscle to pin Monkey Face’s arm. Quicksand locked eyes with him, catching a rare glimpse of absolute panic across the trickster’s features.
This was likely the first time he had ever witnessed the genuine soul hidden beneath the con man’s mask. Quicksand realized he had seen Diamonds smirk with cunning malice, play the fool, act lazy, and display complete indifference—but only this panicked, desperate version of Diamonds felt like a real, flesh-and-blood human being who had stripped away his facade.
Diamonds’s desperate collision failed to alter the trajectory of Monkey Face’s strike. Delivering a brutal elbow counter, the director sent Diamonds crashing to the canvas. Quicksand watched as the world-ending fist closed in on his face—an unavoidable strike that had completely deleted the transit time between execution and impact.
Suddenly, a heavy titanium prosthetic arm smashed into the frame from the flank, striking Monkey Face with catastrophic force!
Monkey Face was launched across the ring, and the seemingly unstoppable fist failed to connect with Quicksand. As Quicksand tumbled onto the canvas, Diamonds scrambled to his feet, spitting a mouthful of crimson blood as he roared:
“Big Brother Hearts!”
The savior was none other than Hearts himself. He was panting heavily, his breathing ragged and uneven, appearing as though he had sprinted across the entire district to arrive at this precise moment, exhausting his remaining reserves to deliver that single, devastating strike. His massive frame stood before them like an immovable aegis, shielding Diamonds and Quicksand behind his back like a pair of fragile fledglings. Turning his head back slightly, Hearts rumbled, “Are the two of you unharmed?”
Quicksand nodded silently. Having never saved a soul nor ever been saved by another in his life, the sensation felt profoundly surreal. Diamonds, however, knit his brows tightly, questioning: “Big Brother, what are you doing here? The assault squad had this sector secured; there was absolutely no need for you to deploy to the frontlines.”
“To let my own brothers spill their blood on the frontlines while I remain safely huddled in the rear—this old man is no coward,” Hearts rasped, gasping for air. “Besides, weren’t the two of you standing on the precipice of death just now?”
Monkey Face lay amid a heap of shattered metallic debris, yet he burst into a fit of mocking laughter.
“Anvil, you actually showed up! To think the legendary superstar who once ruled the blood arena has reduced himself to leading a pack of sewer rats!”
Hearts suppressed the roaring fury threatening to burst from his throat: “And who exactly do I have to thank for that?”
“But you can’t defeat me. That fact was sealed long ago. All those years ago, you failed to withstand this exact punch during our duel, and the outcome remains identical today.” A sinister grin warped Monkey Face’s features, his face resembling crumpled paper as his expressions twisted together. “Take a good look at your own body. You are merely repeating your past failures.”
Diamonds and Quicksand stared at Hearts in absolute horror. In his desperate intervention to shield Quicksand, Hearts had absorbed the full impact of the strike that had cost Monkey Face thirty years of lifespan. The price paid was immense, and the resulting destruction was catastrophic. The temporal fabric surrounding the point of impact had been completely fractured. The stadium lights dimmed violently as if the electrical grid for the entire sector had been instantly severed. Beyond burning through a massive chunk of lifespan, the 2030 branch’s power reserves had been entirely drained in a single second.
Parts of Hearts’s body appeared to have vanished from existence entirely; his silverback gorilla cybernetic arm was severed, and his titanium prosthesis was nowhere to be found. His limbs looked as though they had been fed through a commercial meat grinder, scattered into disjointed components whose cross-sections radiated a surreal, shifting luminescence. Monkey Face stared down at the collapsed, fading giant as if inspecting a piece of broken machinery. Quicksand’s voice turned freezing cold: “What did you do to him?”
Monkey Face offered a pleasant smile. “Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Merely deploying an old tactic. Anvil, your resistance is nothing more than a collection of rotting wood and withered grass—utterly insignificant. Your era has long since turned to ash.”
Turning on his heel, he barked an order to the remaining security drones: “Encircle the resistance fighters! Leave no survivors!”
Diamonds suddenly lowered his voice, muttering into the comms: “Initiate immediate retreat.” Overhearing the command through the channel, Snow Leopard protested frantically: “Wait! I’m on the verge of cracking the core access keys!”
“Find another way to handle your end. I am pulling Big Brother Hearts out of here immediately. He is mortally wounded.”
Hearing the gravity in his voice, Snow Leopard calmed down: “I’ll do everything I can.”
Diamonds shifted his gaze to Quicksand, offering a subtle nod that Quicksand deciphered instantly. Together, the two of them hoisted Hearts’s massive frame over their shoulders, leaping down from the elevated platform. Having absorbed Hearts’s full-power counter, Monkey Face was still unable to scramble to his feet, screaming at the security drones to pursue the fleeing targets. Leaning heavily against the two youths, Hearts managed to choke out: “I’ve… brought trouble to your doorsteps.”
“Given what we’ve been through together, Big Brother has absolutely no reason to speak such words,” Diamonds replied smoothly.
Quicksand added flatly, “Just promise to give me another autograph once we get back.”
Hearts raised his head with immense difficulty, offering a gentle smile. Quicksand had no understanding of what the quantum gauntlet had fundamentally done to Hearts’s physiology; he only knew that the colossal, unbreakable man had been shattered into pieces in a single second. Just as they closed in on the primary exit, Monkey Face’s voice echoed from behind:
“Anvil… you don’t happen to want this back, do you?”
Diamonds halted in his tracks. Hearts turned his head with agonizing slowness, his jaw dropping in sheer horror.
Monkey Face raised his arm, signaling a camera drone to project a floating holographic feed. The image depicted a sterile glass vault containing a pristine, pale arm resting atop a velvet cushion, the severed cross-section radiating a flowing, iridescent glow. It was unmistakably the arm of a young girl.
“Duo… Duo,” Quicksand heard Hearts growl through clenched teeth, a hollow, furious wheeze rasping from his throat.
“Isn’t this the very limb of your daughter that you’ve spent a lifetime hunting for? I went to great lengths to recover it for you out of pure mercy. If you want it back, you need only play a simple game with me,” Monkey Face chuckled, the smile lines on his face shifting together. “A game that we left unresolved all those years ago.”
“A life-and-death duel! The most liberated form of combat within the blood arena circuit! No timers, no constraints—the fighter who terminates their opponent through the most savage means claims absolute victory!” the adjacent announcer drone suddenly barked, projecting a heavily distorted electronic broadcast.
“The duel commences in three days—the grand finale of our monthly tournament. The victor walks away with a luxurious prize package courtesy of the 2030 branch and a full century of lifespan. Secure the win, and you reclaim your daughter’s arm, and I will personally liberate every single slave within this colosseum circuit.”
“You understand clearly that the power gap between your pathetic resistance and the Corporation is the difference between clouds and mud; a frontal confrontation offers you zero chance of survival. Consider this a special benefit extended exclusively to you. As a former King of Boxers, you must be exceptionally intimate with this specific protocol. Though, given your current shattered condition, I highly doubt you’ll even survive until the opening bell, haha!”
“What kind of benefit is that? It’s an overt, lethal trap designed to lure us into a corner,” Diamonds countered coldly.
“Indeed it is. But the compensation is utterly irresistible to your lot, isn’t it? A full century of lifespan alone is abundant enough to elevate all of you into the upper echelons of the Spiral City overnight! As for the reason behind my immense generosity—it’s because your merry band serves as our premier opening act. You see, the moment you crashed our gates, the viewership ratings for the upcoming April tournament broke every record on the charts, didn’t they?” Monkey Face chuckled sinisterly. “You are always welcome to visit our canvas, Clepsydra resistance.”
Facing Monkey Face’s piercing, mocking laughter, Hearts merely whispered to the two youths supporting his weight:
“Help this old man up. Let us return first.”
Diamonds hesitated, wanting to object: “But, Big Brother…”
Hearts shook his head, offering an exceptionally gentle smile: “Let’s go home.”
Where is home? The dwelling where he had lost his wife and where his daughter had been stolen away like a broken doll was already shattered beyond repair—it was no refuge. Instead, the dilapidated, cobbled-together bar shared with Diamonds, Lady Spades, and a colorful crew of patrons felt far more like a sanctuary where Hearts’s battered soul could finally rest. Quicksand asked softly:
“Are we returning to the Poker Bar?”
Hearts turned his face toward him, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“Yes. That place is home. Because it’s where all of you reside.”
