Chapter VI - Fate

A loud gasp came from Harry, trying to breathe in, but a suffocating darkness prevented him from grabbing much air. Whaaaat? Harry was slowly growing spatially aware. He felt like he was dying in the darkness again, but this time he could not see the same light that was zooming around like before—until it suddenly clicked in, and he awakened, trying to breathe again, noticing a weight on his back, and himself being pressured against the bed he was sleeping in.

A sudden sharp stabbing pain rocked through the back of his neck, penetrating deep, and releasing a cold concoction into his bloodstream. His heart immediately raced, then a surge of adrenaline rose from deep in his guts as the claustrophobia kicked in. “ARGH!” Harry screamed into the pillow, trying to move his hand, but it did not result in much. Although he did find the slender, smooth skin of what appeared to be a foot, as soon as he touched what he thought was its sole, a mischievous female laugh ensued. In what appeared to be some sort of retribution, he felt an incredibly sharp nerve pain, coming from the girl further putting pressure on Harry’s pinned arms with what had to be her knees.

Meanwhile, the concoction was still spreading throughout his entire body, bringing a cool, refreshing sensation that gave way to a slowly growing numbing, and paralyzing effect all over his body, with the extremities feeling more strongly the initial impact. “Urgh!” He tried to roll his entire body to the side, desperately, but whoever this girl was, she must have known how to pin someone down. At least he was able to bend his neck backward a bit to gather some needed fresh air, but doing so triggered an additional surge of pain from whatever was stabbing him in the neck—like as if he had a neck strain. He groaned, trying to scream with all the might he had “LEMME OUT! LEMME—humpf!”

A hand slammed Harry’s head into the pillow, muffling his screams. “Shut the fuck up!” A cold sounding girly voice oozed with anger.

My nose! Waa! I can’t breathe! Her anger pushed Harry’s head so far into the pillow that it felt like it was about to break inwards and pierce his skull—I can’t breathe! It hurts! Harry began losing his breath, and his groans turned into muffled screams, “EIRI! HELP!” He used his last breath to call for her, but nothing happened. His entire body felt chilled, as if he had just taken a cold shower. His heart was throttling back, apparently betraying his own racing mind. With his arms and legs growing completely numb, and forcibly relaxing too, he tried to flay them around with one last hurrah, but they also betrayed him. Most of his body, at least where he thought they would be, was now replaced with a waning tingle mixed with numbness. Like a dying fish, Harry was growing less agitated, but if you looked closely into its eye, you could still see the looming doom.

“FUCK! That took a while.” Now an angrier voice came from whoever was pinning down Harry, releasing him from a death by suffocation. A nice pop sound came next, sounding awfully similar to when Eiri had popped the nari gel open.

Harry no longer had the strength to even move his head away from the pillow to draw fresh air. Instead, he kept gasping, feeling the impending doom of the encroaching darkness knocking at his door. Help! Harry tried to scream again, but only his mind murmured the words, while his mouth just let out a gargle. He pictured himself on the warmth of Eiri’s shoulder again as his eyes grew teary. His entire body now merged with the bed; he could not feel where things started, or ended—in a way he had become one with the universe.

“Yes! Finally!—who are you?” The anger in the girl’s voice disappeared, leaving behind a certain elegance, and charm.

What do you—want from me! Harry tried to speak, but his mouth only murmured and gargled nonsense into the pillow. The nonsense turned into a grunt when a newfound pressure began on his neck, not even really hurting this time. Coincidentally, not long after Harry felt like he forgot something. Something important—like someone at his door, knocking for his attention, but he did not expect anyone to stop by today. Ahh—it’s fine. His thoughts began to murk into one another, tethering on the verge of losing consciousness, where life or death are both a step away. Seeing everything black, not even knowing which way is up, kinda reminded him of when he was in the red recliner watching TV, eating tacos and drinking beer. The beer tasted so refreshingly crispy, as if it just came out of a near frozen tap. The tacos were so fresh it appeared the cooker from the taco shop had come to his house and made it especially for him—maybe it was him that knocked at the door? On the TV he saw a greenish light, but then his eyes adjusted, and he suddenly saw a familiar ceiling basked in a green light. Home?

“Who are you?” The girl placed her hand on his neck, ready to suffocate him, as the rest of her naked body lay on top of him.

Harry, slowly moving his eyes down to the perpetrator, saw a familiar girly figure with long purple hair, her perky breasts had tantalizing nipples, deliriously calling for someone to suck them. Her wide vicious grin, like a hyena about to kill its prey, shone in the green moonlight. He saw her before, but just could not register who it was even though her face was clearly visible in the green moonshine. The girl spoke something unintelligible towards him, then slapped him in the face. He could not even feel the slap as he saw her vicious pink eyes staring at him. He then felt a pressure on his neck that intensified with each passing second. He gargled, and murmured unintelligible groans in response. Suddenly, he saw her licking her hand, and then moving it between her thighs, adjusting herself towards him, where she began to stroke her hips on his mouth and nose. He saw her tastefully play with her erect nipples in the bask of the green moonlight; at least for a bit as somehow the room was growing darker, and darker.

Before the stranger knew it, everything became black—

Harry felt something rhythmically strike him in the face, pressuring him. Wake up. He heard a voice inside his mind, but the voice did not sound like his. This thing, still striking his head, grew in pressure, and intensity. In the middle of what appeared to be a boot up from a deep, but unrestful slumber, his mind slowly grew aware of his surroundings. That was until he suddenly had a flashback to something on top of him, somehow asphyxiating him. With a loud gasp, seeking for air as if he was underwater for five minutes, Harry snapped back into reality.

“Going to the duel?” A gray-haired man with blue hair strands at one side asked with a rather uncaring monotone, holding the contract Harry signed not long ago—at least based on Harry’s feeling of how much time has passed.

Harry, resting against the softness of the bed sheets, looked at this male figure, wearing a black long-sleeved undershirt that contrasted with a blue and gold sleeveless thin sweater. Vaguely looking towards this male figure, he finally remembered who he was, specifically when Sora spoke after him during dinner. “K—ibe?”

“Yes—I’m Kibe. Now go get dressed! Everyone is waiting, and I’m not gonna get blamed for it!” Kibe, not exactly looking entertained, pointed the rolled up bloodied contract towards the bathroom.

Nodding, Harry made a motion to sit up in bed. A groan came out of him, feeling sore, as if he had just ran a marathon. His neck felt funny too, from maybe sleeping wrongly, but it was also quite tender—like he tried to show off by deadlifting far more than what he could. He stood up and lay his feet on the cold floor, finally feeling them as if they were not there just now. Standing up, his thighs, and back were slightly out of balance, and he felt some sort of vertigo kick in, which somehow disappeared as he started to get his blood moving, slowly walking towards the bathroom.

A hum came out of Kibe, sizing Harry up and down from his back.

Harry looked back at Kibe, and saw him shift his gaze away from him, then walk towards the door. Looking down at his pelvis, he instead saw his hairy belly blocking most of his exposed down-under companion from his eyes. “Oh! Sorry!” Harry’s eyes startled, and he looked like he was electrocuted, quickly jumping towards the bathroom, and closing the door.

“You forgot your clothes! And fix your hair too!” Kibe spoke loudly, ensuring Harry would hear across the bathroom door.

Looking around the bathroom, Harry looked around for something to wear, but there was nothing. “Can you pick it up for me, please?”

“You do it.” Kibe’s uncaring voice clapped back like a slap.

Harry went to open the door, but he paused instead. Looking for a way out, he glanced towards the drawers, remembering when Eiri pulled a towel out of one. Luckily for him, there were a few, so he wrapped one of them on his lower back, and made his way back to the bedroom, where Kibe was still at the door, facing the stairs. Harry, by reflex, smiled slightly as they made eye contact. He really does not sound happy.

Kibe did not smile back; he just looked back to the stairs. “Get it over with.”

Where did I put it? Harry glanced around the bedroom, but could not find his clothes—at least until he walked past the bed, and found them, on a pile in the ground close to where Kibe was standing. Grabbing them, and making his way back to the bathroom, Harry quickly put on his black underwear, pants, and socks only to realize that he was smelling something different all this time. It was like sweat, but also faintly sweet. He looked at himself in the large mirror hanging on the door. It was still him, but now he started to feel more like him—rather than expecting an even fatter man wearing glasses. Focusing on his face, he did not see anything, even though he for sure could feel this slightly dried slimy feeling. He touched it, took a whiff, and ended up tasting it too. What is this?—hmm—it’s not bad.

Suddenly, a vision of what appeared to be a distant, murky dream came to him. He saw himself gasping for air, unable to move, fearing something humanoid in shape taking the life out of his eyes. Gasping for air, cold sweats bubbled up on Harry’s forehead. He then felt an off-balance sensation, as if he was on a small boat in the ocean being thrown around in a seesaw motion. He felt this sensation within him explode, as if he was in extreme danger, and he had to do something right that instant—but who knew what. He dry heaved on the sink, holding himself to it as if his life depended on it, while his heart pounded hard as if was running away from someone holding a bloodied knife. Whatever this sudden sensation was, it started to disappear as fast as it spiked up.

“Can we just get this—” The bathroom door opened. “Oh—feeling the pressure?” Kibe still held the contract in his hand, holding the bathroom door half-open.

Harry, with teary eyes, dry heaved for one last time. Spitting thick saliva in the sink, he then let out a groan as he let his neck relax. “I—dunno—I’m sorry.”

“Then get it over with.” Kibe closed the door.

Doing as told, Harry struggled with buttoning his shirt again. That was until he pictured Eiri slapping his gut. Taking a deep breath, he pulled in his enlarged stomach with all his might, straining his face, and successfully buttoning his shirt in a swift move. Angering the water spirits by daring to open the water valve atop the sink, he then cleaned his face, and refreshed his hair—although an actual bath was definitely in order as he smelled sweaty, and his armpits were developing their own signature stench. Going back to the bedroom, he slipped on his shoes, then followed Kibe after he left him behind.

Without saying a word, Kibe carefreely walked down the spiral stairs, without even looking back to Harry to ensure he was following him.

Harry’s arms and legs felt slightly sore, as if he had done a bit too much elliptical. He looked at Kibe, still not saying anything as they reached the first floor. “Where are we going to duel?”

“You'll see,” Kibe curtly replied, scratching his neck using the contract as he stepped on a random child’s drawing resting on the floor, with a few crayons hanging by it.

Hmm. He looks pissed, so maybe I should keep it shut. Walking out into the courtyard, Harry felt the true shine of the sun, ticklishly warming his skin, and invading his eyes. He looked at the sky, and saw a beautiful summer day with barely any clouds around. Soothing the warmness of the sun, a weak gust of brisk wind passed by, playing with the green grass, and flowers.

“Get over here! If you stray too far, you will be killed by the guards.” Kibe was a ways forward, glancing back at Harry.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, feeling like someone punched his guts from the inside. With rushed steps, he made his way towards Kibe, and kept himself to no more than two steps away from him, nearly stepping on his shoes. They walked past the large boxy castle, revealing to Harry what was beyond it for the first time, a large wooden door with a highly intricate jumping Sanbi blue fish illustration about the height of two men. *Eiri never mentioned that—*feeling an urge to know more, Harry could not help himself. “Excuse me—sorry, but why?”

“It’s the rules,” Kibe spoke back with an annoyance oozing from his tone, he then turned around, taking out something from his pocket.

Harry looked back at Kibe, holding out with an extended fist, appearing to want to fist bump. Being a fine gentleman, Harry fist bumped him.

“Argh.” The gray-haired man grabbed Harry’s hand and slapped whatever he was holding into it. “Don’t lose it!” He turned back towards the door, and cleared his throat. “BY THE ORDER OF KIBE SANBI ROYAL! OPEN THE DOORS!”

Harry looked at his hand. A green wooden badge, about the size of a credit card, just like Eiri’s, now rested on his hands, but this time the name Harry Sanbi was carved instead. A faint smell came from it, and when Harry sniffed it closer, he could smell burnt wood—revealing just how fresh the badge was. “It’s my badge!” Harry held the badge with both hands, feeling a piece of himself in this world as the heavy door began to creak open towards them.

The sound of hinges screaming as they made their best to keep the heavy door afloat echoed everywhere. Two guards appeared, each pushing a side of the door with all their might. Their clothing had a darker blue accent to them, with fish leather texture on both the tank-top-like shirt and helmet. The clothing overall looked light, agile, while the helmet had extra protection, with a dark stripe around the eyes—likely to block off excess sun. As a choice of style over function, the helmet also had a large blue Mohawk, similar to ancient Roman helmets, but more like a dollar store rip-off version of it. On the front, they carried two small knives, and a fanny pack. On the back, they carried a bow and quivers. The bow also had a receptacle just below where the arrow was strung, coincidentally for something just about the size of a nari gel—possibly where arrows would get dipped right before drawing the bow.

Harry, following Kibe’s step without a hitch, stepped out of the castle walls, towards the outside world into what appeared a large roundabout in front of him, with a large fountain decorating the middle. In that fountain stood another large Sanbi fish, but this time in the form of a statue.

The roundabout was packed with people, in what appeared to be a street party. They gave way to both Kibe and Harry.

There’s a lot of people here. Harry’s eyes saw a sea of skin colors and body sizes. Humans, some skinny, some muscly, and some even thick, or EXTRA THICC as some would put it. This wide spectrum also applied to humanoids ranging from tiny, baby-size versions of Sora to inhumanly tall and strong versions of Sora—about as strong as an orc too. So that’s what Sorefaries, Wozefaries, and Darfaries look like. Harry noticed the size of the canine teeth poking out did change according to how big or small they were, just like the book he had glanced over yesterday. The same book also had a detailed examination of the entrails on the next page—which looked just like any other human on the inside. Harry tried to kill that gross thought, concentrating back in the real world.

One of those tiny humanoids flew by his head, then suddenly hovered, halting its forward movement. Waving with a welcoming smile, this tiny humanoid looked like a hostess at a bar—dressed like one too even, including wearing a large belt pouch on the side, which one could assume was for money.

Harry waved back, noticing he had the same vein as Sora, but instead of being plain red, it had a faint white flame that seemed to be converted to spewing absolutely black flame, constantly changing its size across the vein appearing in both arms, and meeting on his back—like the monopropellant of a spaceship spewing out from within to finely adjust its orbit. His feet meanwhile, seemed to be dangling freely. Suddenly, Harry felt like he tripped on something, nearly falling on his face.

“Grrrr!” an alligator-like humanoid, with a large snout in its face, stood on two legs, with a large tail protruding from his lower back, from underneath a large shirt that went down its knees. The creature gargled, or grunted as it held its tail in pain. Aside from the simple shirt, this creature also wore a hat with the name Fico written on the sides, plus also what appeared to be a chain around its neck, holding a book with a leather pocket where a charcoal piece stuck out.

“I’m—sorry.” Still following Kibe’s footsteps, Harry looked back to the humanoid—or more like alligator-noid—with a mix of shrug and surrender. His face held back fear as he heard another grunt, but this time sounding more tame than before. As he passed by a fountain, towards an open area, Harry sighed in relief after finally seeing a few familiar faces: Sora, Eiri, Neferteri, Itagiba, and others.

Eiri returned a smile towards him, but one could see the tremor in her eyes.

Squeezing the corners of her maid dress, Sora looked down in shame, as if she was a shy girl about to ask a boy for prom in a high school corridor—in front of everyone, of course.

“Yo! Harry! Get in the center!” Stopping suckling his beer like it was a baby bottle, Itagiba waved his hand towards the big circular-ish open area in front of them.

Being among people is one thing, but being surrounded by them is an entirely different thing. At least that’s what Harry’s anxiety told him as he felt something stuck in his throat now that everyone’s eyes were really on him. His hands tried to hide themselves away in the pocket of his pants, but there were no pockets, so they just fumbled around, having no idea what to do—nearly dropping his badge in the process.

Appearing from amongst the people on the other side, a familiar, strong-looking lady stomped towards him, with a berserker aura around her. She grinned her teeth like a savage animal, while her knuckles were white from how tight her fist was.

Itagiba, the king of Sanbi, let out a small burp before raising his voice against the whispering crowd. “WELCOME MY SANBI FRIENDS!” He spoke as loudly as he could, but not loud enough to strain his voice. Successfully taming the crowds with an energy only a few have, his darker, elite-looking badge written in red ink went high up in the air. The corners had four distinctly colored shiny balls, going from top-right red, blue, green, and finishing with yellow on the top-left. Itagiba rotated his hand around, making sure everyone could see the glimmering red light from the thermometer-like apparatus.

The lively crowd quieted down, all paying attention to the Sanbi Royals standing right in front of the Sanbi statue fountain.

Itagiba, with a relaxed expression, and gleeful smile continued his royally upbeat speech, raising his voice further, to the edge of a scream. “SANBI-EYE OR MAIARA’S HAND! EITHER WAY, HARRY WILL BECOME ONE OF US, AND HELP PROTECT YOU ALL!”

Cheers came from the rowdy crowd, feeling the energy coming from Itagiba’s willed soul. However, as the second passed a wave of questioning began rising from within. “Sanbi-eye? What’s that?” A stranger’s voice near Harry sounded off.

Someone else close by sharply spoke back, eagerly, and confidently saying, “He’s gonna watch out for THE Sanbi King!” Harry looked towards the voice, and saw a skinny guy, about his height, but far older. His pure white hair showed he was well into retirement—assuming he was not one of those people that only stop working when they literally drop dead.

A Darfaries, a humanoid race nearly twice as tall as humans, spoke after, in a firm and deeper tone, almost like an orc grunt. “No, you stupid Brunto! The king hasn’t shown up in ages. He’s gonna find where new Sanbi fishing spots are!”

Harry, lost in the conversation between these strangers, noticed a glint of light coming from where the Sanbi royals stood. Looking back, he saw Kibe energizing a spell. The white rings around his hands had two red balls of DNA strands circling about, right before he released it on Neferteri’s hands. The spell took a quick effect on her, swelling up her chin and neck, like she had developed goiter out of the blue.

Neferteri cleared her throat, and raised her badge high up, showing to everyone that it had the same bioluminescence as her husband’s, while her badge was the same wood green color as everyone else's, including Harry’s badge. “Yes, my lovely people, this is a new program we are experimenting with to ensure all the needs, specifically the citizens from distant villages, are all heard in an official manner.” Her voice sounded like she was shouting from the top of her lungs, but it did not sound coarse, or strained at all, as if she had a megaphone built-in on her throat.

The crowd cheered once again, but this time the rowdiness and sheer excitement were tamed down. Not that they were less excited per se, but just something about Neferteri’s energy not being as raw as Itagiba’s.

Being precise in her timing, Neferteri continued her speech right as the crowd’s cheering started to die down. “For that, we wanted to select a proper representative, one we can bestow duties for an extended period of time, ensuring he will be able to properly understand your needs, and your life experiences. With that said, I would like to introduce you all to Harry Sanbi.” Neferteri slowly raised her hand towards Harry, with a slight smile tugging the corners of her mouth—remaining as elegant as ever.

The crowd turned their attention to Harry. Meanwhile, Harry stood there, shakily holding his badge, sweating nervously as the curious eyeballs of everyone around apparently all waited for him to do something.

“Move your badge up, you dipshit!” Maiara, speaking through her grinning teeth, looked ready to perform an impromptu teeth removal surgery with her fist.

Looking at his badge, slightly shaking in his hands, Harry slowly raised it above his head. The glimmer coming out of the red thermometer-like apparatus only covered a small portion of the thinner bar, but it was nonetheless visible to everyone.

Fainting cheers ensued, with some claps here, some alligator grunts there—nothing to fawn over, but it wasn’t completely silent either—Harry probably needed to invest a few more skill points in public speaking as he seeped the energy away from the crowd that Itagiba had initially infused.

Noticing Harry being silent, Neferteri continued speaking with the same elegance, and confidence as a president's speech, while also sounding just as canned, and heavily rehearsed too, “Harry came from the Sanbi slums, and due to an unfortunate accident, he lost all his memories. Princess Maiara saw beauty in him, while we, Sanbi royals, saw an opportunity for him to become something bigger than himself. However, nothing in this world is for free—”

Maiara, meanwhile, nodded at the words Neferteri stated, letting through a temporary grinned smile amidst her voracity to combat Harry. There was clearly enjoyment coursing through her anger, imagining doing something to Harry that he himself could not even fathom.

“—Hence, we created this event ruled by a customized Gandew Duel. Death will not determine the loser, but rather the inability to defend one’s position. All other rules shall remain original to its nature.” Neferteri lowered her badge, and looked towards Kibe, giving a nod.

“Lower your badge, you little cunt,” Maiara spoke again through her dangerous grin towards Harry, apparently trying to keep the show on some sort of rails, making her anger now seem less genuine. Perhaps her toothy grinning, grinding teeth, and overall scary expression were more like a “Game on, bitch” type of thing, rather than actual hatred towards Harry.

Harry did so, and held the badge with his hands as if it was a good luck charm.

Kibe, now also with a swollen neck and chin from applying the same spell on himself, while Neferteri was going about her business, lifted his badge kinda above his head—perhaps an unwillingness to go all the way up, or a certain air of laziness. He then unscrambled a folded paper from his pocket, and read it as confidently as a college student presenting a research paper he threw together the night before. “Yesterday, Gabiro screwed up a research spell trying to get Fanchakis to be larger. He says he is sorry, but he can’t come in today, so I'm covering for him.” He put his badge away, and put the rolled contract up in the air instead. “If Harry wins, he will get Maiara’s hand. If he loses, he’s gonna have a debt of five hundred sapphires and work as Sanbi-eye until the debt is repaid.”

The crowd got serious, perhaps even a little exasperated by the words “five hundred sapphires.” Whispering began between some of them, while others somehow turned tail, and started competing to see who would arrive first at a reddish wagon with a sign saying Betting Wagon with an illustration of two large blue tickets, and balls of different colors right below it.

Harry, meanwhile, looked around, seeing a mix of facial expressions towards him. Is five hundred that bad? He looked towards Eiri for an answer, but all she provided was a simple slow nod with her thin lips.

Kibe continued, now pointing the contract towards Sora, already reddened in the face, involuntarily holding her skirt—nearly tearing the stitches apart by sheer embarrassment, looking like she knew her fate. “Sora Sanbi Blue-Grass is gonna do the check.”

What check? Harry felt ticklish inside his mind, dumping more curiosity, with a hint of sexual drive to the swirling pools of emotions within him.

Walking towards him, Sora pulled out her badge from between her small breasts, and raised it above her head, as high as she could, even going as far as raising her feet and walking like a ballerina to see if it helped everyone notice her—it didn’t, but it was a cute attempt nonetheless.

Harry’s hands now felt like touching her badge—amongst other things of hers, but that was just one of the thoughts rushing through his mind at the moment as everything felt so foreign.

Now standing between them, Sora quickly hid her badge in the shallow depth of her breasts. Looking ready to speak, Sora’s head appeared as if it was gonna merge with her torso. “If you pardon me, Princess Maiara Sanbi! I need to perform the check—” The embarrassed words barely got out as she spoke as fast as she could, then bowed towards Maiara as if she was apologizing for having to commit the utmost sin of mankind.

“Just get it over with.” Maiara placed her feet evenly spaced apart and her hands straight out to the sides, while her angered face shifted into an eye-rolling one.

“Yes—my apologies, Princess Maiara. I will be as fast as I can.” Sora’s reddened face drew straight, paying attention as she started to sniff stuff like a dog. Crouching down, she smelled her feet, then up her legs, hovering near her privates, then finishing up by smelling her stomach, and lower back. “Please—princess Maiara—close your eyes and—”

Without waiting for Sora to finish, Maiara crouched down as she closed her eyes, keeping her hands wide to the side.

Harry watched the ritual unfold alongside the eagerly anticipating audience. That’s weird. Is she trying to find something? Harry noticed how Sora’s small nose was wide open, taking small, quick breaths pretty close to Maiara’s skin, sometimes even tasting the air as well. Harry’s mind felt something familiar about it, like he had seen this before, but somehow a human, or at least a humanoid figure doing it seemed off. Until suddenly his mind struck gold—well, more like pyrite, but it was better than nothing now that he had a faint recollection of his family dog sniffing the large taco on his hand—or perhaps it was his hand that was child size, and made the taco look big. Haven’t seen any dogs around either—I thought they were more common.

Continuing what appeared to be a ritual, Sora smelled her hair, then her neck, upper back, then focused on her arms and hands. She licked Maiara right in the space between her middle and ring fingers, and tasted the result like she was enjoying the plate of prosciutto, all before returning to smell her chest and face. Turning to Kibe, she shook her head as she once again grasped her maid skirt—while not even managing to make eye contact, of course.

Kibe pointed towards Harry, standing still, observing the “check” with an estranged smile. As Sora approached him, he put his hand out, and feet apart just like Maiara. I hope Sora doesn’t start calling me a cunt too.

Avoiding eye contact, Sora approached him. “Excuse me, sir Harry—” She crouched, and began sniffing him up the same way as Maiara, including the same private-smelling course of action—which made him tense up as he sometimes could feel her puffs of air—also her cutesy face looking like she was about to give head probably did not help his wildly wavering mental status.

“Sir—please crouch down, extend your arms and close your eyes.” The girly voice coming from within Sora barely got out—her rosacea looked so brightly red that one could fear she was having a high fever.

Harry did as told, but his body was not pleased, or prepared for a live session of yoga. The joint of his knees cracked, and his legs felt like he was carrying a dead cow on his shoulders. At the same time a small rip could be heard—coincidentally coming from his behind. Somehow, he was able to get to the requested position.

Harry felt a shiver down his spine, letting out a quick moan when a small, moistly warm thing—coincidentally in the shape of Sora’s tongue—gave him a quick lick in the neck. Breaking the rules, he looked at the perpetrator, mid-tasting something with a tight face—maybe whatever she was tasting was probably over seasoned, at least based on how she seemed to be salivating heavily as her eyes strained. Although, she now kinda looked like a cat having a brain freeze, putting her cutesy tongue out, and shaking her head.

Apparently realizing being caught in the act, she jumped like a kitten being startled, and planted her face in her hands, shaking her head furiously in the process. “Hmhmhmhm—” A lovable embarrassed muffled scream came as she ran towards Eiri, hiding behind her back.

The spectators around all looked intrigued, awaiting Sora to come out of her shell. Meanwhile, talking in the background started.

“He looks normal—what would he have injected on his neck?” Harry heard a guy in green clothes, standing close by speaking out loud.

“I bet ten pearls it’s a fake body.” A woman in pink retorted. “No way that’s what Maiara likes. Have you seen Yacamin’s husband?”

“Just go check his Darfaries interface already!” Kibe, with his arms crossed, loudly spoke towards the guest star of the dueling show, still in her shell, hiding behind Eiri.

“You said to me you wanted to do it! Now go do it! C’mon Sora!” Eiri hugged her, prying her from her back, towards her side, then walking her towards Harry. “Harry, can you extend your hands towards her?”

Sora revealed her tomato-red face to the public, and quickly smelled Harry’s hand. Closing her eyes, she stuck out her tongue to lick his hand, right in the same spot as she did to Maiara—between the middle and ring fingers. She seemingly kept trying to taste something as her mouth grew slack, only to then face Eiri with an open stare. “I’m sorry king-maid, but my senses are off.” Her saddening speech was not its usual rap-pace, more like G-funk.

“That’s okay. Let’s go tell Kibe what you found.” Eiri walked Sora towards Kibe, holding her tightly from the side, seeming to give a bit of comfort from the sea of eyes looking at them.

Kibe let out a groan, and bent to the side to hear what she had to say. Kibe loudly murmured, “Hm-hm—oh?—huh?—I see—okay. Got it!” before standing up, and half-heartedly raising the contract. “Harry only has Fake Eye right now, but Sora tasted a bunch of what appears to be hardcore stuff that was injected in him beforehand. They do not appear to be active at the moment—Maiara?”

“Pfff—like I fucking care! That fake eye ain’t gonna do shit to help him! Just call it already!” Maiara shrugged with a pout as she cracked her necks and hands.

Kibe looked towards Sanbi royals. The already kinda silent festival grew pretty dead; everyone focused their attention on Neferteri.

“If Maiara says it’s fine.” Itagiba raised his bottle, then proceeded to suck on it again, while Neferteri did a slow nod, raising her badge.

“Fine. I call the checking done!” Kibe lowered the contract, and stepped back to merge with the audience.

The audience celebrated. “Owwww! Game is on!” A random person screamed out loud amongst the cheers.

Itagiba, meanwhile, picked up an artifact that looked like an hourglass, but had a thicker wooden structure around it, with three switches on the side. He played with them, then shook the artifact around.

Meanwhile, the public’s volume increased, while a bald man of tall stature, wearing blue and black rags, spit on the ground near Harry “So you were a druggy from the slums, huh? Get the fuck out of here! MAIARA! Choose me instead! I GOT BIG DICK ENERGY—!”

“Nobody fucking asked you, small prick!” Showing him the middle finger, Maiara replied faster than the guy could finish his sentence.

A thinner gentleman, a few steps away, in blue Sanbi scale clothing, spoke back “SHUT UP, DAVE! We all know what you did with the Sanbi heads.”

The public all seemed to remember something, triggering a bunch of laughter, driving the attention away from Harry, while also leaving him cluelessly out of the conversation.

Dave, the stranger with apparently big dick energy, was now silently huffing under his own breath, crossing his arms as if someone chopped off his energy source.

Harry slightly furrowed his brow. But I am not from the slums, right? He glanced towards Eiri, but she was busy attending to Sora.

Itagiba caught everyone's attention when he struck the hourglass-like artifact onto the table “ALL RIGHT, MY PEEPS! PLACE YOUR BETS! WET YOUR LIPS! AND GET READY TO CELEBRATE! YOU GOT A SMALL TIMEHUNK BEFORE THE DUEL STARTS!”

The crowd cheered back, starting to move around, including into the open area.

Harry and Maiara exchanged glances. Harry stood there, still, seeing Maiara take a deep breath, holding her anger from punching him in the face—or feeding her anger by staring at him with an intent to punch him in the face. It was hard to tell, to be honest. She then walked off towards Neferteri, leaving Harry all alone amongst the strangers walking about.

The Sanbi royals, watching over the duel, didn’t seem too keen to celebrate either, except for Nina, the small pink princess. Her hands were up in the air as she ran towards the food and candy stands, only to have Neferteri tell a nearby maid to watch over her. Eori kept to herself, seemingly silently enjoying the party.

The king of Sanbi, Itagiba, called Harry over with a wide hand motion as he walked to the side of the table where the weapons were all laid out.

As Harry approached Itagiba, someone of corpulent body size, wearing a straw hat with a red tree accent on it, intervened between them. “Itagiba!” He sounded pretty cheery, if not liquored up as well.

“Yo! Fenafo! Long time no see! Enjoying the party?” Itagiba shook hands with the man, which then turned into a hug with a slap in the back.

“Of course I am! Great to see Maiara find someone she likes!” The man held Harry’s shoulder. “I hope you will protect her well!” Looking at Princess Maiara, talking with Neferteri not far off, he let out a belly laugh. “Hahaha—well, not that you’d have to do much—right? Hehehe—” Fenafo, a man of corpulent size, belly laughed as he saw Itagiba browsing through the weapons.

“Ain’t that right? That’s why I gotta find something that helps Harry out.” Itagiba picked up a large black sword with ease, and handed it over towards Harry, “Let’s try this.”

The weight of the sword almost broke Harry’s wrist—at least that’s what Harry felt as the sword bent forward, and struck the ground. The intensity of the strike rattled Harry’s bones, almost straining his muscles in the process, while also catching the attention, and laughter of some passersby.

Fenafo sized up Harry, and patted him on the shoulder. “Uffda—good luck boy!” He walked closer to Itagiba, and said something in his ear.

“Don’t worry, Fenafo, I did not forget it!” Itagiba, with a serious tone, gave a bright smile and a nod to Fenafo, watching him part way towards the nearest beer stand. Grabbing a far smaller sword, he exchanged it with Harry. “Remember! The size doesn’t matter, it’s how you penetrate it.” Itagiba smirked.

A nervous smile came out of Harry, feeling some of his tension being levitated away by the rather fatherly, or at least uncle-like spirit oozing from Itagiba. He brought the sword closer to view, and saw the words “Sanbi Royal” carved in red in the cyan blade. The sword looked real—it felt real.

“YES! Check this shit out!” Itagiba held up a square-looking artifact with spikes on the front.

“Now this is some good shit. Have you seen it before? Of course you haven’t.” Itagiba did not even let Harry say a word before he tilted the shield-looking artifact so Harry could see the front, where it would be flush with someone’s wrist when worn, “It’s like a shield, but you wear it on your wrist.”

Harry noticed that the shield had logogram pairs sticking out, all looking awfully similar to the ones on the sigil rings—with one being the same pair of logograms Eiri had used to heal his sliced thumb. Another pair had four parallel lines with a plus logogram, with another stranger pair beside it also composed of two logograms, one of a body with the hands blacked out, and a circle with arrows pointing outward.

“Gimme your arm.” Itagiba unbuttoned the strap inside the shield and started strapping firmly on Harry’s left forearm. “All right, Harry. You know what to do with these, right?”

“Uhhh—no?” Harry raised the shortsword, and the strapped shield. “I don’t think I ever fought before.”

A nearby passerby overheard the conversation, and butted in, “Are you saying this is a sham fight?” His dark purple eyes looked like two precious stones. He wore dark red clothing, gray blue hair, and had the same Wozefaries qualities and height as Sora, but he was an older male instead.

Itagiba let out a nervous chuckle, wrapping Harry in his shoulders. “Of course he fought before! He’s from the slum! We’re talking about Gandew duels, you curious winga!”

The passerby narrowed his eyes. “You really think so? He doesn’t look agile enough to be using that.” He pointed his head towards the short sword Harry was carrying.

“Absofuckinlutely. Wanna bet a beer there’s gonna be at least two rounds?” Itagiba’s chuckles turned serious, ready to throw down a fight of his own.

The passerby looked at the royal vibe oozing from Itagiba, specifically how his sapphire crusted gems on his neck shone in the sun. “I already placed my bet.” The passerby took out a blue ticket from within his pocket.

“Good. Hope you win! But remember, the kingdom will win either way, and that’s what really matters.” Itagiba nodded, with his face right up to Harry. “Right, Harry?”

“Y–yes.” A not-so-confident voice came out of Harry, feeling Itagiba’s muscles squeeze him a bit at the neck.

The passerby looked at Harry, then Itagiba, then touched his finger on the side of his forehead, and then moved it forward, like he was tipping an imaginary hat, and disappeared into the crowd.

Itagiba whispered towards Harry’s ear, “We’re here to throw a party, don’t be negative or you will ruin the mood.” He looked at Harry with fervor in his eyes, silently waiting for Harry to confirm.

Gulping, Harry nodded at the king of Sanbi. I guess I’m not gonna say anything else.

“Good. So, now let’s go over the basics. A dice will be thrown, and if it lands on the color you choose, you make a single attack.” Itagiba threw his arms as if he was doing a down swipe attack. He then defended himself, throwing his muscly arm out in front, and bending back to take the brunt of an imaginary attack. “Otherwise you defend. The catch is that you can’t evade, or you will automatically lose. You have to take the brunt of the attack.”

Harry looked at Maiara in the background, also glancing towards him with a large tribal-like hammer in hand. A chilling sensation went down his spine, feeling the theoretical weight of it coming down at him.

“But here’s the catch, you can counterattack as long as it is a defensive move.” Itagiba pointed to Harry’s shortsword. “When she is about to strike you, raise the Tolerideme shield so that your arm takes the brunt of it, then stab her in the belly with the other hand.” Itagiba made an okay sign, “That should make things interesting for everyone.”

Stab her in the belly? Harry brought the shortsword to a closer view, and looked at Maiara’s belly as she walked back towards where she previously stood up. Harry’s breath grew shallow, and his skin pale. His hands went next, beginning to tremble as he rehearsed the defense in his mind, until something clicked. “Attack! What about attacking?”

Meanwhile, Neferteri walked by nearby, and started to handle the hourglass-like artifact, flipping switches, and shaking it to make some of the sand disappear behind a trapdoor on the side.

“Ow? That’s easy. Maiara is confident in her hammer, but she is wide open when it comes to defense. Just stab her again to slow her down as both of you can’t heal between turns.” Itagiba looked at Harry’s weapons. “Just pour your heart into it, and you’re gonna be fine. Remember, we’re all here to have fun.”

We’re here to have fun? Harry looked at Neferteri, coming closer to her husband.

“It’s time, Nefi?” Itagiba looked at her, expecting she would not say a word.

Neferteri closed her eyes, and slowly nodded. Her throat was still swollen, so perhaps she was unable to speak at a normal volume.

“Sweet. Let’s get this show on the road. Harry, go back to the middle.” Itagiba shooed Harry towards where Maiara stood by herself, then he raised his thumb to nearby guards.

Harry walked back to the center where only Harry and Maiara would stand, but there were still quite a few people walking around. Harry’s hands trembled as he began hearing a constant loud thud coming from all over—at least echoing from all over. He looked around, and saw the same semicircular space devoid of people slowly forming around him and Maiara, while guards kept continuously hitting their bows against beer kegs. He felt the realness of the situation begin to set in as his heart sank.

Maiara gripped her hands on her tribal hammer, showing Harry that its edges looked painfully bone-breaking blunt. Her head bounced to the rhythm of the beat, seemingly concentrating on something as her face looked more serious than angry.

Harry’s eyes could not stop noticing the number of blue tickets he saw people carrying, alongside beer and snacks. The same purple meat he had eaten yesterday at dinnertime now was offered in thighs or kebab style in the hands of some of the people he saw around him, with some others also carrying beer mugs and other snacks. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, as if they were in a stadium watching football, while he felt the thuds chill him to his bones.

Itagiba raised his badge, making the thudding stop. “Y’ALL READY?”

The crowd roared. Beer mugs were raised, beer was spilled by some, and the crowd packed closely around this semi-circular-ish space, eager to watch the live event.

Itagiba picked up a large, colored dice. His hands, holding the weight of the metal construct, pointed it towards Maiara.

“Blue and black!” Maiara replied with certainty with her tone, rotating her shoulders around, as she tightly gripped the hammer.

Itagiba showed the dice towards Harry, but this time he moved the dice around, giving him the opportunity to see all the color possibilities: blue, red, yellow, green, black, and white.

Harry’s voice sounded like his throat was bone dry. “Red—and yellow?”

With a quick fling of his hand, he threw the dice over the table, making one of the corners clang loudly against the stone pavement. Bouncing in the air, it revealed red on top, but as it landed it clanged again, flipping to show blue on top, then green, then with its last energy, the dice flipped again, showing black on top.

“You better get fucking ready, you Nari worm!” Maiara showed her grin, taking back steps from Harry while maintaining a strong, firm eye-contact.

“My daughter! Show him what you are made of!” Itagiba let out a wide smile, grabbing another beer bottle from a Sanbi maid.

The crowd grew quieter, seeing Maiara putting herself at a good distance from Harry, then adjusting herself and her weapon. With a sudden burst, she took off after Harry, grunting loudly.

Harry felt time slow down. He could see her pace growing faster and faster. He could feel her hammer rushing in the wind. His right hand, holding the short sword, immediately dropped it, and rushed to help his desperate left hand, trying to prop his shield as hard as he could, assuming that’s where the hammer was gonna land. On her last steps flying towards him, he could even see her uvula, and the small pupils of her eyes. Harry last saw her long ponytail, violently swinging the wind, just before the weapon made a loud bang on the shield.

Everything went black.

Harry felt nothing, but as the seconds passed, the hum of a tinnitus began rising, and rising, until it was deafening loudly. The roar of the crowds was next, then the feeling of something coarse that Harry was resting against. His vision came next, but his left eye was blurry, and reddened. The first thing he saw was an alligator in the shape of a humanoid, but with a large hat partly covering his hair with the name Honito written on the side.

“Rrruuugggghhh” The humanoid made a low cat-like purr, mixed with a lion grunt, looking down on Harry.

Harry felt his tactile senses come back. His face was warm, and he felt a tingle on his forehead. He tried to move his left arm, but it did not respond to him. His left shoulder did, and it was in the form of an excruciating pain, as if someone had shoved a knife on it. He tried to stand up, but only cried out in pain instead.

The alligator humanoid crouched down, and helped him sit up, only to hear him grunt in pain as his left arm, still tied to the shield on his forearm, happened to move slightly on its own all over—in ways a break dancer would only dream of.

“Agrhrhh—It hurts! It hurts! I want to go home!” Tears streamed down Harry’s face, throbbing stabbing pain that was so intense he could barely breathe. With his right hand, he cleaned away the blood and tears of his face, only to see that his entire hand was a vivid red, dripping blood in his tight clothes. His sense of smell and taste came back as well, confirming the metallic notes of his own blood, constantly rolling down on his face.

“C’mon, Harry! You can do this! Fuck her up the ass!” A random person in the audience crouched by Harry, and offered one of his hands, while the other was tightly holding a bundle of blue tickets.

“Aurgh! Arugh!” The humanoid alligator agreed—maybe, at least it sounded like an agreement noise—or he was trying to bark like a dog.

Feeling his, hers, or its coarse green scales covering its body, Harry felt a faintly cold sensation as he was hugged from the back, and lifted up from the ground.

“What the fuck? He’s done—” Maiara pointed her bloodied hammer towards Harry standing up, but still leaning heavily on the alligator humanoid.

“It’s fine! Right, my people?” Itagiba raised his beer bottle.

The crowd cheered back. “Go Harry! Go Harry! Go Harry!”

With tears still streaming down his face, Harry heard the energy of the crowd penetrate his eyes and ears. He looked towards Eiri and saw Sora still hiding away in her back, but Eiri herself was looking back at him, cleaning away tears as her saddened lips held back much to say.

Eiri glanced towards Neferteri, and saw her sipping on a fine wine. Eiri drew a long breath, and looked back at Harry. “Go Harry! Go Harry!” She chanted alongside everyone else.

Hearing Eiri’s voice above the background, Harry felt the throbbing pain wane, and his heart raced once again. This energy blowing up from within cleared his lungs enough for him to take deeper, but still hasty breaths. He leaned forward and took a few wobbly steps towards the shortsword he had dropped, leaving a trail of blood contrasting the rocky gray ground. He picked up his shortsword with his bloodied right hand, staining its cyan shiny appeal.

Maiara, a not-so-girly woman, dropped her hammer, and posed ready to defend with her fists, as if the bell of a boxing match was about to strike. She bit her lips, concentrating on her only enemy.

Harry gripped his bloodied blade, but deep inside him the mental picture of stabbing someone clashed against the roaring energy from the crowd that filled his spirit. Harry stood there, quite a few steps away from Maiara, tremblingly holding his knife with one hand, while the other was slumbering on the side, hanging like dead meat on a butcher shop display. Harry’s breath began turning shallower and shallower, until he held his breath, and ran towards her with his knife in front, pointing at her gut. “ARRRHHHHH” He let out a high-pitched scream that sounded more like he was being tortured.

Four steps away, three, two—Harry felt like his knife was getting close to making contact, but then he saw Maiara’s leg fly through the air, towards his neck, where he did not even feel the pain, or pressure of it making contact—a true roundhouse kick of someone who knows what they were doing.

Just like a loud clap, everything became nothingness. Harry felt like his body had melted away, leaving him the sensation that he was in a dark void, with no center, or escape.

That was until he suddenly gasped, waking up in the bathtub, sitting forward, while Sora was carefully brushing his back. Harry wanted to look at her, but it felt like he couldn’t—her tantalizing petite naked body was calling out for him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to actually do it. He wanted to know more, but at the same time he didn’t want her to stop caressing his back. Plus, the warmth of the bathtub was simply too great. Hugging his knees, Harry let out a deep breath, looking at the bubbly water slowly waving around, having a rather calming effect. His mind was devoid of thought, just appreciating the serenity of that moment.