Chapter 4.5
Heaven through Styx
—
"Have a great time Cherven! Oh– and be back by eight or there won't be any food left!"
"Right. Thanks, Jade." Cherven waved off. His 'friends' or rather the wasps' would be waiting for him if he didn't get there soon. Millie, Laim, and Lima had already wished him well.
What he didn't expect was the yet to be named baby saying goodbye, as well as watching him leave from the second floor window. Can he even get up there by himself?
He's grown so fast. Really, it's surprising he can walk and talk so well despite being less than a year old. He likes to think he also grew that fast, but due to circumstances…
"Outta the way!" He heard a man shout. But the man was not in a carriage or cab. He was in some sort of white box. Was he inside that thing? What kind of maniac—?
Cherven quickly stepped out of the way, now out of the road but still staring. "Like it?" The box had stopped, and the night-black glass lowered into itself. A man with sunglasses, short frizzled brown hair on his sides while the top was blonde. Definitely a thug. The rich kind too, judging from that necklace seemingly made of pure gold. "Got no idea, whats' is, do you?" A crowd was starting to form. At this rate he'll be late. He can't imagine— No, he could very well imagine what they would do.
"Sorry, I'm on urgent business." Cherven excused himself, trying to lightly push a couple out of his way.
"It's the future! You should all be looking forward to it! No more horse dung! No more care! The future, I tell you!" Cherven turned around. It had tires the wasps' had stolen. There were two— no, probably four or five. No point in only having them on one side.
He was pretty pissed about being used as a marketing tool, but this did look appealing. "How much–! How much does it cost?!" Somebody must be insane to want to buy it though. Cherven shook his head and left like some small pieces of the crowd. He had things to do, unlike Gold-Chain who was talking hundreds of thousands of lien to some business man.
—
"About time ya' showed up, Cherven." Shúe was resting on the side of a caravan, three more people were inside. All of them sported the wasp jumpers."Get in. They close in a while. Don't let anyone else in 'till next morning." Shúe jumped in, taking the furthest seat, next to somebody with straight, brown hair down to their shoulders. The person opposite Shúe was bald, with a slight beard but roughly shaved off. The person next to Cherven was blonde, hair was short and messy, feminene. He could tell from the shoulders. They were small too. Well to him they were all smaller, funny considering he was only twelve— or atleast Cherven thinks. .
"Malavita road. Just stop by the sign." He slipped some hundred lien from an inside pocket. Cherven could use that kind of cash.
The caravan was deadly silent. People talking and other passenger carts were just ambience, but nobody wanted to speak. It was clear Shúe wasn't the highest of the wasps. Cherven had already known this, but this was just rock solid confirmation.
"You sure we should be letting this supposed ace of yours on, Shúe?" The one opposite Shúe asked. "Faunus don't have the best control." His eye turned to look at Cherven. It was a light brown, and he had a scar just underneath it.
Cherven couldn't prove him wrong. Not after those two spider thugs rampaged and almost crushed Jade's throat, as well as a baby. They were long gone by now, taken by Wasps and probably left to rot in a river near a patch of grimm.
"No. He's— yeah, he's good. You can't tell, but he's fourteen." Oh? He had gotten rid of the lazy accent. Also boosted my age a few years. Cherven's eyes turned to the elder. Seems like this man was the leader. Cherven thought it strange such a clearly old guy was the leader of such a small group. People usually don't last long in darker parts of Mistral. He must have been a huntsman then. Certainly looked like it. It was hard to tell, but Cherven could make out two guns. One obvious and obviously a ruse poking out his belt. The other was in the inside pocket. He hid it far better than Shúe did.
"Really now?" He looked at Cherven. He had a scar over his right eye Cherven't hadn't seen before, and the eye itself was limp, simply looking down as though it was forced into the socket, forever at the floor. "Well. Guess we'll find out." He looked forward again. Thank the gods— that eye wouldn't be something to envy for his looks.. "Kartharos. Means blooded. Think me' Ma' was an oracle."
Through the rest of the ride the two others also introduced themselves. The one with long hair was Súsao, he –He's a he, Cherven figured out– ran back in a combat school, but never made it anywhere special. Blonde one was Huanli, she said that she had been to Styx a few times but spoke not a word otherwise, and latched onto Kartharos like life support..
"Y'all're here. Now go goin'." Cherven heard the crack of a whip on the horses when they had gotten out. He hadn't been to Malavita before, but the architecture was far greater than that of the more eastern districts of Mistral. Not a plank of wood on the buildings, and each one had stone or marble carvings..
"This way." Kartharos spoke, Shúe and Susao had already gone ahead Huanli had stayed next to Kartharos, sticking to him obediently, like a dog. Cherven followed them. He guessed he too was a lost dog. He could say that about the kids at the orphanage too, but… They all had bright futures. So many wanted to be a huntsman, or just to be strong like him after he took down that spider thug.
They took stairs down, Cherven had stayed a step or three behind. They came across a river, walking by the side. The water was loud. Louder than the orphanage, louder than the street. The water was rushing with such force that Cherven could hardly hear anything else..
"In here." A small elevator, just enough size for five people opposite wall of a bridge. Golden, he could feel it against his finger. The wood looked expensive. Darkly coloured and beautiful. He couldn't help but notice the disguised door— old stone bricks with artificial moss. Shúe hit the 'S' button, and motors chopped to life.
It was rather squished, Cherven against the wall and against Súsao.
The ride didn't last long, thankfully. They came out to a dark amphithere, bright white lights from the middle and smaller illuminating lights across the sides to help people get across. In the middle…
An arena.
— — —
Cherven had come, unknowingly, to sign up to fight in Mistral's biggest underground arena; Styx.
"Course he didn't tell you about it." Kartharos cursed. "Bastard. You still in? He wasn't lying about the money. Easy ten thousand Lien just from winning the first round." Ten thousand? Just from some luck and roughing somebody up and he gets ten thousand lien?
"And winning the whole tournament?"
"Don't dream of it."
Cherven scoffed, insulted. Kartharos followed by responding with a roll of the eyes. He'd cut off the horns on his head if he couldn't atleast make the second round.
"Hah, cheeky brat. Spirit like that'll get you far in Styx. Wouldn't say you don't have a chance of winning, but I haven't seen you fight yet. Go talk to the registator, he'll get you signed in, to a room, yadda yadda." The registration was over by a larger door. Seems they had come in the back entrance.
"Good luck."
Cherven asked the man behind the desk. Black suit with a green tie, not a dark green but rather that bright green named after a fruit. What was it called? Started with an L… What was it? lih— luh— ah right, it was 'Lemon'. Entrance fee was one hundred and fifty lien, definitely a hefty price, but he'd pay. Cherven was gifted with the tag '35'
He was waiting at the bench, the crowd still quiet while the arena lay empty. He took notice of the insignia in the middle; two demons clashing while a dragon circled around them. The arena was caged, though without a roof, there was a door to enter, though it looked beaten and out of place.
"You are the thirty-fifth contestor, yes?" He heard a man ask. Cherven looked up from the arena. Bespectacled man, and rich looking, no idea why he'd work here. Cherven had heard of his kind before— not working jobs like these, more like the secret funders of outer-kingdom laundering schemes. Is that what this is then? Getting rid of foreign blood money?
"Yeah."
"Follow me. If you would."
Cherven got his ass from the bench and followed him down the hallway. He felt nervous, yes, but he more so felt ready; prepared to beat the fuck outta somebody, like Shúe said he does.
A room, thirty five labelled the door. He had seen others in the hallway in ascending order, though it would seem his wasn't the last. There were at least fifteen more doors, and Cherven would bet ten of them were for fighters. Why weren't they being used?
"You will be fighting thirty in your first match— Fight three, that is. The bracket is on your wall, do come to the arena upon hearing your number." The man departed from the room shortly after.
His room.
Cherven hadn't had his own room in years; he usually just slept with the young ones. If there was ever a break in he'd be close, and he'd get to hang out with kids. Well he called them kids, but he was only, what, four years older than most of them?
And now he's fighting in an illegal underground arena.
And he shouldn't get ahead of himself anyways; it's not like he's going to live here, deep underground
There were synchronised footsteps outside the door, marching even, then he heard them walk just out of hearing range until—
"Attention all fighters! Thirty two and thirty Three are the first to fight!" He heard the man march down the hallway, repeating the statement. There was a loud door crash, probably thirty two or three and eventually the shouting that signalled the start of the fight.
Why couldn't he watch? Dammit.
He sat and waited, before realising the equipment around him was probably to help him warm up— most likely the ruckus he heard from every room when he peeped his head out.
"Thirty One and Thirty Four! Thirty One and Thirty Four come to the arena!" Once again, two more doors. Cherven had looked at the brackets, He would be fighting a lot if he wanted to win. Six fights in total. Everybody else had to fight five, but he wasn't complaining. It just meant more money, right?
By the end of the last fight –only a minute or two at most– had ended Cherven had readily warmed up. He was glad he had worn his good clothes— well they were really combat clothes, a silvery tank top and black pants. They weren't much, but he spent literally everything else he had on things much more important.
He could feel his hair against his bull horns. It was a bit itchy, from anticipation no doubt.
He heard the footsteps outside again, and the man once again yelled out; "Thirty five and thirty! Thirty five and thirty! To the arena please!" He slammed his door open with a kick, almost knocking the hinges off.
He'd have to be careful, mostly considering he was almost definitely strong enough to rip a man in two, but also to not become too popular. Could cause more trouble back at Sundown that wasn't welcome.
He walked onto the arena secondly. The area had changed a lot, the light was almost blinding to his faunus vision and there were screams coming from the crowd— Roars of applause and insults.
His opponent had already come in, a gigantic man a head taller than even Cherven. His beard was down to his neck and looked gelled, and he was wearing nothing more than boxing gear bar the gloves. Cherven did as he remembered, getting into the opposite corner as his foe. The ring was circular, and though there was a metal chain link fence there was also a boxing like ring.
"LAADIIIESS— AND GENTLEMEEEEN!" The speakers vibrated the entire arena. How the hell did he not hear this before? Actually– maybe he did "HERE IN THE LEFT CORNER, WE HAVE DEEE-BIIIIIL!" The crowd went insane. "MEMBER OF THE SCORPION GANG! AND WITH OVER NINE KILLS TO HIS NAME HERE IN STYX, WILL HE REACH THE DOUBLE DIGITS AGAINST OUR NEXT COMPETITOR?!" The light flashed onto Cherven. He really felt like he should be shirtless right now. "AN UNKNOWN BLACK HORSE! OR SHOULD I SAY AN UNKNOWN 'RED BULL!' AS HIS FIRST MATCH, WILL HE BE ABLE TO DEFEAT THE NIINE-TIME RETURNING VERERANM DEEEEEBIIIIL?!" The announcer shouted into the microphone. That was deafening, brothers.
"No way!"
"Not a chance!"
"De-Bil! De-Bil!"
"Go, Red bull!"
Wait, was that Shúe? Oh! It was. He was sitting nearest to Cherven. He noticed Shúe pulling on some imaginary hair attached to his chin. Maybe the fighting was getting to him or something. No, not Shúe; he's probably done a lot worse than what happens here. Well, it was really warm down here, maybe he was trying to cool down?. Doesn't matter; I need to focus on the fight.
"GET READDYYYY TOOOOO RUMBLLLLEEEE!" The crowd continued to shout— just shouting, screaming bloody murder. Aimed neither at Debill or Cherven "FIIGHT!" The announcer's joy was present in his voice.
Shoe-duck or whatever his name was rushed at him, gigantic hands went in for a pincer on his head, It was telegraphed, but his muscles were big enough for him to actually move fast enough to overcome it. Speaking of, his arms looked like they were made from boulders. Such a show off. Cherven almost rolled his eyes when he flexed them at him menacingly. It's clearly better to dodge around than be lugged down from muscle.
Too bad he didn't have aura; Cherven would be taking this match easy.
Cherven ducked under both Debill's arms, stepping in and using that force to lightly punch under his ribs. He felt his fist sink in a few inches further than it probably should have, as well as an accompanying crunch when he blew him into the steel fence.
Debill had stopped shouting— Cherven hadn't even realised he was in the first place. So had the crowd. Debill walked backwards slowly to the rope of the ring.
"Aura usin' coward!" He reached into his pants, and when his hands came back up they were cased in steel blades. Or rather just knuckles with sharp ends, and with a body like that they might actually leave a mark. "I'll punch the 'orns right off ya!"
His stance changed. Was he supposed to bring knuckles? His fists raised, and an obvious bruise forming under his ribs. Debill stepped forward ready to fight again.
"AFTER THAT DEVASTATING BLOW BY THE BULL, DEBILL HAS CHOSEN TO GO ALL OUT AGAINST HIS AURA WIELDING OPPONENT WITH HIS SIGNATURE BLOODY KNUCKLES!"
Debill came in far more cautious, his first hit went halfway, and Cherven responded with an attempted roundhouse kick, exposing his back. Debill called him an amateur. Cherven would call him an idiot, though doing that right now might make him retreat from his bluff..
Debill's second fist lashed out at the back of his head, but Cherven, smiling from the risky manoeuvre, planted the foot he had just attacked with, weaving under Debill's arm, quickly grappling onto his wrist and below his shoulder with a half hearted effort. Didn't want to rip him apart after all.
Debill's mouth was wide in shock as his body was planted through the ring. The crowd went quiet.
"Call me a perfectionist, because that was a perfect victory!" There was no laughter. Not even a snicker. Even the announcer was shocked at the victory. Cherven took it the wrong way though.
"There— There you have it folks. The first absolutely flawless victory in nine months. And with— sorry,— AND WITH TWO HITS–" The crowd went back into cheering. He could feel the pain in his ears, and Cherven was pretty sure he saw some dust fall from the roof. "THE RED BULL MAKES HIS OPENING IN ARENA OF STYYYXX!"
— — — — — — — — —
"Too easy, wasn't it?" Shúe said. He had found Cherven shortly after the match, cutting him off from returning to his room in peace.
"What do you want, Shúe?" Cherven had half a mind to push him out of the way, but that was the battle-lust thinking. He couldn't fathom the consequences from that. Well he could; and he didn't like any of them. He wouldn't be hunted, but he would be homeless. And so would everyone else—
"A cut. One for the wasps' and some for myself. How's fifty percent?" The hell? How could he ask—? "C'mon. I know ya' don't need it; afterall, I know somebody who can get ya' into Haven with a few strings pulled. But ya' do need us. And I brought ye' here to Styx in the first place– I think I deserve a bit of our prize."
"Oh, so that's why I'm here?" Cherven chuckled something about his faunus features and money. "Let's start at twenty percent."
"Thirty. Ye're taking thirty percent home.." Cherven's eye twitched. He wanted to slam a head through the nearby wall. Greedy asshole. Can't just let a victory go unspoiled, can he? Thirty percent— three thousand lien. Sure, enough to buy enough food and some luxuries for a few months, but still. Cherven wanted that thn-thousand.
"Fuck— fine. Just contact me after." Cherven stepped aside, but Shúe stepped in front of him again.
"One last thing, Bull." He looked to the arena. The next fighters came on, but it's not like Cherven didn't have time to waste. He'd be the seventeenth or so match. "You're not the only one with aura."
Not the only one with aura? Huntsmen? Here, in styx? Or maybe one of the stronger gangs gunning for the prize. Could Cherven take on hunters? Ones dirty enough to not only fight in Styx in the first place but to do enough to build a reputation? "What's that supposed to— Who—?" Cherven had snapped out of his thoughts only to realise Shúe had left. Had he blanked out?
He should be back in his room anyhow. Cherven thinks he has enough time for a nap. The loud footsteps would wake him anyways.
He couldn't help but think of the orphanage. How would he get his money anyways? Wouldn't the police be suspicious— ah right, Mistral. Most of the force are part of the gangs in all but name, the only things they really stomped down on were mass murders or threatening somebody in power. Not that they would anyway; so much to be gained from befriending a councillor. Lenient laws, blind police, and a few letters or calls lost in transit. That's why he had to rely on the wasps to protect the orphanage instead of the police. He could only offer the wasps' himself which was good enough apparently.
Some fights were faster than others. Some were louder too. Cherven would occasionally look outside his door whenever he heard the guy who called them out had left. There were people at some doors; not bodyguards, Cherven noted. Smaller than the fighters. Fans maybe?
"Course I wouldn't get any." He rolled his eyes before closing himself in again. Then he heard a knock.
"I'd like to speak with you a moment, Red Bull." Ooh, someone fancy. Maybe this was one of the fans like at the other doors. Cherven jumped up and walked over to the door. Probably not, though.
Short frizzled brown hair mixed with a bit of blond. Stupid sunglasses that looked like they would look better on an ursa, and a gold chain that could not of been light to have on.
"Aren't you the guy with the car? The hell are you doing here— No, don't tell me you're one of the fighters." Chervens eyes narrowed. He looked like more of a boss than a goon. He almost laughed. Actually, he did laugh but it was mostly an asshole, mocking laugh aimed at his oversized figure. "Whatever, you gonna talk or not?"
The man rolled his eyes. "How dare a child bear such ignorance!" How ironic that statement was, Cherven was hardly a teenager now that he thought of it." I come here trying to give you a generous deal befitting the both of us, so how about you listen instead of ridiculing me." He pulled out a banded up stack of lien. Cherven could see they were all in hundreds, and if he had to guess there were a good few thousands if they were all so. "This could be yours. I could easily double your winnings and let both of us go home as winners. Wouldn't you like that, boy?" He smiled venomously. "I just need a favour of you."
"Take a hike. I'm not dropping out of Styx, even for thousands lien. I've got pride and money riding on this." Cherven put his hand on the door, a bit disappointed he hadn't real visitors, and a bit pissed off that he couldn't take the money. Shúe would have ratted him out the second he caught wind of it.
As Cherven closed the door, the man's hand and fingers latched onto the door, stopping it with a strength Cherven hadn't anticipated. He latched onto the arm with his other hand, ripping it off the door with a good bit of effort before his would-be-briber had time to react. He had pulled out a chunk of the door with him. About a handful, but still a chunk pulled out. "Really should of taken that deal, Bull." The man shook his head before strolling off.
— — — — — — — —
It was time for Cherven's second fight. He stood in the ring; the metal fence was more worn than it was twenty minutes ago and the door looked as though it had been replaced. He did remember the sound of metal breaking, or he assumed it was, and a collective gasp.
"VERSUUUUUUSS SECOND PLACE CHAMPION; ONE OF MISTRAL'S VERY BLANK DRAGONS; THE FEROCIOUS HIIIIIIDOOORRAAAAA!" The announcer had rolled his tongue. It's so bright didn't they take night vision into account? Brothers, it hurts.
"READDDY?!" The spectators were chanting for a fight, and Cherven scaled up his opponent.
Not the man that had attempted to bribe him, different hair –Jet black– shirtless, an image of a nine headed dragon adorned over his back while he cheered back at the audience. His muscles were much like Chervens, leading him to believe he might be a huntsman or one in training. He only looked around twenty, making him a fossil of course.
Weird pants and shoes though. Is he planning to go to an interview after this? They aren't damaged, though that would make sense considering this is his first fight so far.
"FIIIIIGHT!"
Hidora took a quick step in before taking another back. Damn, I should have attacked, he was wide open and so close.Cherven was just waiting for the chance to attack again.
Then the fool stepped in again after a second, and Cherven leapt forward with his left hand this time, sailing for the man's face. It went over— just a hair over his head, and Hidora's fist punched the air out of his lungs and Cherven uncontrollably bent his back over his shoulder, feeling his opponent's arms go around his waist and pick him up.
Hey, it's been a while since somebody picked me—
And was thrown onto the ground with no softened floor to speak of, and a force that sent his top half back up while Hidora stepped on his legs to stand again. Cherven knew what was coming next, and rolled out of the way of a stomp that left a considerable dent in the concrete floor.
The bull was only on his knees before he was forced to block another kick, the force of which knocked him onto his feet, and catch two more punches, both given with the force of five horses kicking at once, before being able to return his own attack that was redirected left of the head of Hidora, and decided to use a bastardised version of that technique to block Hidora's punch, though Cherven lacked the strength and technique to push it away completely and was forced to push against his arm, Hidora's right fist faked a punch before an elbow was sent careening into Cherven's palm, and Cherven turned the push of his arm to grab his, and twirl him into Cherven's elbow, which made for a direct block with Hidora's free arm. Cherven quickly blocked another attack with his fist that stopped Hidora's elbow to hand blow, though he continued in his assault and caught Cherven to the side of the head with a chop, forcing Cherven to step back from the dizzy and confused feeling in his head.
Hidora seemed content to let him do so. "Not too bad." He mouthed over the wild shouts of the crowd
The crowd was going wild. Cherven could understand why, that was all instinct and it felt fantastic. This was what a real fight was. Cherven had no chance of winning of course, but this would be his new goal. Beat Hidora.
Cherven stood up fully, and came to the realisation he was against the chain linked wall. Hidora had gotten his lost breath back, and Cherven continued sweating while his opponent was hardly hard of breath in the first place. Hidora came charging in, stopping an elbow short of Cherven's grasp, both of his hand had gone for it letting Hidora maul his face in with a punch, and Cherven tried to react by punching and sweeping across with a fist, of course failing and being winded again, Hidora faked a punch to his forehead, which Cherven had moved both hands to block, but Hidora had side stepped when Cherven attempted a kick, and was hit to his temple by a real blow, not a half second after when Hidora broke his nose with another punch that slipped by Cherven's breaking guard, and punched him again in the stomach, and again another chop to the temple, before faking a kick to the thigh that turned into a kick to the head, shattering Cherven's aura.
"AND IT LOOKS LIKE THE HYDRA HAS TAKEN ANOTHER VICTIM! THREE CHANTS FOR THE DRAGON OF STYX!"
Damn. He really should have taken that offer.