Days flew by, and in the blink of an eye, a month had passed. The festive atmosphere was replaced by the bustling, crowded capital. Thousands of people diligently carried out their work, trying to escape poverty and climb the social hierarchy. Most workers were employed in construction and maintenance; due to the large size of the city, it was necessary to inspect the walls, sidewalks, public buildings, and other infrastructure.
Artisans and blacksmiths worked on the sale and manufacture of items for domestic use or, alternatively, for war. However, the last few years had been peaceful, and most fierce and veteran warriors had become mercenaries or adventurers. The only difference between the two was that the former worked for private individuals, while the latter worked under the nation's authority.
Another large sector was real estate, dominated almost entirely by merchants who, unlike commoners, had significant capital. Some owned entire blocks in the capital, wielding power almost equal to that of the duke who governed the district.
Martin had grown accustomed to this way of life and compared it to the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution, with people trying to make a living at the expense of their labor rights, which had been so important in his previous life. Government regulations were still in their infancy, with the rights of thousands of people being violated, but little by little, things seemed to be moving in the right direction—or so it appeared from the outside.
The young man with dark hair was currently in the Celestial District, making a living as a fighter. Since he didn’t have papers or identification, it was impossible for him to join the construction sector, which was under the direction of the dukes and the royal family. The blacksmithing and artisan sector was more lenient in that sense, but Martin had zero manual skills, and as a salesperson, he didn’t have the charisma necessary to connect with people. The real estate sector was impossible from the start; the only way in was through connections, and he knew no one.
He couldn’t work as an adventurer without identification, and as a mercenary, he faced the same issue. Additionally, he lacked the basic combat skills required since most jobs involved escorting merchants from one place to another.
Finally, he settled on street fighting, trying to save enough money to obtain a fake ID.
-Begin!-
A robust, dark-skinned man, proudly sporting a mohawk, threw a right hook that shot straight toward Martin’s ribs.
Whoosh.
The powerful punch sliced through the air without hitting its target.
Thud, thud, thud.
The dark-skinned man, taking advantage of the momentum from his missed hook, unleashed a spinning kick, followed by another and yet another. In just one turn, he had chained together three kicks in succession. However, Martin managed to block the blows with his arms without much difficulty.
-WOOOOOW!-
-GO FOR IT, FOREIGNER!-
-I BET EVERYTHING ON YOU, BIG BULL!-
-KEEP IT UP, MAN! DON’T LOSE YOUR MOMENTUM!-
Inside a dilapidated building that looked like it might collapse at any moment, there was an underground fighting arena where street fights took place. Surrounding the arena, a large crowd drank alcohol and cheered enthusiastically, following the heated fight. Additionally, food, alcoholic beverages, drugs were sold, and bets were placed; there wasn’t much difference from a nightclub you might see on Earth.
On one corner of a wide wall, a large chalkboard could be seen.
*****
CELESTIAL FIGHT - SEMIFINALS
Divine Emissary VS Mad Dog (Winner: Divine Emissary)
The Foreigner VS Big Bull (10 PM)
LIVE SHOW
Alice, the Daughter of Delirium (10 PM)
Lady Maria (11 PM)
The Sulfur Jester (1 AM)
*****
Martin was currently in the middle of a fight against Big Bull. Thanks to his ability, he could sense the opponent's intentions and predict their movements. This had allowed him to win fights and make a name for himself in the underground scene.
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-Damn, you’re slippery- said Big Bull, panting heavily after the fierce and fast exchange.
-I do what I can, sir- Martin’s arms were numb from the blocks; his opponent’s strength was formidable.
“I can’t keep blocking, or I’ll lose at this rate,” he thought. The world of colors before his eyes showed Big Bull’s figure in muted orange tones. This meant he was alert to Martin but had lost some of his initiative.
Without hesitation, Martin launched himself into a tackle at Bull’s calves, trying to bring him down.
-I expected this, little rat- said the robust man, who proudly displayed his crest. He had studied his opponent beforehand, knowing he would attempt a low tackle against someone his size.
-TAKE THIS!-
Big Bull raised both arms to the sky and brought them down quickly to crush Martin before he could bring him down.
THUD.
The stone floor of the arena was destroyed, and pieces of rock flew in all directions. The audience was stunned by the man’s power and, lost in astonishment, were slow to react to the flying debris.
-AHHH, DAMN YOU, BULL, MY FACE!-
-MY EYE! OWWW, OWWW!-
-HAHAHA, SERVES YOU RIGHT FOR BEING CARELESS, YOU IDIOTS!-
While some spectators complained in pain, others insulted and mocked them. Such collateral damage was common in places like this, where violence ruled; the city’s marginalized neighborhoods were governed by the law of the strongest.
-Tchhh, you’re getting on my nerves, little rat-
Big Bull had missed again and destroyed the combat arena, which he’d have to pay for if he didn’t win.
Martin breathed heavily as he looked at the dark-skinned man who had created a crater in the floor; had that blow connected, death didn’t seem far off.
“That was way too close… damn tank on legs,” the young man was thinking about how to deal with the opponent in front of him; he hadn’t been able to inflict any damage.
The colors turned a bright reddish hue, and Big Bull charged at Martin at full speed.
The young man jumped to the side, trying to dodge the charge, but Big Bull quickly turned, maintaining his momentum. He was just inches away from running him over.
-YOU DAMN CHEATER!- The young man, who had been calm throughout the fight, lost his composure and shouted in anger.
In his previous life, there was a time when he was hooked on a video game called League of Legends. In it, a character similar to Big Bull could charge but was unable to change trajectory abruptly—or so it was, until some players, through suspicious programs, managed to alter the trajectory at will.
-What is he saying?-
-No idea-
-Forget it, that’s just how the Foreigner is-
-His accent is weird anyway-
-He’s done for-
The spectators discussed the battle among themselves. “The Foreigner,” as they had nicknamed Martin, often said strange words or phrases that no one could understand. Moreover, his accent was odd, making him easily recognizable as an outsider.
In a moment of crisis, Martin quickly slid on his knees, trying to compact most of his body; he looked like a dwarf, compressed as he was on his knees.
-What?- Big Bull, confused by the strange maneuver, passed over the young man who had slid between his legs.
With no time to react, Big Bull received a powerful blow to his lower part, causing him to fall to his knees and lose all momentum from his charge.
Martin, who had compressed himself as much as possible, came to a sudden stop after passing through the man’s legs and, using his body like a spring, shot back in the opposite direction, slamming his head into Big Bull’s groin.
-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!- A scream of pain echoed throughout the building.
THUD.
A dull sound filled the noisy arena as Big Bull fell unconscious, unable even to express the pain he was feeling. Martin had knocked him out immediately upon seeing him completely defenseless.
-THE FOREIGNER IS THE WINNER!- one of the announcers shouted enthusiastically.
-BOOOOOOO!!-
-THAT HIT IS ILLEGAL!!-
-ONLY COWARDS FIGHT LIKE THAT!!-
-HAHAHAHA, THANKS, FOREIGNER, I’M RICH!!-
-SHUT UP, IDIOTS, THERE’S NO SUCH RULE!!-
-MY SAVINGS!! WAAAAHH WAAAAHH!!-
-GET UP, BIG BULL, I BET A LOT ON YOU!!-
A large part of the audience began to boo due to the low blow. Although it wasn’t illegal, it was frowned upon by most of those present, so tempers began to flare, and within seconds, a brawl broke out between those dissatisfied with the result versus those who had won a large sum of money and defended Martin.
“Damn, I’m getting out of here,” the young man, seeing the scuffle among the crowd, stealthily slipped away and disappeared into the throng. He had developed this skill thanks to the hostile environment in the city’s marginalized neighborhoods.
-Stop right now!-
-Calm down, idiots, or the boss will come!-
-Stop! Please!-
The event guards, along with the waitresses, ran back and forth, trying to calm the crowd. Chaos had taken over the combat arena, and people began to cause a ruckus, while others took advantage of the situation to flee without paying.
-You caused quite a stir this time-
-It wasn’t my fault, Miss Alice. I just acted according to the circumstances- Martin defended himself, who could speak the local language without much trouble, albeit with a strange accent.
-It was an event worthy of you, Foreigner, hehe- the girl with long blonde hair and gothic clothing sipped a mug of sulfuric beer, one of the capital city’s specialties.
-I didn’t do anything… just win- Martin replied as he grabbed a jug of cheap alcohol from the bar.
-I hope this doesn’t ruin my show, or you’ll have to pay me, Foreigner. My time is valuable-
-Valuable? You’ll probably just go sleep somewhere or play your harp on the street until they kick you out-
-It’s still valuable. Either way, if they cancel my show, you’ll feel guilty and pay, won’t you? Hehe-
-Tchh…-
-My honorable and brave knight, I know you can’t abandon a lady, hehe-
The blonde girl in gothic attire, who was mocking Martin, looked toward the door, and her mischievous smile was replaced by a look of happiness.
-Well, my show won’t be canceled anymore. You’re lucky, Foreigner-
An old man with a thick white beard and long hair tied in a ponytail entered with firm steps through the main door and headed to the combat arena while smiling and greeting Alice and Martin. The old man was almost 2 meters tall, and his exposed arms were covered in scars, symbols of the challenges he had faced throughout his life.