RUCKUS IN THE RING

Streets of all sizes and shapes cut through the miles of the room-packed deck, rendezvoused at various junctions, and eventually came together at the test hall like rivers seeking an ocean.

Any new entry would likely marvel at the hazards they would encounter along their way to the test hall, for sometimes these journeys resulted in disfiguring injuries or disabling of limbs. Men weren't always the culprits, for even some street animals posed an adequate danger, especially when in groups.

Over the years, these travels have strewn seamless lines of men with broken bones and withering wills as tokens to trace the way to the test hall.

Sometimes, special skills were required to navigate through the maze-like roads and reach the hall, all the while avoiding the streets which had gone rogue. But the general belief among most hollows was different, for according to them, even the worst of the trial's dangers could be sweetened by exercising common sense, which included relying on the guidance of a hollow. Still and all, to avoid unnecessary troubles, many entries preferred to travel slowly but surely, with some even resting along the way. However, no matter how careful one was, men with a notorious reputation would now and then come looking for new entries, carrying the smell of hell around them.

A man, named Russell the Red Viper, attempted to hammer his superiority on five new entries, who were on their way to the test hall; howbeit, at the end of their short exchange of attacks, Russell got thrashed with his own thorny belt. Though there was a thirty silver crimcost[1] on his head, the five entries didn't bother about him anymore and instead hurried themselves to the hall.

They encountered a few more troubles along their way, but the tasks weren't even taxing enough for them to shed sweat, yet the continuous running made them sweat substantially, and they ultimately reached the test hall.

As their ten gorilla-sized feet stepped foot into the hall, murmurs were escalating inside, but their sizes right away caught the attention of many eyes.

"Who the hell are those hippos?" some men wondered as they grew vigilant.

However, some others recognized the five men right away. "T-They are Hardy Brothers!"

"What?" many of them were greatly surprised to hear that. Even the vendors circulating in the hall with trays of mildly sweetened bread on their heads had to stop and take a look.

"Ah, it took forever to find this little hell—just like the time when we had to find this ship," Divas rubbed the sweat off his forehead, "but we are finally here!" His eyes scanned across the hall, "I wonder if that black sheep and his friends are still here."

"The sooner we find them, the better it is for them," Aziz pumped his fists and got his breath under control.

"All the running made me thirsty." Betts licked his own sweat in an attempt to curb his thirst but ended up spitting it right out, "Pfft, salty as a grandma's shawl."

"For Hector's sake," Centry frustratingly said, rubbing his back with great effort, "did someone plan against us and mix something in that ice dumpster or what? I've scratched myself into a red bottle gourd, but still, this itching won't go." He looked at his brothers in disbelief and disapproval, "why aren't you four not feeling any itching? It's unfair!"

"I'm very happy for you, brother," Fimbry said, his eyes swimming with tears.

"It's sorry, not happy!" Divas soon corrected Fimbry.

"Right, right, I'm very sorry for you, Brother Century," Fimbry said again, tears running down his cheeks.

"Never mind," Centry and Divas shook their heads and sighed together.

"Wooo, look at their eyes," Betts said, for most men in the hall had their eyes glued to the brothers. "Aren't we getting an extra bit of attention today?"

"It's nothing new," Aziz stepped ahead, wearing a firm look on his face, "let's quickly finish what we've come here for."

"Want to warm up on these beta wolves?" Betts glanced at Centry.

"On these noobs? Nay," Centry replied straight away, still scratching his back.

Their bold words insulted the crowd, or at least whoever had heard them. Though the five brothers were bigger in stature than the rest, there still were a little over a hundred people in the hall. If they all were to jump at them, there was no telling what the result would be.

As the brothers reached the betting counter, they ignored the line and went straight to Jehez. Centry audaciously asked for the tickets for the next five rounds as his eyes took a once-over at the nearby men.

Seeing how none of the men in the line didn't step forward to stop them, Centry couldn't help but snicker, "That's right, fear us alphas for the betas that you're."

Centry's words further stirred the anger dwelling deep down their stomachs.

"Didn't you hear me?" Centry hardened his voice as his eyes were now back on the referee, "Give me the tickets."

Jehez paused a moment as he recollected the times when he had heard about Hardy Brothers. Since when the news had spread that the five brothers would likely remain on the eleventh deck and not climb further, Jehez stopped from keeping himself updated on the news regarding the brothers. Now, with the five brothers standing outside the betting counter, Jehez, with his insufficient knowledge, didn't know how to handle them. Smiling politely, he gave the tickets, "I wish you all the luck."

Centry and Jehez exchanged cold stares before Centry just smiled it off even though he could sense the sarcasticness behind the referee's tone.

The five brothers no longer cared about the referee and sauntered in the direction of the cat ring. Except for Aziz, the other four brothers went off in different directions, lured by the food items that other men had. They had to intimidate some men, and for some others, they didn't even have to do that.

Centry snatched popcorn packets from a plump-lipped guy and flicked a copper coin to him. Even though the popcorn wouldn't cost a copper in the outside world, it still enraged the fellow that he got treated poorly. "This should do for the time others spend in the ring," Centry mused to himself.

Betts, on the other hand, was browbeating a thin guy who was holding a packet of jackfruit. "Oi, if you don't give me all those pods, you won't have teeth to eat another one of those." His words worked wonders, and the thin man gave his food away even though he waited for so long to get it from Foster Hall.

Fimbry, though, had forgotten about food and found himself chatting with a cherry-nosed fellow. Divas was also with him. "Haha, so you have already failed the test two times."

"No, I've already passed it two times," the cherry-nosed man said, his eyes gleaming an inner light.

"Then what are you still here for?" Divas asked with a bit of intrigue surfacing on his face.

"I want to win every deck test three times," he resolutely said, looking at them both directly in the eye.

"Isn't it a waste of time?"

"I learn a thing or two every time. So..."

"Oh, then—" As he was speaking, Divas farted, startling the cherry-nosed man, and it forced him to shut his nose in haste. The short but raucous fart was a hunger-killing one.

"Haha, I don't think it's that smelly," Divas said while rubbing the back of his neck, "or is it?"

"Don't ask me!" the cherry-nosed man upbraided, his nose still closed.

Divas leaned forward, "You act like it's your first time hearing someone break the wind down their bum."

"Yeah," the cherry-nosed man rebuked, "so what?"

"Don't lie," Divas placed his forearm on the cherry-nosed man's shoulder. "No adult is ever too far from a fart."

Fimbry laughed aloud. "You spoke the lie, brother."

"It's the truth," Divas aired his grievance, backed by another fart that caught the cherry-nosed man by surprise, for he had just unblocked his nose. He had to shut his nose again, but the presence of the two brothers began to work him up.

As they discussed, a boy was speeding through the nearby crowds, seemingly escaping from a man.

"Wait, give me the cat!" the assistant referee called out for the boy.

"Hell, no! Give me five minutes, and I'll bring it back!" the boy, Lirzod, replied.

"I won't even give you five seconds!"

"I wish you success in catching me then!" Lirzod crowed and ran around with his upper body bent forward, which helped him blend well in the crowd.

"Mikey! What the hell are you doing?" Jehez's voice stopped the assistant referee in his tracks. Mikey, the assistant referee, frowned for a moment before heading back toward the cat home.

"Whew..." Lirzod felt relieved for having escaped him; however, he suddenly got pushed forward and almost fell. "Hey, look where you are—" as Lirzod turned back to mouth off the one who pushed him, he was surprised to see a familiar face, the fourth brother, who turned to face Lirzod. "It's you! So you guys made it here," Lirzod's visage glowed a bit. "Your hairstyle looks different, but whatever. I wish you all the best with the test."

Divas folded his arms and laughed in recognition. "Wish you the same, kiddo."

"I'm a boy, not a kiddo, and I've already passed the test," Lirzod replied in haste.

"Oh," Divas looked at Lirzod's skin, which was replete with thin scars to show for his victory, "then I wish you good luck in the future." He scratched his chin and glanced around to observe different men. (It looks like most people here have already passed the test. Then why are they all still meandering here? It can't be that they all wish to participate in the test again, or do they?)

"Thanks again," Lirzod said, stroking the cat on its spine, "I gotta go. I have to show this feline some places."

"Sure, sure, go on," Divas smiled and turned over to join the conversation that Fimbry and the cherry-nosed man was having. As seconds passed, Divas' eyes enlarged, "Wait," he swiveled back and locked his eyes on Lirzod. "Hey, you!"

Lirzod and many other men turned their heads toward Divas.

"I almost couldn't recognize you with all the blood on your face, Lirzod," Divas leaked out a half-smile. Thanks to Lirzod running a lot to escape from Mikey not long ago, the wounds on his head opened, and blood dripped down his face and covered bits of it, enough for Lirzod's face to not be recognized easily.

Fimbry, who just turned back, was surprised by seeing Lirzod. "Brother, it's Divas!"

"Divas is here, you idiotic brother," Divas said, pointing his finger toward himself.

"Right, right." Fimbry hurriedly asked, "Then what's his name?"

"Find out yourself," Divas said and smiled before narrowing his eyes, "and then tell me."

"Right. I will do it for myself and for you, too, brother!" Fimbry dashed ahead, startling everyone in the vicinity. "Tell me your name, sheep!" He closed the distance and slashed his arm at Lirzod with full force, "Fimbry Chop!"

"W-Wait," Lirzod jumped back, with Leggy still in his arms, but he barely managed to dodge Fimbry's hand, and then endeavored to move further away.

"You've failed to escape my chop," Fimbry took a wide stance, "not bad," he spread his arms out as if they were blades attached to his arm and lunged at Lirzod, swinging his arms rhythmically, not giving any time for Lirzod to reason. "Fimbry's Dream Chop Series!"

Each chop was a club that came crashing down at Lirzod from the front, left, right, and above. One hit at a critical spot and all things could very well come to an end. All Lirzod could do was keep moving rearward. "Wait, you'll hurt the cat," he kept saying aloud.

However, Fimbry didn't stop his assault and only increased his speed of attacks. He still failed to land a strike on Lirzod but destroyed a couple of rum barrels in the process. By this point, it was obvious to most onlookers that a fight broke out in the hall—between two men.

As they watched, a bizarre melee of three fists—two of Fimbry's and one of Lirzod's—ensued. With two fists against one, Fimbry appeared to have a clear advantage as he pressed Lirzod to move further backward.

A few close calls at the cat went by in the last five exchanges. At this rate... Lirzod frowned, for both him and the cat could be in real danger if things went on like this.

"You've come right into my range," a voice came from Lirzod's behind and disturbed his thought process. As he turned his head back, a massive fist hammered into his face, "Thundering Temper Fist!"

Lirzod got sent packing over the crowds, bounced and rolled on the floor, looking like a ragged doll before eventually stopping in the cat ring, painting some of the grass with his blood. Panting with effort, Lirzod spat a bit of blood. Upon glancing at the cat and confirming that it wasn't wounded, respite fleetingly flashed in his eyes.

Everyone in the hall watched with dumb faces as the brothers made their way to Lirzod.

"That boy, he had to mess those fat wolves of all people. I thought his guts flew out just now when he got sent flying. Luckily, it was just his blood."

"Whatever he may have done, he's going to suffer their combined wrath now."

As everyone voiced their opinions, none of them seemed interested to take a step in any direction. As seconds passed, none among the crowds moved except for Jehez.

"Stop, you five! Stop right there," Jehez howled at the top of his lungs from afar and eventually intercepted the brothers' path. He blocked their way with his extended arms. "You can't fight in the hall. If you have unsettled things, then take it outside."

Betts coldly stared down at Jehez. "This is the right place to fight. Step aside, or we'll smack you, too."

Jehez's stomach hardened, and he couldn't find words. On one hand, he didn't want to bother the brothers as he didn't know the extent of their strength or influence; on the other hand, his job would be in jeopardy if a ruinous fight were to break out in the hall, and he did nothing to stop it.

"Please, stop," Jehez urged, "or I'll be forced to give black cards."

"Give 'em if you can," said Betts, and Jehez's expression froze.

"If you can't move, then at least stay silent like the rest," Centry snorted as he stepped past Jehez.

Centry's words made anger rise in the hearts of some men in the hall, and they couldn't mask it as it reddened their faces, but those words still weren't enough to make them move.

"Those five belly brothers..." Lirzod stood to his feet, rubbed the blood off his mouth with a forearm, and then balled his fist as his eyes focused on the brothers. "I thought of giving them some time to answer and put an end to all the rumors, but it looks like they're not at all worrying about the answering part of it."

The five brothers stood in a horizontal line before Lirzod, standing only a few feet apart. "For making fun of our past, we'll defeat you with our full strength," the brothers popped their knuckles, ready to bring out the bottled up rage from inside their gurgling stomachs. "So use all your strength to fight before it's too late."

"Fine," Lirzod eyes showed no hint of fear, "but let me take this cat to safety first."

"Hmph, are you using this opportunity to run away?" Betts snorted coldly, "Just throw that shitty cat away."

Lirzod gave them an unblinking stare.

"Be quick," Aziz said while he looked as if fury had immobilized him.

Lirzod and Aziz exchanged stares for a moment. "Thanks."

"Screw your thanks!" Centry sprang forth, "The cat's not our problem!" he swung his fist, seemingly aiming at Lirzod.

Though startled, Lirzod managed to jump back, but Centry predicted his movement and thrust the palm straight at the cat. Only now, Lirzod understood that Centry was after the cat. He abruptly moved the cat out of the path, but Centry's palm struck his belly hard. Lirzod slid backward for a few feet but avoided a fall.

"You bastard…" Clutching his stomach with one hand, Lirzod bared his teeth at Centry. His ribs pained quite a bit. After all, the wound that Geragorn gave wasn't fully healed yet.

"That's what I want," Centry grinned, "Show me more hurt on that face!" he stepped forward, wanting to resume his assault but suddenly stopped, for he felt as if he stepped foot on something strange. When he looked down at his foot, his expression warped upon seeing the black mass of mess glued to his heel.

"Eww, he stepped on the poo!" one man among the crowd said aloud out of mirth, but then shut his nose and mouth almost immediately.

"That's Lord Bruiser's waste," another man voiced his mind, albeit with a peal of restrained laughter. "It must still be fresh, given that he left it there only minutes ago during the last match."

One by one, many men began to giggle and laugh as they took a step away from the cat ring. No matter how hard they tried to control themselves, their efforts proved futile.

In just a matter of seconds, the atmosphere of the hall had considerably changed.

Centry wasn't wearing footwear, so all the defecated matter clung to his heel. The visuals and the feelings they welled up inside him almost made him vomit on his own feet.

Lirzod, meanwhile, used this opportunity to rush toward the cat home.

The referee, however, was moving out of the cat ring. He had hoped that Commander Sean was still around, but it didn't seem to be the case. All he could do was curse his bad luck.

"What's wrong, referee?" a man suddenly targeted Jehez. "Why aren't you saying anything? And where are you going? Don't tell us you shit in your pants already. Oh, wait, the one that fellow stepped on, was it Lord Bruiser's or..."

"Shut up, you jughead," Jehez barked back at them. "I was just..."

"You was just what?" another man continued the mockery, "You let them steal our stuff and do whatever they please in 'your' hall. How disgraceful! Why don't you quit your job and give it to me, huh? I'll do a better job than you for sure!"

The crowd thoroughly taunted the referee, whose face slowly but surely turned ashen. Generally, everybody would love to get on the referee's good-side as that would increase their chances of passing through the deck test, but the twelfth round referee had far less to do anything with affecting the entries as they all just had to follow the rules of the ring.

A few people were especially pissed off, for they had tried many times only to fail the deck test. Not only did their anger on the cats pile up over time, but also the referee of such an event was bound to end up getting hated, particularly if bettors kept losing bets often. It was an open secret that everyone who would repeatedly lose their money would probably be waiting for a chance to humiliate that referee from top to bottom.

"What's wrong, chicken?" another man in the crowd vociferated. "Did your legs spring themselves out of the ring, or perhaps do you have anything to do with it?"

"Why don't you give that badge on your chest to me? I'd do a solid job as a referee than you ever can, hehe," another member said, and these words particularly stung Jehez's heart. He coldly glared at that man. "Oh my, such a scary look. I'm pissing in my pants right now," that man, however, continued making fun of the referee, and most of the nearby crowd relished it in every respect.

As bitterness flooded his stomach, the referee turned his course and strode straight toward the brothers with a blackened face, putting a brief break to most of the bashing mouths.

"Oh, is he going to stand in their way and interrupt the fight?" some men among the crowds had amused looks on their faces. "Though, that can't be called a fight but a beating."

"Hmph, he's just showing off, that's all," some others snickered, "If he had such courage, he would have already exercised his authority."

As the crowds sneered at him openly, the referee got close enough to the brothers and stopped behind them. At that moment, all six of them were still inside the cat ring.

The brothers, however, totally ignored the referee and acted as if he wasn't even there.

"Look, as I said, he doesn't have the guts to take them on, even though they were so disrespectful toward most if not all of us," one man continued casting aspersions of Jehez, for if the referee were to fight the brothers and get gravely injured, then his position would be open for other hollows to try. "Such a pussy we have here for a referee."

"The referees aren't much different from us," another man voiced his mind, "They were all entries who failed to become a Martial Child. Expecting much from them will only make us look stupid."

The crowd continued their mocking, and the referee's eyes had a once-over at everyone in the crowd who kept raising their voices again him. "Listen, all you punks, I hope all of you have more than just mouths."

"Eh? What the hell is he talking about?"

"Has he gone mad?"

Jehez plucked the badge on his chest and lifted it up into the air. "Whoever fucks these five pigs out of my hall gets a prize worth five gold!"

The entire crowd fell silent and partly exposed uvulas as their mouths hung open. The Hollow Mandate! As those words crossed through some people's minds, some others already ran into the ring like beasts hunting their prey.

"What? What's going on?" some new entries were utterly puzzled by the sudden change.

"This is a Hollow Mandate," one man answered impulsively.

"What's that?"

"Every hollow has the right to commission hollows and entries to do whatever he desires as long as it's within the rules. Not just any hollow has the power to use them and be successful, but this one's from the referee himself... Now those brothers are damned for sure."

Dozens of men dashed toward the ring with a shared goal.

"Sha-ha-ha, I'm going to bang their big bums out of the ring and get me that five gold!" a slender person said, clenching his fists.

"My elbows can crush baby coconuts," another guy said. "That five gold will be mine."

"Idiots, with this many people, the prize will obviously be split, but this Murugan of the Desert Wind tribe will be the one earning most of it."

"Screw your Desert Wind tribe, I, a member of the Blouse Blueprint company, will be one to make them wear our blouses," a handsome man who wore underwear outside of his pants spoke. Despite the weird dressing-style, he surprisingly looked elegant and wild at the same time.

"Blouse Blueprints? A company member from the wild West is daring to dominate me who's from the ethical East of the world. That'll happen only in your dreams," another person snorted.

"You call... dozens ganging up on five, ethical?" the handsome man spoke, to which that person did not reply but instead increased his pace and ignored him.

Even though many men came at them and stepped foot inside the ring without a shred of hesitation, the five brothers, except for Centry, oozed comfort through their eyes.

"Trying to gang up on us again, huh…" Aziz smiled a little. "But it's not going to work this time no matter how many of you come at us." A seed of fire sprouted up his stomach and reflected in his eyes. "Brothers, how did our mother wish that we wrestle?"

"To unite as one and undo our enemy's pride," all the five brothers joined their hands, and a gust of mist blasted forth out of their bodies and pushed the attackers back and forced them all to go on the defense. A flush of adrenaline tingled through men's bodies as the mist particles shrouded them and clouded their eyes from seeing others—including the brothers.

Five wigs flew in different directions and landed at various places, some atop new bald heads.

"What in the world..." Jehez was utterly baffled by the mist, and especially on what was happening inside of it, just like most other men in the hall. The temperature fell by degrees in a matter of moments.

"Ah, not again," even Lirzod, who wasn't far away from the cat home, turned back, and perplexity took over his eyes as he saw five shadowy figures move inside the fog, seemingly growing in size.

.......

[1] Crimcost: Reward handed by the earthly authorities for capturing or killing a crim.