"What do I see here young Myrkas? Did my sole disciple, bearer of my Martial Legacy, get his tiny butt kicked by a festival street game? Unacceptable! The shame! The loss of face! How will I ever be able to look at your uncle in the eyes again? When he entrusted me with your instruction, your potential. So I can ruthlessly guide you to the greatest heights.
"This will not do. No disciple of mine can admit defeat in front of a mundane game. Myrkas, kid, you'll have to try again. And again, until you conquer this game. Leave nothing in your wake. Not one prize. Here let me hold Snow for you. She can watch from my arms. She likes it when I pet her.
Snow was immediately lifted from the boy's shoulder before anyone could protest. The white rabbit did, however, look comfortable once settled into Suna Ranil's arms. Martine was watching the obnoxious man in silence, while still carrying Lilac. She had on a calculating air that sent shivers down Myrkas' spine. The boy could not let the budding devilish entity in his Master's presence too long. Bad things would happen. Evil seeds of doom would be planted. Myrkas had to get rid of Ranil before his attitude could rub off on Martine. This was a state of emergency!
"Don't you worry, kid," Ranil went on, smug as ever. "I'll pay for every single try it takes. Now, before you kowtow before your generous Master, let's make one thing clear: I am lending you the coins, the taels if need be. Our Master-Disciple relationship needs to stay balanced. As I saved your hide already once, it would not do to freely give you money. Karmic debt and all that. We cannot risk stunting your development.
"As for how you'll pay me back, there again, worry not, cherished disciple of mine. We will find a way, I am certain you can guess how. It involves a specific place that made you fall all over yourself the last time you visited. Such a beautiful moment. A wondrous memory to see you so enraptured. I see it as my personal duty to ensure you gather as much 'experience' there as you possibly can. As much as your young body can take!"
Dread spread within Myrkas. The Underground. Suna Ranil meant the Underground, the place where Myrkas had been beaten to a pulp for everyone else's entertainment but his. A terrible fate. Inescapable it seemed.
Martine's eyes were shining with desire, already assuming she owned the mountain of prizes left at the stand. She was too smart for Myrkas' well-being. A mere ribbon would never be enough now.
Worse, Master Ranil's steel-like grip on Myrkas' shoulder kept the boy firmly in place. The man had taken Snow hostage again, nestled in his other arm. She dared look content, the fluffy traitor. Ambushed! Myrkas had been ambushed and driven into a corner.
Why? Oh, why had Ranil decided on this very moment to reappear? The smirking man radiated mischievous bloodlust in the middle of the street. Myrkas hadn't even known such a thing as "mischievous bloodlust" existed before then! He dearly hoped whatever relationship Ranil had with his uncle was enough to protect him from his Martial Master's sadistic tendencies. And debilitating injuries. Death seemed a lesser evil than never-ending torture at the moment.
Myrkas suddenly understood prey who froze in front of the superior predator. Running was meaningless. Same for fighting. The only hope 'lay' in remaining unnoticed. Wait for the predator to look away and leave. Unfortunately for Myrkas, it was too late. Ranil would never let him escape. The boy's reprieve was officially over, gone. Suna Ranil's persistent hold on the youth's shoulder only further confirmed so. Resigned, Myrkas looked at the silver lining: Martine would definitely get her ribbon before the evening concluded.
* •
The game started innocently enough. Master Ranil paid the few copper coins needed for Myrkas' next attempt. An attempt which had come so close to perfection that it hurt.
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A heart-wrenching event, with the second-to-last ball rebounding out of its assigned basket. His only miss. Myrkas had come so close to quickly mastering the game and escaping whatever Ranil had planned. A few coppers were easily repaid, without the need to bleed.
Myrkas was improving in using his meditation technique while moving. He was learning to regulate his motions and had missed only one throw between a "faster" and a "stronger." So close. But worth it. Myrkas better sensed the flow of his Qi through his body, the energy moving with his will. He was able to discern the small adjustments the Qi made to his muscles in rhythm with his mantra and motions. At this rate, the young cultivator might even unlock body meditation!
One more try and the boy would get a perfect score. Myrkas knew it. His entire self screamed it. Let it be known that Myrkas Hakhmir was the greatest to be! His debt would still be reasonable, one match only being able to repay it all. One pummeling wasn't so bad. Myrkas might actually win this time, at least he hoped so.
Encouraged, the youth prepared for his next try. He re-engaged his deep breathing and reflexive mantra chanting. His mind was clear. The boy was focused, ready. He'd win and leave the victor. Emboldened, Myrkas nodded at Master Ranil. The scarred man replied with his crooked smile. Ranil then looked at the stand owner and winked, lightning fast. An understanding current passed between the two adults. No more needed to be said. The gears had turned.
"Now now, Young Master, you've already won a prize! You are so, so very talented, you might just ruin me if you continue like this. My poor game cannot challenge one as quick as you are as it is. Allow me, Young Master, to increase the difficulty. Unleash the next version! It is slightly more expensive, I know, but think of the rewards, the challenge! Nothing less for a talented Young Master! Your little sister deserves only the best, after all," said the stand owner.
There was a mean eel under that rock, Myrkas suspected. However, before the boy could express his disinterest, his prospective Martial Master enthusiastically agreed for him.
"Of course, he'll try it! Indeed, nothing less for my great disciple. What a grand idea you had Mister Wei. A genius thought!"
Myrkas sighed in defeat. He was trapped. Master Ranil's hand had gone straight back to Myrkas' shoulder as soon as the boy had finished his almost perfect try. For the first time, Myrkas was conscious of the difference in the amount of Qi held in their respective bodies. The sensation did not manifest as mere intuition. Instead, Myrkas had an increasingly precise idea of just how far ahead his supposed Martial Master was. Ranil's hand didn't only feel like hard steel. It also carried the weight of an obese elephant. Ranil did not need to say anything. Myrkas instinctively knew any escape attempt would end with said elephant joyously sitting on his small chest.
A thread of fear ran through Myrkas at the thought. Admittedly, the boy's reaction was much delayed. The way Suna Ranil had easily controlled Myrkas and dragged him around in their prior interactions should have filled the tween with a healthy amount of wariness toward the older cultivator. But Myrkas had been blinded by anger and annoyance at the time. It had not really felt real until this instant. This time, however, the clear weight of their absolute difference in power shook him. This world was real. His world held real danger, real power, real opportunities.
Myrkas smiled unbeknownst to himself. A hungry kind of expression. A scary Master was good, great even. Who better to teach how to deal with danger than danger himself? Myrkas' chest filled with trepidation and excitement. He wasn't in a dream. This universe choke full of magic and opportunities truly was his new home. Who cared if it was eerily similar to another world's piece of–trash–literature? Myrkas lived here. He would thrive here.
With renewed vigour and determination, Myrkas awaited this new game variation. With higher risk came higher rewards. This remained true. So what if Myrkas acquired a little debt with Master Ranil? The Underground was not so bad. The boy had survived his first bout. Myrkas had to see the silver lining, the chance to prove himself and grow in martial prowess.
The challenge remained mostly the same. The new task involved throwing the same balls in the same slanted baskets, only this time while blindfolded. A tiny little detail, a very benign handicap according to his newfound Master.