Battle Frenzy

It seemed, at first glance, that all could be seen were those black people who gleamed in the sunlight. Amongst them was a youth carrying a coffin. His skin tone not as dark as the others around him and instead, leaned towards a brighter bronze hue. Many with this skin tone were of mixed descent, distinguishing them from others who were pure-blooded. His skin tone caused many to size him up in an attempt to hazard a guess at his social status. As he walked along, numerous individuals cast looks of desire at the strange box that lay on his back.

Anyone could tell with a glance that the coffin-like box wasn’t a common item. Added to this was the fact that the youth carrying the coffin has yet to reached 20 years of age. As such, a few people revealed expressions filled with greed and desire, as the youth carried the strange item.

Even under such intense scrutiny, the bald youth seemed unaffected by those coveting gazes. With the coffin on his back, he walked into a small shop by the road with a tranquil expression on his face.

The shop wasn’t big, yet it was considered to be one of the more luxurious ones in this part of the oasis. The establishment was not simply made by gluing together a couple of planks of wood. Currently, there were a number of tables that were occupied by customers. While it wasn’t an exotic delicacy, the piping hot meat soup inside a bowl-shaped biscuit emitted a fragrance that filled the entire place. This was considered as a feast that was hard to find in the desert.

The bald youth walked up the counter with a genuine smile on his face. “Proprietor, give me some dried food and water. Thanks,” he requested.

When he entered, there were quite a number who stared at the strange coffin on his back. After all, any object that gave off light was treated as a rare relic and would catch the eyes of everyone. After he spoke to the proprietor, a scar-faced person harbouring malicious intent immediately stood up.

From the youth’s accent, one could tell that this little baldy was from Tutankhamen, just one who was from impure descent… this was definitely not a new human whose evolution wasn’t complete. Fellows like him were all labourers who were barely able to survive this radiation-filled world. It could be said that such a weak fellow didn’t even have rights. People wouldn’t even bother to bury him if he died.

In the fact, the tougher it was live, the worse off the morals of the place. Rules and regulations became disregarded as the surroundings grew more dangerous. Though the areas near the central Tutankhamen Empire were more law abiding, the outer edge of the oases had transformed into a dysfunctional society devoid of laws, where slavery was commonplace..

“Brat, your coffin is quite an unusual relic. Did you prepare it for yourself?” Scar-face had an abnormal build. When he stood behind the little baldy, the different between their sizes was akin to an elephant lording over a zebra. With greed in his eyes, he extended his hands toward coffin glowing with a dark-blue light. He wanted to determine what material the coffin was made up of. Those inside the Federation loved keeping strange and mysterious objects. If he could bring such an item to a middleman, he would be able to fetch a good price for it.

Just a few bottles of cola inside the Empire could be exchanged for a pretty good female slave.

“Sir, it’s best that a living person not touch it.” The little baldy didn’t bother to evade or even turn around. With a gentle and genuine voice, he continued, “It won’t be good for your body.”

Those words were obviously targeted at Scar-face, who gawked. His ordinary voice had inexplicably made cold sweat ran down his spine. It was similar to the fear one faced when meeting an expert. Unable to bear it, Scar-face’s forehead began to wrinkle.

Just then, a few of his companions began to laugh loudly. “Does this wimpy kid think he’s the Grim Reaper?”

“Haha. To think that the brave Babulu is actually afraid!”

The little baldy continued to sit quietly in his seat. His face revealed just a hint of regret.

When he heard the laughter of his colleagues, Scar-face turned red. That sliver of dread he felt was wiped clean. In the Tutankhamen Empire, if one showed cowardice in front of their peers, then one would seen as nothing but a dog in their eyes.

His face began to twist with fury. He reached out his hands and viciously grabbed the blue coffin. “You little bastard! Not only will I touch it, I’ll even take it from you! Put it down and scram! If not, I’ll put you in it myself!”

When he grabbed the blue coffin tightly, he didn’t feel any change in temperature or anything out of place. This made the last hint of suspicion in his heart disappear. Just as he was about to exert more force and violently take it away, he heard a whizzing sound ring from beside him!

That whizzing had come too fast, too swiftly for his eyes to capture. Just as he registered the sound, his face had already been struck. An enormous power that was akin to being hit straight on by a speeding vehicle had collided with his face. His close-to-two meter tall figure fell to the side, landing with a heavy thud a few meters away. Using his elbows to prop himself up after the hit, he had to use a great deal of effort to shake his head clear. Only after he had regained a clear vision did he see what had just hit him. It was actually a half-eaten biscuit!

A dark-grey string of blood flowed from the corner of Babulu’s mouth. Although the blow was a bit heavy, it wasn’t enough to stop him from standing up. He furiously jumped to his feet and shouted, “Who did that!?”

“Just a measly grey-blooded insect?” A man fully-covered in a mantle laughed. “I guess that’s why a biscuit was enough to send you flying.”

When those words were said, Babulu and a few of his gawking colleagues became completely furious. There were various ways of differentiating the ranks of new human soldiers inside the Tutankhamen Empire. In contrast with the Freedom Federation, the Empire judged how strong or weak one was based on the colour of their blood.

Due to resisting the harsh environment and weather, the evolved new humans of the African Continent had an obvious increase in their black pigmentation. Even their blood had transformed due to this black pigmentation. The initial transformation involved the alteration of the colour of blood to a faint gray colour. Only after reaching a certain degree of strength would this change to a deep greenish colour. This level was comparable to the Freedom Federation’s Cast Heroic Soul stage. After that was the rumoured Black-blooded Soldiers with blood that was completely ink-black.

Regardless of these levels, these titles represented a soldier’s glory. While a grey-blooded soldier had the lowest rank, this was still something to be proud of. Yet, this mantled fellow had actually dared called him a ‘grey-blooded insect’ right to his face. This was no different from calling a black man a ‘n*gger’ in the old world.

“You’re looking to die! I’ll tear you to bits!” Babulu was the first to jump over. He was followed by his companions who also charged forward.

Low whispers began to fill the room as quite a number of people began to gather around to watch the commotion. It was not too much of a shock to them as these kinds of incidences happened on a daily basis inside the oasis, so it wasn’t considered to be anything special.Not only was Babulu and his fellows incredible strong, their actions were also quite shrewd. They could draw their sharp blades with the simplest of movement. In addition, they had assessed that this cloaked man was not an individual that could be easily dealt with. In the blink of an eye, they surrounded him. It was obvious that they had put much practice into performing this formation. Yet, it was a truly pity…