Alcon's words struck the tense atmosphere of the underground arena like a thunderclap. Every eye, from the cheering spectators, the resting fighters, to the snarling pirates and the Maika crew, swiveled towards the three of them. A sudden silence fell over the section of stands where Rober, Alcon, and Phylas sat, leaving only the crackling of torches and the heavy breathing of the crowd.
The lead pirate, the one with the long scar across his face and a black eyepatch, spun around, his remaining eye blazing with fury. He gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his temples, and ground out each word to Alcon:
"What did you just say, brat?"
Alcon, still lounging insolently, showed no fear despite the pirate's murderous glare. He smirked, replying nonchalantly:
"Me? I said you're just a pack of dogs, all bark and no bite! A bunch of harmless weaklings!"
He even gestured dismissively towards both the pirates and the Maika sailors on the opposite side.
The sailor leading the Maika group, the one who had just been arguing with the pirate, also turned towards Alcon, shouting:
"Hey you! This isn't your business! Stay out of it!"
Alcon scoffed contemptuously.
"Not my business? If something annoys me, I speak my mind!"
He sprang up from his seat, puffed out his chest, and challenged both groups:
"If you're so tough, come over here and fight me! Are your mouths getting tired from all that barking?"
He scanned both groups, then continued with brazen arrogance:
"Or maybe you know you're too weak? Fine! I'll do you a favor, I'll take on both your pathetic crews at once!"
Alcon's arrogant, challenging words were like pouring oil onto fire. Both the pirates and the Maika sailors exploded with rage. Veins bulged on their necks, faces flushed crimson, and their eyes fixed on Alcon as if they wanted to tear him limb from limb.
Phylas and Rober, sitting beside him, couldn't help but feel awkward and somewhat embarrassed. The air around them thickened, heavy with anger and tension. Nearby spectators began murmuring, some looking eager for the unfolding drama, others appearing worried, fearful, wanting to distance themselves from the impending brawl.
Rober sighed softly, turning to whisper to Phylas, his voice tinged with resignation:
"It seems Alcon dragged us into this play before we even got to watch theirs."
He glanced at the hostile crowd surrounding them, then added more seriously "Phylas, if something happens shortly, please stay behind me at all times."
Phylas nodded, his expression slightly tense, yet his eyes held a strange spark of curiosity and amusement. It seemed this excitement-loving nobleman wasn't entirely intimidated by the chaotic situation.
Just then, the lead pirate could no longer contain his fury. He let out a heavy breath, then roared:
"Get him! Teach this insolent whelp a lesson for me!"
Instantly, the entire pirate mob, a dozen or more strong, roared like wild animals and surged towards Rober's group like a pack of starving wolves attacking their prey. They paid no heed to the cramped space of the stands or the risk of injuring bystanders. In their eyes now, there was only rage and the desire to teach Alcon a lesson.
Alcon, seeing the pirates charge, showed no fear. On the contrary, a thrilled, belligerent grin spread across his face. He let out a yell and charged straight into the midst of the pirate throng, utterly disregarding their superior numbers.
Rober didn't act as recklessly as Alcon. He stood up, quickly pulling Phylas behind him, using his own body as a living shield. He carefully observed the situation, assessing the enemy's strength and numbers, while preparing to intervene if Alcon got into serious danger.
The cramped space of the stands, with its closely packed wooden benches, proved a significant hindrance for the large, clumsy pirates. They moved slowly, awkwardly, frequently bumping into each other.
But Alcon was entirely different. Despite the alcohol, his fighting instincts and the agility of a street-hardened warrior allowed him to move with ease in the confined area. He was smaller than the pirates and knew how to use the terrain effectively.
He darted forward, swung himself up onto a wooden pillar supporting the arena's makeshift awning. Then, using the momentum, he launched himself off, kicking out forcefully, striking a charging pirate squarely in the face. The impact sent the pirate tumbling backward, rolling down several rows of seats and crashing into others, creating chaos.
Immediately after, another nearby pirate, still stunned, was met with a swift kick to the knee from Alcon. The pirate buckled, crying out in pain. Alcon didn't miss the opportunity, lunging forward and delivering a devastating knee strike to the man's chin, knocking him unconscious instantly. He collapsed to the floor.
Alcon didn't stop there. Stepping onto the unconscious pirate's body for leverage, he sprang into the air, twisting into a powerful hook kick that slammed into the chest of another pirate attempting to attack him from the side. The kick sent the man stumbling backward before crashing to the ground.
In just a few short minutes, Alcon had taken down three pirates with swift, powerful, and skillful blows. The surrounding spectators, forgetting their fear, began to cheer wildly for Alcon.
But the remaining pirates were undeterred. They roared in anger and swarmed Alcon together.
Just as Alcon was dealing with two pirates in front of him, another had snuck up behind him unnoticed. He rushed forward, wrapping his large arms around Alcon's in a tight bear hug, pinning him completely, rendering him immobile.
"Got you now, you little brat!" the pirate holding Alcon crowed triumphantly.
Instantly, the lead pirate, the one who had argued with the Maika crew earlier, saw his chance. He grabbed a long plank of wood, broken off from a nearby bench, yelled, and charged towards Alcon. He raised the plank high, intending to deliver a fatal blow to Alcon's head.
Alcon struggled desperately but couldn't break free from the iron grip of the pirate behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the crushing blow.
But strangely, just before the wooden plank could connect with Alcon's head, the pirate holding him suddenly loosened his grip. His arms went slack as if abruptly drained of all strength.
Alcon didn't have time to ponder what was happening; he wouldn't waste this golden opportunity. He wrenched himself free from the pirate's hold and, quick as a flash, turned to face the lead pirate charging with the plank.
Exploiting his opponent's opening, the man putting all his force into the downward swing, leaving himself undefended, Alcon delivered a vicious kick straight to his groin.
"Aargh...!"
The lead pirate let out a strangled cry, clutching himself, doubling over and collapsing in writhing agony. The wooden plank fell from his grasp.
Alcon didn't pause. He spun around and delivered a powerful hook punch square on the jaw of the pirate who had just been holding him. The blow sent the pirate's head slamming against a wooden pillar, knocking him out cold.
Alcon stood amidst his own personal battlefield, panting heavily, sweat streaming down his face, and cursed loudly:
"Damn it! You bastards fight dirty!"
Suddenly, a voice shouted from the stands, unclear whose, but definitely not Rober's or Phylas's:
"Careful! Over there, he's got a gun!"
Instantly, Alcon spun around, scanning the area. He saw, further down the stands, another pirate standing there. The man held an old-style flintlock musket, long-barreled and looking very heavy. He had already shouldered the weapon and was aiming directly at Alcon.
Alcon panicked. He knew the danger of such a weapon. Though slow to fire and inaccurate, at this close range, a single shot could easily kill him. He quickly ducked down, grabbing the wooden plank the lead pirate had dropped, trying to huddle behind it as makeshift cover.
But Rober, from his position, had spotted the gunman earlier. He had been silently preparing. He shouted loudly, his voice echoing, cutting through the din of the crowd:
"Alcon! Keep going! Don't be afraid!"
Alcon, hearing Rober's shout, felt a strange surge of trust. Though he didn't know what Rober planned, he believed Rober wouldn't abandon him. He stopped cowering. Instead, gripping the wooden plank tightly, he let out a tremendous yell and charged straight towards the gunman with unprecedented recklessness and determination.
The pirate, seeing Alcon charging, held his aiming stance steady. He showed no sign of flinching or fear. He waited calmly until Alcon was only about two meters away. Then, he pulled the trigger.
Click!
A dry, metallic click echoed. But no spark flashed from the muzzle. No explosion sounded. No bullet fired. The gun... had jammed, or failed. The pirate stared in disbelief, unable to comprehend what had happened.
And at that exact moment, the wooden plank in Alcon's hands connected solidly with his face.
Thwack!
The pirate fell backward, out cold. The musket clattered to the ground beside him. Alcon stood there, gasping for breath, his heart pounding. He looked at the pirate he had just felled, then at the musket lying inert on the ground, and couldn't help but exclaim:
"Gods! That was crazy!"
Rober, watching the entire event unfold from a distance, let out a quiet sigh, feeling a wave of relief.
"Luckily" he thought silently "the mechanism and structure of these primitive flintlocks are quite simple and easily affected by external factors. Just a little magic to increase the moisture in the gunpowder inside the barrel was enough to prevent it from igniting."