All Chapters of His Contractual Luna: Bought by the Beast: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The central relic registry of the Obsidian Pit was a cavernous, iron-reinforced vault located directly beneath the primary betting concourse. Thick, black cables snaked across the slick stone floorboards, feeding power from the volcanic geothermal vents below into massive, flickering diagnostic banks. Heavy security grates separated the arena staff from the endless line of black-market fighters, mercenary handlers, and syndicate managers waiting to clear gear verification.The air inside the vault was suffocating—dense with the stench of ozone, burnt copper, and stale sweat.Agnes walked down the central aisle toward the high steel registration counter, her boots clicking with slow, deliberate precision against the dark rock. She carried Rhys’s primary dark-matter core harness suspended in a heavy, magnetic transport case in her left hand, while her mother’s diagnostic slate rested securely beneath her right arm. Maeve flanked her left, her silver-amber eyes tracking every guard stati

The thermite torches hissed with blinding crimson sparks as two arena technicians welded the heavy iron cage doors completely shut. Inside the sunken basalt pit, there was no air conditioning, no ring ropes, and no referee. The floor was a uneven slab of dark volcanic rock, stained dark with years of dried blood and iron dust, lit from below by flickering magma conduits.Ten thousand spectators slammed their fists against the iron catwalks above, their bloodthirsty chants shaking the cavernous walls."KILL! KILL! KILL!"Standing across the pit was "The Executioner"—a nine-foot cybernetic monstrosity whose human origin was barely recognizable. His torso was encased in crude, industrial steel plates, hydraulics hissing from his spine as oil leaked onto the stone. Attached to both of his massive, pneumatic gauntlets were twin four-foot, high-frequency serrated blades that hummed with a sickly green, toxic kinetic energy.Rhys stood in the center of the cage, entirely unbothered by the to

The victory over the Executioner had sent a shockwave through the betting halls of the Obsidian Pit. Down in the dark, blood-stained concourse, silver shards were changing hands by the millions as syndicate bookies frantically recalculated the live odds for Bracket A.Inside the contender prep room, Rhys sat on the iron bench, his heavy chest rising and falling in steady, controlled breaths. Maeve stood guard near the heavy blast door, her silver-amber eyes locked on the outer corridor."The secondary thermal loop in the chest harness is holding," Agnes said, her fingers skimming over her mother’s diagnostic slate as she analyzed the post-match telemetry. "But the localized friction heat from that forty-five-thousand-newton discharge burned through the primary coolant gel in the left conduit. If you throw another strike at that output without replacing the cartridge, the harness will lock up mid-round.""The arena’s central supply vault in the upper concourse carries high-grade liquid

The reinforced titanium doors of the deep subterranean vault sealed with a heavy, air-tight hiss, cutting off the muted thrum of the Citadel above. The air inside the stone-walled chamber was cold and sterile, smelling faintly of ozone and old metal. In the center of the room, bound to a heavy titanium interrogation chair by high-output kinetic suppression cuffs, sat the captured Shadowfang commander. His tactical armor had been stripped away, exposing the thick, metallic cybernetic conduits running up his neck into the base of his skull. His breathing was ragged, his remaining biological eye burning with a mixture of defiant hatred and raw, primal fear as he stared at the two figures standing in the dim crimson light. Rhys stood near the heavy iron door, his towering frame casting a massive shadow across the stone floor. His broad arms were crossed over his chest, his dark-matter harness humming with a quiet, lethal baseline, his hazel eyes completely consumed by a dark, smolderin

The blast doors of the contender bunker slid shut with a heavy, echoic *THUD*, sealing the three of them inside the cold, volcanic rock room. The ambient noise of the Obsidian Pit was reduced to a low, rhythmic thrum beneath the stone floorboards. Maeve stood near the weapons rack, her silver-amber eyes tracking her sister's pale, rigid face. She had heard the news in silence during the trek up from the deep vault, but now her feral aura pulsed in a dark, volatile silver loop around her fists. "Morrigan..." Maeve spat, the name dripping with absolute, venomous disgust. "Our own stepmother took Malakor's silver to burn our childhood to ash... to destroy Mom's work and leave me crippled in a cage." "She was a coward," Agnes said, her voice quiet, terrifyingly steady, and colder than liquid nitrogen. She set her mother's diagnostic slate onto the heavy wooden workbench, where the decrypted audio logs and holographic schematics of the Apex Crown hovered in bright azure light. "Malakor