Chapter 40.
Holy damn, we made it this far already.
Huh.
Fun fact: my initial thoughts were to have this story be roughly 30 Chapters long, from start to finish.
…
…
…
"The guess I made was calculated. But boi...am I f-ing bad at math."...pretty much sums up my thoughts right now.
In all honestly though I do not know exactly how much longer this fic will get. I myself am not a fan of drawn-out plots, but my fixation on giving side characters POVs as well is what brought me here, not to mention my inability to keep things short and to the point.
However...if I were to take into consideration what other milestones I want to reach and so on, I guess I'd say up to this point I managed to write roughly a bit more than 1/3 of what I have in mind.
Roughly.
Before long this fic will also explore the world outside just Orario, so that's where things will get longer.
But yeah, that's about it.
This Chapter is back with action, though it does not make up the entirety of the Chapter either.
Hope you'll enjoy the read, and see you again down below in the end AN.
Cheers.
XXX
A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she ran through the dimly-lit streets of the city, the headache already setting in long before she had even arrived at the place.
It was the middle of the night, she had been woken up rudely after two very hard days of work and she was pretty sure she had not put on her clothes correctly.
Indeed, being the Captain of the Ganesha Familia was not easy.
Especially when everyone felt like they had the freedom to come rushing to her even when she tried to get a bit of well deserved shut-eye.
'What is that report even suppose to mean? The Dungeon is off-limit? Who in their right mind would try to pull something like this?'
The report she had received of an out of breath Familia member had made too little sense for Shakti who had been rudely awakened and so she decided to investigate on her own, rushing towards the Babel as fast as she could.
This matter was related to the Guild but it still fell under her jurisdiction first.
Suffice to say when she arrived at the Babel and noticed the serpentine body of a certain boy's sentient Magic wrapped around and cutting off access to the stairs leading in and out of the Dungeon, she knew her day was just about to get worse.
'...Give me a break…'
She turned around ready to give her instructions to her Familia members already gathered at the scene, but decided against it. She could still send for Loki Familia but she had little doubt they were already on their way to her location.
Another sigh escaped her.
The Guild would also make itself known before long, she had to do nothing on that front. All that remained was for her to take charge of the situation and keep things peaceful until further instructions arrived.
Shakti braced herself, taking a deep breath before walking forward to face the dragon. "You. What is the meaning of this?"
The Dragon watched her for a couple of seconds, silent and unmoving. Almost as if he was focused on something else at the moment. "The Dungeon's off-limits." He finally spoke a short while later.
"That is not for you, or your Master, to decide. Get out of the way immediately before this rogue action of yours reaches far greater consequences than it already has." She voiced with a poisonous tone in her words.
It was not false to say that, to some capacity, the Dungeon was the beating heart of Orario.
After all, it was not the Dungeon which centred around the city: it was Orario which centred around the Dungeon.
Countless businesses and livelihoods were dependant on the Dungeon and the profit it brought to the city. Holding the progress would have financial and political consequences if the Dragon would not move away soon.
"Dungeon's. Off. Limits."
Shakti could feel her headache begin to throb.
"What is going on here?" Luckily the person most suited to take care of the situation at hand had already arrived. Explain…" Finn voiced as he approached the Dragon with Riveria and Gareth in tow. Unlike what could usually be seen, the Pallum's trademark smile was missing. "Raiju."
The serpentine Dragon squirted his eyes at the new arrivals but did not speak. Instead, his eyes seemed to watch events far off…
XXX
"Hmm…" A low hum escaped his throat as another punch reached his opponent's face, a low grunt of pain coming out of the boy as he was sent stumbling back. However, once again the swordsman raised his sword and with a rising vertical slash wounded him on the right forearm just before being pushed back.
He wobbled on his feet but still, remained standing. It was a noteworthy feat in the man's eyes, even more so when he considered most people could not withstand more than a couple of his punches.
The distance between them was back to two steps from each direction with both of them being far away and out of fist and sword's reach but close enough to attack with the smallest advance. Their eyes met for a long second and the man felt the desire to give his opponent another small nod.
Few would have the audacity to still bare their fangs at an opponent they knew to be their better. He did not know exactly what changed but something certainly did. The last time they fought Skada had felt that he was indeed fighting a child.
He no longer got any such impression on this second encounter.
Both of them felt the fluctuating spike in their opponents Ki and the two advanced once again.
Fuzen kept his ground for he knew in a contest of speed, even with his Eightfold Path Technique activated at present he had no chance of overtaking his opponent. The most he could do was grip his swords, observe and react in time.
Sakda pushed forward with weaves of his head, throwing Fuzen off as to where he would strike for. Once close enough he stopped and twisted his hips while delivering a straight right. Fuzen tried to move his head out of the way but he was too slow: the punch made contact with his left cheek, the sound of crackling bones once again echoing in his ears. A moment of calm followed before the sharp pain made itself known.
Still, before he was sent back staggering on his feet Fuzen did manage to switch his reverse-grip to a normal grip and land a rising slash on the man's torso, from the lower right to just under his left pectoral muscle.
It was a faint cut, barely able to draw a couple of drops of blood across the length of it.
But, it was a cut.
And still Sakda wondered: why go through the trouble?
Though their exchange of words had been minimal he understood that his opponent was smart and disciplined. Few could look at an inevitable strike coming their way and still maintain such intense focus and concentration, and fewer still could resist their survival urge to use their weapon to keep the enemy away.
His opponent did both of that while only attacking when Sakda was far enough into an attack to be unable to both jump out of sword's reach as well as grab the blade.
In other words, he was keeping him from grabbing and shattering his blades like he did last time.
However, this tactic allowed for only one sort of battle: a battle of attrition.
Last man standing wins.
Sakda had received a multitude of light wounds, that much he would not deny, but in contrast to the boy he was more or less in perfect shape. Fuzen on the other hand had received enough hits to the face to make him unable to keep a stable footing.
He had forced himself into a disadvantageous situation and the Were-Jaguar failed to understand why.
But, even more than that…
The Were-Jaguar pushed on again, leaving the boy little room for respite. He threw a couple of jabs but they were slow and easy to dodge. Still, they were simply faints to draw his opponent into a rhythm. Sakda threw another jab, or at least, it seemed like one.
It was actually a fake and he withdrew his arm back before it could even just half-extend, as soon as he noticed his opponent already moving his body to try and evade the punch.
Once his arm was fully back Sakda turned his hips and executed a fast kick aimed at Fuzen's left side. The fake had fulfilled it's purpose and from his position there was no way Fuzen could dodge or step out of the attack's way.
His attack went through the motion but was met with no resistance whatsoever.
It was a rookie mistake, but Sakda had been certain of his strategy and so he was, for the slightest of moments, taken aback that his strategy had failed. Once his motion was complete he put up his guard again and re-played the last couple of seconds in his mind.
Before his kick could land his opponent jumped back and performed a one-handed back-handspring, touching the ground with his left hand and then twisted and turned his body as he performed an upwards slash with the sword in his right hand.
Sakda looked down at his leg, another shallow cut now present on his calf.
This was the second object of Sakda's confusion.
Although their interaction had been minimal indeed the two short bouts they had told the Were-Jaguar enough. His opponent was one well-versed in orthodox sword-fighting. In other words with the exception of the few Techniques his opponent used his strongest focus relied on the basics.
A grasp on the basics so good the fist fighter had no doubts it could already be considered a mastery.
It was thus understandable why those acts of acrobatics that had so little relation to the basics confused the man. It made him wonder if perhaps his own take on the matter was perhaps wrong.
But that could not be, he had fought other swordsmen before and he knew one who relied on the basics when he saw one. The boy was one such individual, of that he was sure.
"Ah…" Despite the well executed dodge and counter attack his opponent had nonetheless accumulated many injuries over the span of their short fight. As soon as he tried to enter his battle stance Fuzen's lost his footing and wavered on his feet, just as surprised by his sudden moment of weakness as Sakda himself.
The Were-Jaguar did not let the chance slip by, however. He stepped in and grabbed the boy by the head with both hands, pushing him down and bringing his own knee up. The sound of crunching bones and of the impact itself echoed loudly throughout the silent hallway.
Still, he had not come to Orario out of any sort of virtuous reasons. Before Fuzen could fall down he grabbed him by the collar with his left hand and pulled him forward, using the chance to unleash punch after punch on the young boy's face.
He respected his resolve to stand against a foe he knew was his superior, so Skada would reply in kind: by crushing him with everything he had. They were strangers, having only just told their names to the other.
But despite that they walked a similar path in life. The path of power. Of seeking the impossible, of tearing down all walls in their paths. Strange as it was to say it out loud in his head, it almost felt like fighting a long-time friend.
And that is why he would crush and kill him with everything he had. Their first meeting might have left a negative impression of the boy to the more experienced fighter, but in response to the resolve to stand his ground and fight, Sakda would not show him any disrespect this time around.
Droplets of blood fell down on the floor beneath them with each retraction of his arm, the hollow look in the young swordsman's eyes telling Sakda that he had lost his consciousness halfway through the beating.
He had held nothing back.
And yet, despite that…
"Superb…" Sakda muttered the single word as he let go of the boy's collar and took a step back, a faint nod escaping him.
His opponent was still standing.
Granted, he was hunched over, saliva and blood alike staining his face in a less than spectacular manner. But, unconscious as he was, he was still standing.
How many could do the same in a similar situation? How many had a big enough resolve to keep fighting even when their body and mind alike could no longer do so?
He was not what Sakda had come to Orario looking for, but...he was not far from it, either. If only he had been a little bit stronger, then maybe. Still, his shortcomings aside there was no doubt in the Were-Jaguar's mind that he was worthy.
"You've done well." The man stated as he grabbed each side of the boy's head and lifted him off the ground. "But you needn't struggle anymore. Rest."
It was evident simply beating him physically would not bring him a victory over his opponent. Indeed, no matter how physically wounded he got, his spirit was simply too strong.
And that is why he would crush his head instead.
He planted his feet into the ground, then directed power into his back and arms ready to crush his opponent's skull in a single push.
Drowning.
If he had to associate what he felt the next moment, it would have been drowning in a dark, bottomless sea.
In that moment of confusion hazel eyes shot wide open and stared back into his as the world around them seemed to slow down significantly.
Every Ki user regardless of their origin were more sensitive to the unseen elements of the world they lived in. A stare on their back from the distance, the faint venom in sugar-sweet words, another's suppressed hatred and rage.
Those were things they were keenly aware of thanks to their training and mastery of the energy they stored within their bodies, polished to heights which surpassed even those of hardened warriors and veteran Adventurers.
That is why Sakda felt that what he was holding between his hands was no longer a young swordsman worthy of respect, but instead a pile of pure and unadulterated malice reaching out to him with it's tendrils and engulfing him whole.
Sakda gritted his teeth and held his ground as a clash of invisible proportions took place: confidence against malice.
As for who won...that would forever remain a mystery.
Noticing movement Sakda let go of his opponent and stepped back but the attack had taken him by surprise because of the unseen clash a heartbeat earlier. Both blades came in an upwards slash at him, landing and making contact but leaving only flesh wounds.
The moment his foot reached the ground Fuzen dashed forward and Sakda did the same. Though he was taken aback by the inhuman amount of malice a person could hold within themselves, he was not green enough to let something like that interfere with his fight.
The distance between them got shorter, Fuzen making the first move. Switching his right-hand sword into a reverse grip he attacked Sakda who put up his forearm to block the blade with his bare, Ki-enhanced body. The sword dug slightly into his skin and flesh, but nothing else besides that.
Now close enough he curled his fist and launched a punch at the boy's face.
However he noticed the faintest of smirks on his opponent's body and knew something was not right. When Fuzen simply let go of his right hand sword and Sakda's body inclined towards that side as there was no longer a counter-force against his forearm, he understood this had been a trap.
The change in body posture made sure that his punch barely missed it's intended target and simply struck the air. As his arm extended Fuzen grabbed him by the forearm and elbow, turned on his heel and slammed the much larger man into the ground.
He was on top of him within the blink of an eye, both swords once again in his grasps and descending point-first towards Sakda's eyes.
Having found himself in such undesirable positions in the past however Sakda reacted fast and letting his experience take over his thinking, he pushed his hips up and threw his opponent away from atop of him.
Still, before he tumbled away the swordsman managed to change the grip on his sword and launch an attack at the Were-Jaguar's face, leaving the man with a faint cut across his cheek which extended to the nose and towards his left eye.
Sakda pushed himself up to his feet and resumed his guard, eyeing his opponent with increased focus. He was on one knee and holding his sword up in front of him.
There was no doubt about it, he was spent. Among the two of them Sakda was still very much battle-ready while Fuzen could barely keep himself conscious anymore. The winner was already decided.
But even so, he fought on.
The Were-Jaguar couldn't help but respect such display of willpower. He had lived at least twice his opponent's life and yet he barely needed both hands to count all the people he had encountered who could come close to his current opponent's strength of spirit.
Sakda was satisfied.
Very much so.
Even if he couldn't find what he came looking for, meeting the swordsman in front of him had been worth the journey, regardless.
A moment of silence followed, both of them getting ready to engage once more.
And yet this was still the Dungeon, and it cared little for their fight.
The two combatants felt the faint tremors before the walls began to crack. Monsters were being born around them.
Gargoyles, and a lot of them, too.
Once the last Monster was born the three factions shared a moment of silence before the Gargoyles let out a unified screech. The two combatants did not need any sort of verbal communication between them.
They simply turned their back to the other and engaged the Monster threat near them. Neither felt the fear of being struck from behind, for despite them being enemy they still walked a similar path.
XXX
'What the hell is he thinking?'
That had been his first thought as he heard the news and rushed to the ground level of Babel.
If anything was clear about the brat, it was the fact he was very hard to understand. He did not lie, but he was vague. He acted as if the consequences of his actions mattered little to him, but he always took precautions against them and planned in advance.
He was an annoying little piece of shit like that in Bete's eyes.
And because of that he didn't exactly had an easy time understanding his motives this time around.
Roughly four hours had passed since the brat's Magic cut off the entrances to the Dungeon, it's serpentine long body making sure to wrap itself around the three staircases. He allowed those returning from the Dungeon to leave but allowed no one to enter.
Why?
It made little sense.
In any other instance he would simply ask Finn what he thought, but the Captain was busy trying to defuse some rather tricky situations with the Captains of some smaller Familia whose progress got halted by the giant fricking dragon blocking the way and were now putting pressure on the Pallum.
By now most of Loki Familia's core members had arrived at the Babel and were trying to help Finn with the angry masses.
"Get your rabid dog under control already, Loki Familia!" One angry female Adventurer shouted from the sidelines at the Pallum.
Suffice to say the next moment she found herself held by the throat and lifted half a meter off the ground. "Why don't you fucking repeat that?!" Bete half-growled both at her and everyone else nearby before throwing the woman aside.
Rabid dog?
That brat?
He was infuriating beyond reason, Bete would be the first to admit it, but he was no such thing as rabid, even less so a dog. "Weak shits like you have no right to talk crap about him!"
His threat did the job, as always, and the gathered Adventurers took a step back with none of them feeling like standing up to the Werewolf. With that dealt with he turned around and eyed the serpentine dragon again.
Why close up the Dungeon?
H e had recklessly went out after the Were-Jaguar, that much was clear. However, he went solo and without telling anyone about it beforehand. If he wanted to avoid people from their Familia standing in his way, he would have managed that much without using Raiju in such an open and public way.
Taking in consideration the bastard Were-Jaguar had been only ever been spotted in the Lower Floors, it would take considerable time for any of them to reach those Floors and even more time to actually find him.
Avoiding being found or someone interfering with his fight was not his reason for doing this.
'So what is the reason?'
"F-Fuck, that hurt…"
The whispers of the female Adventurer he had just death glared into obedience reached his ears and Bete turned his head to look at her.
Watching her for a couple of moments gears began to shift inside his mind.
The fact that the news about the Were-Jaguar were still withheld by the Guild.
The threat he represented to Second-Class Adventurers.
The rumours that began to circulate among the Adventurers regarding the threat in the Lower Floors.
Closing off the Dungeon.
"...Hey." He turned to face the woman once more. "What Level are you?"
"W-What?"
"I asked what Level you are, fuck-stick!"
"L-Level 3…"
"That so…? Where were you heading to today?"
"We planned a small expedition to the Lower Floors...before your Kenshi decided to act out of line…"
A chuckle escaped Bete as some things began to make sense to him. "What an arrogant little turd…"
Of course, it did not truly surprise him. If he learned anything about the brat since he first joined the Familia it was the fact he was as abnormal as one could get.
Only he would think of making such a strong yet indirect declaration to the side of Orario that he obviously disliked-
'Declaration! That's it!' The Werewolf's eyes shot wide open as the realization hit him. He remembered something which the brat made sure to let the Executives know when he joined the Familia for the second time, after the Altena event.
'If I die, Raiju dies.' Was his statement back then, one which confused the Werewolf. In a way it was logical that the Magic would disappear with the death of it's user, however his confusion came from the fact that the statement seemed to be based almost on real experience rather than theory.
And right now, he realized what the brat was doing.
Like the little prick he was, he tried to shed some light on that which the Guild tried to cover up, the existence of the rampaging Were-Jaguar. But, that was not all.
He was making a declaration.
'I am fighting.'
As for the reason, it didn't take Bete long to uncover it. Thinking back on how much his spirit had been damaged by his encounter and near-death experience at the hands of the fist fighter, there was only one reason left.
He cornered himself so that he could not run.
A declaration not directed at those around him, but at himself. If he ran away from the Were-Jaguar then he would face very dire consequences because of his decision to close up the Dungeon.
Worst case scenario, he might be banished from Orario forever.
But if he won then it would matter little. He would have taken care of a problem the Guild was facing at present while also putting pressure on said organization, while at the same time improving Loki Familia's reputation. After all, despite their best tries rumours of the man were already circulating among the Adventurers.
All that it took now was to bring his lifeless body to the surface.
Now aware of the facts, Bete gritted his teeth in anger.
Over and over and over again.
Amphisbaena.
Udaeus.
Altena.
The Deep Floors expedition.
And now, the Were-Jaguar.
Over and over again when he decided on something he saw it through, no matter the circumstances or his own fears and worries.
Bete was not someone who ran away from troubles or hardships. Even in the Dungeon, no matter what foe came his way he would stand and fight no matter the odds. It was only Finn's command which would make him retreat from a fight.
And in Orario, he cared little for what others had to say about him because the strong didn't need to care about it.
By all accounts, he was not someone who ran or shied away from anything or anyone.
But, even so…
Could he bring himself to make a declaration like that of Fuzen?
Could he make one directed at his foes, and at his allies?
At the world, and at himself?
He was supposed to be the strong one. He sought power like no other. He had broken through countless barriers.
He was the one who decided to only look down at others, to put the weaklings in their place and remind them of their standing.
Of their limitations.
So then, why…?
'...Why do I have to look up when you are around? Fucking prick…'
"You better not disappear…" He whispered as he glared at the dragon in front of him, the only sign they could rely on that the brat was still alive and not yet dead. "If you disappear...I'll find you, slap you out of it, and murder you again with my own hands."
XXX
Another claw came his way from the right and he jerked his head to the side, avoiding the attack. The Gargoyle tried the same tactic a couple more times but he luckily managed to remain out of reach.
Yet, it was not easy doing so.
In any other instance Monsters of this difficulty would have proven little challenge to him but his current state was far from ideal. He was of course glad that the Monsters appeared as they allowed him a little bit of respite from the much harder enemy which was Sakda, but fighting them sapped away at his strength regardless.
Dodging another claw attack Fuzen noticed the Monster's side was wide open and launched an attack. His sword cut across the Gargoyle's hard body, but he could not cut through and thus kill the enemy.
He felt weak, weaker than ever before. Even his eyelids felt as if they threatened to stubbornly close against his will.
How weak the human body was for wishing to rest even when it should have realized the danger at hand.
The injured but still alive Gargoyle let out a screech and the anger became even more visible in it's eyes, opening it's jaw wide open and attempting a bite attack. A palm strike to the jaw closed it's mouth faster than it could react, as fast as the sword which impaled it's chest and shattered it's Magic Stone.
With the immediate enemy in front of him gone Fuzen took a split second to look over his shoulder.
Obviously enough, Sakda had already taken care off his share of Monsters and was now quietly observing Fuzen.
To say Sakda was pissing him off would be a major understatement.
But there was no time for that. Two enemies still remained and he needed to take care of them quickly.
As if enraged by the death of their fellow Monster they jumped at the Adventurer, one of them from the ground while the other took to flight. In an open space this two-attack pattern would have given them much more freedom and raised their threat level. The confinements of the passageway and the limited height of the ceiling however gave the swordsman the advantage.
Or better said, it would have given him the advantage had it been a day like any other. But right now, with one foot already inside the grave he wasn't sure if anything counted as an advantage.
But he was sure of one thing, however.
Both Sakda and the Monsters around him…
They all pissed him off.
"Two-Swords Lightning Style:" His knees bend ever so slightly as he brought both blades behind him, right sword in a reverse-grip while left sword in a normal grip.
In truth he knew that the wise decision would be to conserve his strength and not make use of his Techniques. After all, the Monsters only numbered two, and he knew for sure the enemy behind him would not strike until he was finished.
But right now, the wise decision could go to hell.
"[Blistering Flash.]"
In less than the blink of an eye he was already below the ground-based Gargoyle, his first strike cutting off the Monster's right arm at the elbow while the second strike relieved it of it's legs. Before it's torso could hope to fall to the ground Fuzen turned on his heels, spun around and unleashed two more strikes, cutting off the Monster's head and then it's torso.
Halfway through his spinning motion he dashed off from the now defeated Gargoyle and towards the wall, using it's surface to jump high into the air. His power failed him however, and he was not able to reach the flying Monster.
So he threw one of his swords, the blade lodging itself into the Gargoyle's wing and hindering it's flight. As it began to descent it never saw the second attack coming, Fuzen's sword plunging itself into it's mouth. With he free hand he reached for the blade in it's wing and once it was in his grip again, he beheaded the Monsters and fell down to the floor on it's dispersing corpse.
It was over...is what he would have liked to say but Sakda's eyes drilling holes into his back kept him from saying anything that stupid. The Monsters may have been dealt with, but the second he turned around the fight would continue.
He felt tired, and weak, and his heart beat skyrocketed just at the thought of having to face the man behind him again.
The power disparity, it was way too unfair.
His many years of training shattered into nothing by the mere existence of Sakda, the sharpness of his swords on which Fuzen always relied slapped away like it was nothing, like it didn't exist.
He may have just as well came equipped with tree branches instead of swords.
Nothing of that which he had trained would work against him. Not now, not at his current state.
And that is why he came here prepared to use more than just that which he had trained.
His thoughts and his teachings had told him that he should not go down this path, that he should accept his shortcomings, his weakness, and go down while still keeping true to himself.
Half of that, he had already done during this fight: he accepted the fact that Sakda was stronger than him. That he surpassed him in everything.
And yet, another half did not want that.
You're amazing!
Those words, at the very least…
…
…
...
He wasn't sure of anything anymore. What he should do, what he should think. He tried, but he didn't know.
So all he could do was to turn around and finish what he started.
'...Haa...What the hell am I even doing…? This scary asswipe...Why did he had to appear in my life? Haa...I don't wanna turn around...'
Inhale…
Exhale…
Inhale…
Exhale…
He turned around and immediately his head had been forced backwards by a powerful frontal kick to his face. The bones in his face rattled at the impact and his eyes turned rolled back into his head, but he somehow managed to remain conscious. He had expected the attack and his sword had been ready, succeeding in landing yet another cut on Sakda's leg.
The Were-Jaguar advanced and three quick jabs landed on the swordsman's face, each of them threatening to knock him out of the fight. How he managed to bite through it, Fuzen did not know. He was aware that his endurance was very low and extended fights like this were something he tried to actively avoid.
But he managed to keep his ground and sneak in an attack during the second jab which resulted in another cut on Sakda's abdomen.
Slowly and surely, he was piling the cuts up as planned.
But would it be enough right now?
If he miscalculated then his only chance would slip away through his fingers along with his own life. Mistakes could not be allowed.
A right kick came his way, connecting with his left side as the sound of cracking ribs echoing in his ears. The attack lifted him off the ground and pushed him to the side but not before he managed to strike at Sakda and leave a cut across his chest.
At the very least his opponent had the very human weakness of not being able to defend and attack at the same time.
Before his feet could touch the ground his opponent was upon him but disappeared from Fuzen's sight within a heartbeat. Only when he felt the punch to his temple did he realize Sakda had not vanished but that his sight was gone because of the hit.
The severity of this fact brought him into a cold shiver.
If the first requirement for his Ability, Sword Disciple, to activate was the necessity of holding a katana, the second was the requirement to see. His senses now dulled, this meant that the next half a dozen or so jabs which made contact with his face were not registered until after they landed.
His head felt heavy and so did his body. If someone were to tell him his body had been transformed into stones Fuzen would not have doubted them. Moving was hard, standing was hard and even thinking was hard.
A straight right connected with his face, smashing in his already broken nose and the impact pushing him backwards until his back was against the damp, cold wall of the passageway. A moment of nothingness followed before a frontal kick landed on his abdomen and pushed him further into the wall.
With no strength left the swords slipped out of his hands as his back slid down on the wall behind him until he collapsed onto the ground.
He wondered in that moment: if this was just the first hurdle on a long, long path then just what exactly would come next? What inexplicable foes would he have to face, then?
The half-perfected Technique which he believed would help him grasp the Heavens, Eightfold Path, he had been using it since the first exchange of blows yet all that Technique could do was make him fast enough to somehow react to his opponent.
However, his swords could still not manage to land a decisive hit on him. His blades could not cut that durable body in two.
Outclassed.
Fuzen understood for the first time what it meant to be outclassed, and it was the shittiest feeling imaginable.
"...Is this it?" He managed to hear his opponent's words through the pain and dizziness that were washing over him. Had he the strength to do so Fuzen would have probably gritted what remained of his teeth and stared cursed daggers at the man, but he had no such strength to spare.
'I wanna eat Eclairs…'
The unrelated thought popped up in his mind along with the mental image of a box-full of Eclairs. They were covered in a perfectly even layer of chocolate topping and the filling was soft and overflowing. Taking a bite would mix the slightly bitter flavour of the chocolate with the creme, resulting in a delish combination.
'I wanna eat Eclairs...with her.'
A flash of jade-coloured hair popped up in his mind along with the thought, imagining the woman sitting across of him at a table, cups of steaming tea for both of them while the box of Eclairs was positioned in the middle of the table.
'...Not bad...Not bad at all…And that's why…'
Fuzen mustered the strength to lift his hanging head and bring it back as fast as he could, hitting the wall behind him. That did the trick and while his left eye where the punch to the temple was launched remained the same a level of visibility returned to his right one.
He could make up the shape of his opponent in front of him a couple of steps away. He grabbed his swords and using the wall as support managed to lift himself back up to his feet.
If he was not mistaken he noticed Sakda nodding ever so slightly at him.
All he could do in response was mentally apologize to the man.
Though he had no idea if what he piled up until now was enough but whatever the case, the duel was over. For who however that remained to be seen.
Sakda took his stance once again, ready to dash forward and engage his opponent.
Fuzen in return raised a hand and pointed his index and middle finger at the Were-Jaguar, reaching out to that which he had laid out throughout the fight. Then as he felt his opponent ready to move, he uttered a single word.
XXX
She grabbed the bottle and poured herself another glass, lifting it up to her lips and gulping down half of it's content with a single swift motion.
She knew it was still too early to drink but then again Tsubaki cared little for such things.
For anyone knowing her the current situation would have come as a bit of surprise: her forge was silent, the furnace cold and unlit. Tsubaki's hammers produced no sparks, instead simply left on her anvil.
In other words, she was not forging.
But it wasn't like she gave up on her trade or anything outlandish like that. Instead she simply choose to take a bit of time off and reflect on the happenings of the last few days.
Her latest work was a masterpiece.
And within lay the problem: it had not been supposed to turn out like that.
Of course, as a master blacksmith and the Captain of the Hephaestus Familia she never allowed anything created by her hands to be subpar, to be lacking.
But when she gathered the materials necessary for the request by Kenshi she had not set out to create a masterpiece but just that which the request entailed: a set of swords of Second-Class quality.
But that was not what came out of that job.
Those red-hued blades were unquestionably First-Class weapons.
But how did it turn out that way?
For the last couple of days Tsubaki had gone over the process time and time again in her mind. Every step, every strike of her hammer.
Over and over again she played the process in her mind but always came up to the same conclusion: she herself had done nothing peculiar enough to turn what was supposed to be a set of good but normal swords into such high-class weapons.
And so, that only left the boy.
The fact that he held the blazing hot metal with his bare hands.
The fact that the metal burst into flames when it began to cool.
Fuzen was responsible for the quality of the weapons she...they had forged. But how? Through what means exactly?
No matter how long she thought about it nothing came to mind.
The only clue she gathered from that whole experience was that the means was probably internal, as she did not notice any sort of external influence like Magic or Items.
Then again, this so called clue did not help at all. "Haaa…" With a long sigh she emptied the glass she had poured for herself and looked to the side, at the corner of her forge. There lay a shield, or what remained of a shield, and the object which helped her in finding her one clue regarding the mysterious process.
…
…
…
"Well, here it is." She told the young boy as she extended the pair of swords to him. They had been just finished after a day of Tsubaki assembling the pieces, placing the guards on the blades and wrapping the cord wrap on the handles, as well as placing the pommels and carving the scabbards for both the katana and chisa katana.
"Mhm." The boy nodded and accepted the swords, silently placing them at his belt and shuffling them until they were in the right position. Then he drew the katana and stared at the blade, performing a few strikes at the air to get a feel for it.
"What'cha think?" The blacksmith asked with crossed arms.
The response did not come immediately but after a few seconds she received a nod. "Yes, it is undeniable."
"What is?"
"The fact that I feel best when I use your weapons."
That genuine reply got a laugh out of her. "Geez, make a girl blush will ya?"
"That was not my intention..." The reply sounded more like a question than anything else and it was in moments like these Tsubaki thought that despite his blank look the boy could be somewhat cute as well.
"With these swords it should be do-able but...do you have a shield, mayhaps?" He asked as he turned to face her.
"What for?"
"There's something I haven't used in a long time. It's going to be necessary so I'd like to test if it's potency has decreased in any way."
Though she no idea what he was going on about she nonetheless agreed to it and grabbed a nearby Mithril shield, one of her experiments in truth. She had tried a new forging process with the intention to bring forth more than just the metal's high magic conductivity.
It had failed unfortunately, but the shield was still made of Mithril and thus boosted very high physical resistance as well.
"Could you hold it with both hands from the sides? I'd rather not hurt you in any way, Collbrande-sama."
"Sure, sure." She replied absent-mindedly. It wasn't like too many people could cut or smash through a shield of that durability with the exception of someone like Gareth maybe.
Once she was in position the swordsman grabbed his sword with both hands and brought it high above his head. Then with a fluid motion she had expected from someone of his calibre he horizontally slashed at the shield, leaving a visible scratch on the metal's surface.
"Not bad, Kenshi. You are as abnormal as always, hahaha! Not even Level 4's can easily mark a material like this."
"Hold it, tightly." The boy told the blacksmith. Noticing the serious look on his face she dropped her laugh.
He inhaled, then exhaled.
Pointed his fingers at the shield.
A word of power was uttered.
And the shield got cleanly cut in two, Tsubaki now holding one part in each hand.
"…"
"…"
"...This is bullshit!" The master smith yelled out after blinking in confusion at the shield in her hands.
…
…
…
Thinking back on it she never got around to ask what Kenshi had done exactly as he had left while Tsubaki examined the clean cut which cleaved the inch thick shield in two.
But whatever it was, one thing was for sure: she had never before seen a cut that clean in her entire life.
XXX
"[Rupture]"
What exactly happened once that word was uttered by his opponent Sakda could not say immediately.
He had been advancing on the swordsman when the strength left his body and the world became red. It took him a moment to realize his knees had touched the ground.
Another moment later he realized he could not see with his left eye. The searing pain across his face and eye told him it had been cut. But when, and how?
His head dropped low as he no longer had the immediate strength to keep it up. That is when he saw the state he was in.
Deep cuts were visible on his body and his clothes were stained with the blood that still flowed out of the wounds. The lacerations on his arms were by far the worst with some going as deep as the bone which was now visible to the naked eye.
Pain throbbed from his legs as well, his calves to be precise. Those wounds were probably why he had fallen to his knees to begin with.
The strength had all but left his body and all he could feel now was numbness and the pulsating pain of his wounds.
He realized, then, what had happened and the faintest of smirks found it's way to his lips.
'I've been had from the beginning.'
"Lightning Sword Style:" With difficulty he raised his head to gaze upon his opponent in front of him sheathing his swords before resting his hand on the handle of the chisa katana.
Their eyes met for the briefest of moments and yet Sakda could feel no joy in the boy's gaze at the achievement of bringing him to his knees.
"[Fivefold Flash]"
With a display of masterful quick-draw Technique Fuzen pulled out his sword and cut Sakda five times, one slash at each shoulder and one at each thigh, with the last hit on the man's chest.
Unlike before the hits cut in deep as the Were-Jaguar had lost his grip on his defense following the confusion he felt at what had happened before, at the sudden transition between being the one controlling the flow of battle and then the one on his knees.
"S-Splendid…" Sakda managed to utter the word which described the awe he felt for his opponent after coughing up an incredible amount of blood.
As soon as his sword was back in it's scabbard the boy fell down to one knee as well, being in no better state than the man he had just defeated.
Inhale…
Exhale…
"...Haa...Haa...Haa...There's a limit to how...hard to cut you are allowed to be, asswipe." Fuzen muttered through ragged breaths. "I'll sue you, damn it."
Feeling something loose within his mouth he sucked in the blood in his mouth and spit it, one molar coming out as well and making a dull noise as it hit the hard ground.
There went another one of his teeth, something he was not very pleased about.
Now that the fight was over he felt incredibly thirsty and reached for the pouch at his belt, taking a small sip to wash out the blood in his mouth before taking a long gulp, the cold water spiking up the pain caused by the wounds on the inside of his cheeks.
With great difficulty he managed to push himself up from his one-knee position and approached the Were-Jaguar still on his knees, pulling his head back and allowing him to take a sip as well.
"...My thanks." Sakda muttered with a faint nod.
Fuzen didn't reply, instead grabbing the man under the armpits and somehow dragging him to the nearby wall, letting him rest against the surface before collapsing down on his butt as well.
A long moment of silence passed between the two before the older of the two spoke. "So that was...your Reflection?"
The reply came a second later. "Yeah. Rupture."
One's innermost desires and impulses made manifest in reality through the transmutation of their internal Ki in a way catered to meet said desires and impulses of their user.
If he had to explain the concept of a Reflection to anyone that was how Fuzen would have probably explained it since it was halfway accurate.
However that is not to say any Ki user could count themselves as someone who manifested a Reflection. Even Fuzen himself knew of only three people who made use of it: his Mistress, Sakda and he himself.
You could not train to gain it, nor could you hope to get it simply by desiring something more than anything else.
One simply had it once their Ki was first unlocked or they didn't.
And that is why Fuzen hated it from the bottom of his heart.
"And you?" He asked in return.
"Bulwark. I wanted to never be brought down again. Not like it was any help against you, however."
It was a respectable desire and a good example of how Refection manifested: catered to his desire to never be brought down again his Ki transmuted in a way which allowed him to externally cover himself in it and to harden the otherwise intangible source of energy, boosting his defenses to the point where Fuzen's swords or Bete's kicks had almost no effect on him.
His Reflection had, quite literally, turned him into a walking fortress.
And this was why Fuzen hated it.
Ki users could never lie to themselves. That was a luxury they were not allowed. His Rupture, too, simply reminded him of what he truly was deep inside, of the truth he could not escape no matter what lies he tried to make himself believe.
So what did Rupture say about him as a person?
About his deepest impulses?
The day he would slip and allow himself to have fun was one he dreaded above all.
"...Compatibility was against you, that's all." Fuzen stated as he shook his head, not wishing his opponent to think lowly of his own skills. He took a moment to catch his breath before he continued. "My Rupture is a sticky time bomb. I coat my sword with Ki which adapts to the vibration of the opponent's Ki on impact, that is why you could not feel it sticking to you throughout the fight." Another short break followed as speaking was becoming harder and harder. Because he was tired, yes, but also because of the fractured rips and bones in his body. "Then when I activate it, Rupture recreates and greatly magnifies the original hit. Takes a crap load of Ki, though."
"Double impact, then?"
"Well...something like that."
"I've never heard of Ki usage this complex before. You must be very smart."
"...I guess."
Sakda frowned as he turned his head to stare at the swordsman besides him. "What's wrong? Are you not satisfied with your victory?"
"...I do not know."
"Why?"
"...I am...a Disciple of a martial school. The Lightning Sword Style. And I've set out to grasp the Heavens with my sword alone." Fuzen closed his eyes and exhaled, the back of the woman he looked up to the most popping up in his mind. The greatest swordswoman to ever live, above even the revered Founder of their martial school in Fuzen's eyes. "And yet...time and time again, when shit hits the fan I can never win with my Sword Style alone. I did come here prepared to use more than just it to win, ready to win just for me and me alone, but…"
"...I'm overwhelmingly more powerful than you, yet you've brought me down to this state. Is that not enough a worthy feat to allow for satisfaction?"
"...I do not know. What I used to win was not my sword style. It was not that which I have earned. It was just that which I owned from the beginning. This is what I decided upon when I came looking for you, but...is this alright? Should I really count this as a win? As an achievement? Should I be...satisfied?"
"Are you not just being arrogant?"
"I... guess so."
"If you are not willing to accept your win, then stretch out your neck and let me kill you instead. I'll take the win for myself even under those circumstances."
What happened next shocked Sakda the most today: it looked like Fuzen was actually pondering on the words and considering them for real. This was the moment Sakda understood just how truly dangerous the boy besides him was, both for himself and everyone else.
Finally, after a long moment of silence Fuzen faintly shook his head.
"How come?"
"...I cannot give any reason. My teachings tell me this win was one not backed by honour, or duty. By all accounts I should not see this as my victory, and should instead seek honour and take your offer. But, I'm not giving it to you."
"Why?" Sakda asked again as he did not receive the answer the he wished for.
Another long moment passed but he got his reply. "Because I don't wanna. It's mine."
"Good." The faintest of smirks found it's way on the Were-Jaguar's lips. "That's how a fighter should be."
The conversation took great strength from both of them and they continued on without words for a while with only the ghastly silence of the Dungeon surrounding them. Sakda felt his grip on life slipping however and was the first to speak again.
"I am part of a group."
"Hm?"
"It's not an official one. We don't have a name, at most we use our Deity's name. And our numbers are small but made up of insanely powerful individuals from all walks of life. But, one does not seek to join on their own. Only those the Boss takes a liking to are allowed to join. Refusal is not optional."
"Why tell me this?"
"...Each year our Boss holds a competition. We fight each other. And the one who places in last is given one chance to get stronger and prove their worth by fighting the member you lost against again. If you cannot win, you are killed. If you try to run, you are hunted down."
"I fail to understand…Ah." Fuzen's words died in his mouth as he finally realized where Sakda was going with his story.
"I placed last. I came to Orario seeking challenge to become stronger."
The thought of Sakda, the man who made his will waver, being the weakest among a group of individuals managed to surprise even Fuzen to some extend. This man beat him to a pulp two times after all.
"We are not a group who cares for each other. It's only the Boss, a swordsman like you, who keeps us all around him by force. Some have tried to escape by making alliances and trying to kill him with numbers, but none of us are a match. All who tried to do so have been cut down effortlessly."
"...Sounds like a bastard to me."
"He is. But he's the strongest. He is madness incarnate: his own children are part of the group. One son died two years ago in the competition. He cared little. Now, only his daughter remains."
"...Why tell me all this?"
"The Boss does not care for the weak. But, I am a part of his group. Once I fail to return he will set out to find me. He will come to Orario. And he will find you, the one who bested and killed me. I do not know when, but it will happen."
Fuzen did not know exactly what to make of the warning. Someone stronger even than Sakda popping up was not a pleasant thought, but then again this is what Fuzen would need moving forward on his path: ever stronger foes to defeat until his stair to the Heavens was tall enough.
"...Let him come."
"As you are now you stand no chance of winning. Getting stronger should be your priority."
"It's always been."
Sakda nodded at the steadfast reply and closed his eyes. He exhaled a long breath, then another. "It's time. Help me up."
"You overestimate me. I am in no better state than you."
"The winner has no right to complain."
"...Tsk."
Pushing himself with both his feet and hands while using the wall as support Fuzen managed to stand up again and move in front of Sakda, placing an arm under the man's armpit and around his back. Slowly but surely he helped him up to his feet, both of them gasping ever so slightly as even standing was hard and tiring.
Once he noticed the man was able to stand on his own Fuzen nodded and moved back a couple of steps, drawing his sword. "You were the first opponent to scare me to the marrow of my bone. I may have won this fight, but...you are superior to me in everything."
"...Thanks. Will my death help you on your path?"
"...Yes." Fuzen nodded, for indeed it already had. He was not sure exactly how just yet but he knew the fear Sakda taught him would probably be beneficial to him in the future. "...Do you have someone who relies on you? If so, I will take care of them in your stead."
The Were-Jaguar smiled ever so slightly but shook his head. "No. Not anymore. Your offer brings me peace however."
"...This next strike is for Alicia." Sakda looked confused and realizing this Fuzen decided to elaborate. "The Elf you kicked. She almost died. I will kill you for that, if for nothing else."
"I see."
They both exhaled and stared at each other for the smallest of moments before they once again moved for the other. His arms having been Fuzen's main focus as he laid out his trap Sakda could barely move them, but even with that said he managed to lift them up and throw a straight punch at the approaching Fuzen.
With his sword in hand he could see the much slower punch approaching but getting out of the way would make him fall to the ground. He could barely dash forward let alone perform any sort of skilful counter. So he decided to take the punch.
The impact, though much weaker compared to the previous hits still managed to shake Fuzen and he began to fall down.
But, that could not be allowed.
Sakda's wounds caused by Rupture would not heal by potions or Magic. Only the man himself could prevent them from getting any worse, but it was too late. He had lost an incredible amount of blood already, the colour already leaving his face.
He would die soon, of that there was no doubt.
And that is why Fuzen felt like he had to make it worthwhile.
He hated Sakda.
He hated the fact that he was much, much stronger than him.
And the fact that he defeated him.
Not to mention, he hurt his Familia.
He truly hated Sakda for all of that.
But, just as much as he hated and feared him Fuzen also respected the man and his power.
So with that said, what kind of irredeemable bastard would he be if he let such a strong individual perish by means of mere blood loss?
Stomping the ground with as much force as he could muster Fuzen kept himself from passing out and falling down. With his off-hand he grabbed Sakda by the inside of his elbow, stepped in and plunged his sword into the Were-Jaguar's chest. Then he twisted it to the right and pulled it out along with a puddle's worth of blood.
Finally he stepped in even closer and held the Were-Jaguar's from falling to the ground by letting him fall on his shoulder instead.
"I...I die standing?"
"Yeah."
"...Heh...Become stronger...stronger than anyone...and grasp the Heavens...Fuzen of the...Lightning Sword Style…"
"...Yeah."
Within the next few seconds Sakda breathed his last and died leaning on the one who killed him, his Ki dispersing into thin air as it left his body along with his soul. Fuzen absent-mindedly reached out and absorbed some of that Ki into himself for his own reserves were all but empty.
It was a very steadfast and calm Ki, a testimony to it's now deceased user's inner stability and iron-clad resolve: Fuzen did not even need to guess to know what kind of hardships the man had encountered during his time for it to become so stable.
'...So tired…' The thought crossed his mind as he lay the man on the ground and fell down on his knees as well.
The fight had been hard but even more exhausting had been the need to actively stop himself from running away. That desire had persisted since he began his dive all the way up until now. It was a miracle he managed to bite through it and keep going, in his opinion.
An even bigger miracle, however, would be if he managed to get back to the surface in one piece.
Pushing himself back up with the support of his sword Fuzen turned around and began to walk, one step at a time.
One, two.
One, two.
One, two.
It wasn't before long however that he stopped and looked over his shoulder.
The man was a murderer.
Many Adventurers died at his hands, Alicia almost counting among them.
Not to mention, he was already dead.
But even so…
'...At the very least, a grave on the surface…'
Suffice to say he soon regretted his decision to grab the man and drag him along.
'H-Heavy…'
But it mattered little. Just as before he continued to walk, one step at a time.
One, two.
One, two.
One, two.
Thud!
When exactly it was that he saw black before his eyes and limply hit the ground, he did not know. He did snap in and out of consciousness with the help of his conditioning which allowed a Disciple to remain mentally awake even when their bodies rested, but the flashes were abrupt enough that he could not tell how much time passed in-between them.
But he could hear that the walls were beginning to crack open, new Monsters being born in his vicinity.
'...Screw my fricking life.'
And yet, the attack did not come. Despite his vulnerable state the Monsters did not rush to maul him to death. With only his sense of touch and hearing to rely on he could not say why this was the case.
That is until he heard heavy steps and the fluttering of wings approaching his position from the opposite side of where the Monsters had been spawned.
XXX
When it happened all motion on the ground floor of Babel stopped abruptly.
Be it the Captains of the smaller Familia still arguing with Finn or the members of the Loki Familia alongside the Guild employees trying to calm down the ever increasing anger of the Adventurers whose diving plans got ruined, everything and everyone stopped when the dragon in the room dispersed into thin air without warning.
Finn's words at the time died in his mouth: he remembered the time Fuzen told him that Raiju's life was intertwined with his own.
If he as the user died, so would Raiju.
The realization of what Raiju's disappearance meant hit him as it did any other Loki member present.
It was simply too hard for them as people who spent time with the boy to imagine him ever just dying like this. His grit and willpower was second to none, great enough that he could stare at any foe no matter how powerful and confidently state: 'I can cut it. I can win.'
So how could this actually be?
They all asked themselves as they stared at the stairs leading into the Dungeon.
It was Bete's reaction who gave them all hope, however, as his ears perked up and he sniffed the air a couple of times before stretching his arm towards Tiona who was about to rush into the Dungeon. "Wait." He half-whispered as he stared at the descending stairs with increased focus.
Thanks to the silence dominating the ground floor they could all hear them before long: loud, heavy stomps accompanied by wheezes of sharp and tired breaths, getting closer and closer.
"Haa…"
"Haaa…"
"Haaa...Fricking tall steps...Haa…"
At the sound of the voice a smirk appeared on Bete's face and on every other Loki member nearby. There he was in the end.
Making his way up the stairs.
He looked like he was already with one foot in the grave: beaten black and blue and covered in blood. His face was swollen and his left eye was no longer visible from the swell, his cheeks and lips were split and bleeding. A noticeable limp was visible with each step he took, and the sharp wheeze one could hear with each breath he took hinted at a punctured lung.
But, there he was.
Kenshi of the Loki Familia, dragging Sakda's body along with him.
The body of the threat neither Ganesha nor Loki Familia as a whole could find nor deal with with very visible wounds all across his body.
Slowly but surely he made his way towards Finn and Shakti and without words or looking at them laid Sakda's body in front of them. He neither threw nor simply let the man fall down, instead placing him down gently and respectfully.
Then he walked past the two Captains and stopped a distance away. Holding his torso with his free hand he looked around at his surroundings despite his vision being blurry and hazy.
There were people around him.
And they were looking at him.
Which meant he was not a ghost now.
It meant he was alive.
He had reached the ground floor of the Babel.
And that meant he survived.
'I...did it. For real...This ain't a dream…I…'
"Hey." He heard someone call out to him and looking up front he noticed what looked like Tiona standing in front of him, her hands behind her back. "You did it, didn't you?" He could not see her face clearly but if he had to guess, she was probably smiling.
"...I did?"
"Yup! Looks like it!"
"I...won."
"Yeah, you did!"
"I...I…"
Being told by another person cemented the fact in his mind and Fuzen felt his eyes getting heavy, the weight he felt on his shoulder and chest slowly disappearing.
His knees touched the floor and he hunched over, feeling what felt like water or some similar liquid pouring out of his eyes. It was an unfamiliar feeling for sure.
Inhale…
Exhale…
Inhale…
Exhale…
"…"
"…"
"...WRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"
And then with tears in his eyes he shouted his first and loudest victory shout ever, until he felt his throat going sore.
XXX
And that's about this Arc.
In truth I am well aware that the introduction of Reflections will probably turn down even more of my already small count of readers.
"Oh god, you are going even more AU with this shitty fic? I'm outta here."
That's probs what some people will think after this Chapter.
Then again this has been an idea for a long time coming. Back then I thought of calling it Ki Skill or Ability, but then again similar-named things are already found within the Falna, so I went with Reflection in the end.
Since it fits, this ability being a reflection of the user's inner desires, impulses and wishes.
Also, as a bit of a heads-up going forward: so far I have tried to keep Fuzen's strength in check by making use of various dampeners and reasons to keep him "within reasonable limits".
That is no longer going to be the case.
From here on out he'll get as strong as he should get through the achievements and training he is going to pile up.
I think so far I have tried to subconsciously keep things controlled to please some of the more sceptical readers I guess, but that's out of the window now.
The fic is called "Grasp the Heavens" after all.
But yeah.
Took me a long time but finally we have this behind us.
Next Chapter will be back with bandages, angry Doctors, punishment and just everyday life in general.
Hope you enjoyed the read and see you next time.
Kay bye.
PS:
Reviews. Gimme. -_-