The crowd of players was gawking at the crazy laughing man. What would happen to him? They had seen instructor Igor trash people for way less.
Jack’s eyes were fixed on the symbols on the cloak, reading them. It went የቡጢ ፍትህ which translated to ‘Fist Justice’. While it sounded slightly strange, this alone wasn’t cause for much concern. The problem was that he had seen too much in his gaming career.
There had been plenty of ‘Justice’ guilds. This specific way of writing was pretty much associated with degeneracy and trolling (no judgment). Oppai Justice, Flat is Justice, Buns Justice, and many more.
There had been so many ‘Justice guilds’ that a compilation thread had appeared to list them all. It had enough pages to rival the dictionary! Whatever trendy joke people would get hyped about figured there.
Now, Fist Justice had been the name of one particular monk guild. Their motto had been: “All you need in life is a mighty fist. Perfect for the battlefield and the bedroom alike! ;)”
Jack had utterly lost it as he saw the NPC instructor proudly showcase the official title of the ones that were called the Fisting Monks…There was an enormous clash!
Igor approached him growling: “Is there something funny?” His brows were furrowed in anger, and he was so damn close to killing him on the spot. He was only an impertinent weakling in his eyes.
On the side, Bubblegum was more excited than worried. Was this another incredible plan?! This laughter had seemed so natural too! Was he trying to impress the players, the NPC, or even her?! no way that it was the latter, haha…
Many in the gallery recognized the expert who had kited the chickens to the forest. Some were gloating, rejoicing at seeing the demise of an arrogant bastard. Others were on the edge of their seat as they watched with rapt attention.
It was too late for Jack to ask for forgiveness, far too late! He knew that he wouldn’t be able to access the training ground if the instructor were to kick him out.
It wasn’t that big a deal as the NPC would likely forget about the matter the next day. However, would Jack accept to delay his plan for even a single day? Fuck no!
What should one do when a confrontation happens? Against military men, there was no need to be wishy-washy! Jack stared straight into the man’s eyes as he uttered confidently.
“I just happened to see your cloak is all.” He admitted.
What the fuck?! Gasps of astonishment resounded all around. This guy had an apparent death wish! Had he really just insulted the man’s fashion? This would get him murdered! Was it worth it? Hell no!
Igor hardened his grip on his hammer as a smile appeared on his face. Except, this smile was extremely stiff and had no warmth. It was the face of a man that was about to kill.
“This cloak is a present from the king himself for my years of loyal service. It is the utmost honor for a warrior. The magical glyphs on it mean ‘The Fist of Justice’ for all the injustice I pummeled. It means that one is strong and upright. Is this funny to you?” He barked.
Jack couldn’t help but think that whoever had written the runes didn’t know what the heck they were doing. He wouldn’t tell the man, but instead of the current version it should have been:
የቡጢ ፍትህ —> የፍትህ ቡጢ
There was a second of silence as everyone expected Jack to apologize and beg for mercy. Nope! The madman didn’t back down at all!
“It’s not just funny. It’s hilarious! It means you were a rank 5 official commanding at least 200 soldiers, right? Why don’t we skip all the BS? How about a sweet and nice old-school Glory Trial?” Jack proposed with an incredibly huge smile.
As soon as he had called the man’s cloak hilarious, everyone was looking at him as if a dead man. But it all took a sudden turn. What the hell was this glory trial?! Whatever it was, it shocked the NPC, then made him grin.
“Glory Trial?! How surprising that a brave knows about it! Let’s do it! We’ll need an arena first. All the standing dumbasses, make a large circle right now!” He ordered boisterously.
The Players were as perplexed as curious as they nonetheless complied. It probably would be a duel between the two, right? How did the mysterious man have the confidence to go against the training instructor himself?!
The two soon faced each other. The tension was palpable, with the majority of the players in the entire starter village staring in wonder.
“As per protocol, I will limit fighting power to yours. Now, since you are the challenger, you can pick your weapon of choice. Fear not, for I am adept in all of them.” Igor magnanimously offered.
All of them? How would the man react if Jack asked for a duel using bananas or something goofy? This NPC probably wouldn’t enjoy the joke, so he nonchalantly but seriously replied.
“Let’s fight with our fists.”
The NPC’s face couldn’t help but twitch for a second. His title was literally The Fist of Justice! Was the youngster underestimating him, or was he an extremely overconfident fool?!
The crowd couldn’t help but draw a cold breath. This man ought to be insane! Some actually had theories: “Maybe he’s not trying to win but only to make a good impression.” Many nodded in agreement.
As he faced his opponent, Jack couldn’t help but reminisce. In front of him, there wasn’t the NPC anymore. He was picturing the vision of a friend that had once helped him train…
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How long had it been since this had happened?
He could picture the invincible naked monk staring at him with his ever so peaceful gaze. The man had a bald head that reflected the sun, a genuine bright smile, and blue eyes as tranquil as still water.
“Are you sure you want to fight me at such close range? Not even the strongest of Rankers would dare face me like this, you know?” the monk calmly asked.
“Yet, here I am. How am I supposed to become stronger if I don’t challenge my limits?” Jack shrugged.
The monk erupted laughing “HAHAHAHA!”, then calmed down and kept going:
“You’re one of a kind, Jack. Even the Rankers that have 99% victory odds against me avoid me like the plague. They’d never accept being defeated by a naked dude. Yet, here you are, a healer with supposedly trash mechanics and more balls than all of them combined!”
“No, I’m not ballsy. I’m simply desperate. Anyway, let’s start already. The sooner you kick my ass and the sooner I can figure out how to improve.” Jack requested, with the man nodding.
As soon as the monk went into combat mode, the peaceful atmosphere turned…even more peaceful?! This would have baffled anyone unfamiliar with this man.
His fist was a fist of peace and love. How did it make any sense?! Well, an ingame mechanic allowed one to deal Non-Lethal damage, aka damage that didn’t affect the HP bar one bit.
Once enough Non-Lethal damage had been dealt (same as the HP), the target would be rendered unconscious. However, taking real damage or waiting a few seconds would allow them to wake up completely refreshed.
The general consensus was that the mechanic was retarded. Why go through all this trouble when it was possible to target the enemy’s HP and get a kill directly. Most considered it something only useful for life skills like capturing wild pigs.
This monk had developed an entire fighting style based on it! Attacking with one’s fists was one of the easier methods to proc it. He was giving up extra real damage to remain unarmed and increase his Non-Lethal damage.
He had used this strategy to become king of the 1 v 1 no consumable PVP arena. No one could do anything against the naked monk! He would always get the first knockout. Afterward…There was no afterward, it was over!
Jack had come to him to learn. He knew perfectly well that he didn’t have the reaction time necessary to adapt to such quick ever-changing combat. He would have to rely on an alternative.
He would fight over and over and over until he could feel the moves his opponent was about to use. So what if he wasn’t the fastest? He would freaking start preparing counters before his opponent could even think of his moves!
That is how he fought the incredibly powerful monk with the resolve to die. Unsurprisingly, he did repeatedly die: for hours, days, weeks, for a month even!
He had trained so much that he had forgotten the color of the sky. He would always see a giant fist right in his face or the sight of the ground as he was pummeled into it. He had suffered so much, but not once had he given up.
All until…
Jack stood above his defeated foe. For the first time ever, he had won. The victor was smiling brightly, and the defeated monk was smiling even brighter. As he helped him rise, they shared an appreciative glance.
One was thankful for the patient teachings, while the other was impressed by the student’s resilience.
“Impressive. For you to even stand a chance against me at such close range without relying on consumables means you’ll be fine against most monks. The next one that ambushes you will be in for a very bad time!.” The man chuckled loudly.
“Indeed. Thank you, my friend.” Jack felt especially great.
“Alright, hurry and go back. The world has been way too peaceful since you were away. Go on one of your famous crusades of something!” He giggled as he waved goodbye.
The two went their separate ways.
Jack returned to being the Legendary Herald of Light, an impossibly strong being misunderstood by the whole world. He who kept challenging his own limits instead of crushing the weak hadn’t let his lack of talent stop him.
The monk remained behind, a weaker player but almost as infamous: Fisting King, the Eternally Naked Monk, the Arena Cheater, the Leader of Fist Justice, etc…
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A shout brought Jack back to his senses. In front of him was instructor Igor, ready for battle. It was time to fight…
Creator’s Thought
Why was such a strong player nicknamed the Fisting King? At some point, people had misunderstood him as a pervert because he was fighting naked. He had just kept going along with the joke. He was both serious about perfecting his craft and incredibly easygoing. Am I becoming an old man, talking so much about the past?