93 AGAINST FATE

In the K Block on the tenth deck, Gerett entered the hollow hall allotted for tending the children they had saved from Znjoa Schweess and his associates. Usually, the hollow hall was mostly filled with triple bunk beds, but now only a few regular beds remained, and the rest of the hall was filled with dolls and toys. The floor was also carpeted with grass to give the park vibe.

When Gerett entered, many children ran over to hug him, though none of them could tightly hug him because of his fatness.

"Uncle, did you bring sweets for us?" their eyes were on the bags in his hands.

"No, these are my snacks," replied Gerett, taking slow but larger steps while keeping his chin up. "If you want a bite, you'll have to wait till pigs fly."

"Uncle, you're already fat. You shouldn't eat so much," they tried to pluck the food out of his hands.

"I'm not fat. I only weigh twenty-five stones."

"But your belly is bigger than a pot."

"What are you batty brats babbling about! My belly is the best thing since sliced bread," Gerett came over and plomped down on a swinging bench, then opened the bags and gorged on the hot and spicy items first while the children sat on either side and kept gulping their saliva. A couple of female workers were standing nearby, and they were also drooling a bit.

Chaves had given him some of these food items, so Gerett was quite impressed because they carried a unique flavor, though not super delicious.

Upon waiting for a couple of minutes, sensing that Gerett wasn't going to give them any food, the children slowly started poking his sides with fingers. Though Gerett wasn't bothered initially, as they raised their frequency, he felt a bit irritated and barked, "Stop it."

The children moved away a bit, but their eyes were still on the food.

Gerett continued eating at the same pace and kept chewing like a buffalo that masticated dried grass many times over.

"S-Sir Gerett," one of the female workers voiced her mind. "Did you bring anything for the children?"

Gerett took his time to reply. "I only brought food for myself and my wife." He glanced at that woman.

"But, sir, you are not married."

"I know. I was hoping one of you would become my wife," Gerett shamelessly said.

"N-No, thanks," the woman said and spoke no more.

"Hmph, too bad for you," Gerett indifferently snorted. "You can never get a husband who can become your pillow whenever you need." He looked at the second woman, who awkwardly scratched her chin but didn't say anything. Gerett could only sigh. "You know not what you're missing. Anyway, I've come here just to check on the children, and they seem to be doing fine. I've already sent a letter to Jawn, so he'll be sending fruits and vegetables every other day. Take care of these children well until we drop them off at Shepherd's Town."

Gerett, though he was stuffing his mouth, didn't feel all that good now after getting rejected by two women. (I've initially taken up this job to find a partner, but even after all these years, I'm still single. Women used to either take pity or laugh at me in the past, but now they're scared of me. I know I'm chubby, but what can I do? It's hereditary. My dad used to rip hundreds of waiters to shreds because they didn't get the order in time, but I'm different. I think twice before even ripping apart a paper, given it's not covering food. And my dad can't even roll over properly, but I can. He can't touch his feet, but I can. However, he got married, but why can't I? I smell much better than him, yet why? Just why?)

When the memory of Gerett's mother crying when cooking breakfast for his father flashed in his mind, his eyes turned a bit teary. His mother didn't know how to say no, yet his father often treated her like trash and was needlessly mean to her. In the end, his father's momentary anger accidentally took his mother���s life. After his father got sentenced to ten years in prison, Gerett was left alone. Upon receiving the news that his father died in prison, he became absolutely alone. Only food gave him a piece of mind. Just thinking about those past incidents boiled Gerett's blood. (Why can't I find someone kind like my mother? Why am I so unlucky?) Suddenly, Stussy's image came to his mind. One the first day he met her on this ship a few months ago, she gave him a handshake and a light hug and appreciated him for his work, which no other chief before her took the effort to do. (Though she remarked about my size, she never called me a fatty. Maybe, I have a chance with her. I know it's a long shot. She and I live in different worlds, but she's the one who's closest to my mother. If I impress her in some way, I might have a chance! Yes, I can't give up! I'll marry her and change my fate!)

Gerett got lost in thought for a while. However, when he came back to this world, he realized that the children had taken out the food from the bags and were all eating like ravenous little crows. The veins popped out in his forehead. "You little thieves!" he mercilessly snatched the half-eaten food items from their hands and put them in the bags and walked away, leaving the children and the two women in stupefied silence.

"You two worked as governesses in child booths," Gerett spoke without looking back. "Teach these kids well, and if you do a good job, you might get your jobs back."

The two women's expressions brightened a bit upon hearing that. "Thank you, sir."

The children, however, still kept pouting. Nevertheless, Gerett didn't say another word.

Gerett walked out of the hall, looking somewhat angry and irritated. Two men were passing by, and one of them, the thick-lipped man, recognized Gerett and approached him from behind. "Brother Gerett, do you have a moment, please?"

However, he got no response, as Gerett kept walking, muttering things to himself.

"Brother Gerett, it's me," the thick-lipped man overtook Gerett and poked his chest. "Don't you remember me? We drank together a few weeks ago. You said you would—"

Gerett grabbed his shirt and shoved him into the wall. "I don't know who the fuck you are," Gerett's eyes turned red from rage, "but poke me again, and you can bet on your stinky little ass that I'll make you bleed from your nine holes for all four mother-fucking seasons." He pressed the man further against the wall and deepened his voice, "Understood?"

"Y-Yes, sir," the thick-lipped man was sweating crazily.

"Never do it again. Never," Gerett let go of him and walked away, still looking to be in a pissed-off mood.

The thick-lipped man looked at his friend, who came to help. "What the fuck did I do, huh?"

"You shouldn't have poked the man. He's not your friend like I am, so you probably ticked him off. They say what goes around comes around, and that's what happened to you."

"Yeah, 'they' can go fuck themselves."

"Well… Simmer down first, buddy. You look like an angry cookie."

"Fuck it. I'm never gonna go near that pig again. He almost gave me a bloody heart attack."

"We are not martials yet, so we should act more carefully. Once we become martials, we can then live like a maggot in bacon."

"Don't bullshit me, okay?" the thick-lipped man straightforwardly said. "I don't have flowers in my ears to believe that we can surely become martials one day. If becoming a martial was so easy for a nobody like me, I'd have turned into one right now, so I could go and poke that fat prick's nipples until he begged me a billion times not to!"

"I must say, you are not wrong this time. If plucking feathers off a chicken made it a martial, then we're currently the same as bald chickens. We must grow some feathers, no matter what lotion it takes."

"Yeah, but where can we get this lotion or whatever that can help us? Things won't just happen because we want so."

"I don't know where we can find the lotion, but let's not give up on our hopes."

"Heh, for a second, I thought you were gonna surprise me."

"Actually, I do have an idea."

"What is it? C'mon, tell me."

"Maybe we're barking up the wrong tree all this time."

"Speak common tongue," the thick-lipped man gritted his teeth. "I'm not in the fucking mood to decipher your rhetorical rubbish."

"Sorry. I'm just saying, why don't we take a step back and look for another tree, and by that, I mean, why don't we try becoming cruxlers first?"

"Are you kidding?" he was quite startled. "A cruxler? Their lifestyle was built on high-risk. One wrong step, and we'll blow ourselves to pieces before we know it, or in the worst case, we'll be roaming the woods as monsters in making."

"Yeah, but if you have a better idea, then tell me."

"Not right now, but… let's give it some thought."

Meanwhile, near the foster hall on the twelfth deck, Burton was lying in wait about a hundred meters away from the entrance, where many poor-looking souls were gathering on either side of the street. Eventually, he stood and approached them without blinking. They realized that he was coming their way, but they acted like they minded their business by having frivolous conversations and laughing out loud.

Burton stopped in their midst. "I've only come here for my ring. It's a copper ring with a sword symbol and weight scales on it. I know one of you has taken that ring, so it'd be nice if you give it back, or..."

The men and boys continued to laugh and ignore Burton.

"I won't ask again," Burton stressed his words. "If you have that ring, then come forward. If you know where that ring is, then tell me, and I'll reward you. However, if none of you have anything to say, I'll be forced to bring the answers out in an unpleasant way."

Still, there was no change in their expressions.

"Don't blame me afterward,��� Burton turned to his left and approached the nearest group of two, who seemed like a father and a son.

As Burton closed in, the father stood and said aloud, "Go away, or you'll get hurt—"

Burton grabbed the father's collar and pushed him against the wall. "I know that it's you who took my apple before."

The father's expression changed a bit, but he was quick to cover up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Let go of him!" the son barked and at the same time kicked Burton from the side; however, Burton didn't budge an inch.

"Where's the ring?" Burton's cold gaze began to eat away the father's confidence bit by bit.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" the father replied without much hesitation.

The other men and boys, who were sitting on the sides until now, got up and surrounded Burton. "Why did you come back, youngster? Why are you bothering us when someone else stole your ring?"

Burton let go of the father and turned to face them. "Stop playing dumb. I only want my ring. I'll pay if you want."

"We have no idea what you're talking about," the men cracked their knuckles and grinned evilly before launching their fists at Burton. Even the teenagers threw in their kicks.

SWOOSH~~!!

However, before their fists and feet reached him, they all withdrew their attacks in the middle and began to cry out loud.

"Hotatatatatot!"

"Hot! So freaking hot!" The men kept blowing air at their fists, whereas the teenagers kept dancing on a single foot. "Ah! It's freaking hot!"

"What did you do?"

"He was just standing, but he definitely did something!"

"It feels like I put my hand in the oven. So hot!"

"I thought I touched an eel or something!"

They all kept crying in mild but sharp pain, and fear crept up in their faces.

"Where… is… THE RING?" Burton's voice grew deep. All the dozen or so people surrounding him suddenly felt shivers running down their spines. Without wait, they bailed like deer that got a first-hand taste of the spite of a tiger.

"Not so fast," Burton, however, caught one man, the father, the same person he caught before. He pushed him against the wall. "I'll give you five seconds. Speak, or I'll begin to break your fingers one by one."

"I-I really don't know what you're talking about, sir," the father said. "I didn't steal anything. I was just sitting and begging here, that's all. So please let me—AHH!"

Burton bent the father's little finger till it touched the back of the palm. He immediately moved on to the ring finger.

"Ah! Fuck! Wait!" the father cried and gasped. "I'll tell you. I'll speak. Your ring—I don't know who took it, but it's probably already got exported from this deck."

Burton was quite surprised. "What do you mean 'exported?'"

"T-The stolen goods won't be sold on the same deck, sir," the father hurriedly said, while his face was cooked with wretchedness. "That's all I can say. Now, let me go, please!"

"Which deck would the stolen goods mostly go to?" Burton bent his ring finger more than just a little.

"Stop! Ah! Thirteenth deck! It's the thirteenth-fucking deck! Please, stop!" the father replied in double-quick time, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"If you're lying, you'll regret it for the rest of your life," Burton let go of him and started walking away.

The father gritted his teeth and attacked Burton, "You blue-eyed bastard!"

Burton swiveled and kicked in his abdomen, causing him to spill saliva and blood. As he collapsed to his knees in utter disbelief and pain, Burton looked mildly frustrated, "Tch, my bad, I put some strength into the kick." He flicked a silver coin and then started to walk away. After taking a couple of steps, he stopped and flicked two silver coins over his head. "These are for your courage." Saying that he continued to walk.

The father, despite being in so much pain, still crawled on all fours and picked up the three coins. Even so, when he looked at Burton's back, there was simply distress and dissatisfaction in his eyes.

"If the ring was sent to other decks, finding it will be infinitely harder. What a mess," Burton, on the other hand, looked visibly disappointed with himself. "I shouldn't have let my guard down." He put his hand on his face. "Now, I'm suffering for it."

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the twelfth deck, as Lirzod entered the voting hall, the lottery was almost finished.

Everybody was eagerly waiting for the last item, a beast bit. Hundred took out the final slip and read the name, "Mr. Heehaw."

Almost all the shoulders in the crowd dropped for the moment. No one raised their hand or stepped forward.

"Who's Heehaw?" Hundred asked again.

"I'm Heehaw!" one thick-browed man stepped forward.

"Hey, your name's Nicholas!" another man barked. "Stop acting!"

"What are you saying? My full name is Nicholas Heehaw!"

"Bullshit! Who are you fooling! Your full name is Nicholas Bootless!"

"Get back, please," Hundred urged the thick-browed man and then addressed the crowd. "I guess I'll be taking another one." He took out another slip and was surprised by seeing the name. "Mr. Sean."

"What?" everyone was slack-jawed.

Judging their reactions, Hundred tossed the slip toward them, and only after checking the name on it, many people got convinced that they weren't being fooled by a pretense.

Hundred walked over to Sean, who was watching over the vote counter. "Mr. Sean, you won the beast bit."

"I'm sorry, but that thing doesn't feed the soul," Sean was rather quick to reply. "You can keep it."

Hundred briefly froze. "A-Are you sure?"

Sean slightly nodded. "In case either you or your friend is uncomfortable with this, then consider that as an Extensive Award for trying to help the cats."

"Thank you, Commander," Hundred happily said.

Sean pressed his lips together and forced a smile, for he could easily see that Hundred wasn't at all uncomfortable with taking the beast bit back.

"Mm?" Hundred looked to his right, only to see Lirzod stepping onto the stage, holding an almost empty water bottle in his hand. "If you've come for voting, then you're late, sir. The voting has already finished."

"You're still salty about the bread, huh, Brother Big Belly," Lirzod said and smiled. Hundred's belly was no longer as swollen, for he had already vomited multiple times. "That's what some are calling you."

"All because of you," Hundred harrumphed.

"C'mon, I can't eat that much bread and still freely walk around, like how you are doing…"

Hundred ground his teeth. (He's purposely testing my patience. Just wait, I'll make you eat something worse real soon!) He looked at Lirzod's swollen face. "Anyway, what happened to your face? Did you run into a beehive or something?"

"No, I just kissed a woman, and she rewarded me a thousand times for it with her feet," Lirzod pitifully said.

"W-What? Which whippersnapper dared to do that?"

"It's the elf from the clinic."

Hundred's heart skipped a beat. Imaginations such as Mulyk pointing a gun at him already flooded his mind. "O-Oh, that girl is dangerous."

"Dangerous, maybe, but definitely not so friendly," said Lirzod rubbing his cheeks a bit. "I've grown up around girls, but it's hard to see through them, you know."

"You have no idea," replied Hundred, "but… what made you say that?"

"Well," Lirzod's memories drifted into the past, "there was a girl named Navoni. We used to be classmates when we were kids, but she suddenly stopped talking to me because I never kissed her, and told me I can never become a good friend."

"That's one crazy kid, I mean, girl."

"Back then, like everyone, I only kissed those I loved, but Navoni's words affected me a lot. Not long after Navoni stopped talking, I became friends with another classmate named Megha. This time I went out of my way and kissed her one day, but she bit my hand and said I was indecent and that she could never have proper friendship with me."

"What? T-That's too much for just a simple kiss on the cheek."

"Yeah, right?" Lirzod's voice gained some strength. "If one girl says yes, then another says no to the same thing. They can be so confusing and obscure at times. You never know when they laugh in their sleeves or fart in others' faces."

"Your childhood seems to have many twists and turns."

"Mm, after many such experiences, I've eventually decided to just be myself and go with the flow, you know. I've made many friends just this way, though I've lost some, too."

"That's the right thing to do," Hundred gave a thumbs-up. "If you care too much about what others think about you, you'll never be able to do what you want to do."

Lirzod faintly smiled and then faced the commander, "How did the voting go, sir?"

"You don't have to call me 'sir.' Just Sean will do. As for the result, it will be out any second," Sean glanced back at his trainees. A couple of seconds later, they handed him a paper. After gazing at the details, his expression didn't change by much. Lirzod stood on his toes and tried to peek, but Sean folded the paper. He then said aloud, addressing the audience, "A total of 12581 votes were cast, so the voting is valid. At least 6291 votes must be cast in favor of the new rule for it to be passed. And as for the result..." His pause only raised the suspense in the hall. "Only 847 votes were cast against the rule change, so it's an overwhelming victory. New—"

"We won! We won!" Hundred and Lirzod were already celebrating with Lirzod before Sean finished his speech. Those in the crowd also cheered and whistled.

"New betting rules will be implemented in the test hall starting tomorrow," said Sean, but nobody was paying attention to his words anymore, and the atmosphere in the hall turned livelier than ever as Hundred lifted Lirzod. Others joined and moved Lirzod around on their raised hands.

Sean's eyes eventually settled on Lirzod, whom many were congratulating, "Did the boy win, or…" his eyes then shifted toward the crowd, "did their greed for the fish meat make him win?"

A few minutes later, the atmosphere in the hall eventually settled. Lirzod came to Sean to thank him, but Sean said he was just doing his duty and then gave him a cover. "I wouldn't say it's a gift, but… just a little help for your journey."

A look inside the cover revealed the small but fresh sweet potatoes. "Thanks for everything."

"Again, I just did my duty," Sean stretched his lips a bit, this time not so forcefully.

Lirzod then turned around and walked. After reaching the edge of the stage, he turned his head around. "I was afraid, thinking whether the rule would get passed or not, but... the people on your deck have proven their worth and yours, too, Commander."

After saying that, Lirzod left casually, but his actions brought an untaught smile on Sean's face.

Lirzod and Hundred then left the hall together. There weren't very many people in the streets anymore, for most voters had long left the neighborhood.

"Did you get this armor from the foster hall?" Hundred asked Lirzod the question he had been meaning to ask.

"I just found it on some street," Lirzod said and laughed. "How do I look?"

"It's a bit too big for your size, and…" he knocked on it two times, "it's tough, too. It should weigh a lot."

"That's why I've picked it up."

"Huh? Are you alright in the head?"

"I'm totally alright… in the head, but not so much in the stomach," Lirzod rubbed his belly. "I feel weak. I want to eat something so badly, but I don't want bread." His mouth turned down.

A few seconds of silence passed.

"Ten kilos, yet we didn't even get to eat a piece," Hundred expressed a bit of disappointment.

"Well, we have eaten enough in the commander's room, right?"

"We did, but…" he glanced at Lirzod once before looking ahead, "I didn't expect this restraint from someone who indulges himself into eating nuts often."

"If we go a few days without nuts, they taste even better afterward."

"U-Uh, so that's your reason," Hundred covered his face with his hand. "I should've guessed it."

"Haha," Lirzod chortled. "I'm looking at the positives here. Still, it takes a lot of self-control to do this much. I couldn't even last a day without nuts a few years ago, you know."

Hundred raised his shoulders a bit, "I can't tell if you're disciplining yourself or spoiling yourself."

"Of course, it's the former. I no longer eat nuts when my stomach is upset."

Hundred sighed. "Well, I guess that some temperance you've got there," he sarcastically said.

Lirzod suddenly stopped. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"The scream," Lirzod looked around.

"Scream? It must've been an echo," Hundred put his ears to work. "I can't hear any scream, though."

"No. I heard it."

A few minutes earlier.

"How long are you going to sit here?" Booboo was sitting beside Beren, their backs resting against the wall of a room, outside in the street.

Beren was looking at the newly-sharpened knife in his hands.

"The strong walk over the weak like how we humans flatten the ants," Booboo put his hand on Beren's arm. "There's no need to give it a second thought because that's how the world works. The strongest decide what's right or wrong, no matter where you go. That's why it's not abnormal for children to rebel against their parents," Booboo said in a slightly passionate tone, with a hint of bloodlust dwelling in his eyes. "Royals do this all the time. They do it for power, but you have a better reason. Your father is near. Whatever you do to him is fully up to you. I'll be here, so if you need me, just call out my name, and I'll be there before you know it."

"I…" Beren seemed to be in two minds.

"Believe me," said Booboo in an urging tone. "This knife will bring you freedom."

"I…" after some thought, Beren shook his head. He then handed the knife back to Booboo.

"So you've decided to let him go," Booboo's expression somewhat dullened, "even after he brought you so much pain."

"I've never wanted to kill him in the first place," Beren said, wearing a lame look on his face, but his expression slowly changed for the better as he remembered Lirzod's words: All of your sufferings are not found only in you, so don't let them define you. "I…" All the friends from different child booths had their own sad stories, some of which sounded worse than his own. Even his best friend's mother dropped her at a child booth when the going got tough and never came back, but his friend never slung mud at her mother during any of the conversations. "I…" Beren stood and clenched his fists as his mother's image came to his mind. He remembered the time when he read one of the letters his mother wrote to her brother. In that letter, her brother looked down on them so much that he said whatever happened to Beren and his mother was their own fault, and that they were both worth dirt to anyone with a brain. Currently, Beren's blood boiled with all the emotions that memories whipped out. He took a deep breath. "I just want to prove people wrong. I will prove that I'm stronger than I look, that I'm not worth dirt, and neither was my mother."

Booboo's mouth slightly turned down. He took out the wine bottle and had ten full gulps before leaking out a sharp breath through his nose. "Still and all," he gave the knife back to the boy, "keep it just in case as a countermeasure."

Beren paused for a moment and then hid the knife under his shirt. "I don't know how to thank you, uncle."

"Just help yourself, and I'll be happy," Booboo said and smiled.

Beren didn't smile back, but he looked focused. As he approached a nearby room, his heart began to beat loudly, and the memories of his mother from months ago flashed in his mind.

"I'm probably gonna die soon, but don't cry for me for days on end, Beren."

"Aren't you afraid of death, mom? One of my friends said death is like a deep sleep, and one can't wake up from it."

She was a little surprised. "Yeah, it's like a deep sleep, but there are many things scarier than death in this world," she told Beren. "For one, sickness is worse than death. So many times every day, I feel like ending my own life, but I feel, yielding to defeat is worse than death. That's why I'm clinging onto life, fighting against my fate, so I can raise you long enough to bring you to the shore. Then I can peacefully..."

"Don't worry, mom. Even if you fall into a deep sleep, I will wake you up for sure."

"Haha, how are you gonna do that?"

"By giving you hugs and kisses!" he jumped on her and cuddled her.

Coming back to the present, Beren's eyes had a layer of tears, but they didn't wet his eyelashes, much less stream down his cheeks. He was considering how foolish it was of him to think he could wake his mother up from deep sleep when nobody had ever done it before. He failed his mother back then, but at least now, he wanted to set things straight with someone else before they entered deep sleep, too.

About fifty feet away, inside a room.

There were ten trainees near the bed where Nick was resting. Together, they already offered him some fruits—mostly apples and bananas. After all, the amount wouldn't amount to much had they given him individually.

"Are you feeling okay now, brother?"

"Yeah, I think I'm out of danger," Nick replied in a friendly tone and beamed a smile. "Thanks for visiting me."

"What are you saying? You are like our big brother. We've practiced together for many months. If we can't even come to see you, how are we supposed to show our faces to you later?"

"Haha, you guys are too frank."

"By the way, Brother, who was that healer that helped you? We heard he's not from around here."

"Ah…" Nick didn't know what to say. "That… He was someone who owed me in the past. He came to repay the favor. Simple as that."

"Oh, to treat such a threatening injury so fast, he must've been a skilled healer."

"To my luck, yes," Nick said and then went into deep thought. (Why is Mr. Roseberry interested in recruiting that fellow even though it hasn't been long since he boarded the ship? He even wants me to try and persuade him. I want to go and see that guy quickly, but resting on this bed will gain me more sympathy. He gave a once over at the ten guys. I don't care much about these idiots, but I hope that Sean will come to see me. I will make use of that opportunity and persuade him to teach me his martial art.)

At that moment, Nick and others heard the sound of footsteps, for someone entered the room. When the ten people looked back, some of them recognized Beren and got quite surprised.

Nick, who tried to look through the gaps between the ten guys, couldn't clearly see who it was. Is it Sean? "Who is it?"

"I-It's…" the ten guys didn't know what to say, and they moved aside, bringing Beren into Nick's view.

Nick's expression froze fleetingly, but then his brows squeezed together, and his head tilted down a bit. His eyes, however, were still fixed on Beren, who was staring right back at him. "I don't even want to look at that trash. Someone kick that piece of shit away. If he's here by the time I open my eyes..." he clenched his fists. "I don't know what I'll do to him."

"You heard him, kid!" one of the guys barked, especially to intimidate. "Leave!"

"I only came here to say just one thing," Beren said, trying to look confident, "and then I'll be on my way."

"Didn't you hear us?" a man walked toward Beren. "Not only did you dare hurt your own father, but now you are also trying to test his patience and goodwill!"

"Patience? Goodwill?" Beren ground his teeth, and all the emotions he had been keeping in check burst out at once. "That fat guy sitting on the bed has none of those. In fact, he's so sympathetic that he left my mother to live on her own after knowing that she was with a child!" His words surprised the men and briefly froze them in their tracks. Beren continued, "I don't care why he abandoned her, but I just want him to know..." as he was saying, one of the men quickly grabbed his hand and dragged him out, but he didn't put his hand on Beren's mouth, so Beren shouted, "My mother, Quinna Kimani, never once spoke a bad word about you."

Nick frowned for a moment, but then his fists loosened, and his eyes opened. "Bring him in."

Hearing Nick's words, the man pushed Beren back into the room.

"You can kill me if you want," Beren said, his knees were struggling to stand straight. "I'm not afraid."

"Check him," said Nick in an emotionless tone.

Another man came to Beren and inspected him and found the knife right away. As the knife got taken away, Beren's heart pounded against his chest harder than ever.

Nick didn't seem surprised, but he narrowed his eyes like a predator locking its gaze on the prey, "So you've come with bad intentions for the second time."

Though he asked, Beren didn't reply.

"Why did you not proceed with the plan?" Nick asked. "Was it because I'm not alone?"

Still, there was no response.

"Those eyes���" Nick seemed visibly disappointed, "I can't even tell if you're looking at me or not."

Beren shifted his head and looked away.

"Can't even look me in the eye, huh," Nick exhaled audibly. "I see. Quinna raised a dud. She lets me down even after death."

A surge of rage sparked in Beren's heart. "Don't you dare badmouth my mother!" he roared and ran toward the bed.

The other men stepped forward, but Nick's hand gesture stopped them in their tracks.

Beren jumped onto the bed and punched Nick repeatedly in the face for tens of times until his hands bled, and he eventually stopped from exhaustion. The next moment, Nick grabbed Beren's tiny throat and squeezed without wavering.

The boy's tongue hanged, and his eyes popped out, but Nick's grip kept tightening. He felt utterly powerless.

"Let me make you look a bit prettier," Nick gouged out one of the eyeballs.

A mad pain took over Beren's head, and all the men in the room were no less shocked.

With a wave of his hand, Nick tossed Beren onto the floor. "Get him out of my sight."

Two men hurriedly grabbed Beren as he howled and crazily rolled on the floor from pain.

As they were taking him out, Nick looked at the eyeball in his hand. (Will this be enough to show them my conviction?) He looked toward Beren once more. "Wait."

"Mm?" the two men, who were taking Beren away, stopped.

Nick got down from the bed and walked toward them, scaring Beren like never before.

Beren was shaking like a twig. He hurriedly shouted, "Uncle! Uncle! Please help me, Uncle!"

A couple of seconds passed, in the span of which Nick took a few steps, but nobody came for help. Sensing that Nick had ill intentions, one of the two men holding Beren looked at the other, and they subtly nodded to each other before making it look as if Beren managed to slip out of their grip through his struggle. After falling on his butt, Beren desperately crawled his way out on his four limbs, like a wounded rat searching for its freedom from a despotic cat.

Though Beren managed to come out of the room, so did Nick, stepping over the thin bloody trail.

Just when Beren was about to get back to his feet to make a run for it, Nick's foot stomped him back to the floor. He cried out in pain and spat out a mouthful of blood.

(One eye might not be enough. An arm, in addition to that, should suffice.) Nick pressed his foot on Beren's back harder. "You brought this on yourself."

Beren felt like he was getting crushed by a mountain. He couldn't breathe at all. With great effort, he looked to his right, in the direction where Booboo was supposed to be sitting, but the spot was empty. Even the rest of the street seemed empty without a soul roaming around.

"Brother Nick," the ten members came out of the room, and hesitantly said, "aren't you punishing him a bit too much?"

"You guys don't come into my business!" Nick yelled, his daunting gaze making him look even more menacing. "This is what happens when someone goes against the wishes of the strong. Even if he's my own flesh and blood, a weak thing is worthless." He turned Beren over with his foot and then picked him up by his shirt and looked at his son, who was missing his left eye, and grinned. "You look much better now, son of Quinna."

"Tphoo!" Beren spat in Nick's face, shocking the onlookers.

"You little shit!" Nick let go of the shirt and grabbed his throat right away. "Do you want to die so badly? If not for the location we're at, I'd have granted your wish, but don't worry. I have my own ways of teaching you a life lesson."

Despite the immense pressure binding his throat, Beren still kept struggling for freedom.

"The moment you messed with me, your fate has been sealed. There is no point in fighting against it." With brute force, Nick ripped Beren's arm out and tossed the boy away, leaving everyone in utter bafflement.

Beren screamed as blood poured out of his open shoulder. Despite his cries, there was no remorse in Nick's eyes, who looked indifferently at his own son's miserable state.

Even though the pain was too much to bear, Beren, afraid of losing his life, tried to get back to his feet, and run away. His footsteps weren't under his control, and he couldn't even run straight. After going past the ten men, he couldn't keep on going for long.

Just as he ran desperately from those men, a familiar youth came into his view at the corner of the street. Though there was only about a fifty feet distance between them, after taking five more steps, he could no longer control himself and fell headlong.

Lirzod's eyes enlarged, for he had recognized Beren right away. He ran to Beren, who was already on the floor. "Hey, kid!" he tried to talk to Beren, who already seemed to be on the verge of losing his consciousness. Looking at the boy's condition, Lirzod's blood boiled.

"That fellow is the one who won Kitchen Wars," one of the ten men stated in surprise.

"I heard he fought against Hardy Brothers and got severely injured. But he looks okay now."

"Then, needless to say, he got healed by someone."

As the other men were talking, Nick took a look at Lirzod, "So that's the rumored brat, Lirzod."

Just then, Hundred also entered the street and was briefly revolted by what was going on. In that little time during which he tried to understand and digest what was going on, he noticed the change in Lirzod's expression.

The sheer anger flooding through Lirzod's veins made him stand and hastily stare at those eleven men, and his eyes stopped on Nick, who was still holding onto Beren's arm.

"Are you the one who hurt him?" Straight away, Lirzod scuttled toward Nick at full speed like an angry ram, his heart already gripped by rage, and a thick vein throbbing out of the skin in his right arm, but ten men were standing between him and his target.

"This is our family matter," Nick coldly and bit casually said. "Don't interfere."

"AHH?" Lirzod's fuse sparked off. "You want me to listen to a scum who assaults a child?"

When two men tried to stop Lirzod, he whooshed past them like a whirlwind.

(He can move so fast while wearing that big chest armor!) All the ten trainees were greatly surprised, especially the two in the front.

"If you don't stop," Nick raised his voice while wearing a slight angry frown on his face, "I won't hesitate to rip your arm out, too."

Lirzod leaped over the rest of the men and went straight for Nick, "Do it if you can!"

Nick dropped the arm and met Lirzod's attack with his own punch.

Both fists collided with a thundery bang.