The air in Kazakhar Prison hung heavy with the scent of stale fear and desperation. Adam's first steps inside felt less like walking and more like sinking into quicksand. The very structure of the prison was a testament to the demons' cruelty: a colossal, cylindrical fortress. From what he'd glimpsed, rows of cells lined the outer circle, all facing inward, towards something he couldn't yet comprehend.
His escort, a pair of hulking demon guards, dragged him through dimly lit corridors until they reached a cell door that slid open with a hiss.
Inside, the cell was cramped, featuring two sets of bunk beds. Three pairs of eyes, belonging to his new cellmates, turned to him as he was unceremoniously shoved inside.
The door slammed shut behind him, plunging the space into semi-darkness.
A small, bald man with a jagged scar bisecting his right eye hopped down from a top bunk.
He had a surprisingly chipper demeanor for a prisoner. "Well, well, looks like we've got fresh meat for the grinder. Welcome to Kazakhar, my friend. I'm Panchenko. And don't worry, the grinder's not as bad as it sounds… unless you're getting ground, of course!" He winked, a mischievous glint in his unscarred eye.
From the lower bunk of the opposite bed, a tall, lanky man with a neat bowl cut and thick glasses peeked out. He wrung his hands nervously. "H-hello. I'm Harry. It's… it's not so bad, sometimes. I mean, it is bad, but… you learn to live with it, sort of."
Adam nodded, still reeling from the events that had landed him here. His gaze then fell on the third man, a hulking figure with a magnificent afro and a skull tattoo stark against his neck. This man sat on the lower bunk closest to Adam, cleaning his fingernails with a shiv made from a spoon. He looked up, his eyes meeting Adam's with an unnerving intensity.
"Jones," he rumbled, his voice deep and confident. "And you?"
"Adam," he replied, his voice hoarse. He found a vacant spot on the floor and slumped down, the weight of his grief and newfound reality pressing down on him.
Panchenko, ever the talker, perched on the edge of his bunk. "So, Adam, you're looking a bit… fresh. First time in Kazakhar, I take it? Must've done something truly spectacular to earn a one-way ticket to this hellhole."
Adam hesitated, then decided honesty was the easiest path. "I killed a demon."
A stunned silence fell over the cell. Harry gasped, dropping a small, intricate circuit board he'd been tinkering with. Even Jones paused his meticulous nail-cleaning, his gaze sharper.
"A demon?" Jones finally broke the silence, a low whistle escaping his lips. "Damn. That's a death sentence, usually. You're lucky to be here, in a twisted kind of way."
Panchenko's grin widened. "Oh, this is going to be good! A demon-slayer, eh? Tell us, what was the glorious act?"
Adam recounted the events, the attempted rape of Elena, his intervention, and the brutal consequences. He omitted nothing, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, as if speaking of a distant memory. When he finished, the silence was different this time, tinged with a grim respect.
"They always say," Panchenko mused, "that only the worst of the worst end up in Kazakhar. But sometimes, it's just the ones who fight back too hard. You, my friend, are one of the latter. So, welcome to Level One: The Darkling Woods."
Adam frowned. "The Darkling Woods?"
Harry, emboldened slightly by the topic, spoke up. "Yeah. See, Kazakhar isn't just a prison. It's… it's a series of arenas. You're lucky to be on Level One. It's the 'easiest'." He gulped. "Every day, from 1 PM to 6 PM, we're forced into the center. That's the 'woods'."
Jones leaned forward, his voice a low rumble. "It's a massive, twisting forest of black trees. Pitch dark, save for the lamps overlooking it. And it's full of mindless monsters. Twisted creatures that just want to tear you apart."
"But," Panchenko added with a dramatic flourish, "they do let us pick a weapon! Anything you want – a sword, spear, bow, axe… whatever you can scavenge or craft. It's supposed to be 'fair' combat practice, to keep us… 'fit'." He chuckled darkly. "More like, to thin the herd."
Adam felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. He'd survived the demons outside, but now he was to be thrown to monsters?
"And that's just the first level, isn't it?" Adam asked, remembering the layout he'd been dragged through.
"You catch on quick," Jones grunted approvingly. "If you survive the Darkling Woods, you have a choice to stay here on level one or go to Level Two: Crimson Lake. That's a boiling red lake with small islands. Full of sea monsters. We're forced to swim it, from 1 PM to 6 PM."
Harry shuddered. "And then Level Three: Scorching Desert. Giant worm-like monsters that ambush you from beneath the sand. Again, 1 PM to 6 PM in that inferno."
Panchenko took over, a gleam in his eye. "And if by some miracle you crawl out of that, it's Level Four: Blazing Hell. Volcanoes, magma, and huge bird-like monsters flying through the smoky air. Another lovely 1 PM to 6 PM stroll."
"And the last level?" Adam asked, a morbid curiosity taking hold.
Jones's expression grew serious. "Level Five: Eternal Darkness. Pitch black. The only light comes from the bioluminescent monsters themselves. You get a torch, but it barely helps. It's where they send the ones who break the most. Or who are just too dangerous to put anywhere else."
A heavy silence descended once more, the full horror of their predicament sinking in. Adam looked at his new cellmates. A funny, witty man. A nervous, brilliant hacker. A strong, confident brawler. And him, a man consumed by vengeance.
"So," Panchenko said, breaking the quiet, a faint smile on his face, "what'll it be, Adam? Sword, spear, bow, or axe? Because sunrise comes early here, and tomorrow… you're going to meet the Darkling Woods."