"Squeeze out its blood like an over-ripe fruit," Chun Chun growled with darkened face and clenched fists.
"What the fuck is your and everyone else's problem with violence?"
"Nothing is an obstacle to those with enough power," Chun Chun boasted with hands on hips in response to Alan's question.
Alan flicked Chun Chun's forehead, and Chun Chun screamed as he tumbled in the air in one place like an unbalanced slowly spinning gyroscope.
"Everyone isn't stepping stones or unclimbable mountains," Alan sighed while feeling the king mist tiger purring inside the paper egg. "No reasonable person is willing to be stepped on for no benefit, yet it's always the highest goal. We can't climb mountains alone or by exploitation. We can die fighting with ourselves, or work together," Alan finished talking with his hand held out for Chun Chun to grab.
"I can do it myself," Chun Chun slapped Alan's hand away, "I'm not weak."
"Are you strong enough to show weakness," Alan asked with his hand held out again.
"The strong have no weakness," Chun Chun slapped Alan's hand away again.
"Be stronger, and accept help."
"Never," Chun Chun screamed while waving his arms wildly.
"I'm not doing this to take advantage of you," Alan said while smacking Chun Chun, causing his spinning to increase again.
"I am the interface to your martial system," Chun Chun yelled, "without me you will never reach the martial peak. I am the only bridge that crosses an endless gap."
"What happens when a farmer cultivates the land without fallow or fertilizer?," Alan asked while holding out his hand, only to be slapped away.
"They steal food from the next crop, until there is no next crop," Alan kept talking.
"Growth dies when nothing is given back," Alan spoke while holding out his hand.
"Farmers are countless levels below martial artists," Chun Chun huffed while slapping Alan's hand away. "Cattle to feed the masters."
"Is your ablism so zealous? Do you think those who cannot feed themselves deserve to starve? Do you think those who can eat deserve to starve others because they can?" Alan bombarded Chun Chun with questions.
"Stop trying to confuse me!" Chun Chun demanded while slapping Alan's hand away.
"There is no room for growth with stealing or exploitation."
"The weak exist for the strong to step on. It is their honor to let their masters reach higher levels," Chun Chun boasted.
"What is the point of stepping on others to stand on a barren, dying mountain alone? Refusing to help others climb, and crippling those who try, only invites destruction. A tool that goes unused is a decoration. What is a bridge that no one else can cross? What happens after a tool has lost all use?" Alan asked while holding out his hand.
Chun Chun slapped it away with less enthusiasm.
"You were so focused on proving your ability, you kept slapping my hand away even after you regained control," Alan spoke while holding his hand out to Chun Chun, who has been standing still, "Do you want to live in a world that abandons you, because it can't exploit you for it's own gain?"
Chun Chun hesitated while holding up his hand, "You have to be a martial artist, because you have the martial system."
"I'll give it away," Alan spoke nonchalantly.
"You're selling the boat while stranded at sea!" Chun Chun yelled.
"I'd rather drown, than live in a world that praises sink or swim mentalities," Alan shrugged.
"Don't throw me away!" Chun Chun stomped his foot on the ground with watery eyes and trembling body.
"You'd be happier with a real martial artist, Little Frog," Alan spoke while wiping a tear off Chun Chun's cheek.
"I don't want another master," Chun Chun said with shaky clenched fists.
"I'm not your master," Alan responded, "I'd rather have your companionship. From both of you." Alan turned around to look at the tiger that had broken out of its shell. "Would you like to name our tiger friend, Little Frog?"
Chun Chun wiped the snot from under his nose, and rubbed his eyes before holding his nose high to say with the confidence of a billion chunibyos, "Fenrir."
A small bell jingled as a red collar fell from the heavens as if to answer Alan's silence. It looked like a seat belt threaded through a small golden shield in Alan's hands. In the golden metal was carved the image of the king mist tiger, with the name 'Fenrir' permanently etched into it under the tiger's fearsome image. Fenrir sat. Its head held high with pride. Waiting for its prize. Alan walked towards Fenrir, and looked up at the furry chin twice taller than him.
"I have to succeed in one throw," Alan spoke to himself.
Somehow Alan was wearing a minor league baseball pitcher's uniform the moment he threw the red collar with full gusto. A gust of wind blew from Fenrir's body from its excitement, blowing the collar far away from itself.
"You're not cut out for the big leagues, kid," a professional baseball recruiter spoke with cigar hanging in her mouth.
"Baseball is all I have," Alan begged, "Wait. What are you doing here? How did this uniform get on me? Stop typecasting my character," Alan shouted and threw his baseball cap on the ground in frustration.
Alan slapped his forehead and said, "I almost forgot," then used Force Displacement to move the collar around Fenrir's neck with telekinesis.
Fenrir's fur bristled, its eye shone wildly with deepened pupils, and it ran around beyond the speed of sound with the power of ten million zoomies.
"This is the power of a king," Chun Chun spoke while clouds of dust rose up along the horizon.
"Indeed," Alan nodded while watching in his previous clothes.
"How does your clothes survive so much abuse? Are they a treasure?" Chun Chun asked.
"No. It's ordinary linen, but there aren't bushes or low hanging tree branches around here," Alan responded.