The announcer stepped forward, taking a deep breath before he yelled, "Let the fight begin!" and with a loud,
**CLANG** The bell rang out once again.
All three groups stood still, staring at each other in silence.
The announcer, visibly annoyed, shouted, "What now?! Why aren't you fighting already?!"
The waiter adjusted his bow tie, stepped forward, and said with a sharp tone, "Just because you ring a bell, you can't expect us to fight, like Pavlov's classical conditioning experiment! We are not dogs sir, I would advise you to show some manners and ask politely if you wish for us to engage in combat."
The announcer threw his hands up in frustration. "Oh, for the love of—fine! Will you please fight already?!"
The waiter raised his eyebrow and gave him a disapproval look, announcer repeated, ''Will you please fight gentlemen?!"
The waiter gave a slow, approving nod. "That's better. Very well, gentlemen, let's proceed."
At that moment, Satoshi's group started to charge, but Satoshi grabbed two of his group members by their collars, halting them mid-run. The third member, however, continued forward, rushing blindly toward the other groups.
**BANG!**
"Hah, this will be easier than I thought!" said the flower-patterned wizard. As the charging member dropped to the ground. The other two, still held by Satoshi, looked back, their faces pale.
"Thanks for saving our lives, boss!" one of them said, breathing heavily.
The other nodded furiously. "Yeah, that was a close one!"
One of them pointed to their fallen comrade. "But… why didn't you save him?"
Satoshi sighed, "I only have two hands."
The two looked at each other, then back at Satoshi. "Fair enough."
The waiter adjusted his glasses, looked down at the wizard, and sighed with disappointment, "If you're dragging me into a theater I don't want to be part of, you could've at least worked on the visual effects a bit. I mean, what the hell is this nonsense? Since when did wizards start using guns? I can't wrap my head around it."
The wizard, nervously hiding something behind his back, replied, "Oi, what gun are you talking about? That was an advanced earth spell."
The waiter destabilized his glasses, sighed again, and responded, "Sure… whatever, that was such an impressive spell performance."
The wizard nervously chuckled, "Finally, someone who understands the Magnificence of my magic!"
Both groups exchanged stares before suddenly turning to Satoshi's group, which seemed weaker than them. One of the wizards reached into something hidden in his cloak's sleeve, while the waiter started spinning a pan in his hand—it seemed they were about to eliminate the weaker ones first.
Meanwhile, the two guys Satoshi had saved looked at each other, gave confident nods, and both pulled out napkins, spreading them on the ground. Satoshi, on the other hand, was scratching his butt uncomfortably—or at least it looked that way.
"Hmm, what are those guys doing?" the other two groups thought as they decided to watch.
The two men in Satoshi's group started unfolding the napkins. Despite their efforts, the thickness of the napkins didn't seem to change. They just kept unfolding, and eventually, one of the palm-sized napkins turned into the size of a small car.
Clearing his throat, the man caught the attention of the audience who had been focused on the napkin. He grabbed it by both ends and lifted it into the air, and from underneath, a piano appeared.
"Whoa, what in the world!" "Now that's real magic!" "Exactly! You fraud wizards, watch and learn!" Voices of amazement and applause began rising from the crowd.
The man bowed to the audience and signaled to his friend. Now, all eyes were on him. His friend elegantly folded his napkin, creating an origami display in the shape of a violin.
He held the napkin up toward the crowd and gave it a quick snap. When the audience refocused on the napkin, it had already turned into a real violin.
"I haven't seen such an impressive show in a long time!" "Bravo!" voices echoed from the noble section of the arena. Meanwhile, from the commoner's side, there were shouts of, "This is real talent, you talentless chef bastard!"
Everyone in the arena were about to burst into applause but the man with a hand gesture signaled them to stop. Then, after exchanging nods, one of them sat at the piano, while the other elegantly placed the violin on his collarbone.
A fiery violin solo began resonating throughout the arena, followed by the piano seamlessly joining the melody. As Satoshi scratched his butt, he was hit with a sudden flashback (waving dream animation *uoooooh*)
**11 Years Ago**
Satoshi found himself standing in a church, his eyes wide open, his face expressionless. Even though he was conscious, his body wouldn't move an inch.
"NOO! LEAVE ME ALONE! MY GRANDPA ISN'T DEAD! YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM AWAY!" A child's desperate plea snapped Satoshi out of his trance. The boy clung to a coffin, crying, causing trouble for the adults trying to carry it away.
"Ah, another annoying brat," Satoshi muttered internally as he walked toward the crowd.
As he saw the child's hopeless struggle and genuine tears, something struck him like a bolt of lightning in his mind, he knew this boy. This boy… was him.
How could he have forgotten? This was the funeral of the grandfather he loved so much. Satoshi was filled with shame. He hadn't thought of his grandfather, not even once, in all these years. Yet his grandfather was the person who had valued him the most. But now, why was this memory surfacing after so long? What had triggered it?
As questions swirled in his mind, the image of young Satoshi's face, filled with pain, flashed before his eyes again. At that moment, an unsettling feeling inside him kept growing. "How could I forget? How could I not think of him all these years?" he thought.
While wrestling with his thoughts, a voice echoed in his mind: "Some things don't return to be forgotten, but to be remembered."
Suddenly, he felt the warmth of a hand on his shoulder, and found himself lost in memories. Memories of holding his grandfather's hand as they walked to this very church together…
His grandfather had worked at this church, the same one where his funeral was being held. After Satoshi's parents passed away, his grandfather had taken him in and raised him like his own child. He was a kind and good-hearted man who treated everyone with respect.
Satoshi's greatest joy was coming to this church on weekends with his grandfather and singing with the other children…
One day, as young Satoshi was drawing, his grandfather walked over and looked at his sketches. Noticing him, Satoshi said,
"Hey, grandpa!"
"Hey, kiddo. What are you drawing?"
Satoshi lifted the paper up proudly and showed it to his grandfather, saying,
"You!"
The drawing was just a rough sketch of an old man with white hair, but his grandfather knelt down and smiled encouragingly.
"Ohh, you've drawn it so well! It looks just like me!"
Satoshi brought the paper close to his grandfather's face and said,
"No, it doesn't look like you at all! How will I remember your face when you die?"
His grandfather's smile faded, replaced by a hint of concern, and he asked,
"W-well, why are you thinking about me dying?"
Satoshi sighed and replied,
"Because old people die. The other kids at church were talking about it, and it got me thinking about how old you are..."
Satoshi looked down at the floor, his expression sad. His grandfather placed a hand on his shoulder and asked,
"Hmm, you think I am that old huh… but I'm curious about something else, why do you think you'll forget me?"
"Because…"
His grandfather picked him up and asked again. Being lifted up made Satoshi a little excited, and he giggled as he answered,
"Because I already forgot what my mom and dad looked like."
To cheer him up, his grandfather chuckled softly and replied,
"I'm not going anywhere, kiddo, but I don't think you've forgotten them."
"What? But I did!"
"No, you just don't remember. Don't forget, son—Some things don't return to be forgotten, but to be remembered."
**
When Satoshi snapped out of his memories, he realized that he had tears in his eyes and he could still feel the warm hand on his shoulder, so he put own hand on it and slowly turned his head.
His grandfather was looking at him with his usual warm smile.
His grandfather said, "Hey son, you have grown up a lot! How about one last song with this old man?''
Satoshi looked around and there was no funeral inside the church, just a pianist and a violinist, With a bittersweet smile, Satoshi replied, "Sure!"
and began to sing with the same excitement as when he was a child...
**Present Day**
His voice began softly, like the opening of an ancient hymn, echoing through the air with a reverent calm. But as the melody grew, the sound took on a fiery edge, each note swelling with the force of centuries-old battle cries. It wasn't just singing anymore—it was a summoning, a call to arms. The purity of the church hymn twisted into something far more intense, as if angels themselves were marching to war. His voice soared and roared, resonating with a holy fury, carrying the weight of forgotten oaths and the clash of divine conflict.
*BANG!* *CLANG!*
Influenced by the music, Jacob from the wizard group had fired a shot, though what he had fired with was obscured by his friend's back... But the waiter's group was already prepared, and one of the suited men had parried the shot with a frying pan.
The shot ricocheted off the ground, and smoke started rising from the spot where it landed. The waiter adjusted his glasses, looked down, and saw the bullet casing. Then, looking down at the wizards, he said,
"Magic, huh?"
The rest of the group looked at Jacob and said, "Could you stop embarrassing us for once?"
Jacob's face flushed red as he shamefully lowered his gaze to the ground.
The waiter grabbed three eggs from the nearby table and tossed them into the air, striking each one with all his strength.
Just before the eggs reached the wizards, they all shouted, "Helmetus protectus ourus headus!" and equipped Stahlhelm M42 model helmets. All three eggs hit Jacob and shattered. With egg white dripping down his helmet, Jacob's frustration was clear.
He took off his helmet and said, "I don't know what kind of dark magic you used to keep the eggs from breaking when they hit the pan, but you'll regret this!"
The waiter adjusted his glasses and replied, "Oh, is that so?"
Jacob made a series of ridiculous hand movements and suddenly reached into his cloak's sleeve, pulling out a revolver. "Behold, waiter! Fireus ballzuss piercus headus!" he shouted, firing six shots.
The waiter let out a "Tsch" and said, "Although I don't understand why you'd warn me before shooting, my eccentric friend, I will meet your attacks head-on!"
With a few elegant wrist movements, the waiter parried all the bullets. His well-dressed companions nearby showed their admiration with a slow clap.
As Jacob reached into his sleeve to pull something out, the flower-patterned wizard motioned for him to stop with his hand and asked the waiter:
"It seems I've finally found a worthy opponent! What is your name, waiter?"
"I may not see a worthy opponent myself, but I will grace you barbarians with the honor of my name. My name is..." he misaligned his glasses and continued, "Alfred."
"Alfredo, huh, I'll remember that name! My name is Jabbar Al-Qudraman Ibn Zahirul Hakim Qasim El-Raheemi Othman Al-Muntaqim, but you can call me 'boss' for short!"
After adjusting his glasses, Alfredo replied, "I don't recall asking for your name, but I, too, will remember it, Mr. Jabbar Al-Qudraman Ibn Zahirul Hakim Qasim El-Raheemi Othman Al-Muntaqim. And I don't believe we're on close enough terms for me to call you 'boss,' so I will stick with Jabbar Al-Qudraman Ibn Zahirul Hakim Qasim El-Raheemi Othman Al-Muntaqim. If it's okay for you." He misaligned his glasses again and added, "Mr. Jabbar Al-Qudraman Ibn Zahirul Hakim Qasim El-Raheemi Othman Al-Muntaqim!"
"Hmph, call me whatever you like!" Jabbar Al-Qudraman Ibn Zahirul Hakim Qasim El-Raheemi Othman Al-Muntaqim said as he reached into his sleeve...