At close quarters to the ice dumpster.
Most men, who recently contested, had wounds all over their bodies. Some of them applied turmeric powder on their fresh and nude lacerations while some others put chili powder into service as brazier-red blood squirted from their wounds. A very few, however, employed alternate ways to gain resistance toward pain, and at the same time, keep their anger and hunger alive for the much-lauded win. If lunacy and masculinity had children, then this was how they might have probably looked.
Though no weapons were allowed in this deck test, the entries were still capable of tearing other’s skin with their nails, biting through their flesh and muscle, and much more.
Compared to most other’s wounds, Burton received far minor injuries.
A deck test usually resulted in the formation of new allies or enemies. In the case of the latter, before the bitterness could consume the entries and drive them into killing one another, they used the sparring matches to blow off the hatred. In general, the referee promoted these sparring matches, and in rare cases, the commander of the deck directly took care of the business.
The Sparring Sport—what most entries and hollows refer ‘sparring matches’ as—may feast the eyes of the viewers and provide fun to their hearts, but the sport was extremely painful to play.
Not just the hatred formed inside the ice dumpster but also many other debates of different fields and forms that take place on other decks got resolved through sparring. The rules and the setting of the matches varied as per the desires of the participants. Not many entries or hollows would love to involve in skirmishes that lead them to the sparring sport.
If sparring sport in itself was considered not as a good option, then the ice dumpster was even more so. In the eyes of many entries and hollows, it appeared as one thing—plenty of fools ready to be mangled and maimed like in every round since the dawn of Extensive Voyage. Over its course, many women would have gotten displeased by Circus of Wolves, but there was no denying that it gave inexpugnable erections to many a hale man.
As the three youngsters sauntered past the rows made by men, they—in especial, the red-haired girl—attracted the attention of most contestants. Gorgeous in all angles, a look at her superficial semblance was enough to trigger bountiful of emotions in the hearts of men.
“What good looks! Every once in a while, God does create things right,” one man appeared bemused by Sariyu's guise.
“She’s probably the sexiest thing that boarded the ship in recent months,” another man raised his hopes higher than his hands could reach, “she will be mine.”
"Fool, she's mine," another man sniggered.
Some men wanted to have a bite off her face, whereas some others felt nervous to stare at her for longer than a second, let alone think of approaching her. Nevertheless, it was tough for many of them to avert their eyes once they had settled on her.
Though Sariyu could feel their gazes on her sensitive skin, all she could do was go through the feeling. She knew that the only girl in the entire hall was her and her alone. It didn’t matter how lovely or unlovely she may have looked, the other men would likely check her out, albeit granted with a different degree of passion. Whatever her inner thoughts may be, she didn’t show it on her face—not even the discomfort birthed due to the smelly men. It was no quotidian smell. The air suffused with the suffocating scent of sweat and blood felt ungodly to Sariyu, and for sure, every breath of hers fairly loosened her bowels.
“Geez, life is not fair. Many men have their eyes set on you,” Lirzod hastily said to Sariyu in a somewhat envious tone but later brought it back to normal just as quick. “They all seem so frozen from seeing you. I wonder how their faces would have looked if Primera was here, too.”
“I’ve never really considered myself beautiful,” Sariyu slightly made a pinched expression, “so I’d like it if you stop talking about it.”
“Haha, I know that. Your coldness outclasses your charm.” Lirzod laughed. “These men don’t know it yet. Until they do, they would be willing to do whatever you want them to." He paused a moment before sighing a little. "Being beautiful has no real disadvantages, but I’m sure it sucks to have all the doors open up with a smile.”
“What do you want me to do?” Sariyu asked in a sharp tone. “Build a bridge so that ladies begin to bother you?”
“I know that’s not possible,” Lirzod said, raising his palms toward the skies, just a bit, “but you can at least cry me a river.”
“Hmph, I don’t remember you ever cry even a damn drop for me,” Sariyu folded her arms while still guarding her nose with one hand.
“W-Well, the need for such a situation never arrived,” Lirzod said, “but if there ever arises one, you know that my heart bleeds for you, don’t you?”
“I doubt it.” Sariyu’s voice somewhat softened and glanced at Burton before continuing, “Would you do the same if Burton is in trouble?”
Lirzod glimpsed at Burton, who was coldly exchanging glances with other contestants that he fought in the previous rounds, before replying in a muffled voice, “If he cries out for help, then maybe I'll consider.”
A moment later, a corner of Sariyu's lips curled up a little.
“Who did you say you wanna see cry?” Burton’s voice rang in Lirzod’s ears, startling him.
He was listening! Lirzod cleared his throat. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
Burton slapped Lirzod on the back of the head, producing a harsh noise.
Lirzod furrowed his brows, his expression instantly changing from that of a happy-go-lucky boy to that of someone who got his hard-earned breakfast stolen by the same lad on every single day of the week for an entire year. “Why did you do that?”
“I wasn’t trying to hit you,” Burton cast a downward glance at him, apparently unfazed by the anger that Lirzod exhibited. "I was swatting the air. It's your head that got in the way of my hand."
“I told you many times,” Lirzod clenched his fists firmly, “to not hit me on the head.”
“Why?" Burton's fingers touched his chin. "Shouldn't you feel grateful toward my hands for putting some sense into that squirrel-ish brain of yours.”
"Will you two stop it or not?" Sariyu interfered.
“Yeah," Lirzod ignored her and exchanged icy stares with Burton. "I’ll be grateful enough and one day wreck them for you.”
"Not gonna happen," Burton softly blew air through his nose.
As those two were having it out with words, the other men, who had their eyes on the three youngsters till now, shifted their gazes toward the entrance where five hefty men were marching ahead.
“When a blizzard brings you to knees, what will you do?” the one in the front, Aziz, the eldest of the five brothers roared aloud.
“Rise like a ghost in the snow,” the four brothers behind him responded in a resembling fashion.
“Yeah, we rise like a wolf howling her way to her destiny,” Aziz continued, and even though he was shouting, his voice seemed to be completely under his control. ”Each howl able enough to shake every other soul and prevail over their sensoul.”
Seeing the seven-feet-tall brothers make their entrance, many souls—of the audiences and contestants alike—were alarmed. Sporting unique hairstyles that wind couldn’t ruffle, and attire that revealed most of their saturated fatty selves, the five of them perused the contestants who kept gawking back in return.
“The heck? Hardy Brothers are participating?” the contestants were as confounded as a herd of buffaloes that caught the drift of a pride of lions in their stamping grounds. “When did they get the tickets?”
“Someone must have sold it to them in secret,” some others opined, albeit feeling just as regretful as the rest of the contestants for entering the event.
"If they are taking part in the test, then there's no guessing the winner."
"I wonder which poor souls will get wrecked by them this time around."
"I'm glad that I am not competing in this round."
Different people had mixed opinions on the matter holding discussion.
Meanwhile, the assistant referee’s face wasn’t bright either. Now that the Hardy Brothers were taking part in the test, it would be further strenuous for him to tempt the bettors in placing their bets on contestants that looked promising.
“So, those five are the Hardy Brothers,” Hundred scanned them from head to toe. “They are heavy but seem able-bodied.” He narrowed his eyes. If they are fast as well, the others will not have a chance.
“A curious change of circumstances,” Tarkan cackled as he took a vitreous flask out of his pocket and gently sprayed his hair with what the flask contained—some transparent liquid. People would think of it as a scent flask if they didn't see him use it on his hair. “Your odds of winning the bet took a downturn from their entrance.”
“I’ve heard about them before,” Hundred said in a discouraged manner, “but I had no idea that they are still hanging around on this deck.”
Tarkan’s voice hardened, “Those five brothers have proven the worth of their bond. You can say they are a certified pack of wolves.” He glanced at the betting counter. “Because of their attendance, the bettors are already thrown into turmoil. Now, they will surely take their time to place their bet. It’s not surprising that you got upset from seeing the Brothers of the Bond here.”
“B-Brothers of the Bond?” Hundred’s butt almost sprang up from the seat. “Isn’t that a famous club that has one of the strictest qualifying tests?” His doubtful glance delved into Tarkan’s aspect. “You mean to tell me these five have joined that club?”
“It’s the club that gave them the entry tickets taken right out of its quota,” Tarkan’s fingertips touched his chin as his gaze scrutinized the Quintette of brothers. “Mess with them here, and you’ll probably have messed with that very club they’re part of.”
“That club’s got a worse reputation than many cults.” Visible worriment showed on Hundred’s mien. “Didn’t they pass the test already?”
“No. Those five brothers are fully capable of passing the test, but they seem more interested in refining their spirits from breaking those of others.” Credence evinced through Tarkan’s bearing, “It’s okay if you don’t respect them, but you should at least respect the club they’re in.”
“So, they are simply fiendish.”
“I wouldn’t view them as such if I were you,” Tarkan said. “The Circus of Wolves is an event where bodies bleed, and souls scream through grinding.” He looked at the other contestants whose physique seemed prettified with wounds of all sorts. “One’s Martial Way is better manifested through four associated practices: Blood, Sweat, Drive, and Grind. No blood, no beauty. No sweat, no story. No drive, no duty. No grind, no glory. And without pain acting as the quintessence for these four practices, the Martial Walk would often dupe us well of its end.”
“The brothers are grinding themselves in the ice dumpster, huh…” Hundred clenched his fists as he fixedly looked at the brothers. “Beasts get ground in the circus until they get things right. I didn’t realize it till now that Circus of Wolves also meant this. They sweat, they bleed, and they look for every opportunity to get out of the ice dumpster first without worrying about the pain it brings.”
Meanwhile, the referee spoke through the mic, feigning enthusiasm with relative ease, “We have the Hardy Brothers participating this time. I’m sure everyone is as excited as me since the test is going to be thrilling.”
Aziz, the eldest of the siblings, had the shortest hair and the darkest complexion coupled with horsy semblance. The fire tattoo covering the right half of his face made him appear a bit more threatening than the rest regardless of his somewhat gripping looks as compared to his kins.
Betts, the second elder brother, had long, straight hair that he bound to his wrists to restrict his arm movement. “It’s been what, three periods of sleep since we last let loose in the dumpster. Now, I can finally burn some fat off my butt.”
Centry, the third elder brother, had wavy hair and was the thinnest among the five. “I guess we’ll stand in the last line this time. We get to do more work that way.”
“I was thinking the same,” Divas, the fourth elder brother, had an average build as compared to his brothers. “The last row is the best row to pick our targets.” His abnormally long forehead also made him sort of unsightly to watch. “After all, you defend a treasure from the front, but you attack prey from behind.”
Seeing the five brothers mosey along in one direction, all the contestants began to change their formations, puzzling Lirzod, Burton, and Sariyu. In a matter of seconds, all the first eight rows were taken in full, leaving only parts of the ninth and the tenth ones empty. It wasn't so obvious for the onlookers to see, yet it was made clear that no matter where a contestant stood, they all had their senses paying attention to everything that the brothers did.
The Hardy Brothers assumed their spots in the tenth line without worry and wasted no time in springing their necks to tease the other contestants, further backed by their baleful glims.
At that time, three youngsters took the spots in the ninth line right in front of the brothers, amazing every other contestant.
"Why did they choose there of all places? They must be out of their minds!"
"I guess they are looking for trouble. Otherwise, it makes no sense whatsoever."
"They may very well be trying to show off to gain some initial good impression, but those poor things don't seem to know that such tricks will not help them win the test."
"I'm standing far away from those brothers, so I should be relatively safe."
Many contestants expressed different feelings from what the three youngsters did.
“Silly fools,” the short-braided man snickered, “they are asking to get tortured by staying in that line.”
“Oh, no, Cheesy Cheeks is standing too far from us,” the gray-haired man said in disappointment, “but I still want to have them. Do you think she will fund me those if I ask her?”
“Take it easy,” the brown-haired man beside the gray-haired man said in an unhurried tone, “if the Hardy Brothers get us, we’ll be in big trouble.”
“Heh, those fatties can eff off for all I care,” the gray-haired man snickered.
Meanwhile, 777 was visibly frustrated. “Of all spots, they picked that one!”
Hundred, on the other hand, had his mouth ajar. Till now, despite all the odds that ran through his mind, he still had the haziest hope of the three youngsters winning the whole thing, but now that very little hope just vanished off his consciousness. Gone! My money’s gone!
“Kah-haha,” Tarkan acted like his usual self. "What a careless bunch." His eyes then narrowed. Or, are they confident in their strength?
Lirzod looked at the entries standing in the eight lines ahead of him. “Many eyes are still on you.” He turned his head to Sariyu. “How are you feeling about it?”
“Sheesh,” Sariyu felt the urge to stomp her feet but controlled herself by brushing the edges of the fingernails of her thumb with the other fingers. “Stop it already.”
“Haha, fine,” Lirzod said and leaned closer before speaking softly. “Also, don’t worry. I’m not gonna do nasty things in the pool, even though it may feel honored if I spat in it and be blessed if I peed in it.”
Sariyu clenched her fist. "It's not a pool, and..." Her foot stomped on his dorsum of the foot, making him jump back a little.
“Ouch,” In that process, Lirzod ended up lightly colliding with someone standing behind him.
“Mm?” the cumbrous man, Fimbry, the youngest and also the shortest among the brothers, glanced down as a wolf would at a fawn before speaking in a mild tone that contrasted his sharp stare. “Hehe, we’ve got an ant in front of us.” He snickered at him while working out his knuckles. “You better watch out, boy, or else you might get buried underneath our heads.”
Lirzod looked behind and stared up slowly from the bottom to the top, finally stopping there. His eyes chiefly took note of the scar marks on Fimbry's body. He then noticed that the four other big guys standing next to Fimbry sported scars all over their bodies as well.
"What are you looking at, shrimp?" Divas coldly stared down at Lirzod.
Lirzod paused a moment before pointing his finger toward Fimbry. “Did he say something about me?”
"So what if he did?" Divas snorted, slightly irritating Lirzod.
Fimbry sneered. "I said, 'You better watch out or else you might get buried underneath our heads.'"
“Fimbry, it’s ‘feet,’” Divas said bluntly with a chuckle, “not ‘heads.’”
“Right, right,” Fimbry's face slightly reddened from embarrassment. “I’ve butchered many women in my life.”
“What?” Lirzod was puzzled.
“You’ve got it wrong again, Fimbry,” Divas said, his chuckle getting significantly louder. “It should be ‘words’ and not ‘women.’”
“Right, right, brother,” Fimbry rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve butchered many words in my life.” His smile subsided as he looked down at Lirzod. “What are you looking at?”
“What’s your problem, man?” Lirzod turned away, exposing his back to them. “Mind your own business.”
“For a young one, you sure are daring enough to pick a fight with Hardy Brothers when you don’t even have weapons,” Divas said, smirking dispassionately. “What’s your name?’
“You nutless gentlemen are not worthy of knowing my name,” Lirzod replied without even looking back while waving his hand, telling them again to mind their business.
“This pipsqueak...” Centry, who was watching the whole time, stood on the verge of putting his fists to work, and just as he was thinking to unleash his fists, Betts stopped him.
“Let the event begin,” Betts casually stated, “and then we can amuse ourselves with him and,” his gaze fell over the two others beside him, “his friends.”
“Hehe, you are right,” Centry’s stare stopped on Sariyu. “A chick in clover[1], I see. You did well to reach here, but now that your fickle friend tangled with us, your adventure is going to end before it can take some shape. When Hardy Brothers are around, there’s no hope to cling on to, no faith to believe in, no love to build for, and no luck to comfort from, for anybody.”
Centry’s words were boisterous enough for most people in the vicinity to hear, yet no one uttered a word in return. All had their mouths squeezed shut.
“That’s right,” Fimbry said, thrusting his chest out as he let out a knowing grin. “Even if you heard us, you must fart like you didn’t.”
Divas chortled. “It’s ‘act’ and not ‘fart.'”
“Right, right, brother,” Fimbry felt embarrassed all over. “Even if you heard us, you must act like you didn’t.”
Some contestants who saw Fimbry felt like vomiting out.
"I never knew that a pig looked this worse when it blushed."
"Che, what are we being compelled to watch? I'd rather have someone poke me in the eyes than witness that misshapen smile."
The members of the audience, however, were in acceptance with what the brothers were doing. They didn't care for as long as the brothers beat up someone or some group thoroughly, thereby providing some entertainment.
Meanwhile, Lirzod bent toward Sariyu and said in a low voice, “The big guys seem to be talking about you.”
“About me?” Sariyu raised one of her eyebrows.
“You too fart like you didn’t, right?” Lirzod replied.
Sariyu’s face froze for many seconds.
“But it’s not a unique skill of yours,” Lirzod continued, “all girls fart like they didn’t.”
“Shut... up!” Sariyu’s words felt like a rush of silence.
“What? I was only—” as Lirzod was saying, she pinched him on his hand, making him step away from her.
“You idiot,” Burton pulled Lirzod closer by his collar. “Stop your rubbish already. You've already made many enemies before the test even started. If those five fatties come after us, it’ll seriously hurt our winning chances.”
“They bad-mouthed us first. If you are afraid, then just go and stand elsewhere,” Lirzod shook off Burton, irritating him further.
At that instant, Sariyu came to Burton and said in his ears. “He acted stupidly, but it will work in our favor.”
At that instant, Sariyu came to Burton and said in his ears. “He acted stupidly, but it will work in our favor.”
Burton was startled, but before he could ask her, she left back to her spot. He glanced at the five brothers. We are standing right before these thugs. Their number is enough to not only stop us but implement whatever plans they prepared in advance. So, why does she think this idiot’s actions will help us? He couldn’t help but look at the rest of the contestants and the rows made by them.
There were ten lines of people that made a hundred in total, and as they all waited, Burton had different thoughts. Those in the first row are least likely to succeed as they will always be the targets of others. Those in the last rows may not have enough time to pass through the others, so they are at a disadvantage, too. His gaze shifted elsewhere, to a particular place among the contestants. The best spot to be is in the middle. By moving forward or backward whenever needed, they can still have the time to make it to the other side. Burton kept looking around at the contestants to see who were in groups and who was alone.
These sorts of thoughts weren’t exclusive to Burton. Some of the entries, who had played multiple times before and had gained experience, would think likewise with the difference being the number of times one participated. Burton took relatively fewer attempts as compared to the rest to discern how the contestants competed in the ice dumpster.
Some groups stayed in the same row, whereas some others picked consecutive rows. A very few, however, scattered themselves randomly.
Most people stood near the center, which was anywhere in the fourth, fifth, and sixth rows. Lirzod’s group of three stationed themselves in the ninth row, which was the second to the last.
Burton faintly smiled before looking at Sariyu and spoke moderately aloud. “If we lose this time, we can’t participate for three more rounds. With all these heavy people around, we must pass through the chilling water, and moreover, the hidden ice spikes. It feels like we won’t be winning this one.”
His words pleased the ears of many contestants as that was what they expected to hear from that group of three.
“Why don’t you use your mouth for something positive given the situation we’re in?” Sariyu replied in a like manner while concealing her smile. He seems to have come up with a strategy as well.
“If you don't like me being frank, then why should I care?” Burton shrugged his shoulders and hastily turned his head in the opposite direction to her.
“Well, this isn’t the time for that,” Sariyu looked away just as fast.
Not minding those two, Lirzod, who was busy flexing his fingers, glanced back at the big fellows—four of whom greeted him with scary smiles. As a response to their wicked smiles, he showed his middle finger, pissing them off right away. Anger thoroughly replaced the smiles on their now stiffened faces, except for on Aziz’s who had a hushed expression matching his eloquence.
Centry turned in the direction where the referee was and howled like a wolf. “Start the damn test right now!”
All the members in the audience stands felt the hairs on their skin rise at once.
The referee’s shoulders jerked up and down as if he awoke from a deep slumber. “Y-Yeah, yeah.” He looked at the assistant referee and gestured him to stop taking any more bets, even though not many people were willing to bet because of the attendance of Hardy Brothers. He spoke as he addressed the crowd. “Let’s see which alpha wolf will succeed this time!”
“Yeah!” the crowd roared in response.
Centry ground his teeth and popped his knuckles as he stared down at Lirzod with gibbous eyes. “If I don’t break your ribs today, I will change my name!”
“All the very best, then,” Lirzod replied coolly, but the brothers took it as a display of his disdainfulness. What’s with people going for my ribs all the time?
“You little...” Centry's fists visibly shook from being unable to control his fit of rage in full.
"How come only alpha wolves get to succeed?" Lirzod's opened his mouth, and his voice echoed throughout the ice dumpster, and the audience stands. “All experienced alpha wolves are one day destined to taste defeat at the claws of determined young wolves.” He stopped and smiled a little as he grabbed everyone’s attention. “Before this test ends, I’ll have all the hooligans who think they’re alpha wolves howl out my name!”
Everyone was bewildered to hear his voice at a higher pitch than Centry's voice did. Hundred revealed a source of amazement on his profile, whereas 777 lightly strained his eyes.
"You are pushing your luck too far, kiddo!" all the four brothers except for Aziz roared aloud. “Your tale ends tonight!” they simultaneously lifted their feet to step onward.
In that instant, the referee signaled the start of the event by striking a bronze plate with a bronze rod.
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[1] Chick in Clover: An idiom used for girls who prosper either physically, mentally, or spiritually. The inhabitants of the Clover Continent often used this idiom. In this context, Centry expressed his respect on Sariyu for boarding Extensive Voyage and also for reaching the eleventh deck while looking wholly healthy.
Chapter Length: 4300+ words
Daily Dose: Some of us might be thinking that... our lives are a waste, our families aren’t good, we are not that good looking, we are not that smart, we are not that rich, we don’t have that good of a job, we don’t have that good of a salary, and the list goes on. When we are down and worrying about our stature and the failures we’re facing in life, it takes a special someone to pull us out of our misery, and that someone would be our brother, maybe not related by blood but surely by bond. He’ll make us realize that no one thinks like us and sees the world like us, that our existence in itself is unique and wondrous, that there are things in this world that only we can achieve. People who help each other in such a manner are all Brothers of the Bond. I hope you'll find at least one such brother in your life.
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