The old man stood slowly, his joints creaking but his presence unshaken. Without a word, he motioned for Niko to follow.
Niko fell in step behind him, weaving through the slow bustle of the strange city. "My name's Niko," he said after a pause, trying to break the silence.
The old man gave a low hum, not turning his head. "Interesting name," he said. "I'm Kujo."
Niko tilted his head. "Kujo?"
"Mm. Just Kujo," the old man replied.
They stopped in front of what looked like nothing more than a thick, tattered curtain hanging between two wooden posts. Niko raised an eyebrow—he was pretty sure this just led to another section of the street. Maybe Kujo was senile. But then, Kujo reached forward and swept the curtain aside.
Niko's breath caught.
It wasn't the city behind the curtain.
It was an arena.
Massive. Silent. Surrounded by towering walls of smooth, black stone. Torches ignited the moment Kujo stepped in, their light bouncing off the polished marble floor. The cold gleam of it stretched out far ahead, a single circular stage set in the middle like a dueling ground.
"…What is this place?" Niko asked, stepping inside slowly.
Kujo looked back at him, the firelight dancing in his ancient eyes. "A forgotten room. For forgotten wars. We won't be disturbed here."
Niko looked down at the floor, at his reflection shimmering beneath his feet. The silence in this place was heavy. Sacred. His heart began to race.
Kujo kept walking until he reached the center. He turned.
"Well then, Niko," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see what you've got."
Hearing the challenge, Niko took a breath and stepped forward, his boots tapping against the cold marble as he approached the center of the arena. His hand reached toward his sword, fingers brushing the hilt—
But before he could even touch it, a wind struck his cheek.
No—
A fist.
There.
Kujo's arm was extended, his knuckles inches from Niko's face.
When did he move—?!
Instinct kicked in.
Niko twisted his head to the side, barely slipping past the punch. But the moment he dodged, his stomach turned—another strike was already on its way. A knee. Fast as lightning. It blurred in the firelight.
How did he recover that quick?
The impact connected before Niko could fully process it.
Boom.
He was sent flying across the arena, crashing hard against the black stone wall. The entire room echoed with the force. Dust shook from the rafters.
Niko slumped down, groaning. His head throbbed. Blood trickled from his nose. His ears rang.
He pushed off the wall, shaking the pain away.
No time to think.
His eyes flashed—Blitz.
Energy surged through his body, his figure sparking as he lunged forward with renewed speed. His blade glowed, halfway drawn—
But Kujo's hand caught his wrist.
Just like that.
The old man held it firm. Unshaken. Calm.
"…That it?" Kujo asked, tilting his head. His voice wasn't mocking. Just… genuinely confused. "Is that your only trick?"
Niko stood there, stunned. His ability—stopped.
This wasn't just strength. This wasn't just speed.
This was mastery.
Niko's arm trembled in Kujo's grip. Blitz was still active, faint sparks flickering along his skin, but none of it mattered now. Kujo hadn't even drawn a weapon. Hadn't even broken a sweat.
The elder warrior stood motionless, his hand around Niko's wrist like a clamp. He was calm—his breathing steady, his stance effortless. For a moment, the heat of the arena seemed to vanish. There was just silence.
Niko tried to pull back, but Kujo didn't even flinch. Finally, with a flick, the old man released him, and Niko stumbled back a few steps, his legs shaky from the blow earlier.
He stared across the polished marble.
What even was that?
"…That it?" Kujo asked again, brushing dust from his palm.
Niko blinked. "Huh?"
Kujo nodded toward him. "That your only move?"
Niko's brow furrowed in frustration. "What do you mean?"
Kujo crossed his arms. "You've got no contracts? No abilities tied to your power outside of that little speed trick?"
"Contracts?" Niko echoed, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Kujo's expression shifted—realization dawning across his weathered face. He tilted his head, muttering, "Ah… you're fresh."
He sighed, folding his arms behind his back and beginning to pace.
"You've only ever used the base abilities of your power, haven't you?" he asked.
Niko gave a slow nod. "I mean… yeah. I thought that's all there was."
Kujo chuckled softly. "Kid… if that's all you're relying on, you won't last a week in here. Not with the kinds of people this House attracts."
He turned to face Niko again, his voice steady now—teacher-like.
"You see, when the House grants you a power, it gives you just the foundation. That's all the raw energy, the passive effects, the minor enhancements—speed, strength, control. But the real strength doesn't come from that. Not even close."
Niko listened carefully, still breathing heavily from the earlier clash.
Kujo continued, "To truly fight in the House—to rise past the pawns and the weaklings—you need contracts."
He raised a single finger. "Contracts are how you transform your power. You forge them with the House itself. Each one lets you create a specific move, a unique ability tied to your power."
Niko tilted his head. "So… like a special technique?"
"Exactly," Kujo nodded. "But there's a price."
He walked forward again, voice dropping a little.
"Each contract comes with a punishment. A counterforce. You want to use something strong? You better accept something in return. Pain. Weakness. Conditions. Some people bleed. Some lose memory. Some get slower with every use."
Niko stayed quiet, eyes narrowing.
"It's a balance," Kujo finished. "A test. You give something up… and in exchange, the House lets you wield something greater."
The flames lining the arena flickered as if to emphasize his point. The silence that followed was heavy—heavy with the weight of what Niko now knew.
The game he was playing wasn't just about training harder.
It was about understanding the House. Making pacts with it.
Surviving its demands.
Thriving in its chaos.
Kujo looked him in the eye.
"Still wanna get strong, kid?"
Niko's chest still rose and fell with labored breaths, but something deeper had ignited inside him—curiosity laced with adrenaline. He was sore, bruised, blood still trickling faintly from his nose, but his eyes gleamed.
"A contract…" he whispered to himself.
His mind flashed back—back to that brutal moment when Iri summoned that gigantic rune, and when Juno sliced the house itself.
That wasn't normal. That wasn't just skill. Those were contracts, he realized.
He looked up quickly. "Kujo… how do I get one?"
Kujo gave a knowing smile. "Good. Sit."
Without hesitation, Niko dropped to the floor, crossing his legs over the cool marble. Kujo knelt opposite him, the old man's presence somehow grounding.
"Close your eyes," Kujo instructed. "Feel your energy. Let it rise."
Niko obeyed, heart pounding.
"Now… feel beyond it. The House surrounds us. It watches us. Reach out to it. Calm your mind. Relax your body."
There was a pause.
And then—
Click.
A sudden shift in perception. Niko's breath hitched. Darkness. Silence. But something floated in front of him—glowing, almost transparent. It wasn't real, yet it was there.
A strange screen. Like some kind of menu.
There were three words:
Power – Pure Energy
Ability – Able to directly use energy not just as a source—but as a power.
Punishment – None
Niko stared, stunned. He couldn't move his body, but somehow, he could navigate.
And there it was at the very bottom of the menu, pulsating faintly.
[Create Contract]
He focused on it.
Everything around him shattered like glass.
In the silence that followed, a figure emerged from the darkness—humanoid in shape, featureless but defined. It wasn't alive, but it radiated something ancient. Something aware.
The voice was cold, mechanical… yet not without weight.
"Niko of the House."
"Your core ability is: Pure Energy."
"Are you ready for your punishment?"
Niko didn't answer right away. He swallowed, pulse thundering.
Whatever this was… this was no training. No spar. This was a deal with the very House itself.
And the price?
That remained to be seen.
Niko stared at the humanoid figure—faceless, its form made of a flickering, living mist. Its presence felt heavy, like it wasn't just speaking to him but through him.
It repeated in a low, unearthly voice:
"Niko of the House… your ability is Pure Energy. Are you ready for your punishment?"
Niko swallowed the lump in his throat. He thought of Iri's execution rune. He thought of Juno's overwhelming strike.
He thought of how small he had felt.
He clenched his fist.
"…Yes," he said firmly.
The figure raised its misted hand, a streak of lightning-like energy sparking from its palm.
"Your punishment is…" it echoed.
A pause.
"Burnout."
The word hit Niko harder than expected, like the air had shifted.
"Every time you exert yourself," the figure continued,
"you will be left paralyzed for ten minutes. Longer, depending on the severity of your output."
The moment the words were spoken, Niko's chest lit with searing heat—not pain, but power. Like something had clicked in his soul. He gasped. His vision exploded with white. And then—
—he was back.
His eyes flew open.
He was still seated on the cold marble of the arena. Kujo stood nearby, arms crossed, watching carefully.
"…You got one?" Kujo asked, a subtle grin on his face.
Niko nodded, still shaking slightly from what he'd just felt.
"Yeah," he muttered.
Kujo laughed—not mockingly, but almost like he was impressed.
"Whatever it is—it can't too bad, let's test it out kid"