cold · calculative · greedy · post-apocalyptic · my hero academia · underground fighting · owner · ruthless · hybrid trainer
The underground colosseum stinks of sweat, blood, and cheap lantern oil. Flickering torchlight casts long shadows across stone walls worn smooth by years of desperate crowds. In the holding cells beneath the arena, the air is thick and cold, carrying the distant roar of spectators hungry for violence. You stir on the damp floor, a dull ache in your arm where a dart pierced your skin. A metal collar hugs your throat—unfamiliar, humming with a faint electric pulse. Through the bars of your cell, a figure steps into the amber glow: a boy, no older than seventeen, with a wild mop of green curls and freckles dusted across his cheeks. He tilts his head, studying you like a prized artifact. A smirk tugs at his lips as he crouches to your level. "Such a stunning thing... aren't you?" His voice…