56: Fated Clash

56: Fated Clash

Marlon opened with a shield charge that caught me off guard. I barely managed to dodge to the side, but his massive roman-style tower shield still grazed me, leaving me reeling. The pain shot through my body, and I instinctively favoured my right arm, gritting my teeth. Damn, that hurt.Vissit novelbin(.)c.om for updates

Amidst the throbbing ache, the sound of Silver Ridge's cheers pierced my ears. They celebrated as if victory was already theirs. No way in hell was I going to let that happen.

A fierce determination surged within me, fueling my resolve. With a burst of energy, I unleashed Ribbon Roll, propelling myself high into the air. Glittering wings sprouted from my back, shimmering with sakura petals, allowing me to hover momentarily. But I couldn't afford to be complacent. Marlon possessed grappling abilities, and I wasn't referring to mere hand-to-hand combat techniques.

A grappling hook flashed toward me, but my reflexes kicked in, and I swiftly dodged sideways in midair. Without wasting a second, I applied my Named Mark on him, watching as weakness indicators illuminated his face, armpits, and groin. Wait, he wasn't wearing a codpiece? Oh god, that was a tempting target, I mean—

My katana leaped out of its scabbard without any contact from my hand. What the fuck? I lunged and managed to catch the hilt before it slipped away. At that moment, I realised the perfect angle for a move I particularly enjoyed using.

Committing to the thrust, I punched through the mail protecting the joint between his leg and torso. With the speed of my attack, I swiftly twisted my blade and shifted my weight onto my heels. Lifting one foot allowed me to spin in place, freeing my blade while simultaneously delivering a kick against the back of his knee.

A couple of metres away, I ended the flurry of movements, crouching low and holding my katana out behind me and to the side. Marlon knelt, grimacing in pain, as he directed a glare that was all sharp edges at me.

"Fast little bitch, aren't you?" he remarked with a feral grin, using his tower shield to rise back to a standing position.

I considered a dozen different retorts but decided to remain silent. Image meant everything in this performance. I wasn't truly duelling him—I was captivating the growing crowd of neutral players.

Although, I did allow myself an inward smirk—He would despise the fact that I refused to engage in his banter-filled taunts.

Confirming my assumption in true Marlon style, he frowned. I knew him well. I had even duelled him in the past. That frown would undoubtedly be followed by—

Tonight seemed to be an improv night, as his shield suddenly lunged towards me, mimicking an oncoming freight train. But this time, I was prepared.

Dropping my katana, I swiftly extended both arms to shield myself. Steelfeather Guard materialised, forming an arc of ephemeral green and black feathers. His charge crashed into it with a force that rattled my bones. Bloody hell, he was strong.

Yet, he wasn't strong enough to breach my flawless parry. The crowd gasped as I gracefully evaded, untouched this time, and I caught Noah shouting my name in encouragement. "Keiko! Yes! Cut his dick off!"

Well, that was quite excessive, Noah.

Moreover, my sword wasn't currently in my hand, which posed a minor issue. However, considering the recent upgrades and its uncanny behaviour...

Opening my hand, I called out to my sword, and to my surprise, I could still sense its location. It was as if my bodily awareness extended to encompass the katana as well.

My side hurt, and I knew if I looked I'd see a ragged hole in my top and angry pink skin underneath to signify where my 'wound' was.

Where was my sword? I let go of it during all that, and—

I felt it quiver, but Marlon stood down on the ground, one foot holding it in place while he wound up to throw some more chains at me. Nuh uh. Not today, buddy.

Pulling it out of my inventory, I raised my Spectreheart Field Anvil and charged him. The chain sailed past me again, courtesy of another Mind Flutter, and then I was right up in his face with nothing to stop me from introducing the side of his face to the flat of my anvil.

My improvised weapon made landfall on his cheekbone like a tungsten rod from orbit, and he stumbled sideways with a strangled gurgling sound. Underneath his foot, I heard the metal of my sword grind jarringly against the tiles, and he slipped.

The god awful racket his armour made when he hit the ground was almost enough to make me wince and miss my next attack. Almost.

Like a golfer treating her sport as full contact, I rushed after him and swung at the back of his head. If I weren't still half dazed, I'd have yelled something pithy, like fore!

The sound that spirit-forged iron makes when it strikes a skull is not one I'll forget. I also won't forget the utter shock I felt when the motherfucker didn't die. Sure, he rasped out a scream and twitched violently, but his HP bar definitely didn't hit zero.

So, I swung again... and again, and—

On the fourth blow, he caught my anvil with a gauntleted fist and shoved it—and me—away. I tumbled back a few steps, then took control and came to a vaguely graceful stop a few metres away.

Quickly, before he could get his feet under him, I swapped my anvil to my left hand and called to my katana. It flew up into my waiting hand and to my relief, it didn't have a scratch on it. Unique weapons were awesome. Made me wonder what its Durability stat was for, though.

Unlike me, Marlon had to pick his sword up manually, which earned a couple of snickers from the otherwise silent and enthralled crowd.

We faced each other over the smashed tiles of the public baths again, our HP bars low and pulsing unheeded warnings. Honestly, I was less than confident in my ability to take him right now. That was the problem with duelling PvE tanks. They were geared to take an obscene amount of punishment, and right when they looked like they were in trouble, blam, full health. After all, a high level raid run might depend on the tank going without heals for a minute while the healers dealt with mechanics or mana issues. Pretty much every good tank build had that oh-shit button, and Marlon was no different.

I, on the other hand, could take maybe two more solid hits from him before I was done, and I had no way to heal myself. Theoretically, I could just dodge everything. I was certainly fast enough, but as skilled as I was, I wasn't that good.

Duel Cancelled!

The ethereal standard vanished at the same time that the message appeared, and both of us shared a confused look.

A thunderous voice shattered the silence, causing everyone present to flinch involuntarily. "Heroes of the human kingdoms! I am Queen Xetina of the Ascendant Fae. Our mages and their scrying abilities have brought news of your triumphant victories over the vile Unseelie and their dark sorcery. Thus, I implore you, valiant heroes, to venture forth to Aimashii Duthaich. Take the fight to the very heart of the Unseelie menace and purge this world of their malevolent presence. Naturally, I understand that such a task cannot be undertaken without proper incentives. The Aimashii Duthaich is expansive, far beyond the borders of my much diminished realm. All that lies beyond those borders, including the ancient powers that dwell there, shall be yours to claim, should you choose to answer this call."