SOP CH11: Falling Like a Meteor

An unknown time ago, along a roadside in the lower tier of Spiral City.

The afternoon heat was sweltering, the air shimmering with a faint distortion. Outside a derelict bar stood a nylon umbrella, its aluminum shaft bent like the hunched spine of an old man. Two hardwood chairs sat beneath the canopy. A young man was seated there, cradling a desktop radio recorder, murmuring in a low voice:

“…Dear listeners, today’s broadcast of ‘Echoes of Time’ has reached its conclusion.”

“Today, we traveled together through the river of time, revisiting the classic life of Boxing King Anvil.”

“May all our friends draw strength from his story, throwing brave punches upon the ring of destiny. Until next time.”

Having spoken these words, he pressed the stop button. The cassette ceased spinning, the hissing tape falling silent. Seated in the chair beside him was a burly man wearing a tight cotton T-shirt, looking at the youth with a helpless expression.

“Young man, you don’t look like a radio broadcaster to me. What is the reason behind prying into my past?”

The young man smiled faintly. He had soft, platinum-blonde hair that gave off a pearl-like sheen beneath the daylight, a diamond-shaped scarlet gemstone stud beneath his eye, and was dressed in a dark black cloth tunic with traditional frog buttons. His posture was tall and straight, like a freshly sprouted green poplar.

“Nothing much. Just deeply astonished that the former Boxing King stands on the same frontline as the rebel army, so I came to see what kind of person you truly are.”

Anvil gave a bitter smile: “By now, you surely understand. The person before you is merely an incompetent man who let his wife wither away and failed to save his own daughter.”

He looked toward a glass water tank resting on the table, brimming with nutrient fluid, inside of which his daughter Duoduo’s head was submerged, the severed cross-section diffusing a bewildering iridescence.

Several years had passed since his daughter was abducted and had her body dismembered and auctioned off to different eras. In this age of rampant cybernetics, an unpolluted flesh-and-blood body like Duoduo’s was an absolute rarity. Many upper-tier elites coveted her limbs and organs, and with the added title of ‘Daughter of the Boxing King,’ she could fetch a high price in the auction house.

Anvil knew that to recover her body and restore her consciousness in this era, one way was to beg for mercy from the Time Entropy Group, taking on an endless debt of agony; the second was to resist to the end, thoroughly shattering the Group’s dominion over time. Returning time to a linear flow would allow those who had suffered like him to greet tomorrow without impediment.

After the underground auction house was destroyed, Anvil roamed the lower tier carrying his daughter’s head. He became a lone vigilante, repeatedly raiding the 2030 Branch’s footholds in the lower tier single-handedly, openly defying the Group.

Some rebellious youths naturally gathered around Anvil. They were originally members of the rebel army Clepsydra, but with their leader Chenxing missing without a trace, they had scattered like stragglers and came to seek shelter with Anvil. Unable to look after even himself, Anvil treated their actions as child’s play, refusing to associate with them.

And this young man before him, calling himself “Diamonds,” seemed to be one of them.

The youth had appeared out of nowhere carrying a radio, claiming to be intensely interested in his past. The two sat before the abandoned bar and conversed all morning, Diamonds recording his words with the machine. Anvil had asked, “What are you recording this for?”

Diamonds had smiled: “Think of it as archiving past memories.”

“For someone forgotten by time like me, there’s nothing in these old tales worth recording.”

“Memories are like fine wine, growing richer the longer they age. Surely in the future, more young people will take an interest in your past, and when that day comes, this cassette will serve its purpose.”

“Haha, then I shall sincerely look forward to that day. Speaking of which, is your recording work done?”

“That was merely an excuse to meet you. The main course starts now,” the white-haired youth named Diamonds laughed, rising from his chair to face him with sudden solemnity. “Boss Anvil, have a match with me.”

Anvil was taken aback, looking him up and down. Compared to his own massive build, Diamonds was like a stick insect standing before a Hercules beetle, frail beyond words. Anvil had fought for years in the Blood Arena and earned the title of Boxing King, standing far beyond the reach of ordinary mortals. He smiled and said:

“You? Why fight me?”

“Because I want to make a bet with you, to experience the style of the superstar of yesteryear. If you win, I’ll be your follower didi.”

Anvil laughed, “And if I lose?”

“The rebel army Clepsydra lacks a leader. Most ambitious youths in the lower tier are your fans right now; only you have the power to unite them. If you lose, join the rebel army and become Clepsydra’s leader.”

“Then whether I win or lose, isn’t it all in my favor?”

Diamonds sneered: “Is that so? Having your help would be the rebel army’s lucky gain.”

“I have no ability to manage such a huge crowd. Isn’t there an easier condition?”

Shoving both hands into his pockets, Diamonds smiled and glanced behind him, abruptly changing the subject.

“I actually have a dream: I’ve always wanted to open a bar here. It doesn’t need many people to run it, four or five will do. The bar will be named ‘Poker.’ As you can see, I am ‘Diamonds,’ and we still need to gather ‘Spades,’ ‘Hearts,’ and ‘Clubs’ to make a full set.”

Anvil listened in a daze as this young man shared his ideas. Diamonds’s smile was usually superficial, smiling like a salesman and putting people on guard, yet at this moment, he seemed to show a rare glimpse of genuine sincerity. Multicolored lights flickered in the distance like pulsing blood vessels, Anvil’s heart beating in rhythm with their pulse. The young man stood out in stark contrast within this vibrant world, like a relic from an older century, compelling one to look at him.

Diamonds said in a resolute tone: “How about this: if I win our bout, help me run a bar together right here.”

“And from now on, you’ll be Poker Bar’s ‘Hearts’.”

Consciousness drifted in the dark deep sea, finally breaking the surface.

Hearts felt as though he had slept through a centuries-long dream, past events playing through his mind like a movie. When he opened his eyes, he saw neon signs blazing outside the window, splashing crimson and violet across the wall like an artist’s palette. A figure sat by the window propping his chin with one hand, holding a glass of Sierra Silver tequila in the other, a lemon slice clamped between his lips: Diamonds.

Seeing him, Hearts called out with a raspy laugh: “Diamonds.”

Diamonds turned his head, his expression calm, virtually identical to the one in the dream.

“Aren’t you… in poor health? Drink less. That liquor… must be 75% ABV.”

“Brother Hearts, am I drunk? How are you able to speak?”

“You’re drunk, and I’ve woken up.”

Diamonds set down his glass. Hearts saw his flushed cheeks and swaying posture, throwing a fierce boxing jab that revealed a rare, childish drunkenness: “A true boxer can show his edge on the canvas no matter the circumstance. Brother Hearts, that’s the famous quote you left behind when you became the Boxing King.”

Lowering his hand, he asked, “Doctor Hua from the ‘Super Cheap Clinic’ said your internal organs are still functional, so he only patched up materials for your limbs. Do you feel discomfort anywhere?”

Hearts shook his head, knowing his frame had shattered after taking Monkey Face’s strike. Monkey Face’s gauntlet utilized the Time Entropy Group’s space-time severing technology. Just like his daughter Duoduo back then, his body had been torn apart in an instant and scattered across different eras.

Only his immense physical resilience allowed him to maintain consciousness in this era through cobbled cybernetics, though he had to endure ceaseless phantom nerve pain. His daughter was still so young; under such agony, she would likely go mad or wish for death.

Diamonds breathed a sigh of relief. Hearts noticed the exhaustion in his eyes, knowing he had watched over him here for days. Hearts sat up slowly, looking around the room: still a pink ocean trimmed with lace. After Duoduo’s tragedy, he had gathered a wardrobe of dresses and plush toys, awaiting his daughter’s return.

He realized his body had been pieced together again: a myoelectric prosthetic hand, a carbon-fiber exoskeleton, and an eastern lowland gorilla’s arm.

Hearts stayed silent for a moment, then asked, “Why another gorilla arm?”

Diamonds said, “I was worried you wouldn’t get used to a plastic hand right away. Rest assured, this arm is also a high-grade replica; no gorillas were harmed in the making of it.”

After a brief pause, he asked again: “Brother Hearts, Monkey Face’s provocation… will you accept it?”

According to Monkey Face, the day after tomorrow was the “Duel to the Death” segment in the Blood Arena. The victor would claim a century of lifespan, Duoduo’s arm, and the release of all slaves in the arena. Needless to say, this was a blatant trap designed to lure Hearts in.

Hearts exhaled a long breath toward the ceiling, murmuring: “When I was in the arena, I took many lives. Back then, I comforted myself by thinking granting them death gave them peace from the iron maiden and other tortures, but in the end, it was merely self-deception.”

Diamonds watched him clasp his hands together, as if in prayer or repentance.

“That is why I want to do more for the lower-tier people now, treating it as atonement for my past self. Yet earlier I was laid flat with a single punch; it seems I’m still unfit to be a leader. Haha, Chenxing would be much more suitable.”

Diamonds averted his gaze, smiling faintly after a long silence: “Chenxing is gone. You are Clepsydra’s leader now. Without you, Clepsydra is merely loose sand. You shouldn’t have joined us in the assault squad back then; if you had stayed in the rear, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“If I hadn’t jumped in to save you both, that newcomer you recruited would have been torn to pieces. Workplace death compensation is steep, around 27,777 hours. Could you afford it?”

Hearing that, Diamonds stuck out his tongue. Hearts laughed:

“Besides, hiding your head and showing your tail is not the style of a boxer, nor does Clepsydra like such people. Defense is always meant to welcome the moment of a counterattack.”

Diamonds reached out with a smile, grasping Hearts’s newly attached, scar-riddled prosthetic.

Hearts met his gaze, sharing an understanding smile. One day long ago, Diamonds had appeared before him, traded blows, and altered the course of his life like a blazing shooting star. Yet to this day, Hearts still did not know his past, origin, or true motives, drifting between the rebels and the Group, seemingly coming and going at will.

“That is why you are our leader. Let’s head to the battlefield together.”

Hearts suddenly said: “Check the strawberry bear shoulder bag by the wall to see if there’s a syringe, bring it over. Madam Spades prepared a muscle-enhancement agent earlier. After the injection, I should be able to make it to the arena on schedule.”

“Boss doesn’t need to lead the charge in person. Don’t you have us didi to do the heavy lifting for you?”

Diamonds gave a sly smile, suddenly calling toward the hallway:

“Come in, black-hearted employee.”

“I’m not here.”

A muffled voice came from outside. Quicksand was crouching in the corner of the wall, holding a rooster bowl, head down slurping wonton noodles. The dark circles under his eyes bore witness to the fatigue from watching over Hearts.

A pack of children dressed in woven sacks and tattered burlap gathered around him, the kids living in the scrapyard, hopping on tiptoe to vie for the wontons in his bowl. Perhaps because he had saved that girl from the cleaner earlier, Quicksand had earned their absolute trust lately, looking every bit like the king of the neighborhood kids.

“Look, Boss, you already have a pack of minions at your beck and call. Whether to step into the ring or beat Monkey Face black and blue, it’s all up to your command,” Diamonds said. He strolled over, ignored Quicksand’s glare, patted his shoulder, and smiled teasingly.

“Besides, he’s your devoted fan. I can only lead the charge for you, but he’d lay down his life for you.”