Shambala Sect - 49 FEAR OF FIGH

On the twelfth deck, at a small bread booth near one of the entrances of the test hall.

“I was expecting to get my hands on the mysterious doughnuts, and not only do you not sell them…” Lirzod, who sat at the only table, complained to the booth owner, tapping his finger repeatedly on the food item on his plate, “but also this bread you’ve given us is cold.”

Sariyu and Burton were sitting next to him, not interested in ordering the bread as it lacked the sweetness or saltiness, unlike how they had always consumed at home.

Only just minutes ago, Lirzod came to know about the existence of doughnuts from overhearing a conversation, and he came straight to the bread booth, his heart filled with raving hope, but all of that anticipation escaped out of his mouth, turning his tongue cold, and adding to his disappointment, the booth owner gave him cold and stiff bread.

“Sorry, sir. We don’t serve hot and risen bread for free,” the owner—a young brown-haired boy in his late teens—politely replied, albeit in a rigid posture. With his left half of the face burnt reddish-brown and his left ear completely gone, his visage had always failed him in shaping the expression he wanted to. “If you want hot bread, then each bread costs twenty copper.”

Lirzod’s brows creased. “Twenty copper coins for just one bread?” And there’s no sauce or any dish to serve with the bread either. You’re just looting us, man.”

“I’ve got to pay rent for the booth as well, sir,” the corners of the owner’s mouth downturned with effort, casting a shoddy gloom on his face, “I may sell low quality food, but you won’t ever find a rotten bread in my booth.” His voice, however, sounded convincing, “Since you have come from the tenth deck, you must know that for booths on these lower decks, it’s either bread or dead. I wish I could sell some dish that goes with bread, but that’s not allowed on these lower decks.”

“Yeah, but still—serving cold food is a cold thing to do,” Lirzod flapped his hand in displeasure. “I have never served cold water much less cold food to Gouse.”

“Gouse? Who’s Gouse?” the owner couldn’t help but inquire.

“She’s someone who expects good things from me just as your customers do from you,” Lirzod mouthed, eyes exhibiting credence, “you’ve got a lot to learn from her.”

The owner could only slightly frown from disappointment in himself, which was a common thing for many booth owners. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I’m not that knowledgeable, sir, but if there’s anything you want to know from me, like news or whatnot, I can tell you for free.”

“Really?” Lirzod almost sprang from his seat, zest transforming his face.

“Of course, sir,” the owner’s sorrow mollified a bit upon seeing Lirzod’s reaction, “selling information is also a part of our job. Otherwise, we won’t earn enough money from selling bread alone.”

Lirzod’s eyes brightened, “Then can you tell me how doughnuts look? How do they exactly taste?” His tongue salivated at a great speed to the extent it garbled his speech. “Are they crunchy? Are they salty? Are they toasty? Are they—”

“Either spit or swallow the damn saliva first,” Sariyu twisted Lirzod’s ears, greatly put out by the bubbles that had come out of Lirzod’s mouth. “And don’t waste a chance like this by asking nutty questions. Ask him something useful!”

“Aw, ow, uw! Stop twisting my freaking ears,” Lirzod pulled himself away, brought freedom to his ear and later softly caressed it. “It hurts. Look, how red it has gotten!” His eyes shot sparks at her.

“You deserved it,” she clasped her hands which rested on her lap, shooting a frigid glance at him. Like the living tail of an animal, a long, thick braid sloped down the smooth curve her spine made and would have stretched down all the way to the level of her hip if she were to stand. A white ribbon adorned its tip further beautifying it.

“Wait, how did you know your ears have reddened?” Burton’s brow shot up, his fingers casually placed under the chin.

Lirzod’s shoulders jerked and shrank, but he clenched his fists and barked in haste, “I-I can, I can feel it.” He averted his eyes from them and looked back at the booth owner, “Hey, you! Tell me about doughnuts.”

Sariyu’s jaw tightened. “Were you even listening to what I just said?” she howled at Lirzod.

“I did!” Lirzod replied recklessly, but after perceiving the increasing redness in her eyes with a secret glance, he quickly cleared his throat and politely repeated without making eye contact, “I did.”

“Doughnuts are—” the owner was answering.

“Wait,” Sariyu interrupted him, “we don’t want to know about doughnuts or whatever those things are, but can you tell me on which deck you can sell clothes and earn good profits?”

“No problem,” the owner’s response pressed Lirzod to purse the lips, “I think the fifteenth deck is good for that as a lot of exchanges and all sorts of trade happens there in the shadows. Otherwise, if you are interested in making long term official deals, you have to climb all the way to the twenty which is also known as the Deck of Trade, but I don’t think you’ll earn as much profit on that deck.”

“Oh…” Sariyu nodded to herself. (So, it’s the fifteenth deck then.) She began to calculate many things in her mind.

“Then what about the doughnuts?” Lirzod asked now, his voice filled with expectancy.

The booth owner, however, put his palm forward, puzzling Lirzod for a moment with his blank face—the only expression he was good at pulling off. “It’ll cost a copper.”

For an instant, Lirzod portrayed a dazed look before squinting, “You…” Paying a copper was not a big deal for Lirzod, but he didn’t want to pay to that owner now after everything that happened. “Hmph, I can find out about doughnuts without your help.”

“Your choice,” the owner pulled back his hand and smiled as considerately as he could. “But, just for your information, I know on which deck doughnuts taste the best.”

Lirzod, unable to control his emotion, gnawed on the edges of bread as mice would, eyeing straight at the owner; however, at the same time, he muttered something in a hurry, though nobody understood a word of it.

Eyes closed, the owner could only force a grin, trying to continue having the upper hand in the conversation.

“Come to think of it, your offsider did help us escape from Aziz after we’ve gotten out of the hall,” Burton told Sariyu, bringing her out of her cerebral world. “So… are you gonna make his post permanent?”

“I don’t know,” Sariyu let out a weighted sigh, “to be honest, it feels too soon.” Moments later, she turned her toward Lirzod, “You better thank him for his help, too.”

“That Triple Seven is a crook,” Lirzod blew air through his nostrils, “Why would I thank him?” He was busy cleaning his ears with his little finger. “I can’t help but wonder why he stepped in. Maybe, he wanted an autograph or something, and we mistook it for help.”

Sariyu ground her teeth, “you don’t have to thank him, but at least keep your mouth in check and talk decently with him from now on.”

“Not happening,” Lirzod said, inhaling deeply through the nose, “I will talk how my heart wants me to talk,” he closed his eyes and placed his hand on the heart, “and it’s telling me to not listen to anyone’s words now.” He opened his eyes back and glanced down at the bread. “Since you seem to wanna thank him so badly, you can thank him in my stead, too.”

His words killed her mood and tried her patience again.

“You can think of it as doing a deed for our team sake,” Burton propounded.

“Team sake?” Lirzod sniggered as his eyes met Burton’s, “Look who’s talking—a tiger is trying to teach a lion about teamwork… pfft!” Lirzod shook with laughter.

Lirzod’s laughter rubbed them up the wrong way, and his words had already boiled both their blood.

Sensing the danger, Lirzod promptly got up from the seat. “Ahem, let me bring some more cold bread.” He came to the booth owner, his eyes still keeping track of the ones behind him. “Is there only this one type of bread with you, or are there more?”

“Only just this one, sir,” replied the owner, already expecting something critical to come out of Lirzod’s mouth.

“Why’s that?” Lirzod asked, most of his attention still on both Burton and Sariyu. “You can make hundreds of types of bread from different food grains, can’t you?”

“Well, yes, but I don’t make things. I only supply things,” the owner answered rather smoothly, “do you want another bread, maybe?”

“Not really,” Lirzod said in a low voice, only now shifting his eyes toward the owner, “I just came here to escape from their scoldings.” Lirzod quietly giggled, secretly pointed his fingers toward Sariyu and Burton, both of whom were looking straight at him. “I bet they are looking this way right now.”

“Yep, you are right,” the owner said and smiled. “Talking to you was nice, sir, you can have another packet if you want.” He tried to hand Lirzod a packet holding ten pieces of bread.

“No, I don’t need it,” Lirzod said, but then expectantly looked at the owner, “How about some hot bread?”

“I’m sorry, sir. Anything but that,” the owner’s reply took some of Lirzod’s energy away, but then the owner leaned forward and murmured, “Don’t you think you can calm them down with this packet alone?”

Lirzod was pleasantly surprised to hear that, and as a result, he grabbed the packet and leaked out an affected smile toward the owner. “You are smarter than you look.”

“U-Uh,” the owner didn’t know how to feel about Lirzod’s words, but his shoulders flailed, and his appearance grew solemn. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Of course,” Lirzod frankly said, “you are smarter than Triple Seven in a good way.”

Lirzod’s words helped the owner feel a bit better, even though he had no idea who 777 was.

“Hey, why don’t you try and become an offsider to some entry?” Lirzod stated, “That way, you can enjoy fighting with others, and who knows, you might get great girls, ahem, I mean, great fights under your belt.”

The owner’s face darkened instantly. “Fight…” His voice quivered, and his left hand began to shiver; however, he did his best control the shivering, “Fighting is what gifted me this face.” Just his right eye turned teary as he stared at Lirzod, unblinking, “Unlike you who has two friends, I boarded this ship alone. Still, I wasn’t afraid because I wantingly chose to traverse the Martial Walk with my own strength. I dreamed of becoming a Martial Child, and I thought I was willing to face anything for it. But…” His left hand rose and felt the left half of his face with it. “Just one bold move against a group of individuals cost me half of my face, most of my courage, and in return, furnished me with fear toward fighting. This Viktor you are seeing—is not the old Viktor anymore, and this face is still an unfamiliar one to me. This left eye doesn’t shed tears anymore. These hands no longer want to hold the sword. All this new Viktor can do is hope to earn enough to get my face treated one day and then head back home.” As he said, he saw that Lirzod’s expression also was a bit out of sorts. “I’m sorry. I seem to have caused you distress.”

“No, not at all,” Lirzod said, his mood foiled by the possible prospects, “I wish I can help you at least with the treatment, but I don’t have any money on me now.”

“It’s alright. Just the thought itself makes me feel better.”

“I’m sure it must be hard to even talk to new faces with an injury like that,” Lirzod pitied him.

“It was indeed quite soul-shaming in the beginning, but now, I got better at dealing with the ‘surprised looks’ if I can put them that way.”

Lirzod paused a moment. He had already finished eating all of the phoenix fruits, so he wasn’t sure if there was any other way he could help. Still, he ended up assuring, “If you failed to get treated for whatever reason, go to my hometown, Helenia, and tell them that I, Lirzod sent you.” Saying that he turned back.

“And what will that do?” Viktor couldn’t help but want to know.

“What else? It will get your wound treated,” Lirzod said, leaving Viktor in a daze.

Lirzod’s head was turned in a different direction as he approached the table and placed the bread packet on it. “Here, you two can have it.”

“Hmph,” Sariyu harrumphed a little, “what’s with the sudden change? As far as I know, today isn’t a special occasion.”

“Do you want it or not?” Lirzod said, still facing away, clicking the fingernails against the table, “It’s okay if you don’t want it. Not everyone can understand my goodwill.”

“I’m not in the mood to pretend to be wanting the bread,” Sariyu bluntly said, her voice lacking lovableness.

Burton clapped multiple times, making sure to not break into a cheesy smile, thereby further irking Lirzod. “I clapped because there’s dust on my hands, not because I liked what she said,” Burton spoke out as if he was talking to someone else.

Lirzod bared his teeth, the veins in his neck twitching very much. He grabbed the bread packet and tossed it away into the distance, startling the two and especially the booth owner.

“Hey! What have you done?” Viktor yelled and ran out of the booth. “Why did you throw it away?”

Lirzod then turned his head to him—irritation still apparent in his eyes. “I threw it away because my hand slipped and not because I was angry.”

Viktor got a dumbfounded look on his face for a while.

“His reasoning gets beyond our understanding sometimes,” Sariyu told Viktor, before turning to Lirzod, “you can just go and get the bread packet back, or you can just stand here and do nothing.”

Lirzod stood still, staring at the floor but opened his mouth, “I’m busy right now.”

Sariyu looked at Viktor. “Sorry for the trouble.” She stood from her seat, “I’ll bring it back.”

“It’s alright,” Viktor gestured to her, telling her to sit, “I’ll get it back myself.”

However, just then a red fox came out of nowhere and snatched the bread packet and ran away just as fast. After running for more than a hundred meters, it stopped and began to tear the packet cover in haste.

Seeing that, Viktor, who had temporarily frozen, now got incensed instantly, for that fox had already bothered him too many times. “You damn little shit, I’m going to break all your teeth today!” He hurriedly picked up a few stones from the heap of stones he placed near the shop for this very cause and ran straight to the fox, hurling stones at it while cursing madly.

The fox picked the packet by its mouth and started to run away with prodigious promptitude and prudence. He continued chasing after it with full speed and eventually disappeared from Sariyu’s sight upon crossing the corner of the street.

About two minutes later.

Viktor entered Sariyu’s vision, this time with empty hands, breathing heavily. She understood that he failed in getting the bread packet back, but what surprised her was that the fox still followed him—still holding the bread packet by its mouth—while keeping its distance.

As Viktor got closer and closer to his booth, the frustration on his face became quite noticeable to Sariyu. His face turned claret red, seemingly suffering from dementia.

The fox came into the fifty-meter range and tore packet into two halves and pushed one half ahead with its nose while keeping the other half at its feet, and afterward, it barked multiple times.

“Haha, it’s nutty as a fruitcake.” Lirzod snickered. “I like it, though it got ways to go to catch up to me who’s nutty as a nut.”

“What is it saying?” Sariyu was a bit puzzled, and she glanced at Burton.

“‘The bread’s good,’” Burton said, “‘but you can have the rest.’ That’s what it’s saying—probably.”

Viktor, who glanced over the shoulder at the fox, coldly said, “Bullshit.” Saying that he entered the booth, and adding to his bitterness, a rat was munching on the bread through the hole it made in one of the bread packets. Viktor’s eyes instantly blackened as he grabbed hold of a meat cleaver from the set of knives hanging by the wall. Without hesitating even a second, the pointed object in his hand plummeted onto the tail end of the rat and cleaved through its tail at the base. The sudden sound of the knife striking the wooden floor shifted the attention of the three youngsters toward the booth when the owner picked up a wriggling tail and tossed it out.

A second later, a rat came out of the booth, squealing madly, seemingly confused in its steps from the shock and the pain derived from losing the tail.

A rattlesnake that had been hiding underneath the shop came out and caused the death of the rat with multiple easy bites and gone ahead with the swallowing process then and there.

Lirzod slipped the snake a curious glance, “The rat never saw it coming.”

“Wow, the snake sure is impatient,” Sariyu said, nodding as if approving the snake’s actions, “it must be quite hungry. At least now, it won’t have to eat for at least a couple of weeks.”

“Snake?” Only now, Viktor noticed the snake, and he grabbed the knife again and got out of the booth in double quick time, an ill temper coruscating through his pupils. Generally, he wouldn’t have wanted to deal with a snake without a long stick, but now he was in a pissed off mood. It wouldn’t be a surprise even if he tried to stomp the snake to death.

Nathless, before Viktor could get closer, Sariyu got in his way. “Wait, just wait a few seconds, and that snake will be gone.”

“What? That’s a bloody snake,” Viktor shouted, “We have to kill it, or it will end up killing more than just rats.”

“There’s no need for that,” Sariyu said, her tone beseeching a bit, “Snakes don’t want trouble more than us.”

Her words affected him just a little bit, but her stare forced him to rethink.

In a few moments, the rattlesnake did begin to leave the surroundings in silence, but to everyone’s surprise, the fox sprang into the scene and confronted the rattlesnake. More than desperation, persistence could be seen in the fox’s movements as it gracefully waved its tail and jumped around to avoid getting bitten, for this battle for the fox was both a hunt and a sport at the same time.

Having just had a sizable rat, the snake was sluggish, so the fox finished it off fairly quick and wasted no time in wolfing it down in bits and pieces.

“Poor snake, hope it will rest in peace,” Sariyu felt sympathy for the snake.

“I’m sure the fox will digest the snake and the rat just fine,” Lirzod said and faintly smiled, “but the fox sure hit two birds with one stone.”

Sariyu somewhat creased her forehead.

“More like a rat and a snake with one hunt,” Burton thought aloud.

“Hmm,” Lirzod added, “The snake never saw it coming.”

Viktor, meanwhile, felt hot under the collar. Soon after the fox had seen the snake, it abandoned the stolen bread which infuriated him. He picked up some more stones again and was about to head for another attempt at perhaps teaching the fox a lesson or even bringing it down if luck gave a helping hand.

Howbeit, Burton came in his way, “You can keep throwing things at it, pal, but it won’t make a difference to you until a hit lands. On the other hand, that fox will only get smarter from your failed attempts.” A telling smile rose on Burton’s face. “Let it get smart enough to believe that it can steal food from your hands, and when it does attempt, you will be ready to catch it. Whatever you do with it afterward is your business, but if you ask me what’s the best thing to do, I’d say—make it a part of your life, and you will be its life.” Burton turned back and started to walk, “Of course, you’d have an extra stomach to feed, but you can never fully guess the gains such a companionship may bring.”

Viktor froze in his steps, his expression complex. After some thinking, he dropped a rock with each step he took toward the fox that was busy in cramming down the snake meat. (Make it a part of me huh—well, I’ll be having to devour it then.)

Sariyu slightly beamed as Burton came in her direction, “With a few words, you made sure that he would think twice before killing the fox even if he managed to catch it.”

Burton hardly nodded in response, oblivious to the plan in Viktor’s mind.

“If it were up to me, I’d have flattered the fox with words alone,” Lirzod chortled, “then I would have made it do hundred guilty springs[1], and it would have thoroughly satisfied the owner. Everything would have gotten settled then and there.”

Both Burton and Sariyu were left bewildered from hearing his words, for they couldn’t even imagine how a fox could do guilty springs.

“C’mon, let’s go to the test hall,” Lirzod strolled ahead, hands placed behind the neck, elbows raised high.

“Go to hell,” Sariyu hissed, arms crossed at the diaphragm.

Lirzod turned back and met her with a blank stare, “I don’t know the route. Can you lead the way?”

“Ugh,” she narrowed her eyes, “one day, I will.”

“Yeah, every dog has its day. It must be what you are referring to, or am I missing something?” Hands hanging freely, Lirzod cocked his head to the side, his ear almost touching the shoulder, thereby getting on her nerves.

A surge of heat coursed up her spine. “Yeah, you are missing one companion,” she picked up a rock Viktor dropped before, “here, have him!” she hurled the rock at Lirzod who already was running away on his toes; however, she chased after him, her movement putting her braid into swaying as she followed him into the hall, throwing more stones in the process.

On the twentieth deck, inside the surveillance chamber, only a single buck-toothed boy was present. The spacious room, quiet at the moment, was full of chairs made out of large roots and desks sculpted from wood.

“So, anything worth mentioning today yet?” A golden-haired man in a white blazer entered inside, appearing effortlessly elegant, his voice not disturbing the silence by much, with the number ‘ten’ printed on his dress at the right side of chest region plus a black rose pinned to his shirt pocket on the left side. His hazel-green eyes carried a sense of complexity that his warm and rosy complexion managed to somewhat obscure. His straight posture made him look leaner than usual; his clothing held close to the skin concealed enough of his bodily features yet was capable of flattering all eyes that lay on it, and his sharp-edged beard made the small chin and soft jawline less noticeable. Everything physical about him looked fresh and clean, including the polished white shoes whose sole also had less to no dirt.

“Nothing much, Sir Gorka…” the boy replied briskly, and his expression froze for a moment, indicating that he was recollecting his thoughts, “but I think, there’s this interesting result on the eleventh deck.”

“Oh, what was it?” Gorka asked in a quiet tone.

“Some new group passed through the Ice Dumpster on their first try,” the boy glanced up at Gorka and smiled. “Well, two out of the three to be precise, sir.”

“First try?” The corners of Gorka’s lips slightly curled down as he subtly nodded twice, “When did that last happen?”

“As far as I remember, none in this month, sir.”

“Hmm, okay—show me the footage.”

“Sure,” On the desk before him, there were many lamps and buttons. With the press of a button that had number eleven on it, sparkling smoke burst out of the translucent lamp-like object fixed above the button. “Show us today’s footage from the eleventh deck’s hall.” The smoke soon shifted into a flat screen and showed the visuals in color, with quality sound accompanying it as well.

As the smoke displayed visuals of what happened, Gorka spoke nothing throughout its length and just watched the round—one which Lirzod had participated, in the Circus of Wolves.

“So, what do you think, sir?” the boy asked, expecting a positive response.

“They seem like total rookies and lacked coordination,” Gorka spoke in a flat tone, “but they at least seem to have some idea on how each other’s think. So it’s not a wonder that they ended up winning simultaneously.”

“U-Uh, yes,” the boy didn’t know what to say, “You think they’ll make it up to here, sir?”

“Hmm, they do seem capable of reaching this deck, but whether they will provide us with some entertainment or not, we shall wait and see.”

At that moment, the smokecast[2] was displaying the conflict that happened between one of the five Hardy Brothers and Lirzod after the event had ended, which slightly changed Gorka’s expression—with thinning of brows.

“I didn’t know of this,” The boy was surprised, “Fighting during the competition was one thing, but for that boy to be picking an unnecessary fight with someone that’s easily twice heavier than him—he’s insane. This sort of temper wouldn’t get him far. I’m sorry for wasting your time by talking about them, sir.”

“Not really.” Gorka slightly smiled. “He’s better than I thought.”

The buck-toothed boy was utterly puzzled, “What do you mean, sir?”

“Picking fights with stronger opponents is an essential proceeding for a martial, so there’s no avoiding it,” Gorka’s eyes flickered with sharp light. “Though this kid probably never fought someone at this level before, at least he seems fearless. Fear is something you can’t easily let go of once it births in you. There is no training to conquer fear. The only way to win over fear is by facing it head-on. And this kid is probably doing the same thing—he’s helping himself become stronger at heart. After all, not only the level but also the scale of battles that one must face will only exponentially increase as we rise through the world of martials, at least until the apex is in our sight.”

The boy’s mouth was left wide-open for a moment. “So, you are saying that by these skirmishes, he’s overcoming his fear of a fight, or at least what’s left of it…”

“That’s how it seemed to me,” Gorka placed his index finger on his chin, “if his teammates are as good as him, they should at least provide us a little entertainment for as long as they’re on this belt. Keep an eye on them.”

The boy was astonished to hear that. Essentially, Gorka’s words indirectly meant that he wouldn’t be surprised even if those three successfully climbed up to the hundredth deck and more. “F-For sure, sir.”

……..

[1] Guilty Spring: It is a punishment where one holds their opposite ears with hands and sit with knees bent and heels close to or touching buttocks or the back of thighs, and stand up before repeating this process again for as many times as told. This was one of the attitude correction exercises generally given to children in schools and by some strict parents. This name came from a saying that ‘A guilty spring never gets off the ground no matter how hard it’s squashed.

[2] Smokecast: A system that converts electrical signals into audio or video, or vice versa, displaying them on screen or transmitting them through different mediums using various means.