Shambala Sect 73 Dusty Blood

"There's a rule that none shall be murdered on this ship," Sean, who was seated in his chair, coldly looked down at them. "You guys didn't keep that rule in mind, but if it wasn't for that same rule, you five brothers would have probably lost your lives by now, given the ruckus you've caused in the hall." He chewed his cigar that was almost over. "Dozens got burned by the flames, but fortunately, only a few suffered serious injuries; however, if any of those people die, then you guys are doomed."

The five brothers couldn't directly look in Sean's eyes.

"I don't care how angry or insulted you may feel, but always take things outside the hall," Sean said, his eyes shimmering with cold light. "Teach someone a lesson or two if you want, but never go for a man's life on this ship. The rules are set for a reason, and it's not to restrain the strong but to teach them some self-restraint, and also not to bully the weak but to build up their backbone. That's why you are given the freedom to hurt and injure someone as much as you want if they mess with you, but in return, you are only asked to not end their lives. Can't you even obey that?" A few seconds of silence pa.s.sed. "You can't polish people without pushing them to their limits. Every deck on this ship, in one way or another, provides new opportunities for growth. Anyone on this ship may one day become a member of the Shambala Sect. So, we should treat others either like friends, or much better, rivals, but not enemies. How do you people expect to become members of the Shambala Sect if you think and act no better than apes on pills?" The brothers didn't raise their heads all this while. "Next time you brothers even think of doing something this nasty, also think about the consequences. Since this is your first mistake on my deck, I'm letting things go. Just pay for the alcohol you've wasted, and give five silver to all the injured, and then an extra five gold for the property damage. Last but not least, you should publicly apologize to the referee, the former referee, and then you will be allowed to take part in the deck tests, understand?"

"C-Commander," Betts raised his head. "We can somehow manage and give five silver to the injured, but as for the loss of alcohol and the additional five gold for property damage.. it's a bit too much." Paying for alcohol is no joke. Though rum and wine barrels were stored in the twelfth deck's test hall, they were only allowed to be tasted by people from the upper decks. It was the same with all the rich and exotic foods, too. Paying for all that would not only fill holes in their pockets, but they'd be left with a huge debt.

"Oh, fine," Sean's voice was indifferent, "then make it ten."

The brothers' eyes enlarged, and redness crept into the corners.

Sean got up from his seat, a thing throne made to resemble a standing cat. Cat fur provided some cushion in the throne, and cat claws also served as a decoration. "You think I'm playing games with you guys?" Sean's voice deepened. "Ten gold coins won't even cover half the destruction you've all caused. More importantly, you've wasted the time of many by throwing the hall into chaos. Can you bring the lost time back? Besides, if those monkeys hadn't come, I would have made you guys take responsibility for each and everything you've done." He ground his teeth. "Now, all I'm asking is that you pay some coins and show some regret to the public."

"B-But, Commander," Divas said, "we don't have that much with us."

"I don't care," Sean blurted out. "Pay it within the next 300 fiifs[1] of time, or you'll all be escorted to Drill Hall, where you'll be required to live behind bars for as long as I feel like it."

The four of them nodded under duress.

"You can leave."

After those five left, Sean shook his head.

"You just let them go like that, Sir Sean?" Mikey, who was waiting outside the room, just entered the room. "Given their background, they could easily pay a lot more."

"It's a pain in the a.s.s to punish those who have potential," Sean sighed as he sat back in his seat. "The Martial Way is a long walk. Not all good guys or bad guys stay the same throughout. Let's see how these brothers take this set back."

"Understood," Mikey nodded. (All bad guys don't stay bad throughout, huh. He's right. They may change, or even we may change. Also, all of our posts are temporary, so it's better to be careful now than to cry afterward. No matter how I look at it, Sir Sean is very thoughtful. No wonder he's managed to stay as the commander of this deck for so long. I'm starting to see why even a big shot like Captain Gorka favors this man. If only I can...)

At that moment, Sean glanced at Mikey. "Are you wondering why I didn't make you the referee after sacking Jehez?"

"No, no, sir," Mikey was startled, but Sean was starting right at him. "Y-Yes, sir. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I would be mad if you aren't angry at me now," said Sean, surprising Mikey. "Any man without ambition is no different than these thing thrones. They only exist to serve, and they can't fill in your place. So… keep aiming for this seat."

Sean's words enlarged Mikey's eyes, and his impression on the commander totally changed.

"However, don't let ambition blind your eyes," Sean's voice turned a bit heavy. "Though I've heard complaints about you…" At this point, Mikey's body shook, "I overlooked them, solely because not just any ordinary man can stay in Cat Home for long. So don't disappoint me again."

"Understood, sir," Mikey replied aloud and bowed a little. "Thank you for giving me another opportunity. I will do my best to not disappoint you again."

"Anyway, what's the update with that boy?"

"Oh, you mean the one with the scarface, sir?"

"Ah, yes, yes, did he recover enough to attend for his review?"

"I'm afraid not. He was the one who got the most injuries of all. I didn't go and see him personally, but I heard he got severe burns, and his bones were bruised everywhere."

"Quite a wild kid he must be—for him to try and fight the brothers alone. I'll give him that." Sean smiled a bit. "He was probably tougher than the brothers thought."

"Not so tough, though," Mikey remarked. "He might die if not treated soon, sir. n.o.body has come forward to offer help."

Sean was startled, "What? More than ten hours have pa.s.sed since the ruckus in the hall, yet none stepped forward to heal him?"

"News has already spread that the boy was the reason why the brothers fought in the first place."

"Oh, so that's how it is," Sean pulled his head back a bit and thought for a moment. "Even though the brothers have clearly gone against the rules, everyone's siding with them. The brothers are doing well now, and they have a bright future ahead, unlike the boy who has uncertainty written all over him. Even though he's promising, n.o.body knows his name enough, let alone him as a person to make an effort. I guess I can't blame people for taking the brothers' side."

"What do you want to do now, sir? Do you want to save him?"

"I would if he was innocent, but that's not really the case, is it?" a corner of Sean's lips curled up a little. "Besides, if the boy dies, the brothers will have gotten themselves into huge trouble. I would love to see them suffer for their stupidity."

"But, sir, if he dies on our deck, your reputation might take a dent. Also, are you really wishing such an ill fate for someone who has donated so much for the cats?"

Sean paused a moment. "Donated? Who? The brothers?"

"No, sir. The boy."

"He donated?" Sean raised his brow. "How much?"

"I'm not sure, but it's quite a lot, given that he earned it by involving every bettor during that round."

Sean blinked twice. "Was his name Lirzod?"

"I think so, but I don't believe that's his name, sir."

"Why?" Sean's voice hastened a bit.

"Because I'm told Lirzod was the one who tussled with Geragorn recently."

"Wait, the one who moved Geragorn's a.s.s off the tenth deck was Lirzod?" Sean's eyes widened a bit, and he got out of his seat at once.

"U-Uh, I'm not so sure, sir," Mikey made a dumb face, not knowing what to say. Sean was usually busy, spending time in Drill Hall, and even though many trainees talk about news there, they still wouldn't dare talk in front of their master, unless some groundbreaking event happened, so Mikey could understand why he wasn't fully aware of the information. "Forgive me for being useless."

"This boy…" Sean pumped his fists. "We can't let him die like this!"

Meanwhile, in the Drill Clinic, on the twelfth deck.

The elf girl looked quite tired, but she also looked happy.

"Thanks a lot, miss," one patient kowtowed after he got healed, "if not for you, I'd still be suffering."

"Please get up. I just did my job."

"Yes, miss, but you demand less coin than others, even though you heal better than the rest, as far as I know." He looked at his body and looked satisfied. "I still can't believe that all the burnt skin on my hand got healed in less than an hour."

"I've used a bit of mierion in the oil applied to the injury," the elf girl informed in a polite tone. "It made all the difference, that's all."

"I don't know what that is, but please accept this," he pulled out his silver bracelet and put it at her feet.

"No, I can't take this," she stepped back in surprise, but the man hurriedly left the room with a big smile. She shook her head and sighed as she picked up the bracelet. "Mm, this should be worth at least ten copper. These vulnurs[2] can be really sweet sometimes," she slid the bracelet into her pockets and took a breath before looking at the emptied beds. Out of the six beds she had, only one was occupied now. She had healed around forty men successfully, but this one person's injuries were way too out of her league.

She reached his bed and looked at him, who was still covered in leaves and hadn't moved an inch all this while. "I don't know how much pain you're in, but it's good that you are unconscious." She paused a moment and then frowned a bit. "At the same time, being unconscious for this long isn't a good sign either. It's amazing how you're still breathing after taking so much damage. I thought you'd have kicked the bucket by now, to be honest. Lord Jien[3], indeed, loves to show miracles that mortals can only marvel at-el." She removed a leaf on his hands and observed his skin and flesh. "Mm, at least the deterioration has stopped." She then nodded to herself. "It's time I prepare an herbal drink, for when he abraids out of his sleep."

She walked up to a bed where there was a severed arm lying in a small bucket. It was from one of the patients who got his hand squashed by a band of thieves. It was beyond repair, so she had to cut it. She picked up the bucket and opened a hidden door by pressing her hand at a particular spot on the wall and entered the bright, warm room before closing it from the inside. The inside had a vast s.p.a.ce, almost twice as big as the test hall, which was filled with plants and herbs of all kinds grown in wide wooden vessels stocked with black soil. The ceiling was about fifty meters high from the floor, so even the trees had enough s.p.a.ce to grow to their fullest. A sizable beehive could be seen embedded in the ceiling. Spiders were lying in wait on their webs cast between some trees.

Though everything was kept clean inside, a variety of insects could be seen moving from one plant to another.

She walked up to one of the vessels and dug up some soil with an old shovel before placing the severed hand inside, and then she closed up the hole, joined her palms and prayed, "Lord Jien, please see to it that all the flesh, blood, and bone properly replenish the soil and nourish the plants."

She then moved on to collect some herbs.

In the meantime, a horse and buggy stopped outside the clinic. The two members of the Knuckle Hounds guild were in the carriage, whereas 777 somehow managed to catch up on foot.

Panting heavily with his hands placed on his knees, he gave Blood a bitter look. It was a two-man carriage, but three people could be fit inside with some effort; however, he was made to follow the horse on foot. (I heard she was a bit s.a.d.i.s.tic. I hope she's satisfied with this.)

The three of them entered the clinic, and their eyes fell on the one and only person inside the room.

"Is that the knuckle I need to treat?" Blood asked.

"Uh, I think that's the one," 777 hurriedly walked over and lifted a few leaves off the patient's face, and his expression stiffened.

"What, he's not the one?"

"N-No, he is the one," 777 took a breath and stepped back, for he could barely recognize Lirzod. "Please heal him."

"That's why I'm here," Blood made her guild member bring her a seat, and she sat beside the bed. "Who put these leaves without even removing the pieces of cloth?" she looked irritated.

"It was probably a doctor down the street," 777 purposely said, "that's why I've come seeking your help."

"Then why are the leaves still on his body?" she glanced up at him.

"U-Uh, I will take care of them," 777 said in reluctance.

Both 777 and the other guy then helped remove the leaves off Lirzod, leaving all his wounds exposed. As for the cloth, only bits of his pants were left untouched by Blood, and she removed everything else with her scissors.

"Don't make any noise from here on, boozles," she placed her hand on Lirzod's belly and closed her eyes. Green aura leaked out of her palms and cascaded into his body.

A few moments later, the flesh and the skin on Lirzod's body started to reconstruct, and vapors came out of his body.

(It seems to be working.) 777 felt at ease. (Choosing her was the right decision.) As he saw, in about three minutes, all the wounds on Lirzod's body were healed, and his face was restored. He looked like he was never hurt, at least from the outside.

"My work's done," Blood lifted her hands off Lirzod's belly.

"Wait," 777 intervened. "What about that scar running from his face—to the forearm?"

"That's an old scar," Blood cast a glance at the boy's face. "I'm not skillful enough to heal it."

"O-Oh," 777 didn't know what to say. "U-Uh, at least he's all healed, so, thank you."

"Don't celebrate yet," she replied.

"Hm?" 777 was puzzled. "What are you saying, miss?"

"He's not fully healed," she replied in a similar fashion.

Blood's words puzzled 777 and the other guy. "What do you mean, miss?"

"While I was healing him, I found some impurities in his blood," she looked at her palm and closed and opened her fist. "They are probably a type of comminglers."

"What are those?" 777's expression changed for the worse by the second.

"Germs that take over the body from the inside," Blood continued speaking in a casual, unaffected tone.

"D-Does that mean he will die if not treated?" 777's eyes widened as he asked.

She lightly nodded.

777 was bewildered. "What the h.e.l.l do you mean? Why didn't you remove those things?"

"I would if I could."

"What?" 777's barked. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm not," she was blunt.

777 ground his teeth. In frustration, he clutched his hair. He thought everything was going fine, but he was wrong. Even though he wanted to fume at Blood, he couldn't dare to do that. "H-How did those things even get in his body?"

"That's not my concern," she stood from the chair.

"W-Wait," 777 hurriedly said, "if his blood is impure, can't we send fresh blood and purify it?"

Blood began to walk away, "You can't clean a dirty ocean by dumping clean water into it."

Upon hearing her words, anger thundered in 777's ears. What good did she do if she only brought back Lirzod's outer appearance without actually taking care of the problems on the inside? "How, how much time does he have?"

"No idea," Blood casually replied, "maybe a year, or maybe an hour. It depends on the knuckle's luck. Dusty blood is always on its way to doom, so you better find an expert healer, but still, don't put too many hopes on him."

At this point, rage immobilized 777. Though his blood was boiling, all he did was grind his teeth.

Meanwhile, inside the secret room.

The elf girl had collected the herbs and walked over to the animal cages where different kinds of animals were caged in. Most of them were snakes, and as she fed them lizard eggs, she realized that one of the cages was empty, and on that cage was written 'The Seven Seasons Snake.'

The herbs and eggs' baskets in her hands fell to the floor.

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[1] Fiif: A span of five minutes. Three hundred fiifs of time is equal to a day and an hour, which is 25 hours of time.

[2] Vulnur: This is how elves used to refer to humans in the past. Only a few species in the world still call humans in this manner. Vulnur means, 'one who can be easily wounded.'

[3] Jien: A deity elves believe in and pray to.