"Malin! I demand a duel with you!" That’s how the silly boy kicked things off.
The senior students training not far away exploded with commotion, looking at this unknown warrior with both surprise and admiration.
"Does this guy even know what he’s doing?" one senior asked, eyeing the kid as if he were a lunatic on a suicide mission.
"How should I know? Probably just a fool, since fools don’t need to think, just rush in and die," his friend lamented from beside him.
"I’ll open the betting, he won’t last beyond one move," another student declared.
"Who would bet with you? I can only last up to Malin’s third move, and after that he lifts his limits, his speed shoots up by at least 4 points, impossible to guard against. This kind of fool that demands a duel out of nowhere won’t last more than one move," a top student shook his head, suggesting that the bookie was simply scamming everyone.
"Then let’s bet on how he’s going to die," a less scrupulous student suggested.
"That’s too cruel, he is a warrior after all. Let’s bet on what Malin will use to finish him off instead," a little girl came up with a better idea: "I’m the bookie, Malin is definitely going to punch him to death."
"I bet on the tall metal pole from the training ground, Malin is definitely going to love that feel," a senior student said.
"It can’t be barehanded, when Malin hits someone, he’s gotta use something like bricks, chairs, or wooden sticks," another student expressed.
After the bets were locked in and she collected at least four thousand in gold, the girl gestured towards Malin who was stepping onto the stage after being checked and witnessed by Colin and Hoffman: "Malin, hammer this idiot to death with your fist!"
"Faye, is that really okay?" Malin held a small twig in his hand – a tool that wouldn’t cause fatal damage as long as he didn’t stab with it, but could still make the kid scream in pain if whipped with it.
But using his fist, Malin was afraid he’d kill the kid with one punch.
"I bet on your fist," Faye made a cutesy plea.
"Alright, but don’t bet next time," Malin shook his head at the desolate senior students below.
You fools, why would you even gamble with Faye? She’s my girl after all.
Putting away the twig, Malin made a beckoning gesture to the boy: "You first."
Without a word, the kid tossed away his sword and threw a punch straight at Malin’s face.
Not bad, Malin actually took a liking to him, then met his punch with his own.
Both took a step back.
Malin loosened his left hand, smiling for the first time as he felt an opponent with nearly the same strength.
He was a worthy opponent indeed.
With that thought, Malin stepped aside to dodge the punch, deftly sidestepped to avoid an elbow strike, then moved behind the kid, wrapping around his waist for a suplex.
"Did his neck break?" Colin asked, looking at Karlmo as the kid was slammed onto the ground by Malin with a very exaggerated technique.
"Shouldn’t be, his feet are still twitching reflexively," Karlmo observed and then saw Malin get up: "He matched your punch?"
"Yes, one punch. His strength is similar to mine, but he’s far less agile," Malin honestly reported, also making way for the medics – after all, the other party was just a kid and fighting a life-and-death battle with such a young one, even if he killed him, would not be something to boast about.
As for himself, Malin never considered himself a child.
Being cute was fine, but not to the point of believing it himself.
With that in mind, Malin glanced at the Bishop from the Church of Justice standing beside Hoffman: "You seem like you know something."
"Of course, I do. This kid walked out of solitary and spent a good deal of money on enhancing himself with rare items, and he vowed to take Matilda back from you, such a lovesick boy," the old man laughed like a sly old wolf that had just stolen a chicken.
"Matilda? Weren’t you the one who had her take refuge with me?" Malin was stunned for a moment, then turned to look at his sister, just in time to see the Big-eared Fox trying to sneak away.
Malin reached out, and Faye smiled sweetly as she handed over a training sneaker.
Matilda stopped in her tracks, staring at the sneaker half-buried in the wall; the Big-eared Fox eventually turned with a very reluctant smile: "Mr. Malin? I feel like the Church might need me more, forgot to say goodbye to you."
"No need to leave, my kitchen needs you more," Malin smiled, showing off a perfect set of eight white teeth.
The shadow cast on the wall seemed to twist maliciously with evil intent.
In the end, Matilda didn’t muster the courage to flee and obediently returned to Maya’s side, while Malin turned back to the old man: "How about Matilda Miss serves as my assistant for the next while?"
"Good," the old man answered briskly.
"Aren’t you worried about anything?" Malin was taken aback then asked.
"What do I have to worry about? Matilda comes of age next month, the new Justice Maiden is being selected, and for the Church, she’s a great commander. But for the Justice Maiden, she’s just a soon-to-retire predecessor. If you need, she can be at your service as an assistant for the next few years," the old man said with a smile.
Malin took a sharp breath.
Wow, I just thought you two, one old and one young, couldn’t be in cahoots.
With that realisation, Malin decided to just hold his nose and accept this arrangement.
Forget it, as long as I can make money, consider it as the house has taken in a particularly expensive maid.