Chapter 243: "Which Would You Prefer?"

Just as Caio had observed, the security perimeter around the cage was growing stronger by the minute. Cavallo, who had remained near the fencing throughout the match, reacted quickly when he saw the crowd surging forward.

"Call all security here!"

He waved for more guards to join those already stationed around the cage, shouting instructions over the uproar.

"Get every single one of them down here, now! Don’t let anyone near the cage!"

His men hurried to comply, reinforcing the barrier between the spectators and the cage. Anyone attempting to approach was turned back, regardless of whether they were demanding that the fight be stopped or merely trying to get a better view.

Inside the cage, however, the match had deteriorated into something far worse than Cavallo had anticipated. Blood stained the floor in irregular patches around men who lay groaning with broken bones and bleeding wounds.

Of the original fifteen opponents, only three remained standing, and none appeared particularly interested in continuing.

They’d long since stopped thinking about the money they’d been promised. All three stood together on trembling legs, staring at Aren with the horrified expressions of men who had finally understood how badly they’d misjudged their opponent.

Aren took a step toward them.

All three retreated.

"Wait, wait, miss!" one cried, raising both hands. "Look, we admit we didn’t have good intentions coming into this, but we don’t have to end it like this! We surrender!"

"Right! Right!" The man beside him nodded frantically. "We’re tapping out!"

As though afraid she might misunderstand, he dropped to his knees and began tapping the floor.

The third fighter nodded so vigorously that Aren wondered whether he might injure his neck.

"See? We surrender! You can’t attack us now!"

Aren regarded them thoughtfully.

"Well... I understand."

She tilted her head.

"But I can’t leave you all fully capable of fighting while we’re still locked in here. Judging by what’s happening outside, I don’t think they’re planning to let me out anytime soon, and I’d rather not risk being attacked from behind."

She glanced toward the commotion beyond the fencing before returning her attention to the men.

"So, which would you prefer? A wound, a broken bone, or a knockout?"

All three answered without hesitation.

"Knockout!" the first man shouted.

"Definitely a knockout!" the second agreed.

"Just a light one, please!" the third added desperately. "I’ve got chronic headaches!"

Aren nodded, taking particular note of the last request.

"All right. A light one, then. No side effects."

The men barely had time to register that she’d accepted their preferences before Aren moved. She spun into the air, delivering three swift, precisely controlled strikes in succession.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Three heavy bodies struck the floor in rapid succession. Aren landed neatly and straightened, satisfied that none of her fifteen opponents remained standing.

Unfortunately, that didn’t mean she was finished. There was still one other man inside the cage.

She turned toward him.

"Mister Referee."

The referee stiffened.

Aren held up the pocketknife she’d taken from the fighter earlier.

"I believe you brought some things into the cage that you weren’t supposed to bring."

She examined him more closely, her gaze traveling over his clothing before settling on his trouser pockets.

"Ah, I see," she murmured. "You have several more in there."

The referee went pale.

He’d watched this young woman dismantle fifteen experienced fighters with such apparent ease that the idea of denying anything now seemed profoundly unwise. The fact that she still held a bloodied knife made the decision considerably easier.

"Wait! Miss, wait a minute!"

He plunged both hands into his pockets, pulled out the remaining blades, and dumped them onto the floor.

Clink. Clink. Clank. Clank. Clunk.

"That’s everything I brought, I swear!"

He fell to his knees beside the weapons.

"I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t want any of this! I just wanted to make some decent money from this goddamn job! They barely pay me anything! I swear I never intended to hurt you!"

Aren almost felt sorry for the man. She hesitated, mildly uncomfortable with the intensity of his pleading.

"Um... I wasn’t going to hurt you. I was only going to ask you to persuade them."

The referee stared up at her, trembling.

"P-persuade?"

"Of course."

Aren pointed toward the cage door.

"You’re on their side, aren’t you? Could you please speak to those security guards, and perhaps Mister Cavallo, and convince them to open the cage? They don’t seem particularly willing to let me out."

Outside the enclosure, Cavallo had finally realized that not a single one of his fifteen fighters remained standing. The discovery was bad enough on its own, but hearing Aren ask the referee to persuade him to unlock the cage sent a fresh surge of panic through him.

’No! No fucking way!’

His eyes darted toward the referee, who was still kneeling before the girl.

’I can’t let her walk out of there in one piece!’

He grabbed the nearest security guard by the front of his shirt and yanked him closer.

"Where’s your gun?" Cavallo demanded, shaking him. "Hurry up! Shoot her!"

The guard stared at him.

"S-shoot her?"

He glanced toward Aren, then back at his employer.

"W-what do you mean, Boss? I thought we were just supposed to keep the cage locked until the fighters injured her!"

"Fucking look for yourself!" Cavallo shouted. "There isn’t a single fucking fighter left to injure the little bitch! And that useless referee’s about to open the fucking cage! Just shoot her, or we won’t get paid! And if I don’t get paid, neither do you! Do you fucking understand?"

The guard understood the order now, although that did little to make him comfortable with it.

An injury inflicted during a match could be passed off as part of the fighting. Drawing a gun in front of an arena full of witnesses and firing into a cage was something else entirely.

But Cavallo was still gripping his shirt, glaring at him with an expression that made it clear he expected immediate obedience. Reluctantly, the guard reached beneath his jacket.

"Y-yes, Boss."

His fingers closed around the concealed pistol, and he drew it out, turning toward the cage.

Aren had her back to him.

The guard raised the weapon and tried to line up a shot through the gaps in the metal fencing.

His finger settled on the trigger.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three gunshots tore through the noise of the arena, but the guard never managed to fire. The bullets struck around his shoulder in rapid succession, wrenching him sideways before his legs gave way.

"AAAAARGH!"

His pistol slipped from his hand as he collapsed onto the floor. He screamed and clutched at his wounds, writhing in agony as blood spread beneath him.

Cavallo stood frozen beside his fallen guard, staring at the blood and the discarded pistol in utter disbelief. Even the chaos surrounding the cage seemed to falter before the first terrified screams erupted throughout the arena.

"AAAAAAAHHHH!"

Within seconds, people were crouching on the floor with their hands over their heads. Some pressed themselves against the seats or curled beneath the barriers, while others glanced around frantically, trying to locate the source of the gunfire.

It didn’t take long.

Their attention settled on three figures standing farther back in the elevated seating area, each still holding a gun.