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墨書 Inktalez
From the outside, Volikov did not appear strong; in fact, he was somewhat short and thin, with a head of messy black hair, and he was holding a bottle of alcohol in his hand.
Black Scorpion quickly put away his frivolous expression and bowed seriously to Volikov.
The entire tavern fell silent in an instant. A few seconds later, it erupted into cheers, with various excited shouts ringing out.
Hearing the noise around him, Black Duncan's face grew increasingly grim.
“Bastard!” he exclaimed, taking a large gulp of Wheat Beer. “A distinguished academy instructor, and he's here participating in underground fights?”
Although Volikov had long been expelled by Tutulu, he had once held the position of an instructor. If this news got out, it would undoubtedly tarnish the reputation of the academy and the mayor.
Dostodoro, on the other hand, wore an expression of excitement as he looked at Volikov with admiration.
He flashed a proud smile. “Volikov has been promoted to a Level 7 Warrior! He has won thirteen consecutive Challenge Matches without a single defeat! If he wins against this big oaf, he'll be second in the Iron Fist Rankings!”
As he spoke, Dostodoro shot a provocative glance at Garen.
At that moment, cheers erupted within the tavern.
On the high Arena, Black Scorpion charged forward with explosive power in his shoulder muscles. However, Volikov merely sidestepped and effortlessly avoided the fierce collision while taking a hearty swig of his drink, looking as if he were savoring it.
Since Black Scorpion had managed to defeat Saya, it was clear that he had ample experience in the Arena. He suddenly halted with his sturdy legs, producing a loud scraping sound against the ground before spinning around to deliver a whip kick aimed at Volikov's head.
This whip kick unleashed a powerful wave of Fighting Spirit that even seemed to exceed Level 5!
“Smack!”
But Volikov simply raised his hand and blocked it effortlessly with his arm.
"Too weak!" Volikov mumbled drunkenly, then suddenly grabbed Black Scorpion's calf. His fingers tightened with force, producing a series of sharp cracking sounds.
A look of pain crossed Black Scorpion's face; before he could even let out a cry, he was violently thrown by Volikov. He hit the ground with a thud, and before he could get back up, Volikov seized his leg again and swung him around. Another thud echoed as he was slammed down repeatedly, leaving multiple deep dents in the Arena floor.
"I give up!"
Fear filled Black Scorpion's eyes as he shouted, "Stop, stop... Lord Volikov, I concede!"
Only then did Volikov slowly release his grip and finish off the drink in his hand.
The tavern erupted in enthusiastic cheers!
Breathing heavily on the ground, Black Scorpion was covered in bruises, yet his expression showed no regret. Instead, he smiled and bowed once more to Volikov.
"The participants of Iron Fist Tavern are composed of two types of people," Black Duncan explained. "Those like Black Scorpion and Saya are permanent warriors under wealthy patrons, while challengers like Volikov are just ordinary contenders. Compared to permanent warriors, challengers enjoy more freedom but also lose certain privileges."
Garen quickly grasped Black Duncan's meaning.
In simple terms, challengers like Volikov could ignore the arrangements of Iron Fist Tavern and freely choose to fight. In contrast, permanent warriors like Black Scorpion and Saya had to battle according to their superiors' orders. Due to the unique nature of their roles, even if Black Scorpion lost, it wouldn't hinder his advancement to this year's Iron Fist Overlord.
After all, outside challengers could not claim the championship.
As for what Dostodoro mentioned about the Iron Fist Rankings, it seemed to be a ranking determined by the audience for both challengers and permanent warriors.
"So does that mean the first place is also a challenger?" Garen asked.
"That's correct," Black Duncan replied, his eyes betraying some discomfort as he spoke softly. "Sir Garen, it's best not to casually mention the first place here; otherwise, it might bring misfortune. If you must refer to him, please use his nickname: The Big Bad Wolf!"
"The Big Bad Wolf?" Garen blinked in surprise.
For some reason, Garen found this nickname amusing, reminding him of the fairy tales from the Valoran Continent.
But just as he spoke, the two tables around him turned their gazes toward him with strange expressions.
"Shh! Keep it down!"
Black Duncan quickly gestured for silence. "Strictly speaking, the Big Bad Wolf is supposed to be the strongest in town... at least in terms of his record in Iron Fist. Since his first challenge, he has never lost!"
At this point, Black Duncan paused. "The most alarming thing is... no matter who his opponent is, he only needs one move to win! Whenever he's in a match, it never lasts more than two seconds!"
Garen was taken aback. Although he viewed the Iron Fist Arena as mere showmanship, even he couldn't guarantee a victory in two seconds. At the very least, there would be some exchanges. For instance, against Volikov, Garen was confident he could overpower him, but he certainly couldn't defeat him in one move.
Don't underestimate that so-called "one move." For a true warrior, winning with a single strike means finding weaknesses, attacking vulnerabilities, and successfully executing an offense... among other factors. This implies that the Big Bad Wolf's combat experience was incredibly formidable, perhaps far beyond Garen's own.
"Volikov is the strongest person in town. Even if the Big Bad Wolf dares to show up, he'll only leave with his tail between his legs!" Dostodoro scoffed.
Perhaps influenced by the story of the Big Bad Wolf, even Garen rarely felt a surge of emotion.
He pinched his brow and said, "There are many powerful people, but truly brave ones are few and far between."
"Brave?" Dostodoro blinked in confusion.
"Yes, brave," Garen smiled and replied. "If you want to delve deeper into this term, perhaps you should return to class at the academy."
Dostodoro burst into laughter as if he had heard the most absurd joke. "I don't want any of that nonsense meant for children!"
"If you think bravery is merely standing up in the face of danger or simply protecting others, then you probably haven't truly understood the word."
Garen shook his head and said, "That's just courage. There's another equally important aspect—having the audacity to make choices in the face of fate."
"Oh please! That's what really matters!" Dostodoro pointed at his glass and took a hearty sip.
"Bravery? Can it earn you fine wine and women?" Dostodoro sneered, pointing to a spot not far away.
In the direction he indicated, Volikov was standing in front of a square table, where a young and beautiful Blonde Woman sat in the corner.
"Hi there, gorgeous!" Volikov plopped down at the table, grinning drunkenly. "You look... quite lonely? Heh, loneliness always needs company. Why don't you come to my room for a bit?"
The Blonde Woman silently sipped her drink, ignoring Volikov.
"Hey! I'm Volikov, the second-ranked in the Iron Fist Rankings! A level 7 warrior!" Volikov said, a bit irritated. Then he suddenly realized something and flashed a smile again. "Oh! I get it! Heh, don’t worry, my pockets are full of gold coins... I’m sure once you see them, you'll be asking for more visits!"
"I'm sorry, but I don't need that," the Blonde Woman replied, her lovely voice laced with coldness.
"You’re rejecting me?" Volikov blinked in surprise before anger took over. Fueled by alcohol, he grabbed her arm. "You might not have grasped the situation here; those who drink are either afraid of me or my fans. Do you really think you have a choice?"
The Blonde Woman's skin was soft, almost springy. Volikov was certain this woman was an absolute gem; compared to her, the so-called "beauties" he had encountered before were nothing but expired old hags.
But just then, another hand landed on Volikov's shoulder.
"Let her go," Garen said calmly.
"No matter who you are, if you're trying to interfere with me..." Volikov frowned and turned around, his expression shifting slightly. "It's you!"
"The one who stole my job..." Volikov recalled something and mocked him. "I don’t want to pursue past matters with you for now. But please don’t confuse bravery with foolishness!"
"Thanks for the compliment," Garen smiled lightly but didn’t release his grip.
"So, are you looking to fight me?" Volikov narrowed his eyes.
The commotion attracted many Drinker’s attention, and when Volikov's voice rang out, the tavern buzzed with excitement once more.
"Oh my! Who is this guy? Does he know what he's doing?"
"Oh, is it too much to just live well..."
"Volikov! Get in there and punch him hard in the face!"
...
"Did you hear that?" Volikov licked his lips and sneered, "It seems you will pay the price for your ignorance!"
As he uttered the last word, Volikov had already raised his fist, ready to smash it down onto Garen's head. The overwhelming seventh-level Fighting Spirit he exuded showed that Volikov was not holding back at all; he was clearly determined to teach this guy, who repeatedly disrupted his life, a harsh lesson!
But in the next moment...
"Smack!"
The fist was blocked by Garen's palm.
Garen's deep voice resonated.
"It seems your strength still needs training."
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