Chapter 15: Chris
The tides were turning, and Khalifa had to pick a side. Even if it wasn't a side he wasn't proud of. The sounds of battle ran out, blotting out every other thought from his head. They were at it again, the Enforcers.
He had no idea why they couldn't just quiet down, turning the town center into a brawling fest.
"Would it kill them to give it a rest once in a while?"
Khalifa complained, closing his ears with pillows. It didn't do anything anyway.
"Those ragamuffins, up at the crack of dawn and making problems for us, the simple folks. Can't even say I'm happy with how things are going; we'd be cast out before long," A balding middle-aged man named Chris spoke, and there were collective sighs in the bar.
"You just learned a new word?" Ahmed, a regular at the bar, poked fun at Chris, and the entire occupants of the bar chortled, laughter ringing out in quick succession.
"Hey, wait, you want a piece of me? Young boys like you should know their place, what with the laws nowadays. Back in the days, you couldn't even shine my shoes, but sure, let's all give you a pass for being an inconsiderate asshat." Chris was fuming, his fingers forming into fists. Khalifa didn't know what to do, as most barroom brawls were more intense when someone tried to break it.
"Look around, old man. Nobody here cares what stories you have. I don't, and he doesn't," Ahmed pointed at one of his buddies who was sporting a new fade, his eyes half closed from smoking so much, or maybe it was the latest wave of opium circulating in the town.
"Nobody cares about you, and if you die in a ditch somewhere, nobody is going to bat an eyelid. Do you think this is one scene where your experience suddenly overrides my youth? I don't care if you mess with anyone here, don't even dare cross me."
Khalifa watched the scene before him with mixed feelings. On one hand, he was a bartender who didn't pick sides, and on another, Chris had been a menace. He was the true meaning of rock bottom, and everybody knew it. Sure, he tossed words like the good old days until they became rag dolls.
"How dare you talk to me this way?" Chris was fuming, eyes almost bulging out of its socket, and Khalifa knew that if it continued, Chris would be beaten in ten seconds flat. He wasn't young anymore, and the boys were spoiling for a fight.
"Relax, Chris. This is a place of peace, see?" Khalifa gestured at the people who raised their pints of beer in solidarity.
"I don't give a rat's ass what this place is. My integrity has been insulted, and I've been harassed and treated like a commoner, like a nitwit. I won't stand these derogatory comments on my person." As Chris ranted, Khalifa was tempted to throw him out and keep him out.
"First, nobody knows or cares about whatever you're saying. And honestly, this can be settled easily. Just smile and makeup; we're all adults here," Khalifa inserted himself into the scenario because, well, Chris was behaving like a stuck-up child who'd been denied toys he wanted to play with.
"I'll be back," Chris replied, crashing against a table and picking himself up. The laughter rang out of the barroom, and there was nothing Khalifa could do to assuage the crowd; they were laughing and banging their cups on the table in reckless abandon. Thankfully, Chris had already left.
"What was that all about?" Ahmed asked, and Khalifa wasn't sure he wanted to know.
~~
There were different kinds of people in the world, and Khalifa was an observer. That was his job, and he never interfered. The first time he noticed his ability, he was younger than most. He saw that the world was changing. The scale was tipping to a dangerous side. Magic reigned predominantly, and people with little to no mana like him were relegated to living in the lower strata of the city.
But things were going on behind the scenes that could make a person's skin crawl. First, there were bio-weapons made specifically immune to magic, and they were sold on the black market. And mana-enhanced weapons somehow made their way to the underbelly of the city. The country knew of the happenings in Selene, but they couldn't do anything about it because the City of Selene was a superpower on its own. It was the home of some powerful, shady characters.
They had money to throw at problems, and some threw around platinum-like it was nothing. Others were reserved for special occasions. The world was rotten, and so many people were watching, not doing a thing about it.
Including Khalifa.
He could see the things others couldn't, but he had no inclinations to help or serve the community. Velor was a powerful country, but its problems had always been civil war. And Selene was always the culprit.
If a city brings over 80% of a country's GDP without sweat, then power is bound to shift focus. And Selene is a powerhouse. The rulers of the wild city live in evil, and the pleasures of life have no end.
It's a city that doesn't sleep, built on the sufferings of the millions holding it up without being thanked for it—the workforce has little to no mana. The middle strata live convenient lives since they have enough mana to get by, but nothing more, nothing less. Of the nine strata, the eight strata suffer the most from the bullying of the rest of the city.
The ninth? Regarded as dead. Nobody ever goes there, except the black market moves as it does periodically.
The eighth is where the hate, bigotry, and violence fall on; they're at a point where being left alone is a mercy. But even if Khalifa knew all of this, what could he do?
~~
Chris walked into the bar the next day, and Ahmed was talking to his boys, not regarding the person who had just come in. Khalifa's senses were tingling; he felt the wrongness of the situation, but his mouth was glued shut for some reason he didn't understand.
"Now, boy, would you mind repeating what you told me the other day?" Chris's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that if Ahmed were more intelligent, he'd have noticed.
But are young boys ever smart?
"Look, it's the old man, here for another ass whooping," Ahmed laughed with his boys, pointing at Chris. Khalifa wanted to tell them to stop, but nobody else could move in the bar. It was as though their internal system had been hacked.
"Okay, I did tell you I'd be back." Chris smiled, and there was nothing fatherly or kind about the smile; it was feral and evil. Khalifa was taken aback. That wasn't in the cards. But he couldn't say a single word.
"And now you are; anything changed?" Ahmed laughed, but his friends didn't. He turned around, and his eyes bulged out, and he gripped his chest, unable to believe what he was seeing.
His friends had parts of their bodies sawed off and their heads disconnected from their bodies. It was so speedily done that Ahmed didn't notice.
He vomited all over the floor.
"Next time, know who you talk big to. Let's go, Number 7." Chris said, and a man materialized from the shadows. He waved at Ahmed and licked his lips. Ahmed peed on himself immediately.
"My cleaners would be here to take care of this. Now, we wouldn't like to take this overboard, would we?" Chris dropped his card on the table and pushed it across to Khalifa. The name emblazoned on it was Alistair Christopher.
Khalifa knew that name; hell, everyone did. He owned various chains of hotels and restaurants in the city and has a firm standing as one of the city's rulers.
"You've been kind to me; use that to take care of yourself," Alistair dropped a bag of gold coins on the table, and some coins spilled out.
He walked away and didn't look back.
Khalifa was still in the same spot three hours later, staring at his new fortune and unable to believe the world could change in a single second.
It was a disaster, but he'd gotten rich.
Whose side am I meant to be on now?
Only time will tell.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone