The next day as Beer Beard and the old master made their way to the east of Omega, they eventually arrived at a desert valley surrounded by sharp glass fragments.

 

The place was a desert wasteland, Sun’s Edge it was called, as dangerous rays of light would occasionally shoot out from the glass fragments.

 

“Sh’it!” Beer Beard cried as a ray almost hit his afro.

 

“Ol man the hell are we do’in hereya?”

 

The old master didn’t respond, and only waved Beer Beard to follow, Beer Beard reluctantly did.

 

As the old master led Beer Beard through the sharp glass structures resembling glacial icebergs, Beer Beard was able to see a strange building; it was a semi humble-looking barbershop.

 

"This is the place," the old master said, gesturing towards the barbershop’s entrance.

 

As they entered, they were greeted by the sight of a muscular man with a thick, short mustache, and tanned skin, his arms crossed over his chest.

 

He sat on one of the barber chairs almost as if he was waiting for someone to cut his hair.

 

His hair was similarly impressive, scoring a neatly tied bun which jiggled on top of his head.

 

He had a stern expression on his face, and his piercing gaze made Beer Beard feel slightly uneasy.

 

"This is Mr. T," the old master said, introducing Beer Beard. "He's one of the four emperors who survived the purge of the Hair Kingdom."

 

Mr. T grunted in acknowledgement, his eyes still fixed on Beer Beard. "Humf! Beer Beard huh? You’a proud of dat afro, huh?" he said, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

 

Beer Beard was appalled by the strange man, "Ya’ wat’s to’ya?"

 

Mr. T raised an eyebrow. "So w-wat, and I mean w-wat can you do? huh?"

 

Beer Beard hesitated for a moment before answering. "Wat you mean?"

 

Mr. T tapped his leg on the floor, “Ya’ can’t be serious, I’m sayin wat you know already.”

 

Just then the old master spoke for Beer Beard, “You would be impressed Mr. T. In fact, on his own he’s been able to store weapons in his afro.”

 

Mr. T snorted. "Awe, dam… (Sigh~) listen, that basic shit won't cut it in this world, b’oy. You need something more powerful, more... fabulous."

 

“Ah! Whateva! Com’on fight me!” Mr. T stood up and started to walk towards Beer Beard.

 

He was shorter in height compared to Beer Beard but his presence was greater than anyone here.

 

Grabbing Beer Beard’s large right shoulder he talked with a menacing gaze, “Outside, afro b’oy.”

 

As Mr. T went out, the old master stopped Beer Beard, puzzled Beer Beard waited to see what the old man was up to.

 

The old man unpacked a wooden chest he had Beer Beard carry and opened it, revealing an array of strange-looking objects. 

 

He picked up a pair of comically long metal afro comb and handed them to Beer Beard.

 

“W-wat the hell tis?” Beer Beard asked.

 

"This is a Combymore comb, Ancient weapons used by the Hair Kingdom. This one in particular is made for afros.”

 

Beer Beard took a long look at the Combymore comb, “Ol’ man… I-Its just’a comb…” he replied.

 

“Yes, a mighty fine one too.” The old master said with a smile.

 

Beer Beard took the comb, examining them closely. 

 

It was intricately designed, with sharp teeth and a weight that felt just right in his hands.

 

Seeing that talking was pointless Beer Beard took the Combymore comb and shoved it into his hair.

 

To his surprise not all of it disappeared, the handle of the comb stuck out as if he had a normal comb.

 

As Beer Beard and the old master headed out to meet Mr. T, they noticed him stretching his legs.

 

Mr. T looked up and noticed Beer Beard’s new comb.

 

"Ah! Hell bout damn time! I could’ve died outa ol’age up in here’ya?" Mr. T said. 

 

Before the battle started, the old master warned Beer Beard, "Beer Beard! Be careful, Mr. T is a master of the Super Secret Fist of the Beard Beard! It will be unlike anything you have seen thus far!"

 

Beer Beard nodded, but perhaps a little skeptical as well. 

 

Twisting his body into a cool pose he yelled, "I’GHT! BRING BITCH! I’MA WHUUP YO’ASS! WHAO! BABY!" 

 

Mr. T smiled, “Heh, now ya talki’n, YEAHhhhHHHH!”

 

And with that, Beer Beard pulled out his gatling gun from his afro, (WHIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE)

 

(O_O) Mr. T’s face*

 

(BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR)

 

(Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink)

 

Mr. T was utterly torn apart, piece by piece, it was horrific as chunks of his flesh sunk within himself as each bullet punched all the way through his body.

 

Blood splattered onto the ground as if an artist threw a paint bucket into the floor.

 

The old master screamed to Beer Beard, “BEER BEARDDD!!! STOPPP!!! STOPPP!!!!”

(HISSSSSSSSS)

As the gatling gun hissed to a halt, Beer Beard and looked to see Mr. T

 

Both the old master and Beer Beard walked up to the body which was now unrecognizable.

 

“B-Beer Beard…” the old master whispered.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Y-you killed him…”

 

Without hesitation Beer Beard responded while avoiding eye contact, “Ye’a…”

 

>>>

 

The old master and Beer Beard sat in silence, in the barber shop, both lost in thought. 

 

The failure of their training with Mr. T weighed heavily on them both. 

 

Finally, the old master spoke up.

 

"It seems we've hit a dead end," he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Mr. T was our last hope."

 

Beer Beard was astounded, “Las’t ho’pe? Ol’ man that guy was scam’in us ya know that? Hell he got his ass whuuped!”

 

"Hmmm…" said the old master. "But without the Secret Art of Beard Beard we have no chance against the bald kingdom! We must use our wits to come up with a new strategy."

 

Beer Beard disagreed. "Ol man, I don’t need no Secret Arts, hell I don’t ev’en know a single jutsu! An’d I’m kick’in and rock’in."

 

The old master placed a hand on Beer Beard's shoulder. "And what would you do without your m-ma-machine gun… Beer Beard?"

 

“Go’t mah fists do’n’t I?”

 

They sat in silence once again. Finally, Beer Beard spoke up. "Hell’ let’s tak’em! If that Mr. T couldn’t handle mah heat. How duh hell is them hair hunters gonna be any different!"

 

The old master sighed deeply, he remembered far too often how many youngsters would jump into the affray without the realization of what they were asking for.

 

But swallowing his pride, the old master agreed, “Very well… Beer Beard… We shall do it your wa-”

 

[BOOM!]

 

(?!) An explosion was heard outside, causing several hundreds of glass fragments to be shattered in one mighty roar.

 

Suddenly, the door burst open and a group of finely dressed individuals rushed into the room armed with scissors and combs, but most importantly of all; they are bald.

 

"W’at dah hell?!" Beer Beard yelled, as he reached for his afro to pull out his gatling gun.

 

But just as Beer Beard was taking out his gatling gun a swift punch came across, followed by a scissor aimed for his hair.

 

Beer Beard failed to react in time, but the old master, ever so vigilant, pushed Beer Beard aside, taking the brunt of the cut.

 

(SHEEICK!)

 

“Ja! Ja! Ja! Good to see’ya old man?”

 

The old master screamed in agony, “ARAgGGHHGHHHH!!!” as Potato pulled out his scissors from the old master’s white beard.

 

The hair hunters were quick and agile, darting around the room with their scissors and combs like feral wolves craving for the flesh. 

 

Beer Beard dodged some swift strikes and kicked as he tried to maintain some sort of distance for his gatling gun.

 

Seeing this, the old master retreated to assist Beer Beard, avoiding Potato entirely.

 

The old master’s presence indeed was taken into consideration by the hair hunters as they seemed to maintain a certain level of distance.

Noticing the gap was enough, Beer Beard swung down his gatling gun from his afro as if striking down with a sword. 

 

As it hit the ground a light clink rang, then a blinding whirring noise pierced everyone’s ear.

 

(WHIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE)

 

(BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR)

 

(Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink) (Clink)

 

Practically everyone ducked for cover, those of whom were too slow were ripped into with a ferocity unlike any other.

 

But just then, a white hot curling rod zipped past the hail of bullets and hit Beer Beard in the chest.

 

(THUD!) (HISSS)

 

Beer Beard couldn’t react, it was logged into his chest.

 

(HISSS) (Cough!) (Cough!)

 

What was worse was that Beer Beard couldn't scream, the scorching hot curling rod gripped him as if by the heart, and any over the top movement would cause a very foul damage that may as well be death.

 

As Beer Beard's eyes narrowed down he could see his scorched chest.

 

Sweat rolled down his forehead as his vision became blurry.

 

“B-B-Beer B-BuEard!”

 

“Beer Beard!!” The old master yelled.

 

As the old master called out the curling rod jumped back, as it was pulled from the cord.

 

The owner of the white hot rod belonged to none other than Potato.

 

With his free hand, Potato rubbed his bald scalp.

 

Following the arrow tattoos on his head, Potato lowered his hand until it reached his lower eyelid.

 

 Then in a mocking manner, he stuck his tongue out.

 

“BLEEAH!!”

 

“Ja JA! Look what I caught?! A nice chunky afro, Ja!”

 

“You sicken me Potato!” The old master cried out.

 

The old master took quick glances all around him, as the hair hunters quickly made their way to block any way of escape.

 

With his hands the old master made 3 signs for a jutsu then proceeded to slam both hands onto the ground.

 

[SUPER FIST OF THE BEARD BEARD! SIDEBURNS~!]

 

Pillars of hot fire bursted from the ground like geysers surrounding the barbershop dojo.

 

“SHIT!” One of the hair hunters cried

 

Couple more hair hunters became wounded from the intense heat.

 

The old master didn’t give any slack, as he immediately attended to Beer Beard.

 

Beer Beard’s body appeared the complete opposite from his previous demeanor.

 

“No…” The old master whispered.

 

“No No No! BEER BEARD!!”

 

(WACK!!)

 

Potato kicked the old master to the side, his presence shadowed by the pillars of fire which seemed to not disappear.

 

“Outa the way old man!”

 

Potato checked Beer Beard’s body.

 

His eyes dotting around as the hair hunter grunts grappled onto the old master.

 

“Humf~ Not bad ja?” Satisfied Potato turned around seeing the old master pinned by two of the hair hunters.

 

“Ah, I think I remembered something, what was it now? You people would rather die than live bald, Ja? What will ya’ choose I wonder.”

 

“Take him to the Sword.” Potato said to his henchmen.

 

“We’ll teach this one that hair is a plague.”

 

>>>

The skyscraper called Sword pierced the sky, defiantly rising further east of Sun's Edge. 

 

It stood as a testament to the unwavering determination of its creator, Kuska, the son of Max V. Vermillion. 

 

With a burning desire to rival the mighty structures of the big five within Omega, Kuska poured his heart and soul into the construction of Sword.

 

However, unlike its counterparts, Sword held a deeper, more poignant significance. 

 

It was built upon the toil and struggles of the subjugated populace of the hair kingdom. 

 

The once thriving mini city, which once boasted lively streets and vibrant communities, now languished in the shadow of Sword's towering presence. 

 

Salvaged materials and makeshift dwellings dotted the blocks, serving as meager homes for those who had lost everything.

 

Every corner of this makeshift city held a hair removal facility, an ironic reminder of the people's servitude. 

 

In their desperate bid to survive, they had turned to their very own heritage, utilizing the discarded remnants of their hair kingdom to construct the humble structures that barely resembled the grandeur of Omega Sector.

 

Yet, despite its dilapidated appearance, Sword carried a unique allure. 

 

It emanated a sense of both might and despair, captivating the eyes of passersby. 

 

Its jagged edges and intricately designed façade conveyed a silent message—an audacious challenge to the five towers that dominated Omega. 

 

Sword stood tall, a symbol of defiance against his father.

 

Kuska, a visionary with a rebellious spirit, had intended Sword to be an alternative of sorts to the looming towers of Omega Sector. 

 

But as the days passed, his once grand act came to nothing more than a drop of ink in the books of history. 

 

Amidst the desolate streets of Sword, an air of treachery and intrigue hung heavy. 

 

The once-respected master, now weathered and aged, found himself being escorted through the twisted alleys by a Potato, a hair hunter elite. 

 

Once a humble resident of the hair kingdom, Potato had forsaken his loyalty and turned his back on his people, enticed by the allure of rewards of plenty offered by Kuska.

 

Potato, bald like the rest of the inhabitants of Sword, moved with an eerie grace, his eyes hardened by the choices he had made. 

The old master, with his tattered robes and a beard that had seen better days, followed silently, his senses sharpened with decades of honing his ninja skills.

 

They arrived at the heart of Sword, where the imposing figure of Black Beard stood, presiding over the tower that bore his name. 

 

Once one of the four emperors of the hair kingdom, now consumed by ambition and a hunger for power, greeted them with a cold, calculating gaze. 

 

Black Beard's bald head gleamed under the dim lights, but it was his magnificent, unkempt beard that drew the most attention—a symbol of his authority and mastery.

 

The old master's eyes met Black Beard's, and a flicker of recognition passed between them.

 

They had once trained together, in a time long before betrayal had twisted their destinies. 

 

The sight of the old master's deteriorating beard tugged at Black Beard's conscience, a reminder of the path they had both strayed from.

 

"You've finally arrived," Black Beard rasped, his voice carrying the weight of their shared history. 

 

"It seems fate has brought us together once more, although under very different circumstances." The old master nodded solemnly, his voice laced with regret. 

 

A wry smile crept across Black Beard's face, tinged with bitterness. 

 

"Times change, White Beard. And unfortunately for you, this is where you will either shave, or die."

 

Silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken truths and shattered loyalties.

 

The old master's gaze swept over the bald inhabitants of Sword, their heads held high but devoid of the pride that once defined them. 

 

It was a kingdom built on the betrayal of their shared heritage.

 

"You must understand, White Beard," Black Beard continued. 

 

"Sword is but a stepping stone towards a greater purpose. This? All of this? Is for them."

 

The old master's eyes hardened, a fire rekindling within his weary soul.

 

"Y-You snake! They shaved their hair and all! while you keep your beard and you say that is for them?!"

 

Black Beard's expression faltered, sighing deeply "Get him out of my sight, Potato."

 

Just as Potato was about to pass Black Beard, Black Beard tugged on Potatoes arm.

 

“Make sure he cuts his own hair.”

 

Smiling Potato replied, “Ja? Of course! It wouldn’t be fun otherwise!”