"Get Vanda out here right now! I want him to take care of that Gladiator Gang freak, Dyno! And bring back the head!"
Arnold from Giant Workshop slammed the Molar Office reception desk in a fury, instantly drawing everyone's attention, especially toward Putato, who had just walked in.
"Hey, the tables here aren't as sturdy as the ones back at your Workshop."
"You're finally here! Couldn't find a trace of you during the lunch rush. So? Getting used to our Crusher yet?"
"It's not bad. Did some jobs this morning; just pulling that big guy out was enough to scare them shitless."
"Haha, we're friends, so I won't beat around the bush."
Arnold excitedly pulled Putato into a corner of the lobby and lowered his voice to explain the situation.
"We Workshops usually have to wait in line for rare materials from the Wings, X Corp alloys, M Corp Moonlight Stones. But occasionally, we have... special channels."
"I knew about a black-market shipment. I needed someone reliable. The Gladiator Gang guys are all body-augmented, experts in street fights and arena brawls. I picked one of their gold-rank gladiators named Dyno."
Putato understood now. These Workshops and Corporations were never just honest businessmen; they always had an angle. This was clearly a case of a deal gone sideways.
"What? He failed and you want to teach him a lesson? I'm not big on these types of hits."
"I would've accepted a failure! I was just taking a gamble on a Syndicate hire. But do you know what he did?!"
Arnold was losing it, spit flying onto Putato's face, veins bulging on his massive muscles.
"The idiot completely ignored the 'stealth' part. He punched the heads off every single guard, even the driver! I specifically told him to retreat if he was spotted. In the end, he was too lazy to carry the crate of heavy alloys, so he hailed a goddamn taxi to deliver it to me!"
"I was so spooked I gave the driver a fat stack of cash just to stay in another Nest for two months, but this is bound to leak."
"Union Co. is livid! They pre-paid the Wings for those goods. They're mobilizing their collection squads right now. The only way to settle this is to offer up Dyno's head."
"The commission is already filed. I only have one requirement: make it fast. With your strength, it shouldn't be a problem, right?"
Looking at Arnold's expectant face, Putato's mouth twitched, unsure how to react to such stupidity. He gave a quick nod.
"It's my job. But you've gotta tell me where the hell he's hiding first."
"The Armored Boxing Arena! That's where the Gladiator Gang holds their finals. As a gold-rank gladiator, there's no way Dyno would miss it. Just don't let that psycho slip away!"
"I'm doing this on my own dime; the Master doesn't even know. If you pull this off, I'll throw in a jacket from The Carnival."
"Then I'm on the clock."
Putato was well aware of the technical prowess of those weavers from The Carnival; they were famous far and wide. A jacket from them would pair perfectly with his indestructible jeans. It was clear Arnold was genuinely fuming.
Checking the location of the Armored Boxing Arena Arnold sent to his communicator, Putato immediately stepped out of the Office. Just as he was about to hail a cab, he heard a familiar call.
"Hey, hop on."
Elena?
Putato looked at Elena on her motorcycle with some surprise. Her shoulder-length black curls were as wild as steel talons, yet the soft lines of her beautiful face gave off a dorky, cute vibe. Being gazed at by those ruby-red eyes gave him a sudden, jolt of excitement.
"What are you spacing out for?"
Elena's eyes crinkled with a smile as she gestured toward the back seat.
Standing at the Office entrance, Putato finally snapped back to reality and wrapped his arms around her slim waist, even faintly feeling the pulse of warm blood flowing beneath her skin and clothes.
"Hey, didn't I give you a motorcycle before?"
"Cough cough, crashed it. By the way, why don't you just operate with me instead of just popping up randomly?"
"Can't go even this long without missing me? You're clingy like a baby. Fine, I'll clear some time to spend more with you."
"Actually, no need. I'm going to be swamped with commissions for the next couple of days."
"It's mainly because my appearance is on record. Staying in one area too long makes it easy to get flagged. The Association isn't as dumb as you think; they just have too much on their plate. Plus, some Bloodfiend Hunters have arrived recently, and they're a real pain."
...
SCREECH!
The motorcycle's sudden brake nearly sent Putato, who was preoccupied listening to Elena, flying. He quickly tightened his grip on her waist to stabilize himself.
"Could've given me a heads-up before stopping!"
"Whose fault is it for sitting so far back while hugging me? I don't know why you're acting so shy. Fare, please."
As Putato went to pay, his communicator started ringing incessantly. Frowning, he reached for it, but Elena grabbed his wrist.
A fleeting sting pricked his index and middle fingers. Putato watched in bewilderment as the veins in his right palm glowed with a shimmering red light. Elena gently took his two fingertips into her mouth, her eerie, blood-red eyes fixed on him.
VROOM, VROOM, VROOM.
Watching Elena ride away, Putato hesitated as he looked at his two dampened fingertips. He wiped them off, grabbed his communicator, and turned toward the underground Armored Boxing Arena.
"Hello? Who is this?"
"Brother, are you still alive?"
"Katae? What's up? You're at the orphanage now, right?"
"I'm fine. Just worried you were dead since I didn't see you for a day. I'm a little scared of not having anyone to protect me."
Putato finally remembered that Katae genuinely had psychological trauma. This kind of thing was like a physical illness; it couldn't be cured with just a few words of advice. Plus, he had somehow, in a moment of impulse, promised to protect him.
Once he made a choice, Putato didn't bother with regrets.
"I know. I'll come check on you tonight. If you're bored, just watch my stream for a bit."
"Okay."
RAAAAGH!
As soon as he reached the underground entrance, Putato heard the thunderous cheers coming from within. Looking up, he saw two bouncers at the door wearing red and blue exoskeletons.
"Hey, guys. I'm here for the show."
"Entry fee is 10,000 Ahn. Today is the day the Gladiator Gang crowns its Emperor. You're in luck, even if you don't bet, it'll be an eye-opener."
"For real? I heard about a gold-rank gladiator named Dyno. Any chance he takes the win?"
The eyes of the bouncers immediately shifted.
"Haha. Our Syndicate's Emperor is chosen by blood. You must be a first-timer... you're not here to start trouble, are you?"
"And how are you gonna watch the fight wearing a black blindfold?!"
Putato took a step back and pulled out the Crusher.
"Gentlemen, a job is just a job. Don't lose your life over your work."
THUD!
A nearby steel trash can was instantly hammered into a solid, flat disc. The two bouncers stood jaw-dropped and immediately cleared the path.
"Dyno is downstairs. Today is the finals, after all."
"The arena matches are the most important event for the Gladiator Gang. Please, don't tarnish the honor of the duel."
Stowing his weapon, Putato headed down. The crazed shouting vibrated against his eardrums. In the center of the massive underground space was a giant arena floor covered in gashes and scratches.
Looking closer, Putato discovered that one of the participants in the current match was actually a Fixer from the Cinq Association.
The Cinq Association, or Association 5, primarily handles duel representation, even if the duel is between their own members.
Did the Gladiator Gang have Association backing? Finding Dyno might be a bit more complicated than he thought.
"This guy actually hired someone from Cinq as a ringer. Isn't that against the rules?!"
"I can tell you're just mad about losing your bet. All disputes and conflicts here are settled by the best gladiators. If you have an objection, you send someone to win the match. If he can step into the ring, it means he's fully compliant with the honor of the duel!"
"If the Gladiator Gang didn't uphold the honor of the duel like this, how would the local corporations settle their business disputes through combat? Once this corporate match ends, it's time for the Gladiator Gang's main attraction: the Emperor gladiator selection!"
Putato frowned, leaning against the railing at the entrance as he looked down. The circular stands, looking exactly like a Roman Colosseum, were nearly packed to capacity. The sheer scale of the crowd was pushing close to a thousand people.
He could hardly imagine a Syndicate's arena match pulling this many viewers. Wasn't the chaos on the streets enough for them?
"Hey, brother. I'm new here. A friend mentioned a gold-rank gladiator named Dyno; is he stepping into the ring tonight?"
"Definitely. That is the honor of the duel! For gladiators who can hold their ground in the arena, it's both a glory and a duty. Not showing up would be a direct provocation to the entire Gladiator Gang!"
Putato felt a wave of relief, but quickly realized that if this guy was heading into the ring to fight, how was he supposed to bring his head back?
No, he had to get backstage and ask around immediately!
"Bastard! Don't you know Union Co. is intentionally sabotaging my shop for a hostile takeover?! Why are you fronting for those evil corporations!"
A boxer with a buzz cut, wearing purple exoskeletal armor, glared at Camille across the ring. The clashing of his steel gauntlets sent visible sparks flying, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
Camille, however, nonchalantly slotted her stream pole into a gap at the edge of the ring, then stood with hands on hips, striking a pose.
"A job is a job, a duel is a duel. Can't you tell the difference?"
"Say hello to my viewers. But don't expect me to hold back during the match. This is a Tier 2 duel, which means it continues until one party loses consciousness."
"You're all cut from the same cloth! Just watch, I'm going to punch your arrogant head off!"
Squeezing his way to the ringside, Putato looked at the feathered cap on Camille's head and her slightly overly flamboyant cape. He hadn't expected to run into a fellow streamer here.
As the gong sounded for the match to begin, Putato quickly turned and pushed through the crowd toward the arched backstage entrance. Only when he got close did he realize the thick iron gate was completely closed. About five muscular men with large silver belts around their waists stood there chatting.
CLANG, CLANG.
One silver-belted man leaning against the gate turned around. Seeing the newcomer's thin frame, he let out a disdainful huff. Noticing the black blindfold on Putato's head made him even more irritable.
"Hey, don't disturb the gold-rank gladiators' rest and prep! And you, what's a blind man like you doing watching a duel? Get lost!"
"Hahaha, look at this scrawny monkey. Did he break every bone in his body fighting in some back-alley ring? I've never seen anyone wrapped in that many bandages. Even the Emperor didn't look that bad after his last surgery."
Facing their mockery, Putato immediately recalled that the Gladiator Gang placed immense value on the so-called "honor of the duel." He could work with that.
He didn't want to mess up a perfect infiltration job like Dyno had. If he finished the commission but caused a scene, Arnold would probably flip out. Besides, even Union Co. was playing by the rules of commercial dueling here, which meant this Syndicate had some real weight.
"I am Grade 5 Fixer Vanda. I'm here for Dyno. He owes me a duel."
PFFT!
"That is officially the stupidest excuse I've ever heard. Do you really think a gold-rank gladiator of our gang is inferior to a Grade 5 Fixer?!"
"Kid, you win. I actually want to see how you have the guts to duel a gold-rank like Dyno. But let me tell you, a duel isn't something you can just take back once it starts."
"Hey, go tell Lord Dyno. See if he's interested in an extra match tomorrow."
Looking at the laughing brutes, Putato thought for a moment and curled his lips. He suddenly stepped up to the iron gate and began to taunt them.
"No way, and here I thought you lot actually cared about the honor of the duel. You don't even dare to drag Dyno out here to face me? Is Dyno afraid of losing face? Calling himself a gold-rank gladiator... what a shrimp."
Putato turned to leave with a look of contempt. He looked up and saw Camille, having won her match, waving to the spectators and the camera.
"Wait!"
CLACK.
The iron gate was shoved open. Four silver-belted men immediately rushed out and surrounded Putato, their eyes fixed hostily on this big-mouthed brat.
"We've notified Dyno. You'd better be prepared."
Putato ignored their gritted teeth and nodded in satisfaction, then pulled out his communicator to kill time.
[ Brandon:
Roland [3,000,000 Ahn ]: What exactly is this 'Backstreets disaster' you mentioned? I apologize for my previous rudeness.
Harold [100,000 Ahn ]: You still haven't been wiped out by the Index? Urban Girl, I want to know where Grey Haze is.
Don Quixote [100,000 Ahn ]: Delicious! I can feel the approval of The City!!!
Oswald [100,000 Ahn ]: Why does a low-quality show that just repeats comments attract so much attention! ]
The number of people willing to tip for a reply was increasing. Putato happily began responding, feeling like a massive field of fresh crops was waiting for him to harvest.
[ Putato:
To Roland: The Death Concert.
To Harold: The Backstreets.
To Don Quixote: It is infused with the spirit of Chivalry.
To Oswald: This is The City. Listen to Urban Girl. ]
Given Roland's polite, money-backed attitude, Putato sent him a cryptic hint. As for Harold, trying to find Grey Haze for just 100,000 Ahn? Keep dreaming!
Putato even took the time to reply to Don Quixote's private message. After all, a high-value customer like that deserved top-tier service!
"Who's looking for me!"
The colossal Dyno, clad in a custom-made pitch-black exoskeleton, strode out from the arched entrance. He instantly commanded the attention of the entire arena, making even the victorious Camille fade into the background.
Putato hurriedly pocketed his communicator. Looking up, he almost burst out laughing; the man's head, while normal-sized, looked tiny atop his massive, hulking frame.
Three empty syringe needles were still embedded in his forearms, and his eyes were unfocused as he stared toward the ring.
But remembering how brutally this guy had smashed everyone's heads during the black-market warehouse raid, Putato quickly straightened his face.
"I am Fixer Vanda. I've been commissioned to settle a grudge. Let's end this with a duel to the death."
"Duel?!"
Dyno's stiff face suddenly flushed red, and his eyes turned bloodshot. Like a beast suddenly driven into a frenzy, he locked onto Putato and roared at the ceiling, arms flung wide.
BEGIN!
Dammit!
Putato finally understood the situation. This guy's brain was fried from whatever stimulants he was taking; he had a hair-trigger response to the keyword "duel." Some unlucky soul at the black-market warehouse must have accidentally set him off.
WHOOSH!
A terrifying gust from a punch came at him, sending the underground arena into a fever pitch. Countless spectators cheered, hoping for a classic scene of brains splattered everywhere.
But with his superhuman reaction speed and dynamic vision, Putato caught the movement instantly. Blood Sword unsheathed in a flash, carving a path straight through that massive, muscular arm.
The massive, bone-deep gash sent blood spraying from Dyno's right arm. Furious, he used the exoskeleton to force a pivot, clenching both fists into a massive hammer-blow aimed at snapping Putato in half.
The five silver-belted gladiators, fearing they'd be splattered with blood, slammed the iron gate shut behind them.
Spiral Spear!
Putato reached into the void, and a long, spiraling metal spear materialized in his hand. He thrust it forward with everything he had.
SHICK!
The terrifying, oversized spear instantly pierced through Dyno's exoskeletal armor and straight through his chest.
Putato yanked the bloodied Spiral Spear back with a flick, directly parrying a fist coming from his right.
Dyno's massive, muscular body, exoskeleton and all, slammed into the ground, blood pooling beneath him.
The roaring arena fell abruptly silent, like a fire being snuffed out. Every eye was fixed on Putato.
"Vanda?"
The silver-rank gladiator beside Putato whispered the name in disbelief, which reignited the arena's fervor. After all, the spectators didn't care who died in the duel; a duel was just a duel.
"Vanda! Vanda!"
Just as Putato felt he'd wrapped up the commission, Camille's displeased voice cut through the cacophony of the crowd.
"Hey. You interrupted my duel with him. Winning all the duels designated by my client was my commission. In other words, you just poached my job."