Shambala Sect 26 Goa

A few minutes later.

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 b.a.s.t.a.r.ds 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. Anway, I will take my leave as well," Sariyu stood as she tucked her hair behind the ears and began to walk away. "But you better not stand out too often. As for Geragorn, just forget about him."

After she left, 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?" 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, I 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 taste. "This taste never gets old."

"You are eating some strange fruits," A person entered the room. "Wait, aren't those phoenix fruits?"

"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 s.h.i.+fted 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. "I've heard about those but didn't think I'd get to see them on this s.h.i.+p."

"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 the death's door. I used to believe it when I was a kid, but thinking about that now makes me feel silly."

"Hha, 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 these. Uncle Sinario produced these," His voice contained lack of empathy.

"Uncle Sinario?" 777 blinked twice. "Who's that?"

"One of my clan heads."

"You mean," 777's eyes enlarged, "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 exactly 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."

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 kid, 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 pig or at least warned me of the existence of such threat."

777's shoulders jerked and the fruit almost fell out of his hands. "Y-Yeah, that was bad on my part. 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 smack that pig's head."

"Haha," 777 initially chuckled, but after seeing the frozen look on Lirzod's visage, his face stiffened. "You serious?"

"Don't I look serious?"

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."

"Then.." Lirzod made a solid eye contact and said in a flat tone, "you can leave my room, and forget we ever met each other."

"What?"

Lirzod said nothing.

"Are you serious?"

Lirzod didn't say anything, but his eyes revealed what was necessary.

"I was thinking of becoming your Offsider," 777 raised his voice.

"Then help me beat the guy."

"I can't do that. I'm not even capable of doing that."

"Then what's the use of having you as an Offsider? You can go and look for someone else who doesn't fight back."

"You, you are too rash," 777 stood and began to walk away. "There are many ways an Offsider can help than just fight alongside."

"I can be more rash."

"Hmph, if you act like this and attack him, it won't end well for you. Don't regret afterward. I warned you," Saying that he left.

After finis.h.i.+ng the fruit, Lirzod stood and wore a s.h.i.+rt but didn't b.u.t.ton it, so the bandage over his ribs was visible. He came out of the room, and without even closing the door, he left somewhere.

On 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," the man with a long chin hesitantly replied.

"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 deck. So…"

"That's what everyone says. People nowadays are becoming the knowledge h.o.a.rding, power hungry, and warmongering morons," His voice turned colder. "If you can prove to me that you won't become such a moron, I will give you permission."

"How, how can I prove myself?"

"I'm a man who finds beauty in simplicity. Simple things are enough to satisfy me. like being honest, respecting the seniors, keeping one's word and such. And now, I want you to keep your word too."

"What is that?"

"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.

"He-he-he," 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… I will do it," the man said, his face turned solemn.

"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 as well. If you don't keep your word, then expect me to keep my word. Men will come for your tongue."

The long-chinned man 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 towards a running track.

Seeing him, Geragorn and his friends were initially puzzled a bit.

"Isn't that the little fowl from yesterday?"

"Yeah, it seems like it."

"I wonder what's the Scarface coming here for?"

"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 guy said in an exuberant fas.h.i.+on.

"Mm, it looks like he isn't coming for a peaceful talk. Very well, go and give him an additional service," Geragorn glanced at that 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 leaned diagonally backward and dodged the hand with a little effort and spat in the face of that man, startling him.

"The f*ck?" That guy felt eerie and disgusted but before he could react a low kick in his nuts made his knees touch the ground, and he softly howled in pain.

The smiles on the faces of Geragorn's men subsided.

One after another, the gazes of the crowd turned towards the spot the matter was unfolding.

Lirzod walked past the kneeling man, his hands placed on his back and his mettlesome eyes fixedly staring back at the audacious looks of the men. "In my whole life, I never let someone hit me for no reason and walk away unscathed. Mess with a monster and it might not mind your thoughtlessness, but I will. Gergura or whatever your name is, today... you and your men will know that I'm one of those beings of this world that should never be messed with." His fingers made cracking sounds.

The crowd that was practicing on the track all watched the unfolding scene in a stupor. "Who the heck is that kid? Is he daring to fight them head on? Is he nuts?" A brown haired fat guy said.

Geragorn smiled. "I felt your rib cracking yesterday. It shouldn't have healed by now. Yet you are walking around as if nothing happened."

"Hmph, you call that a wound?" Lirzod straight out snorted, "I used to get them every day when I used to brawl with bulls as an infant."

The crowd had their mouths wide opened.

"Brawling with bulls as an infant?"

"That's his hobby?"

"Just who is this guy?"

The Inch Man standing somewhere far away spoke aloud, "Are we witnessing the rise of another goat[1]?"

"That's ridiculous.," A guy rebuked. "Yesterday, he got knocked out cold by Geragorn. How can you say that he's a goat, Inch Man? Your skills are waning."

"Then," Inch Man gave a cheeky smile, "are we witnessing the birth of another goat?"

"Inch Man, it's hard to talk to you. You just never know when to give up."

Meanwhile, Geragorn's men were holding back their rage, waiting for their boss to say a word.

Geragorn let out a stiff smile. (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 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 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?)

(Is he for real? He's done for!)

Though the crowd couldn't speak, their thoughts drifted about, insp.i.s.sating the air around them.

A lady monk who sat cross-legged atop a big sleeping turtle, opened her eyes 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 onto their sense of humor even in the face of a hazard."

One of the Geragorn's underlings snickered as he pumped his fists. "Then our fists will be the first weapons to 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 pig and never a woman."

"You…" the pointy-nosed underling was utterly enraged. "Who the f*ck do you think you are?" He glanced at one of his friends, who was his usual teammate. "Bilka, come on."

The two of them charged forward.

Lirzod looked around as the two men ran towards him, and at that moment, the lady monk bent to the side — while still seated on the turtle's back — and s.n.a.t.c.hed a thin mace from the nearby person and threw it towards Lirzod.

"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. 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. The pointy-nosed one stopped in his tracks.

The crowd was quite surprised but at the same time was pleased.

"The boy knows how to use a mace."

"He's also stronger than his looks."

"Maybe, he can take down a couple more of his men."

"Your Bilka is down," Lirzod sneered at the man, "c'mon, go and help him get up."

The pointy-nosed man hesitated for a moment. "Shut up." He glanced towards the lady monk who threw the mace to Lirzod. (That b*tch…) He looked at one of his men as if asking for a weapon, and glanced back at Lirzod momentarily, while carefully approaching him moving back and forth. Lirzod also moved around trying to look for an opportunity. From far, it seemed like those two were playing wrestling of a weird sort, though the two were yet to land a hit one another.

"Throw something, dammit!" While keeping eye contact with Lirzod, the man kept on moving his hand, signaling his friends to throw a weapon towards him but he never got any weapon.

"What's wrong? You can't fight me without a weapon?" Lirzod said.

"Hmph, put that down and then speak the same words," the pointy-nosed man replied.

Lirzod threw the mace to him, startling him and most of 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 said, "Don't have the b.a.l.l.s to attack even now?"

The pointy-nosed man was startled. He ground his teeth and roared. "Enough said!" He tried to scuttle ahead, but his head didn't move and the torso got suddenly pulled back. From the corners of his eyes, he saw a giant figure staring at him with eyes that glinted bitterly cold.

"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. 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.

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 the pointy-nosed man could no longer howl from the pain, before tossing him away into the crowd who had their hair raised as well.

"A man with only a mouth is never fit for a fist fight." Geragorn threw him away towards the crowd and away from where his underlings were. "I may overlook weakness but not puniness."

Standing only ten feet apart, Lirzod and Geragorn stared at one another. Till then, the distant crowd at the other running tracks who were doing their things had their focus s.h.i.+fted towards one spot in the Hall of Fame.

"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. How about you become my lackey and I'll forget—"

"I won't be joining, piggy." Lirzod's words made some jaws of the crowd hit the ground.

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 ruptured my rib because I called him just that. Don't take me for a fool. I'm a tough nut to crack."

"Heh," Geragorn smiled, exposing his teeth and canines. "n.o.body is perfect. Emotions are hard to—"

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 the air.

"Trying to wound me at the same spot I wounded you?" He held the falling mace it at its base before swinging it at Lirzod who fended himself with the forearm and at the same time launched a brisk kick at Geragorn's crotch.

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, airhead!"

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[1] Goat: Goats are great climbers. So the people who climb the decks faster than the average people are referred to as goats.