Chapter 13: Wooden Stick

Alan continued to hold his ground, his friendly demeanor contrasting sharply with the menacing presence of Erac Wilson. Wilson's goons looked on, baffled by the scene unfolding before them—a seemingly frail old man standing unflinchingly before the feared Erac Wilson.

The tension was palpable as Wilson struggled to comprehend the eerie aura emanating from Alan. "What is this...? What the fuck is this?" he exclaimed, taking a few steps back. "You guys see this?"

His bewildered goons looked on, equally puzzled by the situation.

"Don't bother asking them," Alan advised, approaching Wilson with a knowing smile. "They can't see what you're seeing."

Alan's cryptic words only served to deepen Wilson's confusion. "I let only you see this aura," Alan continued. "Back in the day, anyone who saw it didn't live to see another day."

Wilson, his bangle morphing into a blade in his hand, demanded, "What are you?"

Alan's smile grew wider. "We've met before, perhaps twice. But you never saw my face—I always wore an Oni mask during our meetings."

Meanwhile, seizing the opportunity presented by the distraction, Lambda made his way to the cage holding Ryland and O'kuyo. "Get away, sucker," he taunted Wilson's men. "Your boss is getting cold feet from an old man. What do you think you can do to a giant like me?"

As Lambda worked to unlock the cage, Ryland marveled at his grandfather's unexpected display of power. O'kuyo, on the other hand, was less surprised, having been trained by Alan himself. Still, the extent of Alan's abilities left even him in awe.

Wilson's mind raced as memories of the past flooded back. The Oni mask, the aura, Alan's demeanor—it all began to connect. "It can't be... Shadowstrike?"

Alan corrected him with a hint of pride, "That's 'General Shadowstrike' to you, 'Ironbringer.'"

The revelation left Wilson stunned. Dropping to his knees in a gesture of respect, he was quickly followed by his bewildered goons.

Lambda, Ryland, and O'kuyo slowly moved to Alan's side, their eyes filled with confusion and curiosity. "Why is the fearsome Erac Wilson kneeling before you?" Ryland asked in a hushed tone.

Alan turned to them, his expression solemn. "Erac Wilson, or as he was once known, Ironbringer, served as General Stormblade's close aide," Alan began, his voice carrying a note of gravitas. "He was renowned for his prowess with heavy weapons and his unique ability to control Mercurial—shaping it to his will."

Turning his attention back to Wilson, Lambda posed a question, "Are you afraid of Alan?"

Wilson met Lambda's gaze, his eyes reflecting a mixture of respect and fear. "General Shadowstrike—or Alan as you call him—is the only one among the other four Generals in Xavier's Army that General Stormblade never dared to raise his voice against," Wilson admitted, his voice tinged with reverence. "Stormblade was a hot-tempered man, but no matter how angry he got, he always cautioned against picking a fight with General Shadowstrike."

Alan cut through the tension, his voice firm and demanding. "Enough with the pleasantries, Wilson. Tell me what happened to Xavier's Party after you all departed 15 years ago."

The room listened intently as Wilson stood up and recounted his past. "Our airship was struck down near Minty Town," he explained. "I was ejected from the plane upon impact, alone and injured. Despite morphing my Mercurial to cushion my fall, I was knocked unconscious."

"When I awoke, I was stripped of my armor and Mercurial, imprisoned by a gang led by a man known as King Barry. They intended to sell me at a slave market," Wilson continued, his voice tinged with bitterness. "But I wasn't about to become their prey. Despite my injuries, I managed to escape, plotting revenge against King Barry and his gang."

"Building my own gang and monopolizing the Mercurial market at Olha Mine Shaft was just the beginning," Wilson declared. "Once I had enough power and resources, I exacted my revenge, taking down King Barry and absorbing his remaining men into my gang. I've been living the gangster life ever since."

The atmosphere in the room grew tense as Wilson finished recounting his memories. Alan's face remained impassive for a moment before he let out a soft sigh and reached down to pick up a long wooden stick that lay on the ground nearby.

In a move that seemed almost rehearsed, Alan began to wield the stick with the finesse of an experienced teacher reprimanding a misbehaving student. With each swing, he struck Wilson, the sound echoing sharply in the compound. Despite its harmless appearance, the stick seemed to sting particularly hard in Alan's hands.

"Enough about yourself, Wilson!" Alan barked, landing another swift strike. "Tell me about Xavier's Party!"

Wilson, reduced to a state reminiscent of a scolded child, winced with each hit, clutching his side in a feeble attempt to shield himself. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling. "I didn't see much! I fell from the sky, remember?"

Ryland and O'kuyo struggled to maintain their composure, their faces turning red as they suppressed their laughter. Even Wilson's goons found it difficult to keep a straight face. One particularly flamboyant goon, dressed in a spiky monk's robe and wearing a rice hat, turned away, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Daoist! I can see you laughing back there!" Wilson shouted, momentarily breaking the rhythm of Alan's onslaught.

At that, Alan ceased his assault, the room filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the muffled giggles of those who had witnessed the unexpected spectacle.

Alan's piercing gaze remained fixed on Wilson as he spoke with authority, "We need a place where the four of us can speak privately with you."

Wilson nodded, gesturing to Daoist, the spiky monk and also his right-hand man. "Prepare a room with food and drinks for us," he ordered. Daoist nodded in acknowledgment and quickly moved to organize the requested accommodations.

Amidst this newfound calm, Ryland call out telephatically to White Boy, his albino Dracula Bat, "come bring Rocco and Juice here," Ryland whispered to the creature. moments later White boy came flying with Rocco and Juice dangling from its talons.

Upon seeing those guys, Wilson hurriedly approached, along with some of his crew, to help loosen the ropes binding Rocco and Juice. "That's quite a trick you've got there," Wilson remarked, eyeing Ryland with newfound respect. "Training a monster as a pet is no small feat."

Ryland grinned, puffing up with pride. "Thanks."

Alan, hearing the conversation, cut in. "Take a closer look at this," said Alan as he pointed towards Ryland's staff.

Squinting, Wilson tried to discern any peculiarities about the staff. After a moment, his eyes widened in disbelief. The realization washed over him like a tidal wave, leaving him visibly stunned.