District administration of Ontiganel:

  Horo’s brows knitted aggressively. “What have you done? You’re really gonna let some middle-schoolers decide upon the mountain region’s future?” Horo kicked a box of papers to the side. The office was a pool of wires and boxes. Papers towering over each other, a stained printer, and a trash bin overflowing onto the floor. Akli sat at his desk in a leather stripped chair that squeaked every time he adjusted himself. By his right, underneath a built-in cabinet, was his calendar; worn and drawn on to a point where its purpose became obsolete.

  Horo continued as he tried to tidy up the excessive mess. “After you had just showcased the plans to the building companies. Oh my, just what are we going to do?”

  “…”

  “…Argh, fine, I’ll skip the formalities. You gonna listen? How the fuck could you do this shit?! Akli, seriously!”

  “Well, I just felt like fucking around for a bit.”

  “What?” Horo sat down, his head throbbing with the stress of it all.

  “In the beginning I just wanted to get rid of that pebble.” Akli’s eyes dimmed, a cold erasure of light. “Yeah, that pebble…in my shoe.” He posed, meditating on his next words. “But, it was in fact not a pebble; there was no pebble. Perhaps my shoe’s just gotten too tight…”

  What is this crazy fool talking about? Horo thought. “How about a new pair of shoes then?”

  As though his spirit lit aflame, Akli slammed his fists down onto his desk, papers flying up to the ceiling. With a straight back, Akli exuded tremendous pressure.

  “The fuck! That’s not what I’m talking about… I mean, back in the day I’d just go ahead, no matter if there was a pebble, or if my shoes were too tight.”

  “You think you’re gonna go back to being the old you, not the Saint, but Akli the Demon if you win against that Otie guy? You’ve suggested fighting him for that? But what’s the high prize money for?” Horo asked.

  Akli smirked, crossing his legs whilst resting his hands upon his lap. “No risk, no fun. If I gotta fight a fourteen year old that has nothing to lose, I can only be the stronger one if I gotta bleed should I lose.”

  Horo’s expression was as stiff as stone. “You’re so damn dumb…”

  “What…?!”

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  “You proved it just now!”

  The two crossed over to look out the window. Both staring out to a vast skyline, in the branching river over countless construction sites sat the academy soon to be gone.

  “Horo…you still remember the first Zodiac Palace.”

  “…!”

  “When we, the Council Thirteen, started doing it, it was a shitload of fun. Just us aiming to discover what was really out there. This land used to be so small…in just a couple decades it has changed so much. The fun was lost, we lost, lost the control we thought we had… After we disbanded, the whole thing went to shit. A cult of gambling fools. The organizer is an anonymous nobody, even if billions are being made, it all just doesn’t feel real.

  “By now there are so many people involved, so many rules and rituals, every detail planned. There’s no bit of what it once was; that just fucks me up!”

  Ontiganel, seventeen years ago:

  Under the tracks of a newly built train was a crowd of countless shirtless men. In the center of the mob were two young men duking it out. Battered fists that squeezed every drop of blood out of their veins clashed with flesh. Stomping on top of the unconscious opponent, Akli stood victorious. His face clear of any injury, with his long black hair glimmering in the dimness of the trench. Akli’s soul was burning with profound pleasure, the chaotic cheers resounded in his ears, the fever of battle coiled up his spine.

  Presently:

  Perhaps those memories were what could never escape Saint Akli Graham. That cherished youth… “What we started back then, was nothing more than finding who was the strongest through our fists; nothing more. We could see straight into the faces of everyone, the guys collecting the bet-money and the people surrounding and watching us. Maybe it was completely dumb, but it was fun as shit! I think, me saying “back then all the time we’ve really grown old…” And you’re right. It’s really damn dumb, that I, being thirty-four, am challenging some fourteen year old child. It’s just that I felt like doing it so much!”

  Horo looked over to his side, he couldn’t mask the somber expression he was giving. He tried to ignore the memories of what pulled them to where they are now. In a weak willed manner, that may be all he could think of.

  “But I have to know… Otie Ayihcah, who is that guy anyway?” Akli said, his face growing sterner the longer he let the question brew. Why does he fascinate me so much? This fuzziness in the back of my mind, it begins to split every time I meet him.

  It’s because Otie’s your… Ah, scratch it! He’ll find out eventually. Horo thought before speaking up again. “Do whatever you want. But damn! Please win. You’ve already lost the first round. If Otie wins the next one too, we’re done for! Hmm, what are you doing for the second round anyway?”

  “It’s called Last Man Standing. A typical fistfight. Whoever goes down first is the loser. Well… I’ve never lost a fistfight, right?” Akli replied.

  “Fifteen years ago, no… You think you will manage?” Horo asked, ignoring his first thought.

  “Obviously!”