Chapter 12
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 12
Aleph, the arena manager, was a lean, sharp-featured man. He sat in a tattered, cracked leather chair, puffing away on a cigarette. Behind him stood two armed gang members.
Aleph greeted Kinuan and me with a jerk of his chin.
"Put this kid in a match. We don't need an appearance fee, and it's fine if he dies fighting."
Kinuan got straight to the point. Aleph raised an eyebrow, then flicked his cigarette butt at Kinuan.
Swish!
I reached out and swatted the cigarette butt away.
"I think you've got the wrong idea... We didn't let you in here as a favor. We brought you to a place where it's easy to clean up corpses."
Aleph chuckled, his shoulders shaking. The gang members behind him laughed along, resting their fingers on their triggers.
"...Where did your predecessor go? Tora, I mean."
At the mention of Tora's name, Aleph flinched.
"He's dead. Got caught fixing matches."
While the two talked, I sized up the atmosphere. Aleph's words were just a bluff. If they'd wanted to kill us, they would have attacked already. He was willing to talk, willing to make a deal.
I listened closely, gauging the presence of anyone else nearby.
Two armed gang members outside the door, too.
I prepared for the worst. If I charged forward, shielding my head and heart with my arms, I could probably subdue the men in the room somehow. I'd take a few bullets, but nothing that would kill me outright.
And then...
Once the commotion started, the two outside would rush in. I could counterattack with the gun from one of the downed gang members.
Hmm, it would be best to fire a test shot before the door opened, just to check the sight alignment. Even for me, I wasn't confident I could land a headshot on the first try with an unfamiliar weapon. Maybe Ilay could've pulled it off.
This weak body is such a hassle.
If I had my original prosthetic leg and arm, I was confident I could've handled them without a single scratch.
Just to indulge in a brief, pointless fantasy: first, I'd kick the heavy steel desk into the gang members, blocking their line of sight. Then I'd punch straight through the desk, crushing a man's skull along with it. The guards waiting outside would burst in too late—by then, gun in hand, I'd have already leaped off the walls and ceiling to cling above the doorframe.
Bang, bang.
Two shots straight through the crowns of their heads, and it's over. At point-blank range, there's no need to adjust for sight alignment.
While I entertained myself with the fantasy, Kinuan kept talking.
"Tora wasn't the type to fix matches."
Aleph scowled at that, but he didn't resort to violence.
Aleph couldn't bring himself to treat Kinuan lightly. A dangerous aura practically oozed from Kinuan's every word and movement—the unmistakable presence of someone who had been through hell and come out the other side.
"Hey, if you want to babble about the dead in such detail, why don't you go across the street? Plenty of women over there will listen to any nonsense you spit out. As long as you pay in credits, that is."
Ignoring the warning, Kinuan pressed on.
"The arena is a highly lucrative business. I suppose you killed Tora and took it over. I don't blame you. Tora killed his predecessor to get that spot, too. That's just the way of these streets, this underworld."
"Who the hell are you? You want to die? Who killed who?"
Aleph jumped to his feet. The gang members behind him raised their guns.
"Sit down, Aleph. And you two—lower your guns. Unless you want to join Tora. I don't give warnings twice."
I stood beside Kinuan, expressionless.
To be honest, deep down... I was hoping Aleph would attack. I was incredibly curious to see how Kinuan would handle this with his weak prosthetic body. He certainly wouldn't cook up a plan that involved eating bullets like I had.
"Damn it..."
Aleph raised a hand to stop his men, then sat back down.
Aleph was capable enough to have carved out a solid position in the back alleys. He had to have at least some instinct for danger, and that instinct was screaming that Kinuan was not someone to mess with.
Wise move.
Aleph had just saved his own life.
"You want to put this kid in the arena? Are you serious?"
Aleph asked, scanning me. I caught the faint glow in his pupils—he was probably analyzing my limbs.
"Even if this boy dies, I won't hold you responsible. I promise."
He was wagering my life as casually as he pleased. But I couldn't voice a complaint. I was the one who'd asked to be taught. And even if I hadn't, Kinuan, as my instructor, held the power of life and death over me.
"It's not a matter of life and death. We can't put on a garbage match. This kid's limbs aren't even combat-grade. His body's still soft, squishy flesh. The moment it starts, he'll be turned to mush and sent flying in a second. You think the audience will accept that?"
Reasonable logic. I wanted to nod along. I was starting to like this guy a little.
The black market arena was bound to be crawling with idiots who'd undergone illegal modifications at the cost of their own lifespans—men who lived day to day, not caring about the side effects, so long as it bought them power. Today really could turn out to be the day of my funeral.
"I assure you... I can shut down your business in a single day. Feel free to test me. Pull the trigger if you like. Do I look like I'm asking for a favor right now?"
Kinuan bluffed with sheer audacity—a threat and a command dripping with experience. If I'd said the exact same words, bullets would have been flying already.
Kinuan's words and actions have been calculated from the start.
He'd brought up the former manager first, on purpose. Because of that, Aleph had assumed the dignified man in front of him was someone important.
Of course he's a big shot. Bigger than you could possibly imagine.
There was no way the Empire didn't know about the black market. They could raid and sweep it away at any moment. It only existed because the Empire tacitly allowed it to.
Aleph's hands and feet trembled slightly, his pupils unfocused. He was anxious—probably already mobilizing every informant he had, trying to figure out who Kinuan was.
A futile effort. There was no way information on an Imperial Guardsman would ever surface in some back-alley network.
I have a lot to learn from Kinuan.
I studied his demeanor carefully. He'd suppressed his opponent and dominated the room without laying a single hand on anyone. I didn't have that kind of eloquence.
"Sigh. I'll match the boy with someone suited to his level. Will that do? But in return, there has to be something in it for me."
Aleph had opened the door to negotiation. Kinuan dangled the carrot as if he'd been waiting for exactly this.
"I know where Tora's safe is kept. I assume you have Tora's eye—the key?"
Aleph went silent, his pupils dilating with excitement.
"I'm really starting to wonder who you are. Just how much do you actually know..."
"Just a ghost of the past. Nothing you need to concern yourself with."
Kinuan smiled faintly. At the mention of the safe, Aleph straightened up, his arrogance vanishing instantly.
"May I first verify the information about the safe, Teacher?"
His new tone was almost painfully polite. I had to fight back a laugh.
Kinuan and Aleph spoke in whispers. Once the verification was done, Aleph clasped Kinuan's hand between both of his.
"Just say the word. Oh, and if you're planning to watch the match, we've got VIP seats. Perhaps some good liquor, a few women..."
Kinuan waved off the flattery.
"Liquor's enough. And there's no need to go easy on the kid's opponent—match him with someone who's doing well."
The negotiation wrapped up in a flash.
"Two hours. Warm up."
Kinuan said the moment we reached the arena's waiting room. He reached up, twisted, and ripped the camera off the corner of the wall. Given how friendly Aleph had suddenly become, he probably wouldn't mind a little property damage.
"Who's Tora?"
"An old friend of mine."
"Then Aleph is the one who killed your friend, Instructor."
"He died because he deserved to die. Ran an arena gang—accumulated just as much karma as he collected credits."
Kinuan said it calmly. They must have been close, once. If it had been me, I would've beaten Aleph to death on the spot, circumstances be damned.
"What's Tora's safe, that it made Aleph flip his attitude so fast?"
"Hidden assets. Judging by his reaction, he's been searching for it this whole time."
My first thought was that this was such a waste.
"Why didn't you just beat him up and take Tora's eye yourself? That's what I would've done."
"If a fight had broken out, I'd have been fine. You wouldn't have."
I couldn't argue with that.
"If it had come to a fight, what were you planning to do?"
I finally asked the question I'd been sitting on.
"So that's what you were curious about. Win your match, and I'll tell you."
Kinuan pointed to a screen on one side of the waiting room. A decades-old piece of junk flickered to life, its display faded and grainy.
Gabriel of the Iron Fist.
A rugged fighter with arms gleaming silver appeared on the screen. He stood two heads taller than me.
His profile scrolled up alongside the footage: 230 centimeters tall, over 300 kilograms. His nose zigzagged like it had been broken and reset a dozen times. His lips were thick and misshapen from repeated tearing and healing. His eyes didn't even match—different sizes, different colors, clearly sourced from different manufacturers.
He was a genuinely hideous-looking man.
"Ho, he'd be popular with the ladies," Kinuan said with a chuckle.
That wasn't sarcasm. He meant it, dead serious. And I knew exactly what those words meant—I was from the Lower District, after all.
Around here, a man "popular with the ladies" meant a bastard who made good money and died fast.
* * *
"Remember what I'm about to tell you, Luka. It's the single most important thing in the Akies Combat Style."
Kinuan spoke just before we headed out to the arena.
"A guideline?"
I stood tall in the hallway leading to the arena, waiting for his words.
"...Adapt to what is given."
I frowned without meaning to. "Adaptation" was a word I hated.
"I was taught that adaptation is defeat."
"Water never suffers defeat. It simply changes shape. You have potential—I've had my eye on you since I saw you deflect bullets without so much as a ballistic predictor. When you sought me out on your own, I was genuinely surprised. Someone with the right talent, coming to find me, as if drawn by something."
"You're suddenly full of praise."
"Because this might be the last time I get the chance."
Kinuan said it with a chilling calm, a faint smile on his face.
Instead of answering, I laughed out loud. Maybe it was the Lower District rubbing off on me, but my chest felt looser than usual, more open. Maybe it was the same for him.
I felt like I could get a little closer to Kinuan after today. That is, if I survived. Just like he said.
Step, step.
The arena drew closer. Aleph's voice boomed through the speakers.
—In his debut match, he dares to challenge Gabriel of the Iron Fist! Will this boy become David? A greenhorn who hasn't even lost his virginity yet—ladies and gentlemen, meet... Good, Good Boy!
"Good Boy"? He'd clearly made that up on the spot. Shaking my head, I stepped into the arena.
"Booooo! What kind of dumbass is this?"
"You come out here to commit suicide, or what?!"
"Seriously? They sold tickets for this garbage match?"
The crowd was mostly complaints. But threaded through the noise was something else—a faint, ugly thrill of anticipation.
"Ooh, this is gonna be good."
"Looks like we're getting one of those today. A slaughter show. Been a while, hasn't it? Didn't know Aleph still had it in him to put on something like this."
That dark human hunger to watch blood and guts spill—it pushed against me from every direction. They wanted to see my limbs torn off, my chest and stomach crushed to paste. I even spotted some bastard grabbing his crotch in excitement.
Not bad. Honestly? Great.
I finally felt like I was home.
I smiled.