Chapter 41 Strength

Chapter 41 Strength

Gritting his teeth, Walt withdrew a step as the deviant half-breed took offense, targeting his wounded side. The wound still stung like cold iron drilled into his skin, burning away his energy.

The mongrel clearly didn't possess two-thirds of his strength or agility. His dark power was something to be avoided, but Walt shouldn't have any problem dealing with him. Yet, he found himself defending now.

The foul-mouthed bastard's sword seemed to have a nasty enchantment that broke through the defense and impaired him. He was breaking his imbuing over his body with the first attack and attacking the same spot again. This made his attack more predictable, but the bastard was intelligent enough to target other spots throughout.

Within a few minutes of the fight, Walt's leather armor was soiled with blood. His own blood. He didn't expect this before starting the battle. He thought he would show off in front of the students and the few guilds' men, who clearly seemed to have some delusion about his abilities. That he didn't get his post rightly and whatnot.

It was a brilliant position to display his might and show them their places. Even if there was some nepotism in play in his appointment as a Junior Instructor at the academy, he'd show them he deserved it. He would get their respect and reverence, either through his act or through sheer fear. It didn't matter which one it was. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The blade ran over his cheek, drawing a sleek trail of blood. It showed how the white-haired deviant withheld his blade so as not to end his life.

"Are you satisfied now?" the bandit asked, his purple eyes glaring at him.

No, he couldn't end it this way. The others were watching. He would become a laughingstock if he let the bastard get away with this.

Then he finally noticed the signs of exhaustion on his opponent's form. Of course, how did he forget that? The guy clearly had lower attributes compared to him. The deviant should be using some high-cost ability to contend with him but would be unable to keep it up for a longer time.

"It's over, Walt," Warden said, grinning. "I have the higher ground!"

A prickling sensation crawled up in his mind, but he ignored it, knowing he could endure it.

"No," Walt screamed, losing the composed self he showed in the beginning. "Mongrel, I won't lose to the likes of you."

"You've already lost," Warden laughed and finally smashed the noble to the ground. Walt thoroughly saw the blade coming, but he couldn't manage to draw his blade to block it. Blood gushed out from the straight, deep cut, even though his armor took the most brunt of the blow. But at the last moment, Warden withheld again, deciding the deep wound would be quite enough to shut him up.

"Murder!" Walt screamed. "Murder! Murder! Kill him!"

Warden clicked his tongue and let him squirm on the ground. He turned to find Tifan locked in battle, though mostly the former bandit was running around, waiting for him to finish his battle. Finding the professor dealt with, Tifan crept fast towards him, with two of the other men following.

"I'm surprised you managed to keep them at bay for so long," Warden said with approval.

"Long?" Tifan sighed in relief. "Not even five minutes have passed since you started battling."

"Five minutes is quite a long time for a battle," Warden muttered. "Well, I was worried about accidentally killing him, so I restrained a lot in the beginning."

Walt coughed out blood upon hearing him. Warden turned towards the two men who faltered on their chase. Uncertainty clawed their movement, as they had no clue if they should keep on attacking or begin negotiating. "It won't end well for you if you take it too far," Kevin said. "You can't just thrash someone from the Arcane Society, and call it off. Let us pass through now, and we'll..." Warden snorted. "I would have let you do your business freely before," he said. "But now..." "What are you planning?" Warden smiled. "How many of those domination handcuffs do you guys have?"