Two comparatively shorter men unleashed a blizzard of punches into the chest of a hulking man—eight-foot-tall and strong-bodied—who wore nothing but underpants branded with a wolf symbol. Nevertheless, he grabbed their fists and pulled them closer before his hands tightly gripped the back of their necks and pressed down their faces into the water with might and main, thereby drowning them simultaneously, and he didn’t stop until the frequency of bubbles rising to the surface lessened.

“Who do you think I am? ‘Brown Hill’ Boksa!” soon after he let go of the two men, he tightened his muscles and precariously growled at the rest of men who were about to encircle him, making them scatter away as wild dogs do from a wolf’s growl. “That’s right. Run like the rats that you are, you spineless sissies.”

As he was about to turn back to run toward the end of the ice dumpster, his eyes caught sight of a boy with mostly black hair and a few white strands here and there, but the scar on his face was what got Boksa’s attention.

The boy had also spotted the big hairy guy and thought, “Who’s this wild man? He looks like he has eaten several of his opponents.”

“Coming this way to experience the sweetness of pain, are you?” Boksa malevolently grinned as he flung his fist down diagonally while swiveling back toward the entrance of the ice dumpster. Lirzod dove into the water and flat-out swam between Boksa’s legs. Though startled, Boksa reacted quick enough and plopped backward at once, bashing his husky butt onto Lirzod’s back, forcing all the oxygen out of him. Luckily, the nearby ice spikes already got crushed thanks to Boksa who had been rampaging in that neighborhood. “Hehe, why so sneaky?” he moved his butt around to freely sit, and the water level was almost up to his chest. “Let me have some fun, too, boy. I especially like peeling the skin of plotters like you—”

An ostensibly frangible foot whizzed into Boksa’s weighty jaw, generating an unmelodious sound loud enough to be heard across a few tens of meters all around, but still, such strength couldn’t lift Boksa's butt off Lirzod and could only twist his head to the side by a little over ninety degrees.

“I should be the one who should teach a lesson to that fool,” Sariyu landed in front of Boksa, one of her brows furrowed, “not you.”

The color of Boksa’s jaw turned red, and his heartbeat spiked up a bit as he stood straight, “What a wonderful kick.” He scratched his jaw with his fingers as he stared down at her, and he didn’t know if the hair on his skin stiffened from the feeling of fright or horniness.

“Wonderful?” Sariyu raised one of her eyebrows. “What are you? A masochist?” she clenched her fists as she raised her arms to the nose.

“Heh. Like any other living being, I also take pleasure in many things,” Boksa exposed his yellowish teeth.

“I guess you indeed derive pleasure in many ways.” She smirked. “Like, for example, not bothering to brush at all so you can overindulge in your bacterial breakfast day in and day out.”

“Brushing is not for teeth that grind nothing but meat!” he sniggered.

Lirzod, meanwhile, popped his head out of the water, and at the same time, he pulled out two more heads, both of which belonged to the men Boksa had dealt with not long ago. Lirzod took glances at them, who appeared unconscious. He slapped them on their heads, but nothing happened. He later elbowed them in their bellies. The next moment, liquid material disembogued from both their mouths into the water below, and both of them awoke. “Geez, my back hurts like anything,” Lirzod tried stretching his back slowly. “That pig, how much does he even weigh?”

“Idiot, what are you doing?” Burton stopped beside Lirzod. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“They looked like they might die,” Lirzod replied in a slight rigid body posture.

“Can’t you see the 'hollows in blue' standing at the edges of this ice dumpster?” Burton pointed his fingers at them. “Their duty in and of itself is to make sure nobody dies from drowning.”

“I-I know that," Lirzod made a pinched expression.

"No, you don't," the cords in Burton's neck twanged a little. "What you did is a waste of time."

"Stop it… they looked like they might die at any moment,” Lirzod sputtered a bit as he patted on the shoulders of the two men, both of whom straight off attacked Lirzod and Burton.

“Hehe, you seem to have saved us. Here, have our thanks!” Both their fists rocketed into the faces of Lirzod and Burton.

Burton grabbed the incoming fist with a hand and twisted his arm, making him writhe in pain.

Lirzod, on the other hand, got hit by the fist right in the face. “Hehe, how was it? Fierce, ain’t it?” the man launched a couple more punches and hit cleanly, bruising Lirzod’s nose; however, Lirzod still didn’t avert his gaze from the opponent. “Oh dear, you still don't look like you fully accepted my thanks... then,” he launched another fist, “I just have to keep thanking you until you do!”

“I’ve had enough of your tasteless thanks.” Lirzod moved closer, his cheek scrubbing past the man’s fist. Keeping his arm folded, Lirzod successfully invaded the personal space of the opponent, and his forearm and elbow together beat into the man’s chest while Lirzod’s words assailed the man’s mind, “If I had novel cashews,” the man spilled out a mouthful of saliva before crumbling to his knees, “I might have given one to you.” Touching his chest, Lirzod’s opponent made a pained expression when Lirzod put his hand on top of the man’s head. “But since I don’t... how about you tell me what I should do?”

“Keep beating me!” Boksa’s voice came from the side, making Lirzod shower a faint smile, thereby further startling his opponent.

“Leave me alone, bastard!” the man recklessly responded, waving his hand to push Lirzod’s hand off his head.

“I could have let you howl out my name, but you are not even a wolf much less an alpha.” Lirzod leaked out a playful grin that quickly subsided. “I don’t think anybody would pay attention to the barking of a brainless dog.” Lirzod walked past the man, puzzling him. “Your grandparents are grieving in their graves.”

However, just as the man began to breathe a sigh of relief, Burton came into his view.

“You are…” His eyes slightly broadened, and a bead of sweat slid down his cheek.

“I remember you now,” Burton raised his fist, “you were the one who pulled my leg a few rounds ago when I was so close to winning, weren't you?”

“U-Uh, no, that’s not—” he was trying to make up an excuse, but he could see it in Burton’s eyes that his cock-and-bull plot had already been seen through. “D-Don’t hurt me, or it’ll be the biggest mistake of your—”

Burton grabbed the man by his hair, and his formidable gaze spent shivers down the man’s spine. “A deer’s cry never spooks the tiger,” he dragged him around, his face submerged underwater. He kept bringing that man’s face up and down for long enough to let the man’s heart be able to function.

“Yeah, bury that spineless shit.” Many members from the audience rooted Burton for his hard-hearted actions.

“Oi, isn’t he taking things a bit too far?” Hundred murmured, but his voice reached Tarkan’s ears.

“Some wolves like to kill and then eat whereas some like to eat first as followed by death without fail,” Tarkan asserted. “It’s too bad that killing is a crime on this ship.”

Hundred fathomed what Tarkan had just spoken. Since murdering any hollow or an entry was prohibited on Extensive Voyage, most people always held back their strength during battles either consciously or otherwise. If the killing was indeed allowed, there was no guessing how many bodies would have floated by the time each round of the eleventh deck’s test ended.

“Whoa, Number 55 is struggling to get past Number 66!” the referee spoke through the mic, trying to shift the attention of the audience wherever he wanted. “No matter what she’s doing, he isn’t budging. We have all seen that she can kick like a horse, but what can a baby horse’s kick do to an elephant—an overgrown one at that? And we all also know that if he reigns down one of his potent punches on her, the result would be pretty straightforward, but it doesn’t look like Number 66 is in the mood for unleashing his fists. Now, all said and done, is she ever going to beat him, or will she simply get squeezed to submission?”

“Kick me some more!” Number 66, Boksa, his number tag fixed to his underpants, roared as he received a couple more gruesome kicks, but he didn’t fight back. Though he felt the water splashing his back, he didn’t even bother to turn back either. There was only one reason many audiences could think of that would explain his behavior; he was anxiously horny. “Hehe, I will honor you for your efforts and will let you kick me even more!”

“Tsk,” Sariyu bit her lower lip, and even though her legs had been twitching somewhat, the water camouflaged her discomfort well enough for any ordinary eye to readily spot. “I’m getting vexed of your rubbish mouth spewing nothing but trash.”

Boksa outstretched his arms a bit and exposed his palms. “Then, all you have to do is shut it.”

Sariyu frowned to some degree. This pig has his whole focus on me. The only good thing that came out of continually kicking him was that she no longer shivered as much, for her body was now well warmed up. She quickly looked at the nearby contestants. Usually, most of the contestants would have crossed the halfway mark by now, but most men were still brawling many meters shy of that mark itself. Just watching those clusters of men duking it out like dogs on empty stomachs do for spoils of street food, made her raise her brows a bit.

“When a mountain is standing before you, why are your eyes looking elsewhere?” Boksa clenched his fist. “Did you perhaps think I can’t move because I’m a mountain? Well, I’m not your usual mountain that everyone goes for an adventure.” His legs pushed through the water around him, effortlessly. “I’m an eighteen-hundred-pound moving mountain that cannot be climbed much less conquered. Let me show you how it feels when a mountain meets you in a collision!” His feet picked up the pace to shorten the distance between him and Sariyu, who had been backing further away, but the sudden increase in his pace brought him close enough. In a flash, his tightly-clenched fist buzzed through the air as it advanced forth at her face in a twisting manner, “Hill Drill!”

Sariyu’s eyes broadened. His punch came much faster compared to his speed when he had skittered at her. Sariyu bent her head to her left, and the waspish fist brushed past her neck and shoulder before bombarding into the water, drilling a gaping hole down to the bottom, though only for a brief moment.

“There it is! A punch that can put a bull to sleep,” the referee excitedly spoke, getting the attention of many audiences except for the bettors, none of whom bet on Boksa as he never once finished top ten let alone first in the eleventh deck’s test. “If it had landed on Number 55, she would have seen stars then and there.”

Though Boksa’s fist only scraped past her, she got pushed to the side, her dress torn a little at the shoulder in the process. Granted that his fist had also hit her flowing hair, but nothing happened to it as it smoothly got blown back. Without a wait, Sariyu dashed past Boksa, startling everyone. She had been waiting for this moment and ran while making sure she lifted her knees high with every step, which gave her a tremendous boost of speed. For a brief second or two, it looked as if her feet weren’t even touching the floor. Before Boksa turned back, she had already made more than ten meters of distance.

The distance between them was now big enough for Sariyu to stop and snort at Boksa. “I guess the self-proclaimed moving mountain is too snail-like to even catch up to a snail much less Sariyu,” she spoke haughtily.

“S-S-She’s provoking Brown Hill!” the crowd found it hard to believe what they were witnessing.

“How long is her spine!”

“I’m sure it will touch the heavens if taken out[1]!”

Boksa blew air through his nose as he stared at her coldly while entirely ignoring the pat on his back. “Do you think you are safe because you’ve made some distance?” he snorted, and even though he felt the pat on his back again, his focus was solely on Sariyu, so he stepped onward in haste.

The boy, who had been standing behind Boksa, ended up grabbing Boksa’s underpants with one of his hands in an attempt to stop him. Even so, the pull was too strong for a single-handed grip to last for much longer, which forced the boy to use both of his hands; however, as Boksa took a couple more steps, the stretch of his underpants pulled the person behind into headbutting Boksa’s back before falling into the water.

The underpants—the boy still held on to—stretched down and exposed the entirety of Boksa’s buttcheeks, and the volumes of water that slid into the underpants further weighed it down and saw through that it slipped on the front side, too, thereby revealing the Boksa’s manhood.

Sariyu turned her head and looked away without delay, whereas the audience dropped their jaws lower than crocodiles could.

Boksa didn’t feel much different except for the slight increase in coldness at his crotch; however, when he lowered his chin and took a look down, his eyes exceedingly bulged from seeing his third leg made public. If not for his bulkier thighs as compared to his pelvis, the underpants would have probably dropped all the way to his ankles. His hands instantly tried to pull up the underpants, and along with the pants, surfaced out a familiar face from behind.

When Boksa covered his manhood back with his underpants, he glanced back through the corner of his eyes and caught sight of the crook who brought shame to him, which shapeshifted his face into that of a horse that drank a gallon of rave rum[2].

“Uh…” the boy, Lirzod, raised and waved his hand, albeit oblivious to what had happened above the water. “Hello, Uncle Piggy.”

Boksa ground his teeth so hard that he would have pulverized rocks if they were in between his teeth. “You little piece of shit.”

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[1] A spine that touches the heavens if taken out: This phrase refers to people whose arrogance exceeds their worth. In general, the longer a spine, the more delicate it is bound to be, so it’s seen as a sign of weakness rather than strength.

[2] Rave Rum: A special rum fed to horses, especially in times of war as it abnormally energizes the horses and sometimes even makes them go crazy.