The crowded streets of the city were alive with a chaotic buzz, the murmur of the crowd blending with the sharp clink of metal and the heavy thud of fists on flesh. The underground arena was a pce where survival was the only rule. And Aira knew that better than anyone.

  She stood in the center of the ring, her breath steady despite the chaos around her. Sweat dripped from her forehead, the sharp sting of her test cut still fresh on her side. But none of it mattered. Not the pain, not the blood, not even the audience's wild shouts urging her to finish it.

  Her opponent—a hulking brute nearly twice her size—was stumbling, clearly exhausted. He had underestimated her, and now he was paying the price. With a swift movement, Aira darted forward, nding a perfect strike to his midsection. The crowd roared as he crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.

  The referee stepped forward, his voice barely audible over the noise. “Aira is the winner!” he shouted, raising her hand in victory.

  Aira didn’t celebrate. She didn’t need to. Money changed hands in the crowd as bets were settled, and a few of the spectators called her name, their respect more fleeting than a moment's notice. She wiped the blood from her lip, eyes scanning the crowd for her next challenge. She wasn’t in a rush. The crowd from the arena had already dispersed, but she knew the real confrontation was still ahead. The shouts and noise of the audience echoed for a moment as she exited the arena, but they quickly faded into the narrow, dark alleyways where the real “business” would be conducted.

  As she made her way through the alley, the sound of footsteps behind her grew louder. Turning slightly, Aira saw the arena leader emerge from the shadows, fnked by two imposing bodyguards. His fingers glinted with the shine of several rge jewels, the winnings from the fight.

  "You think you can walk away just like that?" he sneered, his voice thick with frustration. "You cost me more than you know. Pay up, or things will get ugly."

  Aira’s eyes narrowed as the leader stepped closer, his bodyguards positioning themselves between her and the exit. The leader’s arrogance was palpable, his confidence in his power giving him the courage to approach.

  Her stance shifted, her breath steady as the adrenaline from the fight began to settle. She hadn’t been fighting at full strength. The arena had its rules, its expectations, but she wasn’t here to entertain. No, she had come to show them what it truly meant to mess with the wrong person.

  She closed her eyes for a brief second, focusing her energy. When she opened them again, a faint glow surrounded her pupils—two bright, almost ethereal orbs that pulsed with an intense white energy. Her soul materialized as an aura that began to wrap around her fists. It wasn’t just a fight anymore. It was a dispy. A warning. The atmosphere around her changed. The alley, once full of tension from the fight, fell silent. The leader’s bodyguards, still trying to recover from the shock of her earlier moves, froze in fear. They had seen many fighters before, but nothing like this. This wasn’t just a physical fight—it was something far beyond.The leader, his arrogance faltering, took a step back, his eyes widening. “What? You’re a Soul Materializer? How can this be… here, of all pces?” His voice trembled with disbelief, the reality of the situation sinking in.

  Aira moved like a blur—her speed almost incomprehensible. In an instant, she was behind the first bodyguard, her fist crackling with pure energy. Before the man could even react, she struck, and his body dropped like a ragdoll, crumpling to the ground. The second bodyguard barely had time to register the movement before she was already gone, reappearing on the opposite side of him. Another swift, precise strike, and he, too, colpsed in defeat.

  The alley was eerily still—only the faint thuds of the bodyguards' falls breaking the silence. But Aira’s eyes were locked on the leader now, and his arrogance had vanished.

  The arena leader, who had once stood tall in his position of power, was now trembling uncontrolbly, his eyes wide in terror. He had seen many fighters, but this was different. This was a force beyond his comprehension.

  He stumbled back, his voice barely a whisper as he fell to his knees. “Please... please don’t kill me. I can give you anything you want. Money, power, anything. Just spare me.” His hands shook as he reached out to her, desperate for his life.

  Aira stood there for a moment, watching the man grovel before her, his fear palpable in the air. The bitterness that had been building inside her for so long, the pain of all her suffering, seemed to pulse with the light of her aura. She felt nothing for him, not a shred of sympathy. No mercy would be given.

  Instead, a small, cold smile curled at the edges of her lips as she simply took a step back, her energy still radiating around her like an unspoken promise of destruction.

  Without a word, she turned and walked out of the alley, leaving the leader crumpled on the ground. The world around her was still and silent as the sound of her footsteps echoed in the narrow space.

  Later, Aira walked back to the hideout, which, despite the worn-out walls and barely furnished rooms, was where the four orphans had come to call home. She didn’t have the glowing aura around her anymore; the materialized soul had dissipated as soon as the fight was over, leaving no trace of its existence. The hideout was quiet when she arrived, the only sound being the soft shuffle of her boots on the dusty floor.

  As she entered, the familiar faces of her childhood friends greeted her. There, in the corner of the room, were three other orphans—Rael, the natural leader, and the two others who had been her closest companions in their struggles. The room had always been a sanctuary for them, a pce where they could dream of a future better than the one they had been given.

  Rael, with his sharp gaze and quiet demeanor, immediately looked up from the table where he was studying maps. He had long red hair tied into a high ponytail, and his bck outfit with red details made him stand out even in the dim light of the room. His friendly and confident smile made him the unquestioned leader of their little group. He could tell from the look in Aira’s eyes that something important had happened. “Did it go as pnned?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

  Liora, who had been sitting quietly at the table, her silver-gray eyes scanning a book, stood up as soon as Aira walked in. Liora was always more serious than the others, her long white hair framing her delicate face, with her outfit—a white coat with dark blue details—making her look even more distant. She gave Aira a nod of recognition, her eyes filled with quiet curiosity, waiting for the news.

  Kai, the third orphan and Aira’s closest friend, was the first to react with pure excitement. His messy blond hair and lic and gold clothes made him stand out, his youthful appearance giving him a carefree air. With a wide grin, he rushed up to Aira, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Did you bring candy?!” he asked, his voice full of joy. Despite his pyful demeanor, Kai was only 17, the same age as Aira, but he always had a way of lightening the mood in the room.

  Aira chuckled softly, stepping back from Kai’s embrace. She reached into her bag and pulled out the money from the fight, as well as the jewels from the arena boss. "It's time," she said simply. "We’re going to Iria."

  The others gathered around, the weight of her words settling in the air. This was no longer just about surviving. It was about taking the fight to those who had destroyed their lives.