There used to be a tradition at the base whenever new male prisoners arrived.

For some reason, it had been discontinued recently. However, no one knew why the guards suddenly decided they needed another form of entertainment.

After gathering all the men in the wide square, the guards stood before them and explained the so-called tradition.

Horror and disbelief spread across the prisoners’ faces as they stared at the guards with wide eyes.

"What did they just say?" one of the men blurted out.

"Why are they doing this now?"

"Old Fool... do something."

Old Fool gritted his teeth as he stared ahead.

Even though one of his eyes was nearly blind, he could still make out the horrifying smiles on the guards’ faces.

There was no mistaking them.

Beside him, Charm curled his hands into tight fists, his jaw clenched.

"What the fuck do they want now?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

Gin’s expression darkened as he lowered his head. His gaze drifted toward the new recruit, the guards had dragged to the front.

The prisoner stood there timidly, his entire body trembling.

"No, please. I don’t—"

"Who wants to fight him?" one of the guards shouted, sweeping his gaze over the prisoners.

No one answered.

Most of the men looked away, terrified they would be chosen.

Apparently, the welcoming ceremony for the new recruit was a one-on-one brawl. They had already selected one fighter. Now, they were choosing his opponent.

"What about you?"

The guard pointed at someone.

Everyone instinctively turned, only for their gazes to land on the injured man Old Fool and the others had treated earlier.

With the wound on his leg, the man could barely stand.

"What?" His face paled as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. "Me?"

The guard who had chosen him arched a brow before glancing toward another man—the one who was clearly calling the shots.

Red followed his gaze and recognized him as the guard who had let them off the bus.

The man lifted his chin slightly.

That was all the permission the other guard needed.

He marched toward the injured prisoner, grabbed him by the shoulder, and dragged him to the front without the slightest care for his condition.

"Ugh!"

The man groaned as he collapsed to the ground, agony shooting through his injured leg.

The guard ignored him and positioned himself between the injured prisoner and the trembling newcomer.

"Whoever wins gets a full meal tonight," he announced.

That was all he said.

He didn’t need to explain anything else.

Everyone already understood what he meant when he called it a death match. The fight would only end when one of them was dead or too broken to stand.

The guard looked between the two prisoners and frowned.

"What are you waiting for?"

"But—"

He grabbed the newcomer and shoved him toward the injured man, who was still slumped on the ground.

"Ugh!" The injured prisoner groaned when the other man fell on top of him.

"S-sorry!"

The newcomer panicked and scrambled away. In his haste, he accidentally pressed against the injured man’s wounded leg.

"I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to."

As he crawled backward on all fours, he froze.

The sharp click of a rifle being cocked echoed beside his head. Cold metal pressed against his temple, and the lingering scent of gunpowder filled his nostrils.

"What the hell are you doing?" the guard asked coldly. "Isn’t this supposed to be a good match for you?"

The man’s breath caught as his entire body went rigid.

"If you feel sorry for him, then say so and surrender," the guard continued, adjusting his grip on the rifle. "It’s that simple."

The man swallowed hard. His wide eyes shifted toward the injured prisoner on the ground.

The other man stared back at him with the same horror.

Their expressions twisted at the same time as they realized what was being demanded of them.

One of them had to sacrifice the other to survive.

"I’m sorry," the newcomer whimpered.

Tears welled in his eyes. Then, with a strangled roar, he forced himself forward.

"Ahh!" He pulled back his fist and drove it straight into the injured man’s cheek.

The wounded prisoner groaned in pain.

But the man who had struck him immediately broke down sobbing.

The guards smirked and exchanged amused glances before turning their attention back to the two prisoners.

A few even whistled at the pathetic punch.

"Come on! You can do better than that?"

"Are you a pussy or what?"

The prisoners forced to watch could only grit their teeth and clench their fists. Some held their breaths, as though sharing the pain in silence was the only thing they could do.

"This is..." Gin lowered his head, grinding his teeth.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Once this was over, he knew he might have to volunteer himself.

Ashley had told them they would make their move once the victims had been secured—or at least most of them.

They still had no idea what was happening on her side or whether she had managed to accomplish what she needed to do.

So Gin could only endure it for now.

He told himself that if he were chosen, the least he could do was knock out his opponent with a single strike.

Red, meanwhile, watched as the newcomer crawled on top of the injured man. The prisoner grabbed the wounded man by the collar and raised his fist again.

But he couldn’t bring himself to strike.

His fist merely trembled in the air as tears blurred his vision, his apologies spilling out between every shaky breath.

"I’m sorry..." he whimpered. "I’m really... really sorry..."

Red drew in a deep breath and ruffled his frizzy hair in irritation.

He knew he shouldn’t get involved.

These people weren’t anyone he knew.

He felt sorry for them, but unlike Gin and Ashley, he wasn’t the type to get overly invested in every victim they came across.

In his mind, if these prisoners were lucky enough to escape, they should simply run and never look back.

There was no point in stretching their patience when they barely had any to begin with.

But alas...

"Fuck," Red scoffed before lifting his head. "This is entertainment to you?"

His voice carried across the square.

"Man... you guys seriously need a television or something."