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Chapter 110: Captain Dordok
🕑 Added 2023-02-15 17:36:33 +0000 UTCThe Morningstar bar was precariously placed. Surrounded by five-hundred-foot falls on either side, it only had a flimsy fence protecting its patrons. Coupled with the cityscape stretching under it, it gave the impression of a bar in the sky—which it was, in a way.
In fact, the bar had commandeered one of the openings on the wall, laying out tall tables before it for people to enjoy the view.
As Jack approached, he was assaulted by raucous laughter and strong winds. The patrons’ clothes flapped furiously in the night wing. Their drinks threatened to spill outside their glasses. The patrons themselves remained steady; even the least of them was an E-Grade.
Most people were dressed similarly to the humans of Earth. Of course, their body’s resistance to both heat and cold gave them more fashion options. Some people wore shorts and t-shirts, showcasing tattoo-sleeved arms. Others donned cloaks that covered them top-to-bottom, and another few were garbed in long veils that flapped in the wind.
Most of the patrons were feshkurs. Jack also saw a few saphiras, as well as Kovans, the spinning-top-like merchant species that had also been present in the Integration Tournament. There were also lone representatives of other species—Jack saw an orange-skinned ogre drinking alone—but in all honesty, his mind was already overwhelmed by new sights. If he paid attention to every peculiarity, he would never walk a step.
With Brock following closely, he approached the counter, where a Level 110 feshkur woman was chatting with a couple of saphiras. “Excuse me,” Jack said. The barwoman turned to him, while the saphiras kept speaking by themselves.
“Yes?” the barwoman asked, scanning him up and down. Her gaze was hard, but not aggressive. Her thin arms were covered by a white apron.
“I am looking for a ride to the Belarian Outpost,” Jack explained politely. “Do you know if any starship is heading that way?”
Hearing his question, she smirked. “Take it easy, honey,” she said. “First things first: Would you like to buy a beer?”
Jack wasn’t sure whether this was bargaining or simple hospitality, but he suddenly remembered he was dehydrated and starving. The food could wait until he was done finding a ship, but the beer… “Yes, please,” he replied.
“Okay.”
Nobody here seemed to mind Jack’s appearance, which was a relief. He was shirtless, with ripped-up pants and hints of blood on his chest, but the most he received was odd stares. Back on Earth—or rather, before the Integration—people would be running away screaming.
The bartender grabbed a thick glass from the wall behind her and placed it under a tap, filling it until the foam licked the edge. “There,” she said, handing it to him along with a green credit card that showed no numbers—a merchant’s staple. “That’s five credits.”
Similar to the dollar price… Does a credit in the galaxy equate a dollar on Earth?
Jack reached for his card and touched it to hers, waiting until the -5 sign appeared on its surface. The cards could hide or show their balance at the owner’s discretion, and Jack had naturally chosen to hide his. It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t nothing, either.
He took a sip. It was heavenly. “Wanna try, Brock?” he asked, letting the brorilla have a sip as well.
“Of ships heading to the Outpost,” the barwoman said, returning to Jack’s questions, “we have plenty. There is a departure every three days, roughly. If you just wait a bit, you’ll find a ride.”
“When is the next one? I’m in somewhat of a hurry.”
“In two days, I believe.” Seeing Jack’s deep frown, she added, “There is also a starship leaving for the Outpost in an hour from now, but I believe they are full. You could ask, since you’re in a hurry. Maybe they’ll take you along.”
“I will do that,” Jack replied quickly. “Could you direct me?”
She jabbed her head to the side. “See that big orange guy? That’s the captain.”
She was referring to the orange ogre that Jack had spotted on his way in. “Good. Thank you.”
“No problem. Safe travels.”
The barwoman returned to her saphira friends, while Jack took his beer and walked towards the ogre. It wasn’t difficult; the bar tables spread out in a sixty-foot wide semi-circle around the counter, so there was plenty of space despite the crowd. And, in any case, the orange man was sitting just further down the long counter. Jack reached him in a heartbeat.
“Excuse me,” he said politely. “I heard you’re the captain of a starship heading towards the Belarian Outpost. Is that true?”
The ogre turned to look at him.
It was suspicious how close Earth’s mythology fell to the actual aliens. Not only were some galaxy names in latin, like Ursus Mountain and its bears, but djinns and efreetis were also real.
Now, as Jack looked at this person, he found another familiar creature.
The ogre was large, orange, and hairless, with a potty belly and only a dirty cloak, black pants, and black boots for clothes. Though he was seated, Jack thought he must have been tall; certainly taller than himself. His face was rough-cut, with a wide nose and square teeth. There was also a metallic greatclub resting against the counter nearby.
Most importantly, the ogre only had a single, blue eye.
Cyclops, Level ??? (D-Grade)
Faction: -
Title: Far Traveler
Jack’s thoughts about aliens and mythological connections were abruptly cut off as he realized he was face-to-face with an immortal.
On second thought, he should have imagined it. He knew that space-warping starships could only be operated by immortals. He had just forgotten that little detail.
“I am,” the cyclops replied in a gruff voice. His disinterest was obvious, but he still humored Jack. “Friends call me Dordok. You can call me Captain.”
“I— Yes, Captain.” Jack regained his bearings. He had to remember that he was in a civilized place. This immortal wouldn’t just kill him for wasting his time…right? “My name is Jared, and this is Monk.” Since they were on the run, they obviously needed fake names—though he’d accidentally given his real one to the girl in the elevator line. “We are also headed to the Outpost. If there’s any space in your ship, could we—”
“We are full,” Dordok cut him off.
“We don’t even need a room, Captain! Any random corner will do. We are just in a real hurry.”
The cyclops considered it for a moment. His eye narrowed as he scanned Jack and Brock from top to bottom. “Fine. If you complain even once about your living conditions, I will drop you off at the next stop. And I will charge you extra for all the trouble your “hurry” might bring to me and my ship.”
He didn’t seem bothered to ask just who was after them; who knows what he assumed—and Jack wasn’t an idiot to give more information. He had even been prepared to lie about it. After all, if this person knew they were hunted by the Animal Kingdom, he would probably deny them boarding on the spot.
“Thank you, Captain,” Jack replied, nodding deeply. Then, gritting his teeth, he continued. “I was also hoping to offset some of the cost by serving as a guard for the ship.”
“Out of the question. A low E-Grade is only qualified to scrub the floors on my ship, and I already have a crew for that.” His one brow fell lower. “You can pay, right?”
“If I may, Captain,” Jack insisted, suddenly painfully aware that he was speaking with an immortal, “I may be only a low E-Grade in Level, but my strength reaches the middle E-Grade.” He wasn’t sure about this, but he had to risk it.
At this, the cyclops finally showed a hint of interest. “Are you certain?” he asked.
“Yes,” Jack replied. He wasn’t, but only a fool would say no.
“Hmm. Earth-387… That’s the newly-integrated planet, isn’t it? About a month ago?”
“Two months, captain,” Jack lied. The cyclops could see his species listed as Human (Earth-387), so he never expected to hide that. However, since he was given the opportunity, he increased the timespan to make him reaching the E-Grade less notable. The Integration had actually happened around a month and a week ago. “I ranked in the top 16 of the Integration Tournament. Then I met a scion of the Animal Kingdom, and, well… Not much I could do.”
A hint of rage burned in the captain’s eye. Jack almost blurted out everything.
“They’re still doing that, then. Dishonorable cretins,” the captain said. “If you are lying to me, boy, you will regret it.” Jack remained silent. After a moment, the captain continued. “My ship always has space for talented young cultivators. If you really possess the strength you claim, I will slot you in and even give you a bed to sleep in at half the normal price—two thousand five hundred credits a head. So five thousand for you and your monkey.”
“We—” Jack gritted his teeth even harder than before, looking down. “We only have three thousand, Captain. I know this is too much to ask, but could we pay you the remaining two thousand at a later date? We… We are in need.”
The cyclops didn’t reply immediately, but Jack didn’t dare raise his gaze. Finally, the voice that replied to him was both surprised and annoyed. “Do you not have a shred of fear, boy?”
“I do, Captain. I am shaking in my boots.”
At this, the cyclops finally chuckled a bit, the sound of two rocks grinding. “Wait a moment,” he said, turning back to the counter.
Jack obliged. However, Captain Dordok seemed to be ignoring him, lazily sipping on his beer as if waiting for something. Without a choice, and hoping it wasn’t consider disrespectful, Jack did the same.
After an entire minute, someone approached them from behind. “You called, Captain?”
Jack turned to find a lean feshkur staring at him oddly. He was tall, at least two heads above Jack, with scars on his bare chest and a red bandana wrapped around his forehead. A mace hung from his belt.
Feshkur, Level 85
Faction: -
“This boy claims to have the power of a middle E-Grade,” the cyclops said, motioning at Jack. “Interesting, isn’t it?”
“Very,” the feshkur replied, understanding his captain’s meaning in a heartbeat. “My name is Vashter. What say you, boy? Wanna prove your words?”
“Always,” Jack responded. “But how?”
“What’s your Dao?” Vashter asked. Jack didn’t reply immediately. One’s Dao and skills were highly personal information.
“Answer him, boy,” Captain Dordok chimed in. “If you want to join my crew, revealing is your Dao is the very least you can do.”
“The Dao of the Fist,” Jack finally replied.
Vashter smiled. “That makes things simple.” He drew his mace. “If you can last a few strikes against me, you pass.”
“Wha— Here? Now?”
“Yes. And remember; the loser pays for the damages.”
“I—”
Before Jack could finish his words, an orange hand grabbed his neck from behind and flung him out. Jack was drowned in overwhelming strength. Even if he was ten times as strong, he would still be like a baby faced with that hand.
He landed on the wooden floor with a roll and quickly jumped upright. He had flown over some tables to reach an empty area fifteen feet in diameter, surrounded by bar patrons on all sides. Seeing him, they looked confused for a moment before erupting into cheers. Vashter appeared across him like a blur. The crowd cheered harder.
With only fifteen feet to move, this place was extremely cramped for a battle between E-Grades. It was only suitable for a brawl.
“Come on, boy,” Vashter taunted, twirling his mace. “Show me the power of a genius.”
Mid-twirl, his mace lashed out in a stab. It was faster than a whip or an arrow. Jack barely caught a glimpse before his fighting skill—the Iron Fist Style—activated, pulling his head to the side. The air exploded next to his ear.
“Not bad,” Vashter said, already back in his previous position, twirling the mace with nonchalance. However, his eyes held a hint of intrigue now. “But let’s see how you deal with a real attack.”
Jack clenched his fist, desperately trying to enter his battle mode faster. That was a weakness of his; most of his battles so far had been either him ambushing someone else or a tournament fight, so he always had time to prepare himself. Now, he was thrust into full-on combat out of nowhere.
The mace blurred. Jack barely had time to raise his forearm. The impact sounded like steel on steel, and Jack’s arm barely held. If not for his regeneration, he would have a purple bruise spanning from wrist to elbow the next day.
But Vashter didn’t retreat. He flowed into more attacks, swinging his mace like a hurricane. Jack dodged one strike and redirected the next, no longer daring to block, but defending was all he could do. There was no time to counter-attack.
Ghost Step, he thought, flashing behind Vashter in a heartbeat and striking out.
“Oho! We’re using Skills, then!” Vashter shouted, then disappeared. Jack jumped aside before the mace crushed down from above, halting its momentum just before it broke the floor. Jack punched again. Vashter blocked one strike, then swept his mace widely. Jack stepped back—
—and reached the edge of the tiny arena. A pair of firm hands pushed his back, making him stumble right into the attack. It was too late to defend. The mace struck his ribs at the same time that Jack used his forward momentum to unleash a Meteor Punch right at Vashter’s face. There was no time for his punch to actually connect, so all he could do was shoot it out as a projectile and hope for the best. Blinding pain enveloped him.
The world tumbled as Jack flew away, crashing through two tables before a tall and wide feshkur caught him. The same feshkur screamed obscenities in his ear, but joke’s on him—that ear had been deafened earlier.
Jack stumbled upright, struggling and regaining his balance. His entire body was in pain. Maybe he still wasn’t fully healed from his battle with Rufus.
A path of broken wood and glass was strewn before him, leading all the way to the brawl circle. A dozen E-Grade eyes glared at him. In the brawl circle, Vashter was just standing up—Jack’s meteor had taken him to the ground.
However, the feshkur’s eyes weren’t disappointed or triumphant. Instead, they gazed at Jack with what seemed like…surprise? Respect?
Jack lost sight of Vashter as a crowd of angry feshkurs gathered around him, but an orange giant blocked their path. The moment the feshkurs saw him, they all stepped back and shut up. Seeing the captain standing for the first time, Jack realized he was shorter than the feshkurs, only a head taller than Jack himself, but double as wide in all dimensions.
“Don’t worry, everyone,” captain Dordok said, laughing. “The boy will buy your next two rounds of drinks.”
“Will he also pay for my damages?” the barwoman said, having suddenly appeared just behind the captain. Her fingertips glowed with green light, and the wood splinters floated and recombined into whole tables and chairs. It was like nothing had happened.
“Of course,” the captain responded. “This young man enjoys taking responsibility. He will repay you in full.”
“Good. Thank you, Captain,” she replied, turning to stare at Jack and extending her credit card. “That will be two thousand credits.”
Jack failed to see why he needed to pay that much; the barwoman had clearly restored everything with a moment’s effort. Her losses were zero. He also failed to see why he should be the one to pay, even though he had been forced into this battle.
“Because the loser pays, always,” captain Dordok said as if reading his thoughts. “Consider it the fee for having us test you.”
Jack couldn’t retort to that. He touched his credit card to the barwoman’s. “So…”
Dordok stepped forward and held out a large, orange hand that made Jack’s seem tiny. “That was impressive, Jared. The crew of the Trampling Ram can use someone of your talents. Welcome aboard.”
Comments
good guy
Tftc!
