"Zeke," Antonio's voice was tight, heavy with an emotion that Zeke couldn't immediately place. His expression, however, spoke volumes—a mixture of grim determination and something darker simmering beneath the surface.

Zeke's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why are you here?" he asked, his tone cautious yet distant. "Shouldn't you be wearing your mask outside the bar?" His eyes flickered to Antonio's bare face, a subtle warning in his voice.

Antonio's steps were slow, deliberate, like a predator closing in on wounded prey. "None of that matters anymore," he said, his voice low, filled with a quiet fury that made the air between them feel suffocating. He kept walking toward Zeke, each step a testament to his growing resolve.

Zeke's expression shifted. His curiosity dissolved into something cold and calculating as he dropped his backpack to the ground. His face, once composed, twisted into a blank, emotionless mask. The air around him thickened as his voice dropped into a low growl. "Why are you here?" he repeated, but this time there was an edge to it—sharp, dangerous.

Antonio's eyes burned with unbridled rage. "I'm here to kill you!" he declared, his voice loud and trembling with anger. "Even if the others trust you, I know what you are, Zeke. I know what you're capable of. You left us to die when it suited you, when it benefited you. You left Hanna bleeding out on the floor like she was nothing!"

Zeke's eyes narrowed, a spark of disdain flashing through them. "She survived," he said, his voice steady and eerily calm, "and so did everyone else."

Antonio's voice cracked, his emotions spilling over. "That's right!" he screamed. "That's how you see it, isn't it? Just a game of survival, lives thrown around like pieces on a board. The ends always justify the means for a beast like you. You'll keep growing, keep getting stronger until you become just like the Contractor King—a tyrant! But I won't let that happen! I'll kill you here, while you're still young… while you're still weak!"

Zeke's lips curled into a mocking grin. "Weak?" he echoed with a cold laugh, the sound sending a shiver through the air between them. "Is that what you think?" His voice was filled with cruel amusement, his gaze locking on Antonio's trembling form.

Antonio's heart raced. In that moment, any lingering doubts, any hesitation he might have felt, vanished. The way Zeke focused on his words, how he seemed to take pride in them, was proof enough—Zeke was just another power-hungry contractor, another monster obsessed with strength.

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"Soul," Antonio whispered, his voice laced with resolve as his gauntlet materialized around his arm. He tightened his grip, glaring at Zeke with renewed determination. "I'll make this quick."

Zeke's eyes flashed with something manic as he leaned forward, his voice dropping into a low, crazed whisper. "Wait," he said, almost taunting. "I suggest you invoke before attacking me."

Antonio's muscles tensed as he growled back, "I won't need to."

Zeke's grin widened, twisted with a dark satisfaction. "You see," he began, his voice thick with anticipation, "while I was in the Undercity, I wasn't allowed to use my magic freely." His words hung in the air, thick with menace. "But now, we're no longer in the Undercity."

The atmosphere shifted instantly. The aura around Zeke darkened, swirling like a vortex of shadow. Black smoke began to seep from his body, snaking across his back, spreading through the tunnel like a living entity. The temperature seemed to drop, the air growing heavier with each passing second.

Sweat beaded on Antonio's forehead, sliding down to his chin. His heart hammered in his chest as the pressure between them mounted. The intensity of Zeke's presence was suffocating, oppressive, like staring into the maw of something ancient and hungry. Antonio's muscles tensed, his mind racing.

The stare-down stretched into an unbearable silence, broken only by the faint drip of sweat from Antonio's chin. The moment the droplet hit the ground, the battle erupted.

"I invoke!" Antonio screamed, his voice tinged with desperation.

But something was wrong. As soon as his eyes snapped open, he was engulfed in darkness—Zeke's black smoke surrounded him completely, suffocating his vision. Then came the pain—sharp, biting pain, as if hundreds of invisible blades were slicing into his flesh. It was over in a matter of seconds, his body ravaged like meat in a grinder.

Before Antonio could even comprehend what had happened, he found himself pinned to the wall by chains, blood trickling down his body, his mind reeling from the sudden assault.

"What… what happened?" Antonio groaned, his voice barely a whisper.

Zeke stood over him, his eyes cold, merciless. "You lost," he said simply, the finality in his tone crushing.

With a snap of Zeke's fingers, the chains unraveled, letting Antonio's battered body collapse onto the cold ground. Zeke didn't spare him another glance as he picked up his backpack, turning to walk past him without a second thought.

"Wait!" Antonio's voice was ragged, filled with desperation. "I'll die if you leave me here!"

Zeke paused, glancing back with disinterest. "Huh?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with indifference. "I'm not inclined to help you. You attacked me, and all I did was defend myself. I showed you mercy. What you do with that is up to you." His words were as cold as the air around them, his gaze devoid of sympathy.

Without another word, Zeke turned away, leaving Antonio to bleed out on the cold, unforgiving ground—the sound of his footsteps fading into the tunnel as his consciousness slowly waned.

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