[The Mirkol Kingdom]
2 Weeks after John's bodyguarding mission-
The sounds of shouting and excitement could be heard from outside the large stadium. At the front entrance, there was a line spanning out into the street. Everyone was clamoring to get inside.
Inside the stadium, on the arena floor, two individuals stood facing each other.
One of them had a metal helmet on, and a small goatee attached to his chin. The individual's eyes were bright green, holding a deep focus as he was locked on the enemy before him. His skin was strange looking, pale, and appearing rough, almost scale-like.
He smirked, revealing a row of sharp teeth. His hands had long nails so sharp-looking that it was clear he didn't need a weapon, unlike his opponent who held a mace in one hand. The scaled man was also completely spotless, not having a scuff or injury in sight.
The other individual standing before him on the battle floor had a big afro and deep brown skin. His current state was the opposite of the scaled man, having cuts and scuffs all over his body. Blood stains were on his armor, which had gashes in it as well. Besides the old stained blood, there were fresh samples, as they leaked from his wounds.
Sweat covered his brow. Even though he was clearly in the harder position his sharp yellow eyes were focused. He seemed unphased as the crowd cheered the name of his opponent.
"Liko! Liko!"
While the chants throughout the stadium continued the bloodied man chuckled. "You're a fierce opponent. To think I was the champion before today."
As he gazed at Liko his eyes held a strange clarity in them. One that he shouldn't have had given his dire state. Liko smirked, licking his lips. "Interesting. You're already saying you've lost?"
A strained smile grew on his face, as he wiped the blood that started to trickle down his mouth. He nodded, before raising his left arm into the air, his palm being open.
"You're strong."
The crowd went wild with noise. Some noises were held by those supporting Liko, chanting his name and screaming in joy while others were booing at the previous champion, Marshall's loss.
It was almost a given that such a high-profile fight like theirs would have bets made over it. The screams of anger might have been more due to the loss of money than over a personal favorite.
Amongst all the people in the crowd, one person, in particular, stood out though. He was the only person not releasing a sound or cheer of some kind. The man was covered from head to toe in a white robe, golden hair poked out slightly from under the hood.
His deep black eyes were squinted as he looked down intently at Liko. He muttered under his breath. "He's pretty strong. Not super close to Wilson's strength but not too far either. The boss was right to send me to this place, scouting for new members."
In that instant, with his objective seemingly realized, he vanished.
Down in the arena, Liko was facing Marshall still, standing almost dumbfounded at the turn of events. His sharp eyes had a glint of frustration behind them. "How could you just give up like that? What kind of warrior are you? All the other fighters either fought me to the death or until they couldn't move anymore. It looks like you had the strength to spare. So why?"
Marshall turned from him, starting to walk away without a word.
"You're a disgrace! Answer for your weakness!"
At the word weakness, Marshall stopped, turning around. To Liko's surprise, the man looked more disheveled than he would've guessed. His brows were curled into a frown as if he was more disappointed with the loss than Liko was with his victory. His eyes were glossy, a tired look laying on the surface.
"Look. I have a family, okay? I can't afford to die or get severely injured for that matter. I have to look out for them. If we'd met a couple of years prior, I'd have had no qualms fighting to the very end, I just can't anymore."
With the response dripping with regret, he turned back around.
The man's back was slouched slightly, as he started walking toward the exit. Many in the crowd were booing him, throwing trash and even food from the concession stalls. Marshall didn't budge, however, each step being planted firmly into the ground as he plowed through the sea of slander as well as trash that was piling at his feet.
When the man had finally left the area, Liko lowered his head, having a face filled with contemplation.
'For his family huh? I've never had a real family. Just one that used me… I wonder, is he truly happy to carry on like that?'
The huge crowd which had once filled the arena was slowly emptying now that the match was over.
After their bout which was the highlight card of the night, amateur fights would resume.
Now, all Liko had to do was leave the arena, head to the reception hall, and receive his champion title belt.
With that would come many perks, such as being able to sell it and restart in the arena to become a 2nd generation champion or simply gain notoriety throughout the kingdom by maintaining his title when challengers inevitably reached his doorstep.
Marshall was a 4th Generation champion, selling and regaining his title multiple times.
With his next course of action being clear, he started to leave the arena floor, walking under the hallway.
As he walked through it, the joy he'd felt during the fight became nothing more than a distant memory, and just as the light at the end was near-
"Hey. Your name is Liko correct?"
He snapped around quickly, his guard shooting up. He didn't feel their presence until they were right behind him.
The person who managed to sneak up on him had an appearance he didn't expect, being covered in a white robe from top to bottom. The only two features that were clear were the person's golden hair and his deep black eyes which held a plain yet unhinged vibe to them.
"What do you want?" An agnostic tone seeped from his mouth.
The person chuckled, clasping their hands together apologetically. "Sorry if I snuck up on you. My name is Otis." He then gave a respectful bow.
During their whole encounter so far Liko had been watching the man extremely closely, so just in case he tried anything even resembling that of an attack he'd be ready.
"I didn't ask your name, I asked what you wanted."
Otis raised from his bowed position slowly. "Very well. I saw your talents and was curious, would you be interested in a job opportunity?" With a sly smirk, radiating the energy of a shifty salesman he spoke.
"No actually. The only thing that interests me is the pursuit of strength, so unless there's an offer involving that it's a hard no from me."
Otis fell silent at his blunt response. It was full of arrogance but given his impressive fighting record as well as soon-to-be appointed championship it was reasonable. The silence between the two carried on for a couple of seconds.
"Well, it seems there's my answer. You have a good day, Otis."
With that, Liko started to walk forward, making sure to be a decent distance away from the man as he started to pass him. It wasn't clear if he had any weapons on him, and seeing how quick and sneaky he could be the risk of such a blunder wouldn't give a reward of any kind except death.
"Have you heard of an organization called Black Jack?"
Just before Liko could finish his step, he paused, turned quickly, his eyes squinted, and focused on Otis once more. "Of course."
"Well, I work for that organization. Recently I've been tasked with looking for new members, are you in?"
"Depends. Are there strong people?"
Otis flashed a toothy grin that displayed his pearly whites. "Absolutely."
"Hmm... While your group has infamy from what I've seen, your most successful operations are assassination based. If more of your members are anything like you, then I'd like proof of power."
"I assume you're referring to the Black Jack Massacre. Don't worry, we have powerful members who don't need to resort to sneaky tactics. I'll bring someone to fight with you."
"Alright. Just make sure it's after the arena closes, that way no one can bother us."
With a silent nod, Otis vanished. Liko licked his lips, an excited expression on his face.
"Can't wait."