Taming The Tiger Man - Genma Series #1
Prologue

In a room as white as snow, spectators from around the globe had gathered, occupying cushioned white couches across three tiers encircling a massive transparent dome. Above, on the ceiling’s right and left sides, two oversized televisions displayed a split view. To the right, the arena’s scene unfolded, and the other showed two columns of names, each with an associated number in rupiah.

Excitement filled the room as audience members focused on small devices similar to mobile phones in their hands, placing bets that caused the numbers on the screens to surge.

The digital clock neared 7:00 PM, signaling the start of the event. A capsule lift stationed outside the dome hissed open, triggering cheers. They chanted “Inyiak” as four tanned men dressed in traditional 1800s Jambi attire emerged.

Those men adorned with long-sleeved black shirts, loose pants cascading to their ankles, triangular cloth hats, and plaid-patterned sarongs cinched at their waists. Each of them carried a sparking-tipped two-meter-long spear. The quartet of Malay warriors moved in pairs, strategically positioning themselves along the outer pathways.

Before the excitement could subside, another group emerged from the same capsule. Fair-skinned and reminiscent of European ancestry, they sported an ancient Roman fashion sense, wearing helmets with red feathers, armor with iron skirts, and iron boots. They also held sparking-tipped spears as they positioned themselves along parallel pathways. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The European faction erupted in cheers, chanting “Lycan,” their enthusiastic cries echoing throughout the space. In response, Inyiak’s loyal supporters echoed their sentiments, enveloping the room in charged anticipation.

As excitement peaked, attention turned to an Asian man standing before the towering dome. Clearing his throat, his amplified voice projected through the miniature microphone affixed to his tuxedo lapel, capturing the crowd’s rapt attention.

The boisterous atmosphere fell hushed as the collective gaze of the audience focused on the speaker. With a charismatic smile and a dramatic pause, he began, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Are you ready to watch the extraordinary clash between Inyiak, the Indonesian tiger man, and Lycan, the Roman werewolf? Place your bets and brace yourselves for a historic spectacle!”

Enthusiastic cheers and spirited applause erupted. Illegal financial transactions through special links went to a single source.

The capsule lift stationed stage-right for Lycan slid open, revealing a robust figure with pale skin. Guided by four Roman guards stationed beyond the dome’s iron perimeter, the figure strolled forward casually. Standing at an imposing 1.9 meters, he wore a crisp white long-sleeve shirt and sharp black trousers. His most prominent feature, however, was the dense, inky-black bag enveloping his face while handcuffs were chaining both hands.

On the opposing side, a brown-skinned man called Inyiak, the tiger man, clad only in blue jeans, strode through the iron-enclosed passageway. Much like his counterpart, handcuffs were also bounding his hands. However, his face remained uncovered, revealing an Indonesian man with a clean-cut visage and neatly trimmed black hair.

Jeers and mocking gestures from the Caucasian man’s supporters briefly halted the progress of Inyiak, the brown-skinned man. A tense, silent standoff unfolded, with black eyes locking onto defiant gazes. As the moment played out, a tap on the Inyiak’s shoulder prompted him to turn. Another jab of the spear’s handle urged him onward. “Move!”

The Inyiak emitted a low, rumbling snarl, akin to a tiger’s warning snarl before a pounce. Nonetheless, he continued his barefoot advance, his controlled frustration palpable.

The two contenders entered the dome through opposing entrances, flanked by soldiers’ batons guiding their progress. The doors sealed behind them, isolating them from the outside world.

The dome’s interior transformed into a nighttime view of the jungle in the Kerinci region of West Sumatra, Indonesia. Simultaneously, the tiny red lights on the handcuffs blinked green before falling to the floor.

The European man removed the sack from his face and inhaled. His face displayed the features of an adult, with golden hair cascading to his shoulders and a short brown beard covering his chin and cheeks.

Inyiak observed his opponent cautiously. Their height difference was almost seven inches. A black collar also encircled the big man’s neck. Blue eyes met black ones as they locked gazes, ignoring the crowd’s cries for them to kill each other.

As the projector’s moonlight illusion caressed the white man’s skin, he gazed up at the moon with an adoring expression. His pupils narrowed as he cried out.

Inyiak wasted no time. He shapeshifted while the big man’s cry transformed into a howl. Inyiak’s muscles bulked up, his hands enlarged and covered in orange-striped black fur reminiscent of a tiger’s, extending over his hands and back.

The white man puffed his chest as his mouth elongated into a snout. His nails morphed into black claws. He tore his shirt as black fur sprouted, covering his skin. His body grew, shredding his trousers until he turned into a towering, two-and-a-half-meter-tall black tailless wolf.

The Lycan fixed its slobbering snout and a predatory glare on the Inyiak. The creature leaped to attack, but Inyiak dodged to the right and punched his opponent in the stomach.

Cheers erupted from Inyiak’s supporters, and the betting odds shifted to seven to three. The Lycan stepped back, growling and revealing a row of fangs to intimidate his opponent. Inyiak responded with a defiant roar. They circled each other, assessing for weaknesses.

“Fight already!” A VIP seat occupant, an overweight elderly European man, grew impatient. He tossed a used soda can against the dome’s outer wall, creating a clatter.

The Lycan charged toward the sound, crashing into the transparent wall with a roar. However, an electrifying jolt stiffened his body, and he trembled in pain, attempting to remove the collar around his neck.

“I’ll finish you with my hands if you don’t fight!” The fat man shouted angrily, showcasing his watch on his right wrist and mimicking pressing a button.

The Lycan caught his breath and shot a venomous gaze at his owner. Nevertheless, he dared not disobey.

As the cheers for the fight continued, the Lycan turned to face the other fighter, who stayed watchful and stood firmly in place.

“Fight now!” In response to his owner’s demand, the Lycan howled before lunging at his opponent.

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