The heavy metal door creaked open.
Ryker stepped into the dimly lit room, his footsteps echoing softly on the concrete floor. A dull metallic bracelet clung tightly around his wrist—a suppression band, designed to seal off any magical output. He could feel its weight like a shackle on his soul.
"So this is it," he thought. "No magic. No power. Just me."
Inside the room, four inmates had already taken their places. All wore the same blue prison uniforms, the numbers stitched in bold on their backs:
1770. 0890. 9991. 1006.
They all turned toward him.
Their eyes weren't curious—they were sharp, assessing, as if measuring a threat. A silent tension filled the air, thicker than smoke.
A guard leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, watching with a smirk.
"This one's new," he muttered. "Don't cause trouble, kid. This room isn't meant for soft ones."
Ryker didn't respond. He walked slowly toward an empty spot, sat on the ground, and rested his back against the cold wall.
The prisoners kept staring.
No words were exchanged.
Just silence—and the weight of unspoken rules.
Ryker looked down at the device clamped on his wrist. The glow from the magic seal shimmered faintly.
He closed his eyes for a second.
"So they really want me powerless here. Fine… let's see who lasts longer without power—me or this prison."
The metallic clang of trays echoed through the prison cafeteria, its grey walls stained with the stench of iron and sweat. Prisoners stood in a long line, waiting for their lunch, voices buzzing with murmurs and tension.
Ryker Tensai, now in the dull blue prison uniform marked No. 1770, silently walked to the end of the line. He kept his head low, his expression unreadable.
Around him, conversations stirred like whispers on a storm.
"That's 0021…"
"Shinsei Ryu… the ruler of this place…"
Suddenly, a chill swept through the room. Prisoners began stepping away from the line, clearing a path.
Ryu was coming.
Tall, muscular, with eyes like cold ash and a presence that crushed the room. The moment he appeared, fear spread like wildfire. Everyone—without hesitation—left the line for him.
Except Ryker.
Still at the end, still silent. Still unmoved.
A man barked, "Hey, kid! Leave the line! You deaf?"
But Ryker ignored him. When his turn came, he walked forward calmly, picked up his tray, and took his food.
Shock. Frozen faces. Even the officers stopped moving.
Ryker carried his tray and sat at an empty table—alone—eating without a word.
Nearby, one of Ryu's close men, Higashi, narrowed his eyes.
"I'll handle this guy," Higashi growled.
"No," Ryu said firmly, standing still with arms crossed. "Watch."
Another prisoner approached Ryker and sat beside him.
His number: 0890.
"You must be new here," the man said, chewing gum casually. "Rule's simple. If Ryu is around, no one stands in line before him."
Ryker didn't look up. "I don't care."
The man blinked. "…You got guts."
"I'm Kujo," the prisoner finally said, offering a slight grin. "You've got some balls doing that in front of Ryu."
Ryker continued eating.
"Tell me," he said between bites. "Who is this Ryu?"
Kujo leaned back in his chair. "He came last year. Beat every top guy here. Even the officers won't touch him. Now, he's the king of this place. Everyone bows—or they get broken."
Ryker finished his food, stood up, and walked away to wash his hands and plate, silent as ever.
From afar, Ryu watched.
Unsmiling.
Unmoving.
Unimpressed—but curious.
The prison ground stretched wide under a grey sky, enclosed by towering fences crowned with barbed wire. A single hour of freedom—that was all they were given each day.
Ryker Tensai sat quietly on the edge of the rusted volleyball net, arms resting on his knees, eyes scanning the chaos around him.
"So... all of these people are criminals," he thought.
Laughter erupted from the other side of the field.
There, under the broken shadow of a leaning tree, Ryu lounged like a king, a smug grin painted across his face. Around him, his circle of loyalists laughed, cheered, and placed loud, messy bets.
"Hurry up and place your bets!" Higashi shouted, waving a wad of cigarettes. "Hey, Ryu, who you betting on?"
Two prisoners stood in a makeshift ring, their shirts off, knuckles bruised, circling each other like beasts. Blood already stained the sand beneath their feet.
Ryu smirked, tilting his head. "Hmm... Left guy. He's got more killer instinct."
The crowd roared.
From the edge of the chaos, a desperate officer stormed toward Ryu. His badge trembled in his hand.
"Ryu! Stop this madness! I'll be dismissed from my post if this continues!"
Ryu didn't even look at him.
"Ayhh… I don't care," he said casually, waving the officer off like a fly.
The officer froze, helpless.
The crowd cheered again as a brutal punch landed in the ring. No one tried to stop the fight. The prisoners weren't watching to end violence—they were savoring it.
Ryker narrowed his eyes.
"This... this doesn't feel like a prison. It's a playground for monsters."
His fingers clenched slightly against the net.
A loud buzzer echoed across the yard.
"Time's up! All prisoners, return to your cells!" the loudspeaker blared.
The officers moved in, barking orders. But when they approached Ryu, their tone changed.
"Please, Ryu-san… it's time to go back," one of them said, bowing slightly.
Ryu laughed, finally standing up.
"Fine, fine. You don't have to beg so hard."
He stretched lazily, then turned back toward the prison building, followed by his gang.
Ryker stood slowly from the net, his gaze locked on Ryu's back.
"That guy… he's ruling this place like it's his kingdom. But I didn't come here to bow."
The room was dark, but far from quiet.
Heavy breathing. A loud snore. Another groan. One prisoner even talked in his sleep.
The flickering yellow light bulb overhead cast eerie shadows on the cracked ceiling.
Ryker lay still on his cot, arms folded behind his head, staring upward.
He hadn't slept a second.
Not because of fear—he wasn't scared of these criminals.
But the noise. The heat.
The mosquitoes that buzzed endlessly around his ear.
The stench of unwashed bodies and metal and regret.
Ryker clenched his jaw.
His eyes didn't close. They burned with memory.
Hinata's crying face.
Mom sacrifice.
Mom promise.
A whisper broke through his breath.
"Hina… I'll protect you. No matter what."
He slowly raised his hand into the air as if reaching for something just beyond his grasp.
His fingers curled into a fist.
"I won't rot here. I have a plan."
The mosquito buzzed by again.
Ryker didn't flinch.
His mind was moving faster than ever.