Chapter 412: Familiar Faces

The rustling of leaves was quiet. The wind was weak. A bird’s cry hung in the distance as a small, wheat-colored hand parted the branches, spying on its prey from above. The prey walked closer, pebbles cracking underfoot. It was unaware. The hunter smiled—then leaped.

A little girl was revealed. She had skin the color of wheat, eyes of amber, and a long, dark ponytail fluttering behind her. Her clothes were simple yet elegant, green robes which merged as one with the foliage. She was five years old—and her face was covered by wide, bright smile.

“Got you!” she shouted, falling from the branches onto the passing gymonkey below. The monkey yelped, backpedaling, while the girl landed awkwardly on the bumpy soil. “Ow,” she concluded. “No fair! You saw me coming!”

The gymonkey was confused for a moment. Then, it shrugged and mimed something.

“No way you just reacted on time!” Ebele Eragorn Rust protested with a pout. She rose to her feet and dusted herself off, completely unhurt—though young, she had a slightly tempered body. “You can’t be better than me. I am fast!”

The gymonkey mimed something again.

“You know what? Okay. You are faster, but only because you’re older! Just let me grow a couple of years, and then—kapow! I will get you!”

The gymonkey laughed. She patted Ebele’s head, then handed out a bananarm which the girl grabbed with a glimmer in her eye. The monkey then mimed something else.

“Really!?” Ebele cried out, glancing at the sun. “You’re right! I’m late! See you, aunt monkey!”

She broke into a sprint. The bananarm dangled by her hand as her feet flew over the dirt paths of the Forest of the Strong, crossing trees and streams to reach an open clearing riddled with gym equipment. A massive brorilla was already waiting.

Like every time she saw him, Ebele had to suppress a shiver of fear. This was a hulking behemoth. His massive body stood almost thrice as tall as her, covered in gleaming dark fur with spots of silver. This silver also appeared around his temples—but she knew it was an indication of stress, not old age, because his body was ripe with power. His arms were wide like tree trunks, his legs like barrels, and all corded with thick, iron muscles. Moreover, like all brorillas, just his resting face held a deadly stare.

“Uncle Harambe!” Ebele shouted out, rushing to a stop before him. “Sorry I’m late!”

Harambe snorted. “Where brother?”

Unlike his son, Brock, Harambe had a limited affinity to language. His speech remained impeded even five years into living with the Bare Fist Brotherhood.

“I don’t know,” Ebele replied truthfully.

Harambe frowned. He closed his eyes and released a rudimentary form of Dao perception to cover the nearby forest area. Suddenly, he sprang into motion, grabbing a nearby bananarm and flinging it out like a boomerang.

Seeing that, Ebele remembered to eat her own bananarm.

Harambe’s projectile flew between the trees, spinning crazily around itself and producing a shrill “eee” sound. The bananarm left Ebele’s sight, but the sound persisted, growing weaker with time before abruptly changing its mind. The “eee” rose in volume, coming from somewhere above, and it gradually took on the aspects of a little boy’s voice. Finally, the bananarm returned, carrying with it a pale-skinned, delicate-looking, blond boy around whose leg it had gotten entangled.

“Heeelp!” Eric Eragorn Rust shouted, flying in, until both he and the bananarm came to a stop into Harambe’s palm. Harambe frowned at the boy.

“Why are you running?” he asked in broken English.

“I, uh…” Eric hesitated, his eyes growing wider when stared by a brorilla at such a close range. Finally, his mouth flew open. “I don’t want to exercise!”

Harambe sighed. He gently laid Eric on the ground, dusting him off as he spoke. “It only an hour. Good for health. You can play after.”

Eric sniffed. “You promise?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then I can exercise… I guess.”

Ebele sighed as she saw that. While she loved to exercise and temper herself, her brother was different—he preferred playing or exploring the forest.

Then again, she could understand. Uncle Harambe’s practice sessions could be a little…intense.

“Let start with light running,” Harambe said, rising to his feet. “Small warm-up of ten laps around forest. That wake us up. Then, true exercise begin.”

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Ebele and Eric groaned as one, but there was nothing they could do. They set to running. Their little feet tapped against the dirt, following Harambe through snaking paths and forest trails. Their route circled around a part of the Forest of the Strong and totaled half a mile in length. Ten laps meant five miles—a decent warm-up when run at seventy percent maximum speed. Despite the body tempering baths both children had received, Harambe’s exhausting regime always left them panting, though never too much—Harambe said that, at this age, cultivating good habits was the important part, and overexerting regularly would only create a dislike for working out.

Ebele had to admit she enjoyed this part of training. Running was freeing, simple, a way to release the pent-up energy inside her and get stronger, like her father! Plus, the route was nice. It took them between streams and the living places of various animals, as well as a treehouse standing proudly on top of an old oak.

Eric’s eyes brightened every time they came past this spot, and so did Ebele’s. This was the treetop Eric and their father had once built—both children enjoyed sitting in it, making up stories about their father and what he might be doing. He hadn’t returned in three years. Mother said he was busy fighting to keep them safe—and, though Ebele missed his greatly, she understood. She admired him. One day, she would grow so strong she could join her father, so that she wouldn’t need to stay here and wait until he returned. They could spend all their time together!

As she was thinking that, she wasn’t paying attention to what was in front of her and ended up smacking her face into a tree. “Ow,” she said, holding her nose while Harambe gave her an odd look. Eric stopped running to laugh out loud. His laughter was like the sound of a clear stream—and Ebele, though still in pain, couldn’t help smiling.

“If your body is here and mind is there, you’ll get nowhere,” Harambe said, but Ebele didn’t mind.

“Let’s go!” she yelled, jumping and punching the air, then laughed as she kept running. “Time to get strong!”

***

Jack, Brock, and Min Ling had emerged from the hidden realm into an empty patch of space in the fringes of Heaven’s Egg galaxy. Thankfully, Jack still possessed a high-end starship called the bromobile, so they could easily cross the void to reach civilization.

Only five days later, they arrived at a medium-sized planet called Vengalo. They had chosen this place because it possessed a teleportation hub, just like the Belarian Outpost that Jack had visited in the past. Of course, they were wanted criminals of the System, so they had to take precautions.

Min Ling was well-equipped. She carried several high-level disguise pills. Their facial features were jumbled up and the screens that appeared when they were Inspected had changed. The red System warning about them being wanted criminals was no longer visible. As long as they didn’t encounter B-Grades, they would be safe.

Of course, even in an advanced galaxy like Heaven’s Egg, B-Grades held far too high a status. They weren’t easily found outside the headquarters of major factions.

As the three of them walked into a bar of the teleportation hub, they were surrounded by E-Grades alongside the rare D-Grade. They were completely safe. After all, Jack’s real stats were far, far, far above a D-Grade’s.

ERROR: PLEASE REPORT TO THE NEAREST AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY OR FACE EXTERMINATION.

Name: Jack Rust

Species: Human, Earth-387

Faction: Bare Fist Brotherhood (C)

Grade: C

Class: Gladiator Titan (King)

Level: 301

Strength: 6000 (+)

Dexterity: 6000 (+)

Constitution: 6000 (+)

Mental: 1000

Will: 1000

Free sub-points: 1

Dao Skills: Meteor Punch IV, Iron Fist Style III, Brutalizing Aura III, Neutron Star Body III, Supernova III, Space Mastery III, Fist of Mortality III, Titan Taunt I

Dao Roots: Indomitable Will, Life, Power, Weakness

Dao Fruits: Fist, Space, Life, Death, Battle

Titles: Planetary Frontrunner (10), Planetary Torchbearer (1), Ninth Ring Conqueror, Planetary Leader (1), Grade Defier

Unexpectedly, however, a man stopped them by the entrance. His cultivation was at the early D-Grade—a small fry to people like Jack, but a titan to the ordinary populace. Him serving as a doorman seemed far too luxurious.

The doorman took a good look at all three of them, inspecting them but finding nothing out of the ordinary. To him, they appeared as factionless peak E-Grades. “Names?” he asked in a bass voice.

“Crock,” Brock said.

“Esmeralda Archenstain,” Min Ling replied, borrowing the first name of her friend on the Cathedral.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Rack,” Jack said. The doorman gave him a second glance.

“Rack what?”

“Just Rack.”

Min Ling rolled her eyes. The doorman grumbled something under his breath, then noted down their information and let them pass.

“That was weird,” Min Ling said. “Is something going on here?”

“Let’s find out,” Jack replied, grabbing a random customer with a polite but firm hand on the shoulder. “Excuse me, friend. Can we buy you a beer for a quick chat?”

The guy under Jack’s hand froze. He then looked up. Hard eyes met Jack’s—this guy and his entire group looked like hardened veterans, but their bravado melted under a wisp of Jack’s aura.

“Don’t worry,” he pacified them. “We just want information, then you’re free to go.”

The man glanced at his friends, then nodded. He stood up. “I don’t know what beer is, but I have a drink,” he said, raising a tankard filled with some blue liquid. “What do you want to know?”

“Does this place always have a D-Grade doorman?”

The man raised a brow. “You don’t know?”

“You’re testing my patience, friend.”

“Sorry. It’s just that everyone knows about it. We’re at war. Only a few months ago—”

The man kept talking, but Jack was no longer listening. His head had swiveled to the side. Just now, two people with familiar auras had entered the bar. At the same time he noticed them, they found him as well, seeing the disbelief in each other’s eyes.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jack said, a bright smile blossoming on his lips. “Gan Salin! Nauja! What the hell are you guys doing here!?”

Gan Salin laughed, his canines sticking outside his lips. “Incredible! I guess war criminals do come together!”

Meanwhile, the random guy grabbed by Jack had noticed he was no longer needed. He sat back down, muttering under his breath, “Weirdo.”