"Jesus Christ, dude. Your shoulder pads are a pain to look at!" said a bystander leaning on a wall nearby. He seemed unfazed by the Golden King and sounded just as skeptical. A charlatan, most likely, who doubted the man's abilities. He sounded young beneath the visor of his angular helmet. The figure was adorned with a thick leather motorcycle jacket with the white emblem of piano keys emblazoned upon the back. From his neck hung a wire necklace with three cylindrical tubes hanging from it, clattering gently in the wind. Murmurs broke out from warriors all around. Some skirted away from the speaker, fearing for their own lives and looking wary, thinking that the boy was about to share the same fate as the King's victim. Standing at around perhaps 5'6, the boy would have been easily dwarfed by the armour-clad King. But judging by his slumped body posture and eased muscles, anyone could tell that he was naively relax during it all. He was either an idiot or hiding something much, much more.