SURVIVAL

"It's a sad thing that some girl hoodwinked even a dreamboat like you, but worry not, brother. Now that you're here, you will be saved under our care. No one watches our lives here except ourselves. Despite all that may be happening outside, we survive on this street together."

"On this street, we always follow words with deeds as kings do. Just let us end your losing streak with women! It's time you start living your life as a king."

After having caught Burton as a tired team, two men in Bachelor's Street urged him to join the brotherhood; howbeit, Burton nimbly shook off from their grip and made distance before others caught up.

Ten men grouped and chased after Burton. Five more men came from his front, trying to round him up, yet he spryly slipped through their defenses, lightly hurting whoever came into a touching distance.

"Tch, how did you let him escape!" one man fumed at another one for letting Burton get past him.

"My bad. I couldn't read his movement."

"Couldn't read his movement? Hmph, are your eyes growing on your ass or what?"

"This isn't working. He's been prancing around like a fox on stimulants. We are the only ones getting tired here," another man frowned as he panted a bit. "It irks me to say this, but it looks like we won't catch him without having to hurt him," some men looked back at the man on stage who took a few seconds to nod in response.

"No one gets to enter our street half-heartedly. It's our duty to wash a man's brain and harden his heart for good. Let this experience serve as a lesson for this fresher, too," the man on stage, Bakaya waved his hand. "Revile the rookie!"

Upon hearing those words, everyone smirked as they looked at Burton. Though he got a bit far from the stage, he knew that he was still quite far away from the end of the street, and even though most men appeared quite bevvied, escaping without a struggle seemed improbable.

"Boys walk on clouds when they meet good-looking girls," one man voiced his mind in a harsh tone, "but seldom do they know, a lovely outside doesn't signify a lovely inside. Since you're here, it's obvious you've been scarred by someone, too. Just let this street heal your scars, you darned dog."

"Yeah. Here you can learn to ease the pain by praising the paintings of maidens in private, you petty prick!"

"It's time for you to stop being some princess' puppet. We're presenting you with the best choice you can ever make. Just accept it, you short-sighted stooge!"

"What nonsense are you all speaking..." amid a torrent of verbal abuse being thrown at him, Burton's eyes focused on Bakaya. "Forget about me joining this brotherhood or whatever you call it, but more importantly, it looks like you're the man who needs to be thrown out of this street."

"How immature," Bakaya sniggered. "You think you can reach me before my brothers beat down the swelling of your head for good?"

Burton stepped forward. "You never know until you try."

Bakaya sighed and shook his head before smiling. "Very well. My dear brothers, you all know the drill. Let's show this naysayer the scary side of Bachelor's Street. Whether you later get to join the Brotherhood of Boldhearts or not will depend on how you fare against our fists."

"Hehe," all men, dozens of them standing at random places in the street, wore wicked smiles on their faces as they cracked their knuckles. "No one has ever lasted more than a few seconds against all of us."

"Now, my dear brothers," Bakaya continued, "wash his brain and wipe his mind clean with our ways."

Hundreds of feet hurried at Burton from his front and rear sides at once, leaving him no room to escape.

As they got closer and closer, Burton looked around, and his eyes eventually stopped on a three-foot-tall ligneous container full of empty beverage cans—made of wood and glass—and paper straws, other waste products. With a swift movement, he booted it without hesitation. Like a bullet fired from a gun, the container stormed into men's view and banged off the wall and broke open. All the cans burst forth and caromed off several men's faces, tables, and other objects lying around, throwing so many men in disarray.

Burton then endeavored to sneak through the confused crowds. Some cans bounced off people's chests and rebounded at Burton, too, and he had to fend off the cans and also the fists that rushed at him.

Seeing him get through the first wave of men unscathed, those who failed to land a hit were disappointed and put up stone faces.

"Damn, I thought I had him. He's so lucky."

"And slippery as well."

"Well, he isn't that special."

"He just slipped through almost twenty of our brothers. We've got to give him some credit, at least."

"Yes, but that's as far as he can go." Some men smirked. "After all, there are no more dustbins around."

Different men gave in different opinions.

Burton, meanwhile, kept pacing toward the next wave of men blocking his way to the stage.

"Someone must put him in his place," a heavy man came stamping at Burton. "Let my fists be the judge. I need six more to block his way on either side." Six men immediately gathered around—with three each on either side—and completely blocked the way. "Where can you go now, huh? It shall be me who'll wash your mind," the heavy man sneered and gestured with his fingers for Burton to come.

"Trying to provoke me so that I'll face you head-on, huh." A corner of Burton's mouth lifted a little. "Reminds me of a certain someone, but at least your thoughts aren't written on your face. However, I must tell you…" Upon getting in a ten-meter range, Burton sprang forward, "Washing my mind won't be a walk in the park."

"Heh, let's see how good your fists can back your mouth," the heavy man threw a punch, but Burton easily dodged it; howbeit, one of the six men speared his shoulder into Burton's stomach. Though Burton managed to nullify the force by sliding back on his feet, another man's sweeping kick sought his face from the front. He wasn't in a position to move, so the kick landed solidly, albeit on Burton's palm.

"H-He caught the leg! Only a few people ever took that surprise attack combo and still managed to stand," many men were nonplussed and frustrated at the same time because it was a move that always gave them victory.

"I thought you guys said you could finish me off in a few seconds," Burton pushed the men away and cleared his throat. "It seems we've got some liars on this street."

His words flooded bitterness in men's stomachs.

"Someone's getting ahead of themselves," a voice came from Burton's behind, "you aren't actually thinking you've won now, are you?" Two big arms curled around Burton's chest and tightly grabbed him, forcing him to let go of the other two men. The heavy man from before, who now grabbed hold of Burton, spun him viciously and slammed him into the wall. Even the heavy man himself careened into the opposite wall.

Burton rebounded off the wall and stopped in a slide, but his brain felt as if it was still spinning. He shook his head to lose the dizziness.

"H-He withstood the monkeyed ogre spin[1]," the nearby men watched with widened eyes, "and he's not even grazed a bit. I-Is he for real?"

Every man in the past had fallen prey to that attack. Judging by how even the heavy man failed to balance himself and collapsed after finishing his attack, there was no doubt he had put his all into the attack, yet this purple-haired boy was still standing with but maybe a teeny twinge of pain perceptible on his visage.

When Burton took a step forward, many men involuntarily took a step backward in hung-open mouths.

Bakaya knitted his brows from seeing his brothers backing away. "Remember, brothers. Fear is our slave. There will be times when it rebels, but as its masters, it's our burden to put it back in its place." He spread his arms wide open. "Everyone who can hear my words, it's time to foil your fears once more. Band together, and baffle that buffoon!"

Bakaya's words sowed seeds of strength in their hearts, and they quickly sprouted and spread insolence through the arteries, and in return, the veins unremittingly supplied their hearts with valor.

Except for those on stage, every other soul in the street assaulted the purple-haired young man at once. In a moment's span, vehement deluges of fists loomed into Burton's vision and were on their way to rain down on him from every direction, not leaving room for even flies to fly close to the floor.

On the stage, in Bakaya's eyes, a single fellow was getting routed by the ruthlessness of his brothers-to-be. Such a scenery backed by the belligerent voices of his brothers brought a blithesome beam on Bakaya's face, and he began to clap briskly and showed his appreciation. "More. That's right. More. Love him more with your fists until all the loveliness leaves his features!" Bakaya declared in an increasingly immoderately-excited tone, his eyes bathing in bliss as they witnessed the ongoing demolition.

"Hah! Yeah!"

Men's zestful voices echoed throughout the street.

After stroaming around for a few moments in sick daydreams, Bakaya got back to his senses and smiled. "All right, brothers. That's enough. Let's see if this foolish fellow has learned his lesson yet."

Upon hearing Bakaya's words, men slowly put their fists to rest and made way to open up a view for their big brother. Bakaya's smile broadened from seeing the blood-soaked face of the man who was on his knees, his face wholly blemished by blood; however, Bakaya's smile hit a sudden brake when he saw that man's black hair.

At the same moment, one of the men also realized the same thing. "T-This is one of us! A baby brother!"

"What?" all the men concentrated at a single spot was utterly stunned and looked around immediately, scanning each other's surroundings. "Where's that fellow? Find him quick."

Bakaya, who had a frozen expression, heard a sneeze from his right. When he turned his head, there was a man right outside the ring. "Eeek!" Disbelief danced on Bakaya's face as that man, Burton, stepped onto the stage.

"I don't know how you got here, but this is as far as you can press on," the young, muscular man standing behind Bakaya attacked without a second thought, but Burton blocked all the incoming vicious punches with his forearms. Everyone in the street suddenly looked toward the stage, and the muscular man grabbed Burton's arms and roared before banging his head against Burton's forehead.

"Senior Brother's skull can split open a turtle's shell! That fellow's skull would have cracked open!"

"Haha, that's what he gets for not listening to our warnings."

As the men boasted in haste, their mouths hit a sudden brake when they saw a man fall and hug the stage.

The crowds were left slack-jawed. "Senior Brother Gainz!"

"T-This… Why did Senior Brother Gainz collapse all of a sudden? What's going on?"

"He's not moving. Is our Senior Brother Gainz really…"

As the crowd watched in dubiety and disbelief, Burton scratched his forehead with his index finger. "That brought an itch."

"Good Lord, he actually took down the second strongest brother in our street." Hairs on some men's bodies stood on their ends while some others were frozen in fright.

Even so, a spiky-haired man from the crowd sneakily used his slingshot and shot three pointy stones at Burton, but to his horror, the stones reached a standstill between Burton's fingers. "T-This guy..." the spiky-haired man was taken aback, wearing a frightened look on his face. My shots fly at over 300 feet per second. (He's not even 100 feet away, yet he managed to—) A shiver ran down the spiky-haired man's spine. (He didn't pinpoint my location, did he?) As he was thinking, Burton glanced in his direction for a moment, giving him a near heart attack, but Burton soon broke the eye-contact and acted as if nothing happened, making the spiky-haired man suck in a burdening breath. (He's dangerous!)

As doubts still disconcerted and bumbazed most men, Burton approached Bakaya, bearing the eyes of a predator being blatant with a foiled prey.

"I-Impossible," Bakaya was taken aback, his hands patently shivering and unbelief oozing out of his eyes. "H-How did you do it?"

Burton's raised his hand a bit and slowly balled a fist, "I buddied up with fear." His response widened Bakaya's expression.

"You…" Bakaya gnashed his teeth in sheer frustration and launched a punch that curved through the air and sought Burton's face. "No brother tries their hand against me on this street!"

Bakaya's fist, however, hit nothing but air, but before he caught on the opponent's movement, a punch pounded in his stomach and instantly whitened his eyes. As Bakaya spilled a mixture of saliva and blood, his chin settled on Burton's shoulder.

"Big Brother Bakaya!"

Everyone who witnessed that was shell-shocked.

"I'm not your brother," Burton pushed the unconscious Bakaya to the side.

The crashing down of their big brother reddened every pair of observing eyes.

"Let loose Lobo!" one man roared his lungs out. Everyone began to howl simultaneously and produced ear-irking noise.

Let loose? Burton's brows pinched together a bit, for it reminded him of someone who often used that wording when they previously fought each other. So it made him a little bit anxious regarding what the men were trying to pull.

Moments later, a horrendous howl answered back from afar.

The response brightened men's eyes apace, and they grinned at Burton as if he was going to get everything he deserved.

Suddenly, the entire street fell silent, not reckoning the heaving breaths and burdening heartbeats. The whole neighborhood appeared scariest at this moment, for it seemed as if no one knew what was really in other's minds, yet most of them were willing to take on a foe for the same thing, which was to preserve the pride of Bachelor's Street.

Burton's right ear jerked a little. He turned around by degrees.

Though the street was still pretty quiet, the rising sound of something scraping the floor was perceived by Burton's ears, and then came into his view a four-legged creature, whipping its tail viciously, dragging a thick chain by its throat, a black wolf taller than every resident in the street and possibly stronger, too.

"Get him, Lobo!" men shouted as they pointed their fingers at Burton, and the black wolf, Lobo hurtled past men and approached Burton with an increasing gait. "Pounce on that prick for good!"

Lobo, the guardian wolf of the street, leaped onto the stage and neared Burton. As every bystander expected a bloodbath, Lobo's paw slid into a halt and stopped at only an arm's length away from the human who moved not an inch, and both their unflinching eyes fleetingly met. Lobo prudently turned back, then pranced down the stage and paced away from the purple-haired man, leaving all the onlookers in stupefaction.

This time, the growing silence stuffed the surroundings with insecurity and riddled many minds, suffocated many souls, and ate away bits of their apprehension.

"What just happened?" some men couldn't get their minds around what they had just witnessed. Every time they had unchained their guardian beast, it did the job for the street. What had happened this time was something they had never seen before.

"L-Lobo backed away?"

"D-Did he stare down at the charging wolf and come out on top?" one man doubtfully stated.

"This..." another man lost all the glow in his face. "How can a fierce predator avoid a fight? I must be seeing things. Yeah, right. Someone stone me!"

"Predators can breathe fear into prey only when permitted," Burton booted a small stone, and it mildly hit the man who just spoke and left him momentarily speechless.

"I didn't mean it literally, but…" the man didn't know what to say. It wasn't just him, but most others had puzzled expressions, but now that Burton's attention was on them, their veins ran cold.

Bachelor's Street had a strict hierarchy. With Baby Brother being the weakest, the ranks ascended into Little Brother, Junior Brother, Senior Brother, and finally, the strongest being Big Brother.

Given that their Big Brother and one of the senior brothers already suffered a crushing defeat, the eyes of the rest slowly but surely showed signs of seeking revenge, at least half-heartedly.

"You may have won against our big brother, but can you win against all of us?" upon steeling their hearts through an uplifting exchange of glances, every man rushed toward the stage. "None of us think so!"

More than fifty people immediately surrounded the stage, and some even jumped onto it.

"Wait!"

However, before anyone got their fists to Burton, a strained call caused them to stop and look toward the source, where one of their senior brothers, Gainz, was standing on his feet. A thin stream of blood dripped down his forehead and reached all the way to the tip of the nose, and he licked the blood off the base of his nose. "That was short but a good fight nonetheless," he said and leaked out a thin smile at Burton, who was glancing at him sideways. Gainz gave a once-over to all the men in the vicinity. "My dear brothers, after tasting an inglorious defeat, I don't have the right to command any one of you anymore, but to those who still want to give me a chance, please hear me out—because I have a proposal."

"A proposal?" Uncertainty crossed men's expressions, and they looked at each other's faces. "For him to say that now of all times, just what might that be?"

Murmurs sprang to life on the street.

In a short interval, the bloodstain left by Gainz on the stage slowly but surely seeped deep into the hardwood.

"Bring it out! This is nowhere near enough! Do you see any pink faces here, huh, baby brothers?" Exuberant voices enlivened the street, especially near the stage. "Lay more rum at your elder brothers' feet, and supply them with every other sustenance they pine for!"

Most men could be seen partying around the stage, whereas a few kept kissing their favorite paintings, but all in all, they seemed lost in bliss. Bakaya, though, was escorted to his room for treatment.

Gainz and a few other men, in the meantime, were discussing with Burton while he sat on the stairs of the stage with others standing before him.

"Bachelor's Street can not only survive but also thrive under a strong overseer," Gainz politely spoke to Burton. Including Gainz, many others got on one of their knees and bowed their heads. "Brother Burton, please accept our proposal and become our new big brother."

Those who were too drunk to kneel just lifted the jars and bottles in their hands to show their approval.

Burton let out a leisurely, lucid breath. "I didn't beat that guy to become your new big brother." His words brought about a gentle silence in the neighborhood. Burton then continued, "Besides, I don't quite find delight in being called big brother. It reminds me of Dumblord."

Burton's words brought puzzlement and disappointment on men's faces. Some drunken men broke down into tears and yelped heavy-heartedly, but their acting was so bad that it made Burton shake his head.

"Uh, if you don't want to take our big brother's role, then there's nothing we can do, brother," Gainz said in a stressful tone, "but we want you to know that you will always be welcomed here, at least as long as I'm here."

"Actually," Burton scratched his chin a little, "I thought it would be better if I just send the leader away from this street, but now, it looks like I have to send everyone else instead."

Gainz and others had their eyes enlarged as they perceived as if he was hinting about fighting them. "B-Brother, are you suggesting—" A sense of dread swept against men's face, and it made many of them spring to their feet.

A couple of men, who just walked out of a room, brought jars full of rum and put them before Burton. "Please chug on it, brother."

Burton paused a moment and shook his head. "I can't."

"Hm? Why not?" the two of them asked simultaneously, while the hearts of other men throbbed in the background.

"Thanks for the drink, but I can't accept it," Burton spoke casually, but soreness flooded men's heads from hearing his words.

"Why are you not accepting our offer to drink?" one of the two men who brought the drink asked in a raised tone, "Except for the test hall, it's quite hard to find even a drop of alcohol anywhere on this deck. So drink it while we are in a giving mood." His words sounded more like a demand than a request. The other men in the background swallowed down gulps, but they didn't dare to interrupt the conversation.

"No," Burton calmly refused.

"Why not?" one of the two men walked unevenly on his feet as he stepped toward Burton. "Anyone who refuses to drink on Bachelor's Street will not go to sleep without a dizzy mind and a beaten body. Since you are one of us now, you should also obey the rules. It's just rum. I don't see any problem. Heh, it's not like you are going to die from drinking it."

The other man also smirked to show his support, but the rest of the men, however, had beads of cold sweat dripping down their faces. As tensions around the stage quickly escalated, Gainz stepped ahead to speak.

"I do have a problem," Burton said, stopping Gainz. "If I drink too much and lose myself, who'll look after my safety? Who'll tell me the difference between the good and the bad?" he gave a once-over to some people, most of whom were drunk as a skunk, but some had surprised expressions on their faces. "Clearly, I'm not in a clean neighborhood for me to rely on someone among you."

Burton's blunt words hurt their pride, but before anyone reacted, Gainz said, "We are not drinking just for the sake of it, Brother Burton. By getting drunk, we forget the pain this world has put on us. We can also praise ourselves for everything we've done to date."

"Yeah, well said, Senior Brother Gainz," everyone backed him, sloshing liquids in their jars.

"What good will praising ourselves achieve?" Burton's asked back but got no response, except for some guilty expressions. "All praising ourselves does is nothing but lessen us. Instead of praising the paintings on the walls, go and praise a real woman whom you may find to your liking instead. And whether she likes you back or not, don't take your praises back. That's how I think praising should be done."

Everyone went silent for a second, and some stuck-out chests in the crowd shrunk on their own accord.

"B-But women are too cruel out there," Gainz responded, rolling his fingers into balls of fury. "They've done so many bad things to us—broken too many hearts too many times!"

"Yeah, Senior Brother Gainz is right," other men backed Gainz and barked at Burton, with rising vigor in their voices. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You wouldn't have spouted all that nonsense if you also had gotten tricked more times than you can remember."

Burton stepped forward, making many nearby men move away. Everyone just watched him climb down the stairs and walk away, but after going some distance, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder and addressed the men, "Women are not your problem—the world is." His eyes fixated on the path ahead of him as he resumed walking with hands placed in the pockets, "Dreams turn into destinies only when our focus is on fighting the world, not women or men. As far as I know, there's no better way to survive." He briefly looked at the copper ring on his ring finger. It had fire patterns on it, and a sword cut through the ring perpendicularly, as if cutting through the fire, with scales of justice hanging from both ends of the hilt.

Not a single soul moved to stop Burton as he strolled away like a stately tiger walking out of a wolf's den.

........

[1] Ogre Spin: Ogres were known for silently spinning their prey and make them go dizzy before beating and eventually eating them. There was a famous saying, "Ogres found! Lives lost!" which meant many things as different people fathomed it differently such as if someone found an ogre, then that someone is going to lose their life, or some others have already lost their lives by then, but the general belief is that lives are lost by the time the ogres are found. A monkeyed ogre spin, though, is but an imitated version.