Crazzy

The night in the Abyss was eternal. There, time wasn't measured by clocks but by the sound of chains, the screams of the defeated, and steel meeting flesh. It was a place of despair and violence, where only the strongest survived — and where Madman thrived. However, even in an environment seemingly tailored for his brutality, he carried a single emotion that burned like embers in his chest: hatred.

The Abyss was an underground arena, a hidden hell where the most despicable gathered to watch enslaved gladiators fight to the death. Madman, the undisputed champion, was an essential part of this blood spectacle, but he was no mindless pawn. Every blow he struck, every life he took, he did with purpose. Not to entertain the spectators, but to fuel his plan. A plan for revenge.

He had never forgotten the man who brought him there. The mysterious figure who ripped him from the streets and threw him into the heart of this inferno. This man was not just a dealer of human flesh. He was the architect of Madman's pain, the one responsible for everything he had lost. And Madman, with a patience that would surprise anyone who knew him, had been building his revenge since the moment he stepped into that arena.

Madman knew he couldn't act on instinct. His physical strength was undeniable, but the Abyss wasn't just an arena; it was a prison controlled by a complex system of overlords and masters. He spent years observing, silently studying every aspect of the place. He memorized the guards' shift schedules, the weak points in the bars, the underground paths leading outside. He analyzed the overseers, the slave merchants, the sponsors — especially the man who had brought him there.

The man, known only as Korman, was more than a trafficker. He was a powerful figure with connections in all the right places. Korman didn't just organize the fights; he controlled the profits from the bets, ensuring his fortune grew at the gladiators' expense. Madman knew that defeating Korman would require more than brute force. He would need strategy.

---

In his cell, under the flickering light of a distant torch, Madman mentally mapped out the steps of his plan. He divided his revenge into three stages: destabilizing the system, exploiting its weaknesses, and destroying Korman.

---

Madman knew the gladiators as intimately as he knew his own hatred: viscerally. They were his tools but also his emotional ammunition. He understood that to rise against the Abyss, they first needed to believe they could.

During the stifling, silent nights, when the gladiators were dragged back to their cells after bloody battles, Madman began his work.

— "Don't you feel it?" — he whispered to a gladiator nearby, a gaunt man with scars covering half his face. — "The rage inside you, burning like a flame?"

The man initially ignored him, but Madman persisted.

— "They treat us like cattle. Like toys. But what if we turned our claws against them?"

Sometimes he spoke to women too, gladiators who had lost children, parents, families. One of them, a cold-eyed woman named Kyra, looked at Madman skeptically.

— "You talk like you have a plan," — she said, crossing her arms as she stared at him. — "But words don't break chains."

Madman gave a faint smile.

— "Not yet. But actions do. Wait and see."

The spark began to appear. Madman didn't need everyone's trust; he just needed to plant doubt. He wanted fear to start losing its grip on them.

---

Madman orchestrated small acts of defiance, simple actions that, done individually, might seem insignificant but together would lay the groundwork for rebellion.

During one fight in the arena, he deliberately let his opponent, a larger and stronger gladiator, wound him lightly on the arm. As blood dripped, he shouted at the spectators:

— "You like this, don't you? Blood! Pain! Is this what you need to fill your emptiness?"

The crowd's cheers faltered briefly, surprised by his audacity. The guards, irritated, dragged him out of the arena before he could say more. But he noticed the other gladiators watching. They had heard.

Another time, during a fight, Madman used the chaos to attack a guard. He wielded a rusty piece of metal he had hidden to slash the man's armor, leaving a superficial but painful wound. The other gladiators watched wide-eyed, but Madman simply smiled as he was beaten in retaliation.

— "See? They bleed like us," — he said to a nearby gladiator as he was dragged back to his cell.

This act set the wheels turning in the prisoners' minds.

---

While sowing seeds of courage among the gladiators, Madman began working on the guards. He wasn't just a fighter; he was a strategist. He knew the system was rotten, and even the executioners had their price.

Gerrik

Gerrik was a wiry man with yellowed teeth and nervous eyes. He was greedy but also cowardly. Madman had observed him skimming small amounts from the betting profits and hiding coins in his boots.

— "You're smart," — Madman whispered, startling Gerrik as he patrolled the cells.

— "What do you want, scum?" — Gerrik snapped, though his voice betrayed his fear.

— "I want to make you richer. I know where the 'special offerings' the nobles give Korman are hidden. Help me, and you'll get a share."

The greedy glint in Gerrik's eyes was enough to confirm he had taken the bait.

Rael

Rael was different. Young and idealistic, he hated the system but didn't know how to escape it. Madman saw it in the way Rael hesitated before whipping disobedient gladiators.

— "You hate this place as much as we do," — Madman murmured one night as Rael stood guard near the cells.

— "Shut up," — Rael hissed back, glancing around to ensure no one was listening.

— "You don't have to be like them. When the time comes, help us, and I'll make sure you get out alive."

Rael didn't reply, but his doubtful expression showed he was considering the offer.

Bran

Bran, on the other hand, was easy to manipulate. Tired, drunk, and disillusioned, he needed little convincing. Madman simply handed him a small piece of gold he had pried from an arena ornament.

— "This is just the beginning," — Madman said. — "There's much more where that came from."

Bran laughed and took a swig of his drink.

— "You've got guts, kid. Let's see how far this goes."

With some guards partially corrupted and the gladiators beginning to believe, Madman moved to the next phase of his plan: chaos. He knew the Abyss was a well-oiled machine, but even the most perfect machines could break with a grain of sand in the right places.

Madman organized a small group of gladiators to sabotage the mechanisms controlling the arena doors. Kyra was among the first to agree, her fury finally ignited.

— "Make it look like an accident," — he instructed.

Using improvised tools, they jammed the gears, delaying the start of the fights by hours. The nobles in the stands grew impatient, shouting at the guards to fix the problem.

Meanwhile, Madman used Gerrik and Bran to spread rumors among the guards, suggesting some were stealing more than others or collaborating with the gladiators. The result was increased internal tensions, with patrols openly arguing and becoming less effective.

Inside the cells, Madman exploited the chaos to incite controlled fights between gladiators. He knew the internal disorder would further confuse the guards and distract them from his true intentions.

With chaos at its peak, Madman launched the final attack. He knew Korman would be in his office, reviewing documents and organizing bets for upcoming fights.

He gathered Kyra and two other trusted gladiators, a man named Drax and a young woman named Nira.

— "Today, we destroy the heart of the Abyss," — he said, his eyes blazing with determination.

While Gerrik and Rael distracted the guards at the entrance, Madman and his team used a secondary tunnel to reach the office.

The fight was swift and brutal. Madman led the charge, slitting a guard's throat before he could draw his sword. Kyra took on the second, her movements quick and ferocious, while Drax held the door to prevent reinforcements from entering.

Korman tried to flee, but Nira caught him, kicking him back into the room. Madman seized him, pressing a blade to his throat.

— "You thought you were in control, but you were always just another cog," — he whispered before slicing Korman's throat.

Korman's final scream echoed as a harbinger of the Abyss's imminent downfall.

---

Chaos spread like wildfire. The gladiators, inspired by Korman's death, attacked the guards with renewed ferocity. Madman led the charge, guiding them through the corridors toward the exit.

The guards' screams, the clash of steel, and the stench of blood filled the air. Madman cut and advanced, every strike fueled by years of pent-up hatred.

Finally, they reached the surface. The moonlight bathed their sweaty, bloodied faces, a reminder that freedom was real.

But for Madman, the victory was just the beginning. He looked to the horizon, knowing his revenge was far from over.

— "Now," — he murmured to himself, — "let's burn the world."