After Burton left the room, both Sariyu and Lirzod looked at each other and laughed their hearts off like apes to man’s slip-ups.
A few minutes later.
“Why don’t you grab some bananas and gorge on them? You can take the rest to your room, too, if you want,” Lirzod asked. “I asked Primera to pack them for you anyway, since you like them.”
“Thanks, but no. I’m not in the mood right now,” Sariyu had finished picking up all the banana peels and cleaning the dirt marks on the floor. “It’s not like you to throw the waste around like this.”
“I didn’t do that. The men who brought me here did,” Lirzod was irked a bit, “those bastards took some of my stuff. And I could do nothing. I’ll pay them back soon.”
“Some loss now and then wouldn’t hurt,” Sariyu said and smiled.
“Easy for you to say,” Lirzod harrumphed, “Can you say the same if your favorite dress was stolen?”
Sariyu’s mood suddenly changed, and her eyes emitted piercing light. “I’d chase that thief down and force him to drink three ponds empty.”
“Yeah, thought so.”
"Good clothing makes us feel comfortable, after all.”
“Good cooking, too.” Lirzod rubbed his belly.
“Mm?” she prudently glanced at him. “You look dissatisfied about something.”
“Y-Yeah,” Lirzod slowly nodded his head. “I haven’t eaten a proper meal since we left home. I miss her food.”
“Already?” Sariyu cheekily smiled.
“Hey, you can cook, can’t you?” Lirzod hurried asked, but she didn’t reply. “I mean, Aunt Keira is a splendid cook. She taught Duera how to cook, so she should have taught you, too, correct?”
“Even if she did, you think I’m your servant or what? Hmph!” Sariyu folded her arms and looked away. A few seconds of silence passed. “But for today, I’ll make an exception and will prepare soup for you.”
Lirzod’s mouth was still turned down. “Please, Sariyu. Just once a day is fine.”
“Huh? You are unbelievable!” she barked. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? If you want a full meal every day, then make one yourself!” she fumed. “And I’m done here!" she tucked her falling hair behind the ears and started to walk away but then stopped. “You better not stand out too much. As for Geragorn, just forget about him. You don’t throw stones in dung, or it will only spill in your face. You may solve others’ problems if you take care of him, but for you, things won’t end with that, and you will attract unnecessary attention. Who knows what they’ll spiral into?” she started to walk out. “Don’t forget our fathers’ warnings.”
After she left the room, Lirzod was a bit displeased. "What is she so busy with? Can't she stay here and help me a bit? How can I freely move around with this pain in my ribs?"
After sulking for a bit, his thoughts drifted about, and he couldn’t help but think about Geragorn. “I get what you are saying, Sariyu, but… If no one steps forward, that piggy gets his way with everything.”
He got up from the bed and approached the shelves where the food was stored. Most of the packets were full of dried meat. Though he didn’t want to eat it, he didn’t want to waste the food. “Primera… How can you do this to me?” He picked up the packet full of dried shrimps and came back to the bed. After opening the packet, a strong smell pervaded his nose and stirred his core, so much so that he looked like he might vomit any second. “For shrimps' sake, how can they eat these with bright faces? Wait, some may really be putting up expressions for the sake of shrimps,” he took out a dried shrimp and a little sniff contorted his face. “Uwack!” he shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He licked the shrimp a bit and got revolted by the taste. “That’s nasty.” He shook his head and exhaled deeply. “Alright, the least I can do is make sure this thing never touches my tongue.” He shut his nose, then raised his head and widely opened his mouth before dropping the prawn deeply. As he gulped, he still felt a bit of its taste, and it sent shivers throughout his body, “Vuhuhu.”
A couple of seconds later, he shook off his discomfort and blinked a few times. “That wasn’t so bad.” He repeated the process and dropped more than twenty five shrimps. And that was his limit. His mouth now felt like shrimp. He wanted to get rid of that feeling. He wanted to taste something better.
Out of frustration, he looked around and grabbed one of the few phoenix fruits that were on the table. It was a strange fruit that seemed similar to that of a pineapple, but more colorful and lively. "The best fruit of my clan that helps quicken the natural healing process. Luckily, she packed enough of them." He cut it in half, and the whitish insides were exposed. It had varied edible seeds that added texture and depth of color to the fruit. Using his hand, he pulled all of it and stuffed it into his mouth and enjoyed its flavor. "This taste never gets old." The moment he savored the fruit, the bad taste in the tongue was replaced with a good one.
"You are eating something strange," a person just entered the room. “Wait, aren’t those phoenix fruits?”
"You are…” Lirzod was a little surprised. “Triple Seven, what brought you here?"
777 rubbed the back of his head for a few seconds before speaking, "Heard about your incident with Geragorn,” he spoke in a scratchy throat. “At first, I didn’t think it was you.” His eyes shifted to Lirzod's wound. “How are you feeling now?”
“There’s pain, but nothing big to bother about.”
“Oh, that’s good news,” he took a lasting breath and then looked at the phoenix fruits. “A-Are they what I think they are?”
“Phoenix fruits.”
After hearing Lirzod’s reply, 777’s eyes enlarged. “I've heard about those but didn't think I'd get to see them on this ship.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” he picked up one of the fruits. “My... grandma told me that these fruits have the strange power to bring back a person even from death's door. I used to believe it when I was a kid, but thinking about that now makes me feel silly."
"Haha, you don’t have to. These are named that way because of their efficient and fast healing abilities."
"Mm, I did hear about their prowess in healing capabilities. Where did you buy these?”
“Didn’t buy them. Silly Sinario produced these,” His voice contained lack of empathy.
“Silly Sinario?” 777 blinked twice. “Who’s that?”
“He’s just an uncle, and also one of the clan heads.”
“You mean...” 777’s eyes broadened, “your clan produces these fruits?”
“Not really,” Lirzod stared at the fruit in his hands, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. “These fruits are just an imitation of the original fruits. These are private to the important families of my clan. As for the real phoenix fruits, we buy them often for both researching and eating.”
“You are from Helenia, aren’t you?” 777 didn’t take a breath in the last minute. “What’s your clan name?”
“Faceless.”
777 never heard of it, but he was still surprised. Given that Lirzod was eating such a thing, it meant that the phoenix fruit was duplicated to some extent. And more importantly, it looked almost like the original one from the outside. After pressing his lips hard for a few seconds, he hesitantly asked, “Can I have one? If you are alright with it."
Lirzod looked up at him, and the corners of his lips curled up a bit. "Sure, is what I would have said if you had come to see me early."
“I-I was…” 777’s smile subsided, and he slowly put down the fruit back on the desk.
“Just kidding,” Lirzod chortled. “You can have it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
777 forced out a smile. “Thanks.” He picked up a fruit and sat on the bed before realizing that Lirzod was staring at him without blinking at all. "I… I'll eat it afterward."
"Fine.”
Seeing how Lirzod was still staring at him, 777 didn’t know what to think of his actions. Is he joking, or is he being serious? Should I take this fruit or not? For a teenager, he’s surprisingly complex to read.
“Hey,” Lirzod's voice sounded a bit demanding, “when you gave me the guidebook, you should have also told me about that bell and also that piggy or at least warned me of the existence of such a threat."
777’s shoulders jerked, and the fruit almost fell out of his hands. "Y-Yeah, that was bad on my part, but I wasn’t really obligated to tell all that information.”
“So, I didn’t pay you enough, huh…” Lirzod raised his brows.
“No, no, not that.” 777 hurriedly said. “I didn't think you would just jump into the race like that. Nowadays, not many new entries have that urgency in them. By staying in these lower decks that are filled with people who don’t really care to climb the decks, I must confess that I myself got a bit corrupted by them. For what happened to you, I’m truly sorry."
"I don't keep it in mind if you help me pull that piggy’s cheek to the floor."
"Haha," 777 initially chuckled, but after seeing the frozen look on Lirzod's visage, his face stiffened. "You are being serious?”
“Don’t I look serious?” Lirzod’s brows knitted together.
777’s eyes squinted. “You must be out of your mind. That Geragorn just acts like he’s slow to make newbies fall into his trap. However, not only his strength but his speed also has to be feared. We won’t stand a chance against him. Two ants can’t take out an elephant!"
“Then one ant it will be,” Lirzod said without hesitation, making 777 blink several times. “Look, if you don’t want to fight, you don’t have to fight him. Just show me his room, and I’ll take things from there.”
“Taking things where?” His voice was a complaint wrapped in a gift box. “You’ll end up with broken bones and much more.”
“Then that’s that.”
“What?” 777 shot him a look of dubiety. “Are you—”
“Can you do it or not?” Lirzod looked up at him with a hard stare.
777 paused a moment and then slightly shook his head, “I can’t. I’m afraid—”
"Then,” Lirzod made solid eye contact and said in a flat tone, “you can leave my room, and I won’t mind if you end up forgetting we ever met each other."
"What?” 777 was utterly perplexed as he gauged Lirzod’s expression.
Lirzod didn’t say anything and made a duck’s face. Clearly, his mood had gone down the drain.
“Are you serious?” 777 couldn’t help but query.
Lirzod didn’t reply, but his eyes revealed what was necessary.
“I was thinking of becoming your offsider,” 777 raised his voice.
“Then help me punch some sense into that piggy,” Lirzod’s voice was firm, but he avoided looking 777 in the eyes.
“I can’t do that,” 777 frowned. “It’s too risky—for both of us. Why can’t you—”
“Someone has to break the night and bring the dawn to this deck,” Lirzod voiced his mind and glanced at 777 fleetingly.
777 was startled a little, but the frown on his face still remained. “I’m not even capable of doing that, and I don’t think you are either. You should just—”
“Then what’s the use of having you as an offsider? To fill your pockets for cracking my confidence?” Lirzod broke eye contact and looked down at the fruit in his hands. “You can go and look for someone else who doesn’t fight back. My apologies that you had to come all the way here.”
“You, you are too rash," 777 stood and began to walk away. "There are many ways an offsider can help than just take you to a fight in which you are sure to lose."
"And how do you know that?"
“Hmph, it’s obvious. It will take months, nay years for us to stand a chance against that beast. If you act like this and throw your fists at him, it won't end well for you.” He turned away. “Don't regret afterward. I warned you." Saying that he walked away.
The fact that 777 wasn’t willing to help bridled Lirzod’s tongue, and he just watched 777 take his leave. After finishing the fruit, Lirzod stood and wore a shirt but didn’t button it, so the bandage over his ribs was visible. He came out of the room, and without even closing the door, he headed somewhere.
Soon after Lirzod rounded a corner in the street, a curly-haired man came into view, and he was struggling to walk even with the help of a walking stick. He lacked one leg. All of it down the left thigh was missing. Thanks to a mongoose that ran across the street in haste, he got startled and suddenly lost his footing and fell. Lirzod hurriedly ran over; however, before he got there, the curly-haired man somehow got back up.
“Are you okay?” a soft voice reached the curly-haired man’s ears, causing him to shift his head to the side and moved his head up and down as if he was asking a question in return. Lirzod glanced down at the man’s hand, where an unusual amount of redness gathered. “Excuse me, sir, but your hand doesn’t look alright. The fall didn’t cause a fracture, right?”
The curly-haired man was still silent, but he was looking up at Lirzod without glancing.
“Uh,” Lirzod scratched his chin, not knowing what to say, “why are you walking alone with your leg like that?”
He got no response.
“Don’t you have friends?”
There was no response again.
“Where are you headed, sir?”
“Ah,” the curly-haired man cleared his throat and straightened his spine a bit before suddenly starting to speak, “I was going to get some drinking water,” the man replied, his voice sounding not so strong or confident. From his expression alone, it could be said that he was dull.
“Oh, is it close? I can help you—”
“No, no. I’m good. I’m good,” the man hurriedly replied. A second of silence passed before he looked down at his missing leg and replied. “I’m new to this, but I have to get used to it anyway.”
“What happened?” Lirzod hesitantly asked.
The man frowned a little and muttered under his breath. “Geragor—” He couldn’t even strengthen his heart to utter the full name.
Lirzod barely heard his voice, and his eyes slightly widened.
“A monster ate away my leg because I looked in its eyes for too long. That’s what happened. A foolish mistake on my part. Though I lost my leg, my eyes were opened because of it. I can understand everything better now. I’ve always thought of ‘The Mighty Martial’ Godrick as a dumb geezer who had too much free time, but he was on the mark about one thing. We live in a world that demands one’s ill-being for another’s well-being,” the man then said and smiled at Lirzod; however, his eyes were still laden with dolor. “I appreciate your concern, brother, but I’m good.” Saying that he left at his own pace, muttering under his breath, “I hope that rotter chances upon a piratemaid[1] one day.” Tears guttered down his face, but Lirzod couldn’t see any of it.
Even so, Lirzod stood rooted at the spot, his eyes still opened in a wide fashion. As seconds passed, his eyes squinted, and the air around him turned slightly hotter.
A few hours later. During the afternoon of the same day.
In the Hall of Fame of the tenth deck.
Geragorn was talking with one of the entries. “So, why do you want to climb the decks?”
“I, I want to become a martial like everybody else, sir,” the man with a long chin hesitantly replied. Embarrassment was written all over his face, for he had just tripped over his shoelaces.
“Yeah. I know,” Geragorn said in a flat voice, “but you don’t have to climb the decks to become a martial. You can just stay here and enjoy the free bread.”
“U-Uh,” the long-chinned man didn’t know what to say. “I can increase my knowledge and strength by climbing these decks. So…”
“That’s what everyone says. People nowadays are becoming knowledge-hoarding, power-hungry, warmongering morons. I, on the other hand, have only one of those bad habits. I love to wage wars because that’s where the weak bite the dust, as they should.” He smiled for a moment, and then his voice turned colder. “If you can prove to me that you can become a better moron than the average one, I will give you permission.”
“How, how can I prove myself?” the man asked, trying his best to not wet his pants.
“I’m the kind of a man who finds beauty in simplicity,” Geragon moved his hand in the air as if he was painting with his palm. “Simple things are enough to satisfy me, like being honest, respecting the seniors, keeping one’s word, and such things. And now, I want you to keep your word, too.”
“What is that, sir?” the man’s voice trembled a little.
“Nothing much. Before every time you eat, say these words out loud, “I thank Geragorn and his men for letting me climb the decks.”
The long-chinned man frowned, which grew in intensity as seconds passed.
“Ger-Ger-Ger,” Geragorn’s men began to snicker as they looked at each other’s faces.
“What’s wrong?” Geragorn continued. “If you can’t even do this much, then forget about climbing.”
“I…” the man said, his face turned solemn. “I will do it.”
“Mm,” Geragorn glanced at his men who put a tattoo on the long-chinned guy’s forearm. It was the tattoo of a canine tooth. “I have eyes in the upper decks. If you don’t keep your word, then expect me to keep mine. My men will come for your tongue.“
The long-chinned man painfully nodded and began to walk away, his body visibly shaking.
“Hehe,” one of Geragorn’s men sneered, “another one added to our free publicity group.”
At that moment, Lirzod entered the hall.
It didn’t take long for his eyes to catch sight of the being he was looking for. As he folded his sleeves, he headed straight toward a spot nearby a running track, weaving in the throng. When he shot free of the rabble like a pebble from a slingshot, the path was now clear between him and the people he was after.
Upon noticing him, Geragorn and his friends were initially puzzled a bit. At the moment, Geragorn was seated in his special chair full made of cobbles.
"Isn't that the little fowl from yesterday?"
"Yeah, it seems like it."
"I wonder what that Scarface is coming here for? He’s looking right at us."
"Maybe the beating wasn't enough."
"Pfft,” they burst out into laughter and eventually made smiley smug faces.
“Everyone with a scar on their face isn't worthy to be known as Scarface,” Geragorn chortled.
“Right, boss!” His words made them laugh like a drain.
“I want to punch him this time, boss,” one long-toothed guy said exuberantly.
“Mm, I don’t give a damn about him anymore, but it looks like he isn’t coming for a peaceful talk. Very well, go and give him an additional service," Geragorn glanced at the long-toothed man, who nodded and stood, before running forward.
With a wide swing, he lashed his hand at Lirzod while roaring out of his throat. Lirzod, however, leaned backward diagonally and dodged the hand with a little effort and spat in the face of that man, startling him.
"The heck?" he felt eerie and disgusted.
“My bad,” Lirzod spat once more, but this time on the floor. “A fly went into the mouth. I think it’s out now.”
“Taking me for a fool!” the long-toothed man threw a punch at Lirzod, but before his fist got any closer, Lirzod simply landed a rising kick in the guy’s nuts, causing his knees to gruffly kiss the floor. He then softly howled in pain.
“Duera was right. Legs really are longer than arms,” Lirzod acted innocent. “One must keep others in mind while dancing, or someone will get hurt. I’m not used to dancing before a crowd, so this is all new to me. Excuse any errors, please.”
“Damn you…” the long-toothed man’s eyes were filled with redness, but he could do nothing but roll on the floor.
In the meantime, the smiles on the faces of Geragorn's men subsided.
One after another, the gazes of the crowd turned toward the spot the matter was unfolding.
“You…” the long-toothed man spoke through the pain. “I will fuck you up for sure!”
“I’m afraid that’s beyond your faculties,” Lirzod looked like he was genuinely apologizing, but his gaze ended up pressuring the guy. “I hate hitting people down there, but I made an exception for you peachy piggies.” Saying that he walked past the rolling man, his hands placed on his back, and his mettlesome eyes fixedly staring at the audacious looks of Geragorn’s men, and also especially at the one sitting in the back of their batch.
Geragorn opened his mouth, “What’s your name, kid?”
“That’s not important,” Lirzod teasingly said. “What’s important is that I’m here to fix your attitude free of charge, my unfair friend.”
Geragorn grinned a little. “Well, it’s still not too late… if you turn back now, I’ll let you leave without a scratch.”
“Turn back?” Lirzod didn’t stop his walk and continued to loom over the underlings, most of whom were still sitting on their bums, but his mouth closed bitterly for a moment. “I don’t remember the last time I let some dunderhead hit me for no good reason and walk away with no grounds.” His voice was controlled and halfway between a whisper and a roar. “Gergura or whatever your name is... I’m sure you and your men messed with many folks before and didn’t give a damn about their feelings, but today, you will know that I’m one of those beings you should give a billion damns before bothering." His fingers produced cracking sounds. Well, I wonder if that’s enough to scare them. Lirzod’s thoughts kept running. What should I tell them if that doesn’t work? Should I use a dance move again? As he was thinking, he heard Duera shouting ‘no!’ in his ears.
Meanwhile, the crowd that was practicing on the track all watched the unfolding scene in a stupor.
“Am I hearing things correctly?”
“Is this how someone who pathetically lost not long ago speaks? Someone, please correct me.”
"Who the heck is that fellow?” a brown-haired fat guy looked astonished as he craned his neck up to look over the crowd and get a view of the boy. “Wow, he’s just a kid. Why is he daring to fight them head-on? Is he nuts?"
Geragorn, however, smiled. “I felt your rib cracking yesterday. It shouldn’t have healed fully by now, yet you are walking around as if nothing happened. I’m sure you can’t take a full breath even if you try, so why bother putting up such an act? What for?”
“Hmph, you call this a wound?” Lirzod straight out snorted, “I used to get them every day when I used to brawl with bulls as an infant.”
The mouths of everyone in the crowd opened wide.
“Brawling with bulls as an infant?”
“That’s his hobby?”
“Just who is this guy?”
“He’s probably bluffing.”
“Maybe, or maybe not,” the Inch Man standing somewhere far away spoke aloud, “Are we witnessing the rise of another ship squirrel[2]?”
“That’s gotta be a joke,” a guy rebuked. “Yesterday, he got knocked out cold by Geragorn. How can you say that he’s a ship squirrel, Inch Man? Your skills are waning. He’s not even a ship sloth[3].”
“Then,” Inch Man gave a cheeky smile, “are we witnessing the birth of another ship squirrel?”
“Inch Man,” the guy shook his head in a given up gesture, “it’s hard to talk to you. You just never know when to give up.”
Meanwhile, Geragorn’s men were holding back their rage, for they were waiting for their boss to say a word.
Geragorn let out a stiff smile. Ribs are one thing, but I’m sure his liver wouldn’t have recovered so soon. In order to be walking like this, either he got healed by someone, or he must have taken something. Now, whichever option may be right, it’s hard to believe. His smile slowly vanished. “It’s obvious that your wound blessed by my weapon isn’t healed yet.” He rubbed his elbow in a proud manner. “I’m sure your heartbeat isn’t in your control now.”
As the light flickered in his valiant eyes, Lirzod's feet still kept reducing the distance between him and Geragorn and his men. “I am yet to meet a weapon that makes my heart beat like a bonny woman does.”
The murmuring crowd fell silent.
How can he talk like that to Geragorn of the tigertooths?
This kid’s got a terrible tongue.
D-Did he just look down on Geragorn’s elbows? Is he for real? He’s done for!
He should come down from the clouds, or he’ll get cooked!
Though the crowd couldn’t speak, their thoughts drifted about, inspissating the air around them.
A female monk, who sat cross-legged atop a big sleeping turtle, opened her eyes and pleasantly stared at the ongoing event until her sight ended up stopping on Lirzod. “I see, a stripling with a singing mouth.” With a scrunched-up hat on her head, a tarnished, tattered robe on her back, and carrying a worn-out palm-leaf fan, her image was so familiar to most of the public. “Someone who holds on to their sense of humor even in the face of a hazard. A droll bit of it is healthy for the heart indeed. I allow it."
One of Geragorn’s underlings snickered as he pumped his fists. “Then, our fists will be the first weapons that’ll make you wet your pants.”
Lirzod sighed and lightly shook his tilted-down head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he lifted his up by degrees and made eye contact again. “Even if you wear the makeup of your life, at best, you’ll resemble a piggy on pills but never a woman.”
“You…” the pointy-nosed underling’s stomach grumbled like that of a pig, and his face really warped into a warthog. “Who the eff do you think you are?” he glanced at one of his friends who was his usual teammate. “Bilka, come on.”
The two of them then charged forward.
Lirzod looked around as the two men ran toward him, and at that moment, the lady monk bent to the side—while still seated on the turtle’s back—and snatched a thin mace from the nearby person and threw it in Lirzod’s direction.
"Oi, Oi, that's my mace!"
"It’ll be of more use in his hands right now."
Lirzod's ears caught the conversation and also the whizzing sound the mace made. He pivoted and grabbed hold of the incoming mace and used its momentum to turn again and land a sweeping shot straight in the face of one of the guys, Bilka, who made a cross block with his arms, but the impact bashed his arms and the entire face under it, forcing a few of his blood-painted teeth out into the open for folks to feast their eyes on. The pointy-nosed one stopped in his tracks.
The crowd was quite taken aback but, at the same time, had pleased looks.
“The boy may not know how to use a mace, but he can surely swing it.”
“Yeah, to think he can swing it like that, he’s not as weak as he looks.”
“If he keeps it up, maybe, he can take down a couple more of his men.”
“We can’t be sure. Swinging that mace isn’t easy. The more he swings it, the less his arms will keep supporting his thoughts.”
“Yeah, let’s hope he does better.”
The crowd kept murmuring among themselves, for they couldn’t dare speak out loud.
“Sorry, but I’m not that weak, so your Bilka went down,” Lirzod said to the pointy-nosed man, wearing a blameless look. “C’mon, sir. What are you standing there for? Go and help him get up.”
“Shut up,” the pointy-nosed man barked and then hesitated for a moment. He glanced toward the lady monk, who threw the mace to Lirzod. That bald b*tch. She spoiled everything.
A couple of seconds passed.
“Can you hear it?” asked Lirzod.
“Hear what?” the pointy-nosed man recklessly uttered.
“Your grandparents are gobbing in their graves,” said Lirzod in a pitiful voice.
“You little…” Rage bent him out of shape, and he was hopping mad. He looked at one of his men as if asking for a weapon, and also glanced back at Lirzod momentarily, while thoughtlessly attacking him, moving back and forth. “How dare you disrespect my grandparents!”
“I’m not the one who disrespected them, but you were,” Lirzod also moved around, trying to look for an opportunity. From afar, it seemed like those two were playing wrestling of a weird sort, though the two were yet to land a hit on the other.
“Throw something, dammit!” while keeping eye contact with Lirzod, the man kept on moving his hand, signaling his friends to throw a weapon toward him, but he never got any weapon.
“What’s wrong?” Lirzod teased. “You can’t fight me without a weapon?”
“Hmph, put that down and then speak the same words,” the pointy-nosed man barked.
Lirzod threw the mace to him, startling him and most minds in the crowd.
A second of silence replaced every action of the crowd in the neighborhood.
Seeing the pointy-nosed man staring at him in a daze, Lirzod softly rubbed the belly, “Don’t have the balls to attack even now?”
The pointy-nosed man, who had been standing like a swine in a sow stall, was startled. He ground his teeth and roared. “Enough said!” Breaking through his unease, he scuttled ahead, but to his bafflement, his head didn’t move, and his torso got suddenly pulled back. From the corner of his eyes, he beheld a bumper figure staring down at him with eyes that bitterly glinted coldness of demeaning depths.
“B-Boss!” the pointy-nosed man’s eyes broadened, and terror coursed through his veins. As his body was lifted and his feet were made to droop, he struggled hard like a rabbit caught in an eagle’s talons. As the clock ticked, the struggle seemed useless. Even if he wasn’t unnerved, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything against Geragorn’s grip, which resembled a bird of prey at its work.
What’s he up to? Lirzod could only wonder and stay vigilant.
Upon taking the mace away from the hands of his minion by force, Geragorn stepped ahead, his eyes fixedly staring at the boy with a scar on his face. He squeezed the head hard until the ears bled, and until the pointy-nosed man could no longer howl from the pain before tossing him away into the crowd, who had their heartbeats hampered and hairs raised into the bargain.
“A man with only a mouth is never fit for a fistfight.” Geragorn threw him toward the crowd and away from where his underlings were. “I hate weak asses, but what I hate more is puny excuses.” He grinned. “Now that the trash is taken care of, let’s get things going, shall we?”
“How can you be happy after needlessly beating someone who’s been with you for a while?” Lirzod asked, his voice becoming a bit hard. “How can you cut someone’s limb for a simple reason?”
“Ah?” Geragron slightly raised his brows as his eyes stared down at the boy. “You raise a sheep so you can sheer off all the fleece one day, but some sheep aren’t just worth the shepherd’s services. Only a fool would feed sleek sheep that can’t eat. A smart shepherd raises shaggy sheep.” Though Geragorn said those words, there wasn’t any change in Lirzod’s gaze. “Don’t try to think too much when matters concern me. I’m just a simple man who believes that the better fist gets to rule over the rest the way it sees fit.”
“Life isn’t just fists at work,” Lirzod’s eyes dazzled with doggedness.
“To me, it is,” he said and faintly smiled. “Besides, a forest looks fine only when it’s teeming with all kinds of wildlife, including ones that eat, and ones that are eaten.”
“As you’ve said, forests are for wildlife, but for us humans, gardens are more fitted habitats, don’t you think?”
“Maybe for those who live out their lives farming, but not for me,” Geragron said, “or for my kind—those that don’t grow up in those gardens that you speak of. We can’t call it a day without gutting something's or someone’s guts.”
“Do you ever find a moment of peace and quiet in your way of doing things?”
“Peace and quiet are things those who pretend to know about life cling onto,” Geragorn said and snorted. “To me, life is a river of restlessness, and peace comes when that river blends with an ocean—and likewise when I’m in my grave and have become one with the earth.”
“Huh? Then, aren’t you also pretending to know what lies beyond the door of death?” Lirzod pointed out.
Geragorn was startled a little, but he composed himself. “We are all pretenders to some extent anyway.”
“Maybe, but what do you call someone who pretends to not pretend to know something they don’t?”
Geragorn’s jaw made a hard line.
“I call them fools who fool themselves the most.”
There was silence between them for a moment. “Fools you say...” Geragorn stressed his words as if he was trying to keep his frustration at bay.
“You bastard…” one of Geragorn’s underlings barked. “Who on earth do you think you are!”
“I don’t think about who I am. I know who I am,” Lirzod replied in an unpretentious tone, “and to put it in a way you can understand… I’m just a simple lad—one among many who mean to raise their fists with rectitude in mind. And with aggressors like you around, this hall clearly begs any sensible fist to be busy.”
“Shut up,” more underlings voiced their minds, with their intestines boiling in rage. “You want to fight our boss with your puny skills? Keep dreaming!”
“There will be no need for a fight if your boss goes and apologizes to everyone he misbehaved with and changes his way from here on, but it doesn’t seem like that’s gonna happen, so you guys are leaving me no other choice,” Lirzod said. “I may or may not be able to win, but I will surely send a shiver of fear down your spines before I go down.”
“You little bastard… You really have a death wish!” the underlings barked. “If you want to experience fear so badly, then we’ll show you the door to death!”
“Oooh, I’m already shivering. You guys are so daunting!” Lirzod’s feet visibly shivered, further rubbing them up the wrong way.
The underlings could only grind their teeth as they waited for their boss’ signal.
Standing only ten feet apart, both Lirzod and Geragorn took in each other’s gaze. Till then, the focus of the folks at the other running tracks, who were busy doing their things, now shifted toward one spot in the Hall of Fame.
"Mr. Simple Lad, no, Gutsy Lad would be more fitting… Anyway, I give you praise for having the courage to face me again,” Geragorn’s voice wasn’t as fierce as it was when he spoke with his pointy-nosed subordinate. “And you handled yourself well just now. I can see that you are a fleet-footed kid, but that’s not enough to even kill my boredom. How about you become my lackey, and I’ll forget—"
“I’m not joining, piggy.” Lirzod's words made some jaws of the crowd hit the floor.
Geragorn, however, didn’t show any distress as he replied, “I don’t really care what you think of me.”
“Yeah,” Lirzod blew air through his nose, “doesn’t sound plausible when it comes from the mouth of a guy who bruised my rib because I called him just that.”
“Yet your run your mouth like a hungry little kitten. Do you want to get broken that badly?”
“Don’t take me for a weakling.” His focus was upon the concern at hand, the intentness of his gaze all so plain for others to see. “ I’m a tough nut to crack.”
“Heh, I’ve already cracked your ribs, didn’t I?” Geragorn said and smiled, exposing his teeth and canines. “But what I don’t get is why you are itching to fight me when you could’ve simply climbed up to the eleventh deck, unless you're trying to play a hero.”
Lirzod’s eyes glinted with grit, and his guts sat comfortably in his belly. “What’s the point of wandering through the world if my feet shy away from transfiguring, still less forming a thoroughfare?” he then grinned in return.
“Forget about changing the world, you won’t even be able to change this deck.” Geragorn snickered. “You are not the man—”
“Time will tell how I influence anything, not you!” Lirzod's mace whizzed through the air and almost touched Geragorn’s ribs, but was stopped by his bare hands. He pulled the mace forcibly out of Lirzod's hands and flicked it in the air, making it flip multiple times in midair.
“Trying to wound me at the same spot I wounded you, huh,” he launched a punch, but Lirzod met it with his own. “Mmgh,” Geragorn was a little surprised as both of them slightly tightened their jaws, trying tried to push each other’s fist back. Geragorn then caught the falling mace at its base and grinned before lashing it at Lirzod with the other hand. However, the boy defended himself with the forearm and simultaneously launched a brisk kick at Geragorn's crotch, and his foot hit first.
BAM~!
An odd sound erupted at the moment of impact, and Lirzod scowled a bit, puzzling the crowd who held their hands at their mouths and got engrossed by the unfolding affair without knowing themselves.
Geragorn smiled disparagingly. "My nuts are tough to crack as well. How does it feel to hit the steel guard?" He held the mace with two hands and vertically slashed it down straight at his opponent's shoulder. "Say goodbye to your arm, tough-nut!"
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