I Am Become Scum
12 Fight || Father
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I Am Become Scum
Author :SkeptiK
© Webnovel

12 Fight || Father


"Yes," he affirmed, after some silence. I could tell he was in a no-nonsense mood by the look he was sending me. It was straight-laced with furrowed, accusatory brows that displayed his intentions fully.

He didn't need to hide his intent, because we both knew who held the authority in this situation.

…for now.

"Ignorance doesn't suit you, boy."

It was my only option, really.

Lying would be a waste of time, because he seemed to believe unconditionally that he was right. It wouldn't matter how many people would tell him otherwise; he was a stubborn man. Something I've learned after watching the interactions between him and mother for so long.

"…not talking?"

"…I figured that'd be the case."

He sighed, moving his hands toward his black vest. He began to slowly remove every article of clothing of his upper body, revealing a bandaged torso and insanely defined muscular structure.

Dark, tribal-like markings wrapped around his arm like a serpent of tattoos—littered with those same characters I saw on the stone he possessed to control mother's actions.

His physique had nothing on Casper—in terms of size—but the two couldn't be compared. Casper had a very large, wide, and thick build while father's muscle seemed more compact. There was no hint of excess body fat on the man before me, and his presence screamed "dangerous" on levels the old fox couldn't even COMPARE to.

Things didn't look good.

"Regardless," he said, dropping the last of his clothes. "I thought I'd give you the courtesy of talking things out."

It was an instant.

"Gu- Hah!"

I felt the impact of a fist sink into my childish body—flinging me with the ease, of pitched baseball.

The feeling of weightlessness ended nearly as soon as it began; my body ceasing movement with the "gentle" cushion of a stone wall.

I greedily sucked in air as I toppled to the ground due to gravity—grasping for the oxygen that my lungs expelled with his blow.

"Anything that happens from here on out, was your choice." I hear him say, as I continued to struggle from the aftermath of his hit. "Speak, or be damned, little one."

I knew I couldn't win. The odds were stacked against me due to several things:

1. I was a child.

2. He was a higher Tier than me.

3. I've yet to train in Mana.

It was a hopeless endeavor, but I was stubborn.

So without much choice, I decided to fight back.

"You recovered faster than I thought." he said, almost condescendingly as he watched me pick myself back up. My body trembled a bit, still feeling the pain, but I corrected my posture. I didn't want to back down.

Not to him.

Not to anyone.

"…you really are my child."

I could swear that I saw a faint grin as he said that, but I wasn't given much time to process as he approached once more, albeit much slower than he had before.

Refusing to get hit, I ducked to the side—only to see a foot fade inches into vision.

I have no clue what reflex I pulled out of my ass, but I latched my tail onto the arm I'd just dodged and used it to swing myself onto the offending appendage—like a falcon, perched onto their trainer's glove.

I didn't have much time to rest on the muscled arm as he swung once more with his free hand. I back-flipped off, landing onto the wall. The instant I made contact, I ran along the side of it, almost denying the laws of physics before gravity decided I had enough fun, and forced me to touch down onto the ground.


I could see an intrigued look in his eyes as he looked at the arm I had just used as a spring-board for my escape.

"Your moves are unorthodox; risky, even." He said, turning his attention to me once more. "So this is what you've been doing with your siblings."

He vanished, before appearing only moments away from me. He made a chopping motion to my neck with practiced ease, forcing me to back-bend into a bridge-stretch.

Seeing an opportunity, I kicked my legs off the ground, intending to uppercut his balls as I flipped back into a more comfortable posture…

But I forgot who I was dealing with.

"What do you call these movements of yours?" he said, catching the foot I aimed towards him. He examined it with unhidden curiosity, almost amazed that I could still react, even if he had been holding back the entire time.

He'd yet to use any mana, after all.


I didn't feel the need to hide it, as I twisted my torso with cat-like flexibility, and smacked his wrist with my other free foot. His grip released, allowing me to flip and back-pedal to safety.

"Free-running," he parroted, mulling over the new term. "How novel...yet pointless."

He shook his head, before turning in my direction. He clenched his fist, raising it as if to present his flexed arm as evidence to his strength.

"Combat arts without strength, is empty."

I knew that; even if I hadn't, I certainly would know now.

If I were to face someone at the same level, or close to me in ability, martial arts and skills would definitely become a deciding factor in combat.

But here?

I was simply running around, trying to minimize the damage he's inflicting onto me. The situation was literally, and figuratively, like a grown man playing around with a kitten.

Every action I took was pointless, because if he truly wanted to kill me...

I wouldn't even be able to blink in response, let alone respond to his blows. That's what my instincts were telling me.

"You seem to understand that, yet you continue to play around."

He walked to me, with a haunting aura; one that promised pain if I continued to ignore his questioning.

"How much more until you finally cave in, I wonder?"

Unlike the mercy he'd been showing me up until now, all I felt was a shove to my spine that sent me rolling forwards several tens of meters before I rammed face-first into a familiar friend: the wall.

My ears were ringing, and my vision began to blur as I stumbled, and failed, to right my stance. In seconds, a warm, viscous liquid pooled into my eyes—dyeing my vision with shades of red as I took in my surroundings. I hadn't even noticed a wound open up on my forehead because my senses were so out of whack.

I hadn't seen him move when he pushed me; I would even say he was still in front of me as I felt the shove.

It made me wonder what kind of speed you'd need to fool even the heightened senses of a beast-man.

"Let's find out."

[>>>] FAST FORWARD [>>>]

[>>>] 10 MINUTES [>>>]

I was nothing more than a toy, at the moment.

A ragdoll—meant only for his amusement as he continued to study my style of martial arts. He was clearly intrigued, as I could tell he gave me plenty of opportunities to counter.

It was frustrating, but I was forced to play his little game and retaliate to his openings, lest I be slammed with a blow that I could've otherwise avoided.

My fur was bloodied, and my face was swollen from random slaps throughout our exchanges. More than the stinging sensation of his slaps, was the loss of dignity I felt with every smack.

Only one word could describe what I was feeling…


I'd always been in control of things. The world back home was so much simpler to work with. It was easy to use the rules society established against them, and there were no repercussions as long as I was smart about the actions I took.

The problem here, was…

There were no rules.

My intellect had no power here, as strength seemed to be the deciding factor. Something I had been told by ||ORDER||, but the thought had never clicked until now.

I was too complacent; I thought I had prepared myself, and felt my current training regiment was enough. It was that mindset, that allowed this weakness to show.

But I'm not upset—in fact, this whole situation was an opportunity; an opportunity to grow, and become better. If I had kept going at such a lackadaisical pace, who knows what unfortunate future I'd be confronted with.

In this scenario, I'm fighting with my father, who'd preserve my life, at the very least due to me "value". I could've easily been in much more dire circumstances.

Luckily, reality has a way of knocking people down a peg.

I needed this, and I'm thankful for it. If I come out alive, there will be no more games. Not until I have the power to back it up.

"This is becoming troublesome, boy. I already know your hiding something; did you think I wasn't observing you all this while?"

I'd have to be an idiot not to notice. EVERYONE knew I was under his watch, even slaves who'd never met me before.

"You should know, that I am sensitive to the changes in the soul."

…THAT was concerning. Any thoughts I may have had ground to a halt the moment he said those words.

Satisfied with my silence, he continued, "Every time you go into the chutes, you would somehow disappear from surveillance for several hours."

"Why is that, I wonder?" he spoke, stroking his chin at the rhetorical question.

So he noticed after all…it was only a matter of time, I suppose.

"What makes it more curious, is how your soul would always flicker a dull light when left—but it was bright when you first entered."

He crossed his arms, staring at my battered body as he sent me a stern glance once more.

"Tell me, son." He said.

That was the first time I ever heard him acknowledge me as his son.

"Why does your soul always appear exhausted after your days in the Chute? Perhaps what's more curious, is how did your soul become so dense for your age?"

I greeted him with silence.


"…I understand." He sighed. "You won't say anything no matter what, will you?"

A familiar gray cloak formed around his hand—similar to how he had opened the large doors to this arena.
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"Then I'm afraid you've forced my hand. If you don't live, then it will truly be a loss."

I felt it, then.

A bloodlust that put even mother's to shame. I was already on my last legs, so this abrupt feeling of killing intent easily brought me to a knee with my eyes forced to look at the specks of dirt below me.

He was only steps away, yet I was able to feel a magnitude of power I'd never felt before. An ominous feeling I'd never be able to describe, even with all the experience in my past life. It was a new sensation, that I could only say felt like a "pressure" was being weighed onto my very being.

"I'm sorry, son."

There was no time. The power in the palm he carried now surpassed any measure of pain and injury I could hope to cope with. More so than before, the fur on my spine stood on end and my body shook beyond my ability to withstand.

For the first time, I felt fear. An emotion that always escaped me—and still does, if I'm to be honest. Even as I stare into the approaching palm, clearly intent on ending my life as it expanded in my field of vision...

I felt nothing—emotionally, at least.

But my body felt it. If I did nothing, I would truly die.

It understood better than my mind could ever mentally comprehend—that the man before me, and the power he held, was something to be feared.

Everything after this realization became reactionary. No matter how hard I tried to resist, my natural reflex was to preserve my life.

And to do so, would mean revealing my trump card...

So I did.

My hand lifted faster than I could imagine, as my palm emitted an ethereal purple light. A sharp, obsidian object fired in that moment to the source of my fear, as they closed in. Trailing behind the spear were barbed, steel links—black as the moonless night, yet glowing an aurora of violet, pink, and blue hues.

Matching the merciless intent that screamed death, the chained kunai soared with the desire to end my father's life.

The target—his skull.

{Soul-Bound: Chains}

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    《I Am Become Scum》