Chapter 448 Death Arm



Now that there were some stakes on the outcome of the arm wrestling match, it became many times more interesting to watch. Perhaps it was the booze that had already settled into their stomachs, but both of the men found themselves beginning to cheer for their chosen competitor.

"C'mon!"

"Get him!"

It was almost a comical stalemate; both of the men that clasped hands hardly budged one way or the other, even when completely straining themselves. This prolonged battle led more booze to be drunk and the two to cheer more from their seats, along with the crowd of spectators.

"Go! Go! Go!"

"Finish him! You're close!"

"Keep fighting!"

–THUD.

"Raaaaah!"

Finally, one of the competing arms was slammed against the table: the burly arm belonging to the bald, tall competitor, leaving the bearded, stocky man victorious.

"What–?! Arghh..." Emilio groaned in disappointment.

"Ha-ha," Sirius laughed with his small victory, scooping up the wagered coins with a smile, "My win."

After losing the bet, Emilio slumped his body against the circular, wooden table, sighing out before finding one of the barmaids arriving beside the table, holding a tray occupied by filled mugs of booze.

"Here's your next batch, adventurers! Enjoy!" The silver-haired barmaid smiled, setting down the dozen mugs between the two.

"Thanks, cutie," Sirius said, lifting his mug with a wink straight at the barmaid.

The youthful, silver-haired barmaid blushed at the obvious flirtation from Sirius, with her pale cheeks tinting with a cherry complexion before nodding, "O-of course!"

As the green-and-white uniformed barmaid moved on, Emilio let out a sigh as he looked across the table at his friend.

"Really, man?" Emilio raised an eyebrow.

"What? Oh, that? Hey–we're in Party City, my friend–anything goes," Sirius chuckled, taking a sip from his cup of booze.

"Like hitting on waitresses? Ehh...I'll pass on that," Emilio remarked, looking over as a new set of competitors were arm wrestling again.

"You seem pretty invested in the contest going on over there," Sirius noted with a smirk.

Taking a sip from his mug, Emilio raised an eyebrow before swallowing the amber liquid, "I mean, yeah...What about it?"

Sirius leaned across the table, speaking hush-hush to him, "How about you enter? With your strength, it'd be easy money for you~."

Another sip was taken from the stomach-warming beer as he let out a quiet sigh, "You're just trying to get me to join in so you can bet on me, aren't you?"

"I don't have the faintest clue of what you mean, my friend!" Sirius laughed, clearly posing.

Thinking about it for a moment, the beer seemed to stir up his own judgment as he found himself standing up from his seat with his sights set on the area of the tavern where the arm wrestling was taking place.

"Oh?" Sirius looked at him.

Emilio untied his cloak, tossing it back to Sirius as he stretched his arms to warm up, "I'll do it."

"Oh!" Sirius clapped his hands, "Go get 'em! I'll split my winnings with you~."

"Grhh–?!" Everstein grunted, already sweating bullets.

'His arm...isn't moving?!' Everstein thought.

Emilio smiled, "Oh, did you start already?"

Try as he might, the heavily-armored man couldn't budge the Dragonheart's hand, putting all of his weight down as his complexion turned red like a tomato, sweating bullets, yet still remained fruitless.

'Guess I won't embarrass him too long,' Emilio decided.

With a swift movement, he brought his opponent's hand down against the wooden table, holding back enough as not to smash straight through it.

Gasps of awe and bickering came from the spectators, though mainly from those who fortunately bet on the Dragonheart himself:

"C'mon! Are ya gonna get slammed like that, Everstein?!"

"The weird-haired guy has some power!"

"It's that metal arm!"

"What was his name again?"

"Emilio!"

"Death Arm Emilio!"

"Go, Death Arm Emilio!"

The amethyst-eyed man didn't know how to feel about all of the sudden commotion surrounding him, only taking it with a smile and small laugh.

'That nickname is kind of...' He thought.

It seemed the crowd was now favoring him, as he was the underdog; there was an even larger gathering of spectators now, as everybody in the large tavern seemed excited at the new, young prospect.

"Heh, 'Death Arm Emilio'--keep it up," Sirius said with a smile, bouncing a sack of coins in his hand that held the sublime amount of winnings he snagged.

As Emilio sat there, a thud suddenly slammed against the table as his frustrated opponent took his anger out on the wooden furniture.

"Dammit...!" Everstein exclaimed, "You cheated-th-that arm! Something's up with it!"

Emilio raised an eyebrow, "Hey, I asked if you wanted me to use my other arm. If you want a rematch, we can do it. But we'll just be repeating what happened."

The offer he gave was unsurprisingly met with further frustration from the brawny man, who growled like a rabid dog at his loss. By the reddened complexion and strain of veins on the man's face, it seemed it would take nothing more than one word to set him over the edge.

"You didn't do too bad, so don't—" Emilio began to say.

Just as he spoke, the entire table was flipped up, launching straight towards him.

'Oh boy, did I go too far?' He thought.

Standing up, he swiftly kicked the table before it collided with him, causing it to flip straight back down onto the ground.

Everstein was breathing like a raging bull, exhaling through flared nostrils as he stood across from the younger challenger.

The spectators didn't step in, only seeming more excited by the angry turn of events. Of course, Sirius stayed to the side, only watching the encounter with an entertained smile.

"Get 'im, Death Arm!"

"Smash that sore loser!"

"Ten crowns on Death Arm!"

It wasn't hard to guess that events like these weren't uncommon in a tavern, especially one so popular and rowdy—even the barmaids didn't try to stop it.