Unconventional

As Brenda Evans slowly sashayed her way up the platform towards the announcer's podium, the men on the path almost climbed over each other to offer Brenda their hands as she ascended. Once in front of the entire arena again, she opened her pink lips and spoke in that soft voice that still projected clearly and concisely in the crowd's ears.

"The number one contender Bazzy Dagod, has invoked his special right to challenge the champion. In this battle...he is victorious!" Brenda's sultry voice was full of excitement, stirring the crowd up even more. "Please welcome the new champion. Our very own~

"Bas

King!"

Champions all had the right to change their stage names. That Bas had introduced himself this way was a coincidence, but the crowd didn't see it that way.

"Did you see his outer ryms? I think those were death ryms!"

"WE LOVE YOU BAZZY!"

"No way, how could Freddy survive that? They must be shadow ryms or a variant scheme."

"BAZZY YOU'RE STILL MY GOD~"

"BAZZY!"

"BAZZY!"

"I agree. No way he has such rym control. Death ryms ruin everything they touch."

"BAS KING OF THE CAGE!"

"BAZZY!"

"BAZZY!"

"The new champ is so arrogant! He changed his name before the match even started."

"Looked like a close match to me. He's not so tough."

Bas stood in the cage, deep in thought. He swept the stands with mystical energy and noticed various reactions to his victory. Some liked it, some didn't. Ah well, he always had the ladies on his side. He had wanted to locate Marcus so they could settle up, but he wasn't there. Bas would probably have to ask Brenda about the infirmary to find him.

"BAZZY! That was so badass! I always knew you would be the champion," Little Piggy suddenly rolled over as Bas casually exited the battle cage.

The security guard was saluting and had just wanted to congratulate the new champ, but this chubby chick in a wheelchair popped up out of nowhere. He looked behind her and saw dozens of hunters in what appeared to be organized columns, all staring eagerly at the cage.

Bas felt a headache coming on.

Then Little Piggy whispered to him, "I started a betting ring in your name earlier, and we made a killing. I also charged all of these hunters for some fan favor. Pictures, autographs, a kiss or two. You know, star stuff!"

Bas was slightly appalled, mildly annoyed, but all of it suddenly went up in a puff of smoke.

"A killing? How much? As a manager, you should only take 10%," Bas knelt and asked Little Piggy.

'Stingy,' Little Piggy grumbled in her head, but she still dutifully entered her purse and pulled out a small treasure sack. After arranging the funds, she handed them to Bas.

"Good stuff!" said Bas when she handed him the treasure sack.

He liked the design as it had a crown stitched in that glowed. This was fit for one such as himself. He didn't even know about the earnings two minutes ago. This treasure sack was already a nice present.

Little Piggy looked at Bas, speechless. She was hoping to get the treasure sack back.

"Aren't you going to count it?" she asked.

"Later for that," Bas replied, not concerned with whether the girl gave him 90%.

The treasure sack disappeared in a soft flash of light, taking Little Piggy's smile along.

"Are you sure?" she asked again, suddenly upset. Did he even care how much they made? What about her contribution credit? What about the pretty bag that the homeless old man had given her? She insisted, "This betting pool started back when you fought Francis. Once War was invoked, the bets went crazy!"

Bas frowned, as Little Piggy had just reminded him of something critically important. Francis and he had invoked War. That meant that everything that Francis Stratus was should have been transferred to Bas as a War Chest by the War Truth's law system. He overlooked this before, as he technically wasn't bound to the War System yet.

'He isn't dead. War is still in action. So this still isn't over.' Bas became secretly alert.

He had a bad feeling.

The invocation of War couldn't be taken lightly. One would have to die in forty-eight hours or be smitten as punishment by the War Truth at the end of the trial. The basis upon which the War Truth decided victors and losers wasn't something many would choose to rely on. Bas only realized now that Edgar's interference wasn't as simple as it seemed.

Fifth Class hunters could not invoke a War. Technically, Bas wouldn't even be killed as he hadn't condensed a War Badge or Hunter's Badge as they called it. At most, he'd be bedridden for a few weeks. The enemy would probably assume he was ignorant of the truth, which allowed him to plan silently.

Of course, there was the possibility that Francis was really dead, and Bas couldn't communicate with the War Truth without a War Badge. The oath only worked as Francis had half condensed one of his own.

Bas would rather err on the side of caution, though. Something was fishy here, and things had almost been intentionally quiet about the War. Wasn't this a hot topic? Why was everyone treating it like it happened weeks ago?

"Come on, champ, the fans are waiting for you!" reminded Little Piggy eagerly, snapping Bas out of his thoughts.

"One sec," Bas suddenly leaped into the air, seemingly gliding to the announcer's platform.

The crowd below was stunned. This kid wasn't flying, right? Then why did it look so measured and controlled?

Sid Evans stood in the center of the platform with three other men and two women. He had a stylish-looking championship belt with a spinning crystal crown. Bas was feeling more and more like this place had style.

"Congratulations are in order, Sebastion," Sid smirked at Bas, waiting to see his reaction to being exposed.

"Thank you, Mr. Evans," Bas replied with gratitude mired in indifference.

Sid stared at the boy speechlessly for a moment, feeling like someone had popped his balloon. Did this boy not hear what he said? Wasn't he being lowkey earlier? Was he high? Is that why he showed his face? Brenda did mention he was attacked earlier...could the attacker have drugged him?

Bas didn't feel surprised that Sid had discovered his true identity. He showed his face and said his name. Even though he said the name 'Bas' and not 'Sebastian,' how hard could it be?

"Ahem, now that you are the champion of the Fifth Class, you have the right to mingle with and even spar against our Fourth Class hunters," Sid cleared his throat and said. "You will also be awarded 30 gold credits and a membership at Fortune's Gym in Centerville."

Sid explained the situation behind Fortune's Gym in great detail. But Bas was stunned when he heard the words 'thirty gold,' missing the rest of the sentence and never noticing the following.

Sid studied the boy's face and exhaled. With his identity now confirmed, he better understood the boy's situation. His family had been sent to the mortal world, his mother was unwell, and no mortals seemed able to treat her; his older sister had four jobs, and he held two, and his initially remarkable talent had apparently gone missing.

But did it really disappear? This kid was definitely a frightening talent even now! If they said his talent went missing, what kind of little demons were the Night raising?

Rumors couldn't always be trusted.

"What's this?" Bas asked as Sid first handed him what looked like an electronic business card.

"This is your elective card, which you can trade in at Centerville to become a Fortune's Gym member," replied Sid.

"Fortune's what now?" Bas asked in confusion.

Sid: (ಠ_ಠ)

He felt a little like flipping a table.

"I'll have Brenda explain it later. Come, receive your credit. You earned this," Sid finally said in exasperation.

"Thank you, Mr. Evans! When can we start sparring? One hour? Two?" Bas asked as Sid transferred his earnings to his gold credit card, which he immediately stored in his mother's storage ring.

Sid was speechless again.

"Hahaha!" a boisterous laughter came from the entirely too muscular man to Sid's right. "I like this young man a lot! So, prince of the Night, you think you have what it takes to fight an expert?"

As if rehearsed, the eyes of the other five experts all released a sharp bronze gleam. Bas was impressed by their coordination. It was flattering.

Bas smiled wryly, saying, "I just want to try my luck."

"Young man, if you are really in the mood for sparring, I may be able to help," a sexy woman in purple said to him ambiguously.

"No, thank you, I don't want to court death," Bas waved his hand as if the idea was smelly, leaving the sexy woman in purple appalled but amused. He continued, "I'd rather fight someone around Mr. Evans's level."

'Fight someone...of my level...so, I'm also an opponent to you?'

Sid felt finding words had never been so difficult.

What was going on again?

Nothing this kid did was conventional.