"DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!....." The entire bar was a cacophony of shouting and pounding as Damien continued gulping down the alcoholic drink from a large keg held in his hands.

"AHHHHHHH!!!!" The crowd cheered as he brought the Keg forcefully down on the table, sloshing the last drops from the mouth.

Damien laughed, a triumphant smile on his face as he raised his hands, turning toward his competitor who had just collapsed.

Two men came forward, dragging the man out of the stage to make way for the next challenger as Damien placed his now empty keg beside the five empty ones.

"WHO'S NEXT?!" The announcer shouted. "Who Is Capable, Or Has The Balls To Challenge The Reigning Champion, The Everlasting!!"

The crowd roared their approval, and a group began stamping their foot on the infused wooden floor.

Damien turned towards the gathered audience, searching for his next challenger. He had already swept past four now, and from the resigned looks of the other prospective challengers, he could tell they were already getting reluctant.

To spice things up, Damien added a prize. "For anyone capable of lasting through five kegs, I will award them the scales of a dragon! A true sea dragon!" He pulled out a gleaming sapphire scale from his soul vault, raising it for all to see.

And he got the results he wanted.

The crowd was immediately engulfed in greed, so much so that Damien could feel it on his skin. He didn't blame them. The scale, harvested from a Spirit lord sea dragon he and Keilan had killed a few weeks back, was prize to behold.

Renogoth had been an arrogant dragon prince – the usual for all dragons – who had been dragged to his death by the actions of his younger sibling. The results of its arrogance had resulted in Damien dismantling it piece by piece with Keilan picking up the scales as they fell toward the ocean.

Due to its status as a dragon prince of a, no doubt, powerful dragon nest, they'd expected some form of retaliation from the dragon king for the death of his son. But for weeks now, aside from the scouts circling the continent, the nest hadn't made any move.

"UNBELIEVABLE!" The announcer screamed. "OUR BENEVOLENT REIGNING CHAMPION HAS DECIDED TO GIFT ANY CHALLENGER A DRAGON SCALE! A DRAGON SCALE!!"

The announcer hadn't gone five seconds before a hand rose above the crowd and a man pushed forward moments later.

"Another Prospective Rich Man!" The announcer waved the man forward. "Tell us, Challenger. What is your name?"

The heavily bearded man, wearing a simple cotton shirt and pants, nervously stammered. "J–Jon, s–sir."

"Well, Jon. Do you believe your odds of winning the Dragon scale tonight or even defeating the champion?!"

Jon stammered, nervously glancing at the smiling Damien. He managed a quick, nervous nod.

"Speak up, Jon! The crowd wants to hear our prospective champion speak!"

In a moment of instant courage, Jon shouted. "I will become the next reigning champion!"

The crowd roared their approval at his audacity, and the announcer slapped the now-nervous Jon on the back. "That's good! We like some balls. Now, take your seat!" He directed Jon toward the chair opposite Damien, the crowd roaring their constant approval as he moved.

Jon, nervous so much it showed in his movement, staggered toward the table Damien was sitting at, crashing onto the chair.

Damien gave a comforting smile as the man sat down. "Calm, Jon. This is a friendly space."

His words seemed to only make the man more nervous, so Damien spoke again, this time projecting a soothing aura. "Hey, want to know what helps me when I'm nervous?" When the man nodded, Damien continued. "I take a deep breath and then count up to five, and then release it. If it doesn't work the first time, do it again until you feel yourself calming."

This time, his words, combined with the soothing aura he projected, seemed to calm the man, and he visibly took a deep breath, doing as Damien advised.

"RELEASE THE KEGS!!" The announcer roared, the crowd joining in.

A path was cleared as a group of men walked in, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with two dozen Kegs of powerful intoxicants.

"Now, as I stated before. To win, you have to down all twelve kegs, or if not, at least last longer than your opponent!" The announcer said, the sound-enhancing enchantments sewn into his attire, broadcasting his voice clearly through the loud chaos amongst the audience.

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"As you well know, our reigning champion has fended off four challengers today, and still holds the Champion's Jug for his undefeated streak!" He pointed towards a Golden Jug gleaming on an illuminated pedestal.

Now the announcer turned towards the calmed Jon. "If you can defeat our reigning champion, not only will you be leaving here with a dragon scale, a precious reward that would instantly lift you to the rank of the richest of nobles, you will also be awarded the Champion's Jug, obviously! And not only that.. there's more!" The announcer made sure everyone was listening in before he continued.

"If you can defeat our reigning champion, not only will you be leaving with a dragon scale prize or the champion jug, but your name will be immortalized all over Camlen and beyond as the man who defeated The Grey-eyed Calamity! You will be a god amongst men! Forever worshiped as the almighty Master of the JUG! An impossible title that even our reigning champion hasn't earned yet!"

Although already infused with magical reinforcement so powerful it would require the strength of a Monarch to fully bring it down, the entire bar shook as a highly intoxicated audience stamped their feet joyfully.

Although most of the people in the room were soldiers, the few non-military attendees weren't surprised by the next words that came out from the announcer.

"Don't be nervous. In here, our champion isn't wearing the prestigious mantle of a Spirit lord or any of those powerful names he goes by on the outside. In here, we call him the Jug lord, our reigning champion! So prepare yourself, we begin in a few seconds."

Damien stopped just as he was about to begin setting down his first five kegs, his sense prickling. Usually, he didn't pay much attention to the crowd whenever he was in the bar since they were all harmless – at least to him – and none would be so foolish as to try anything untoward whenever he was present. But this time, he subtly spread his senses, careful not to overwhelm any of the sensitive lords present. Soon enough, to his left, he found his quarry. His eyes snapped towards the location, narrowed in confusion. But since nothing harmful was likely to occur, he chose to ignore it for now.

"All Contestant Ready?!" The announcer shouted, and Damien immediately placed his first keg on the large round table.

"THREE!" The announcer shouted, waving for the audience to join in.

Damien lifted two more jugs, placing them in a line in front of him.

"TWO!"

He lifted another two, watching as his opponent did the same.

"ONE!"

He opened the cover of his first keg, savoring the alcoholic smell that spewed out.

"GOO!!!!"

In one smooth, experienced motion, Damien lifted the jug, one-handed, to his mouth, his throat bobbing an instant later as he began gulping down the alcohol.

"AND THE CONTEST TAKES OFF WITH BOTH CONTESTANTS ON EQUAL FOOTING, THOUGH OUR CHAMPION SEEMS TO BE LEADING THE RACE, OUR CHALLENGER ISN'T FAR BEHIND!"

Damien finished the first keg in ten seconds, not minding the little splash of liquid that dripped down on his shirt. They were practically mundane clothing.

He picked up his second keg.

"WHOA!!! OUR CHAMPION HAS JUST FINISHED HIS FIRST KEG, BEATING HIS OWN RECORD BY TWO SECONDS. OUR CHALLENGER IS NOW A FEW SECONDS BEHIND! SEEMS HE ISN'T GOING TO GIVE THE CHAMPION AN EASY TIME, HEH!"

The audience began clapping, their encouragement visibly encouraging his opponent as Damien watched the man's pace increase.

"WHOAAA!!! JON IS TRULY ON THE RISE TO GIVE OUR CHAMPION A RUN FOR HIS MONEY! LOOK AT HIM CHASE DOWN OUR CHAMPION WITH GUSTO!"

Damien's eyes were still on Jon, so he was a few seconds faster in carrying the third Keg.

"AND THEY ARE FINALLY INTO THE THIRD LEVEL. LOOK AT OUR CHAMPION DEFEND HIS TITLE LIKE A MADDENED MAN!!" The announcer roared. "I HOPE YOU ALL PLACED YOUR BET WELL, OR YOU'LL BE LEAVING HERE WITH EMPTY POCKETS!!"

Damien, with the body fortification of a spirit lord, managed to keep ahead of Jon even after they went into the fourth keg. But even without that, he noticed that the alcohol was already getting to Jon; judging by the sluggish manner he picked up the latest Keg. With criss-crossed eyes and a sloping head, Jon collapsed just after the fifth Keg, earning himself an approving stampede from the crowd.

"ANDDDDD WE HAVE..... A WINNERRRR!!!!!" Damien raised his hands in triumph, roaring alongside the audience. "ALTHOUGH OUR CHALLENGER WILL BE LEAVING HERE WITH A DRAGON SCALE, OUR CHAMPION HAS, ONCE AGAIN, KEPT HIS JUG!"

"As protocol awards," the announcer continued. "After every five challenges, our champion is allowed a brief reprieve." The man then turned to Damien. "Unless he wishes to continue?"

Damien, who had been of the mind to accept the break, was interrupted when a voice called out.

"I wish to contest!"

The announcer shook his head. "Sorry, man. No challengers for the moment, our champion has earned his break."

The man who spoke was a seven-foot-tall brute of a man with flaming red hair that drifted down his shoulder like a cloak. His equally long beard dangled down his chin in a smooth, red shine.

Hastily, Damien sent him a mental message. "What are you doing here?"

Except for his seven-foot-tall brutish height, all the ethereal mysticism that usually followed spirit lords was toned down, almost non-existent, if what Damien's senses were telling him was true, reducing him to a mundane normalcy that managed to excuse his strange height.

Brunos raised an eyebrow. "Well.... I heard about the bar that the great calamity frequents. And despite my full hands, I decided to take the time off to come see for myself."

Damien narrowed his eyes. "Well, now you've seen. You know the way to the door."

Brunos then smiled, a smile that intuited Damien on the fact that the next sentence coming out of the man would not be one he would like. "Well, now I've seen, and I find myself curious. I've always been told I'm quite an alcoholic, so I felt I might as well see if I can measure up to you." Despite his very brutish appearance that bespoke violence, Brunos still managed to project innocence. "The crowds are waiting for their Champion's response."

Damien's expression turned neutral as he looked away from Brunos and toward the audience. He fumed inside as he saw their anticipation. If he didn't give them what they wanted, they would lose their faith in him.

Resigned, but not showing it, he responded. "I accept."

"OH, OH! OUR CHAMPION HAS JUST ACCEPTED HIS SIXTH CHALLENGE IN A ROLL! OUTSTANDING!"

Before the announcer could continue, Brunos raised his hands, drawing the attention of everyone. "Why don't we up the number of kegs? I feel like a dozen is too small."

"DID YOU HEAR THAT, PEOPLE! SUCH AUDACITY! SUCH BRAVERY!!"

Damien's eyes widened as he turned toward Brunos. "What are you doing?"

"Why? Is twelve the highest you can go?" The man calmly replied, his nonchalant expression scaring Damien.

Damien sputtered. "No! I was just... I was just. Arrgh, fine! Have it your way! I'll crush you regardless."

Brunos just shrugged in response.

"RELEASE THE KEGS!!"