Shambala Sect 70 Outnumbered Knuckles

"You want to save your friend? His death will be on you, not on us. Besides, you were only given two options, to begin with!" all the seven men attacked Sariyu, throwing their knuckle fists at her mercilessly, but to their surprise, they ended up hitting each other's knuckles as she jumped high. Using one of the men's heads as footing, she landed about a dozen feet away and didn't stop, leaving the men in a mild surprise, but they quickly chased her.

"She jumped over six feet with ease and while holding a person in her arms at that," one of the men said in an alarmed tone, "this one's going to be more troublesome to thump than we thought."

"There are seven of us, and that makes fourteen fists. If even a quarter of our attacks land, our work will be done."

"Yeah, let's not bring shame to our guild."

Casting aside their apprehensions, the seven of them caught up with Sariyu in a matter of seconds and blocked her way on both sides again and stood still, like a pack of trained wolves that knew how to bring down their prey.

"If you can jump, then we can wait," one of the men said and grinned. The other six of them also looked level-headed. "If you want to get going, you'll have to face at least one of us, but before that, we all would very much like to know how you plan to fight us while carrying that mess."
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Anger throbbed in Sariyu's heart, and she was now visibly upset. One glance at Lirzod only worsened her temper. A dark-blue vein popped in her neck as their knuckle dusters pointed in her direction, the emotion came bursting forth."You sc.u.m! Move, or I can't guarantee your lives!"

"Hehe, what are you going to do? Scare us to eternal sleep—with words? Do you see any wet pants among us or what?" they all sn.i.g.g.e.red like s.a.d.i.s.ts, not at all unnerved by her vocal belligerence.

Their scornful laughter was akin to a sick song sung by sickly voices and made Sariyu so angry that sparks flew in her head, and she was on the verge of getting the link between her brain and behavior severed.

"No, we don't!" a loud voice came from afar, "but that will change in a minute."

"Who's that?" when the seven men looked, they saw a single youth whom Sariyu recognized. "Just one?"

"I wish I alone am enough to deal with you guys," the blonde youth said and made eye contact with Sariyu, "but now I no longer live in the clouds, thanks to a certain someone."

"What can you do alone, fool?"

"Who said I'm alone, fools?"

More than a hundred people entered the street and joined behind the blonde youth, who was none other than the one who had attacked Sariyu in the drill hall.

Seeing so many people, the seven men felt a tightening in their chests, which then brought up a fearful look on their faces.

"Judging by your appearance, you lot must be from the Knuckle Dusters, wait, is it Knuckle Hounds?" the blonde youth pondered and smiled. "Whatever it is, I feel so honored to meet members of that guild, or should I say dishonored to see how much of crooks you all are."

"Shut your mouth and scram," the seven men barked, seeing how the blonde youth was being sarcastic with his words, "unless you're looking to get your a.s.s whopped."

"Why so serious?" the blonde youth exposed his palms. "Rumors seem true after all, that you lot never take things with a grain of salt. I wonder what kind of dreams you people dream."

Even though the seven of them wanted to flee, they couldn't even dare to make the first move.

"Y-Yeah, we are," one of the seven men shouted, "so you all better think twice before you do anything silly."

"Oh, is that so?" the blonde youth didn't know whether to laugh or cry, "But given how the seven of you were willing to take on a single person, you obviously belong to the bottom tier of your guild. Am I right?"

At the moment, seven stomachs stumbled, hearts ached, and pants wetted.

Sariyu, on the other hand, didn't move an inch. She didn't want to make any careless move given the number of men that showed up, but Lirzod's situation forced her feet to proceed forward.

The blonde youth glanced at Sariyu as she came in his direction. "There's a clinic right next to Drill Hall. You can take him there."

Sariyu was surprised to hear that, but the fire in her settled down a bit after realizing that all those men didn't come looking for her.

The blonde youth continued, "That said, I hope you'll be free enough to fight me again one day."

Sariyu nodded without even thinking and dashed through the way that men made her.

"Now then," the blonde youth cracked his knuckles, "let's see who's got better knuckles, shall we?" As he said, all the dozens of men behind him wore scary looks.

All the glow vanished out of the seven men's faces. They turned back and increased their walking pace.

"Where are you going?" the blonde youth shouted.

"W-We forgot to brush our teeth in the morning. We are going back to our deck."

Everyone dissolved into laughter at the seven men as they fled. "Haha, run like the a.s.swipes that you are!"

At the same time, Sariyu hastily covered a great distance and ran through a couple of streets, but to her surprise, tens of people blocked her way in a street as they all ran toward a particular open-ended booth, a loose booth. Most of those people were handicapped in one or two ways, and a few in very many ways. Even dogs and cats among them. All of them rushed to the Loose Booth, for a food parcel, a giant bag just fell from the ceiling into the booth that was already foul and dirty due to not cleaning regularly. However, n.o.body really cared and tore their way through the parcel and plucked whatever food was edible. As for dogs and cats, they had no problem filling their stomachs with even rotten food.

And the ma.s.ses still blocked Sariyu's way, so she didn't know how to move to the other side. Just then, someone stepped on a dog's foot, making it howl. Thanks to the sudden shrieking, many people fleetingly moved away and made room. Sariyu used that opportunity to slip through that gap and got to the other side in the nick of time before the ma.s.ses converged again.

But afterward, Sariyu had to go through the busy Heat Street, an area present on every deck where contests of all kinds were held, but betting wasn't allowed in this place. Even though it was crowded, she kept going without stopping, and a few eyes looked at her and the boy with pitiful gazes, but most people were busy with their life.

"We are almost there, Little Hale," she tensely and tenderly looked at Lirzod. "Just a bit more."

Meanwhile, at the Drill Hall.

"Oh, your name is 777 now?" some of the trainees who gathered near 777 were quite surprised, for meeting somebody like him happened maybe only once in a blue moon. "Just from many years are you living on this s.h.i.+p?"

"Haha, that's a secret," 777 said, leaving others in disappointment, "but I can leak a hint if someone's hands are itching enough to drop a silver in my hands."

"Eh, a silver for just letting a kitten out of the bag[1]?" the trainees were left baffled. "Why don't you fight with one of us? If we win, you'll answer us for free, but if you win, then we'll give you ten copper. What do you think?"

"No, I'm not a martial artist, but a swordsman."

"Swordsman? A swordsman is also a martial artist who prioritizes in using a sword, but wait, you are not carrying any sword."

"Well," 777 put up an evil smile. "When I have a sword in my hand, I tend to end lives. I can't be doing that on this s.h.i.+p, so I had to part with it for the time being."

"O-Oh," some of the trainees stepped back a little.

"If someone can be kind enough to give me a bottle of fresh water, I'll be in their debt," 777 looked at them with a saddened face.

Many hesitated to even respond, but one short guy stepped forward and spoke in a low voice, "I have a full liter of fresh water with me. It only costs three copper."

"Three copper coins?" 777 had a baffled look. "That's too much. Can't you give this elder brother freely for once?"

"I'm afraid I can't. You should already know how hard it is to get fresh water on this s.h.i.+p. Three copper is already cheap in my opinion, but for you, I can give it for just two copper," he said, oozing out expectation through his eyes. It wasn't so obvious that he was hoping to get some good information in exchange.

"Two is still too much," 777 sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Unlike food, freshwater could be sold for money on the tenth belt of the s.h.i.+p, which only made people realize how valuable drinking water was on a voyage. However, the commander of the twelfth deck didn't allow his trainees to sell water and punished those who sold it whether inside or outside the drill hall. 777 knew that, so he carefully crafted his words.

"What? If you can't even spend that much, then there's nothing I can do."

"Well," 777 pulled out the insides of his pockets, "I've burnt big-freaking holes in my pocket from buying freshwater in the early days I boarded the s.h.i.+p." He showed the two big holes in his pants pockets. "Why would I plead this much if I had money? If you don't want to offer help, then fine. I can't really blame you for this. I was like you, too," he turned around and audibly blew air through his nose as he started to walk away. "I couldn't give the benefit of the doubt to anyone or anything and always let the heat of the moment dictate my actions. Maybe that's why I couldn't garner enough good fortune to get rich at least unexpectedly."

The short guy let out a shaky breath. "W-Wait."

"Mm?" 777 turned back. "Even if you brought it down to 1 copper coin, I don't have—"

"Take it," the short guy handed over the water bottle.

"Are you sure?"

"Just take it. I'm used to waiting in line for water, so I'll do just that."

777 grabbed his hands and said in a thankful tone, "Thank you very... very much."

"It's okay."

777 turned back and walked away. The gladdened expression on his face slowly changed into that of a self-a.s.sured one before he mumbled to himself. "This should suffice for another day unless I get forced to run like a dog again." Smiling to himself, he looked to his right, where he saw a group of trainees familiarizing themselves with the human bones and muscle structure by repeatedly punching a human who was bound by wooden wrist stocks.

"Alright, fellows. I think that's enough for today. It looks like he might die if we continue this. Let him recover first. Tomorrow, he'll have to partic.i.p.ate in our kicking lessons, but the punching lessons will resume the day after that."

"Hehe, he didn't scream as much as he did yesterday. I wonder if he's getting stronger."

"Idiot, you don't get strong just by getting hit. Maybe if you recover well, you get a bit better at taking hits, but that's all. But we, on the contrary, get to strengthen our armory in punching and kicking skills."

"Haha, yeah, you're right."

"Bodbags[2]…" Seeing the wounded man get thrown into one of the wooden cells where there were plenty of other injured men, a cold current sp.a.w.ned in 777's intestines. His hand s.h.i.+vered a bit, and he had to press it hard against his thigh to stop the uneasy feeling. People who had committed crimes on a deck were usually sent to the prison of that belt itself, but on the twelfth deck, most of the criminals were brought to the Drill Hall to serve as punching bags for the trainees.

The low-level trainees simply learned to punch and kick the criminals put in wrist or ankle wooden stocks, but as they climbed the ranks, they had to fight the unrestrained criminals. If a criminal gained the required number of wins, they would be free to go. For the most part, the more heinous the crime, the more the number of days a criminal would be forced to stay in the Drill Hall, and the more the number of wins they had to get under their belt to win back their freedom in advance. Having said that, it was a rare thing for a criminal to release before the set date. After all, strong criminals would readily become a target for those trainees who were always itching to test their strength.

777 couldn't help but remember the time when he was thrown in a prison back at home, and he was chained heavily and wasn't even fed anything but raw vegetables that were half rotten. After all, no salt or spices were added in the food given to criminals in most prisons of the world, regardless of the severity of their crime.

"I guess the twelfth deck has improved in many ways after this Sean became the commander," 777 muttered under his breath. "At least prisoners here get to eat bread, but at the cost of getting their bodies brutalized. Geez, this hall is still giving me enough gooseb.u.mps. Grounding the trainees and punis.h.i.+ng the culprits at the same time. Filling two needs with one deed. A win-win situation. Then again..." he paused a moment. "The bodies of these prisoners who can bear some beating will toughen over time, so they have something to gain from this experience as well. If they get tempered properly, they'll become decent swords, but otherwise, they'll become faulty things that break sooner than later. Though it is the dream of many to be able to fight bare-handedly against weapon holders, only a few actually make their dreams come true. Becoming a martial is the first step that most believe puts them in the right direction… but this first step in itself is so hard to take much less execute it to perfection. I've seen thousands waste the prime period of their lives and also plenty of their wealth in an attempt to see that first step through. Yet, the fact that so many people choose to go through such struggles still makes a negative amount of sense to me." He sighed.

Meanwhile, outside the Drill Hall, at Drill Clinic.

Two young boys were standing at the door and were involved in a heated discussion. Both of them held swords, but their eyes looked dull and a bit lifeless as if they hadn't slept in a long time, "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Trust me. They'll p.i.s.s in their pants when they see us, and then give us all the herbs they have," he knocked on the door twice.

"That would be really nice. I heard there are some good herbs that can make you feel good in this place."

The door opened, and a silver-haired, brownish-skinned, chubby girl was staring right at them. The arrow symbol, with a crack-like resemblance, on the side of her forehead, caught their attention momentarily, but the long yet small wyvern-shaped, primrosy earrings that dangled by her ears and perfectly fitted her small face were in another league. Her ears weren't much different from humans, except that they were slightly pointy at the top edges, so little that they would go unnoticed if one didn't pay attention.

"Oh, what do we have here, huh? A loving fool with spiky ears, or should I say choppy ears?"

"An unsightly one at that, hehe…" the two boys unsheathed their swords, and then one of them shouted, "Hey, Pointy[3]… Give us every good drug you have whether it's pills or herbs unless you want us to chop those batty ears of yours and feed them to pigs!"

"Wait," the second boy looked at the other guy, "are there pigs on this s.h.i.+p?"

The other boy frowned. "You've gotta be kidding me! If not pigs, we'll look for some fish," he then looked at the girl who was only five-feet tall. "What are you still standing there for, elf-b.i.t.c.h?"

The silver-haired girl put her hand behind her back and slowly pulled out a weapon, which widened the men's eyes, and they immediately let go of their swords.

"A revolver! I thought guns weren't allowed on this s.h.i.+p. G-Give us a break."

"You asked for everything I have, right?" the silver-haired elf bitingly said, "How about eating lead for starters-fu?"

Beads of sweat dripped down the men's faces. "W-We've just had our breakfast. No thanks!" they immediately bolted away without even looking back.

"If you touch fire, you are going to get burned. Stay away from insensible stuff for your own good," her throaty voice reached the men's ears, but they didn't look back. "They seemed a bit turnt up. They must be from the thirteenth deck." She put the gun in her dress behind her back and bent to take the weapons. "Swords and sissies never make a good pair."

Upon catching the increasing sound of footsteps, she swiftly turned around, only to see a girl carrying a wounded boy in her arms.

Sariyu stopped right before her and looked at her with a bit of a surprise, "Is this the clinic?"

"It is," she replied.

"Thank G.o.d," Sariyu turned and was about to directly enter the clinic.

"Wait, the entry costs a silver per soul," the elf girl said, startling Sariyu. "If that boy isn't a trainee in the drill hall, he has to bear all the treatment cost as well. Of course, given his situation," her eyes fell upon the boy in her arms, "I can't guarantee his life. Step in if you still wish to enter and are willing to pay the bill."

Sariyu dashed in without a second thought.

"Looks like more will be coming," the elf girl mused to herself as she entered the clinic, "I wish there were more than six beds."

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[1] Let the cat out of the bag: This means revealing information that was previously concealed. This idiom is often used on the twelfth deck. Letting a kitten out of the bag meant that the information wasn't as noteworthy or valuable.

[2] Bodbag: A living being used as a tool for people to practice their techniques upon and at the same time, familiarize themselves with the muscle and bone structures of the being. Throughout history, slaves were often used as bodbags.

[3] Pointies: One of the derogatory ways humans often referred to elves. Choppies was another name they were labeled with, which was a taboo word among elves for some reason.