Cain had been having this feeling for quite some time now, this overwhelming feeling awaiting in the pit of his chest. He had been too afraid to admit to his dilemma for a long time, and yet, here he was in front of a bar, getting prepared to walk in and finally confess what has been on his mind for so long. He pushes the door open, he spots a handful of people scattered across the entirety of the bar. To say that the place was seedy was something of an understatement, to that affect, Cain would make note of this place, as it seemed like the kind of place he could pay extra to not have his ID checked.
He centered himself, and focused on the task at hand. There was some guy in the corner, talking to some girl. She looked noticeably uninterested, but she wasn't leaving so Cain could assume that this girl knew the guy that was talking to her in some way. All that mattered though, was that the guy was interested in her, because that was how Cain was gonna get what he wanted.
Cain walked over to the table. He leaned his elbow against the table, and directed his attention to the girl.
"Eh, you look passable, I guess. How about you ditch the scrub and have a conversation with a real man?"
As one could guess, this comment was appreciated by no party involved, especially the man that must have been a few under the table already, since that was all it really took to light his fuse. The dude took a swing at Cain right there, jabbing him cleanly in the cheek.
"Hoo-boy, looks like someone is a bit upset at my little comment." Cain rose his hands up and got himself into a fighting stance. He was no longer the instigator, and just like that he was free to defend himself to his heart's content.
Cain had come into here looking for a fight, some way to shore up his hand-to-hand combat rather. One drunk was not gonna cut it, however, so Cain was gonna have to improvise.
He wound up a swing, but instead of jabbing, he used his off-hand to grab the guy and hip-toss him over his ankle and into a table shared by a couple of guys. Suddenly, Cain was the focus of quite a bit of resentment and had gradually worked the bar into an all out brawl.
This was more like it, more like a real fight. Cain had no friends here, and now he had to worry about taking a swing from just about anyone in the area. He was dodging and ducking almost nonstop in the mosh pit that he had created.
Following his instincts, he slowly mad his way toward the outer edges of the death ball. Like this, he would only have a few sides to anticipate attacks from. This made slowing down the repetition of his own attacks much easier, and he started relying much more heavily on countering all of the swings that flew his way.
Before he knew it, he was able to deal with multiple of these brawlers attacking him fairly easily, but still he took hits that left his cheeks with open cuts and dark bruises that would only sting more with each and every repeated strike on the same area.
The pain taught him though, and made him more hesitant when action was a mistake, and more impulsive when hesitance would cost him. He refused to raise his aura, and let the hits sting and injure.What medicine of the mind would be more effective than the trauma of experiencing exactly what he trained to improve?
Over time, blood mixed with spit and beer on the already grimy floor. and each brawler became a panting, sweaty mess. Most were clinching to try and regain some stamina so that they wouldn't have to admit defeat. The woman that had been the scapegoat for all of this had left long ago.
If Cain had room to laugh anymore, he probably would have been, but as it stood, he was one of the few people that wasn't winding down yet. Avoiding a slow, sluggish right hook from the original aggressor, and flipping him over his shoulder and onto his back. The guy was done after that, seemingly reformed by the sting of sweet, unrelenting gravity and some jerk that walked into the bar like he owned the place.
Cain understood that he was the bad guy here, but he was okay with that. It didn't really matter much as far as he regarded the situation he was standing in right now. Even though, he was spitting blood and wiping sweat from his eyes, Cain was the last man able to stand without a support to hold him up.
He still had yet to use his aura, which proved to himself that he had not been as reliant on it as he had feared, and he was satisfied with his performance here .
It was then that Cain rose his aura, and the cuts and blood seemed to wick away from his irritated skin, meanwhile, his heart rate slowed and breath as well. All the sharpness that had been felt across his body from the moments and minutes preceding was gone in a matter of several seconds.
He even pulled out his scroll and was pleased to see that he had aura to spare after the fractured encounter. Cain straightened up his clothes and fixed his ponytail shortly before leaving the chaos riddle tavern behind him. As for now, Cain had some pleasant reports on his own physical condition to report, as it seemed like he could even go as far as to say that he was improving. It wasn't a massive stride, but if his brother wasn't a terrible idiot, then by the end of this journey, Cain would be certain to be too much of an asset for his clan to possibly ignore.
He centered himself, and focused on the task at hand. There was some guy in the corner, talking to some girl. She looked noticeably uninterested, but she wasn't leaving so Cain could assume that this girl knew the guy that was talking to her in some way. All that mattered though, was that the guy was interested in her, because that was how Cain was gonna get what he wanted.
Cain walked over to the table. He leaned his elbow against the table, and directed his attention to the girl.
"Eh, you look passable, I guess. How about you ditch the scrub and have a conversation with a real man?"
As one could guess, this comment was appreciated by no party involved, especially the man that must have been a few under the table already, since that was all it really took to light his fuse. The dude took a swing at Cain right there, jabbing him cleanly in the cheek.
"Hoo-boy, looks like someone is a bit upset at my little comment." Cain rose his hands up and got himself into a fighting stance. He was no longer the instigator, and just like that he was free to defend himself to his heart's content.
Cain had come into here looking for a fight, some way to shore up his hand-to-hand combat rather. One drunk was not gonna cut it, however, so Cain was gonna have to improvise.
He wound up a swing, but instead of jabbing, he used his off-hand to grab the guy and hip-toss him over his ankle and into a table shared by a couple of guys. Suddenly, Cain was the focus of quite a bit of resentment and had gradually worked the bar into an all out brawl.
This was more like it, more like a real fight. Cain had no friends here, and now he had to worry about taking a swing from just about anyone in the area. He was dodging and ducking almost nonstop in the mosh pit that he had created.
Following his instincts, he slowly mad his way toward the outer edges of the death ball. Like this, he would only have a few sides to anticipate attacks from. This made slowing down the repetition of his own attacks much easier, and he started relying much more heavily on countering all of the swings that flew his way.
Before he knew it, he was able to deal with multiple of these brawlers attacking him fairly easily, but still he took hits that left his cheeks with open cuts and dark bruises that would only sting more with each and every repeated strike on the same area.
The pain taught him though, and made him more hesitant when action was a mistake, and more impulsive when hesitance would cost him. He refused to raise his aura, and let the hits sting and injure.What medicine of the mind would be more effective than the trauma of experiencing exactly what he trained to improve?
Over time, blood mixed with spit and beer on the already grimy floor. and each brawler became a panting, sweaty mess. Most were clinching to try and regain some stamina so that they wouldn't have to admit defeat. The woman that had been the scapegoat for all of this had left long ago.
If Cain had room to laugh anymore, he probably would have been, but as it stood, he was one of the few people that wasn't winding down yet. Avoiding a slow, sluggish right hook from the original aggressor, and flipping him over his shoulder and onto his back. The guy was done after that, seemingly reformed by the sting of sweet, unrelenting gravity and some jerk that walked into the bar like he owned the place.
Cain understood that he was the bad guy here, but he was okay with that. It didn't really matter much as far as he regarded the situation he was standing in right now. Even though, he was spitting blood and wiping sweat from his eyes, Cain was the last man able to stand without a support to hold him up.
He still had yet to use his aura, which proved to himself that he had not been as reliant on it as he had feared, and he was satisfied with his performance here .
It was then that Cain rose his aura, and the cuts and blood seemed to wick away from his irritated skin, meanwhile, his heart rate slowed and breath as well. All the sharpness that had been felt across his body from the moments and minutes preceding was gone in a matter of several seconds.
He even pulled out his scroll and was pleased to see that he had aura to spare after the fractured encounter. Cain straightened up his clothes and fixed his ponytail shortly before leaving the chaos riddle tavern behind him. As for now, Cain had some pleasant reports on his own physical condition to report, as it seemed like he could even go as far as to say that he was improving. It wasn't a massive stride, but if his brother wasn't a terrible idiot, then by the end of this journey, Cain would be certain to be too much of an asset for his clan to possibly ignore.
