Chapter 75 A Style, Unforgettable

He didn’t have time to respond, nor did he intend to as the man rushed towards him, seemingly unhindered by the weight of his massive weapon.

The atmosphere was so dense with dread and horrific acts that his mind was hazy–there was no doubt he was off of his game.

…Don’t lose your focus. You’re better than this. Use what you’ve learned! He told himself.

Focusing up, he faced the man square on, drawing his sword from its sheath just in time to narrowly block against the incoming downward swing of the massive blade.

“Do you actually believe you can defend against my strikes…?” The man asked.

Of course, it wasn’t feasibly just off of physical merits alone, but the man was surprised to find that his massive hunk of steel was indeed stopped by the much tinner, black-tinged sword that the boy wielded.

“…What?” Terry let out.

There was a small space between both edges of their blades; a gap in which a stream of air flowed, acting as a barrier between them both.

In his other hand, he still held his staff, focusing the wind in that specific region with surgical precision.

What kinda mage is this kid? There aren’t any incantations being used! He’s just a brat! The man thought.

He used the opportunity while the man was stopped to invoke a new element, clutching his wooden staff tightly as mana swirled around it, causing fist-shaped protrusions of rock to launch from walls, coming at the man from both sides.

“Urgh!” Terry winced.

The dense fists of stone slammed into the man’s arms, side, and even hitting his cheek, forcing him to jump back as he snarled in anger.

In a resourceful manner, he followed up by waving his staff, causing the fists of stone to shift into drill-like shapes that levitated in the air around him, protecting himself with projectiles.

“Spin,” he whispered.

The drills of stone began to rapidly gyrate, building a deadly force in their spin as the man seemed to notice this, keeping his distance with his thick blade in front of him as a shield.

Just as the man dashed towards him, he guided the stone drills forward with a wave of his staff, using them similar to bullets.

A lot of the time, basic elemental manipulation is more handy than complicated spells. Especially when I can combine knowledge of Earth with it! He thought.

“Grgh!” Terry clenched his teeth.

The cloaked man was definitely no slouch with his sword, able to deflect a few of the speedy drills of stone with his sword, but not all of them.

As a few of the drills bypassed the man’s guard, their damage was massive—boring right through flesh and bone without any stop.

“Agh!” Terry yelled out in pain.

One had drilled straight through his left shoulder, his right thigh, and nicked his left hip.

“Damn brat. That’s my fault…I shouldn’t treat you like a kid—I’m going to treat you like a real enemy,” the man warned him, “I’ll slice you in half and be done with it.”

The hazel-haired man twisted the handle of his greatsword as a click sounded out, causing the giant, saw-edged blade to split into two separate swords, each still possessing the size of a greatsword individually.

…Two? A dual-wielder?! He thought.

This time, the man rushed towards him with greater speed, swinging both of the massive blades towards the amethyst-eyed boy. He managed to duck down in time, evading the cross-slash that was aimed for his neck.

Straight through the walls of stone that neighbored them, the sharp steel had cut straight into it.

Being so close to having met that brutal sharpness, he saw the potential of his own death he had avoided.

Are those blades just that sharp or…no, he’s just that strong! He thought.

–

On the other hand, in the neighboring corridor, the clown-like adventurer danced around the attacks of the red-haired underground guard.

“Stand still, dammit!” Dingo growled, “I’m going to cut you up for what you did to Brisky?”

As the abrasive man yelled out, continuing to wildly swipe his curved blades around, Lawrence smiled while weaving between the strikes, untouched by the vicious steel.

“Are you perhaps angry with something I’ve done?” Lawrence asked.

The question seemed to make the man only drool in anger as he stomped down, attempting to slice the pale-skinned man’s neck with his circular-shaped sword.

“Yeah! Ya bet I’m pretty damn pissed!” Dingo replied.

Though once again, the man who fell out of the concept of ‘normal’ simply leaned back to an unnatural degree to evade the blade.

“I truly do hate it when people are angry with me, but I must say–if you loved that mutt, you should’ve kept him on a leash,” Lawrence said with a smile.

Rising back up, Lawrence caused the bandit to jump back to avoid a slash of the whip-like sword wielded by him.

“Fabulous moves,” Lawrence complimented.

“Shut it,” Dingo replied.

Lawrence continued to smile, disregarding his words, “I must ask: what Divine Style is it you serve?”

“I don’t serve nuthin. I practice the Beast God Style–rank squire,” Dingo told him, “don’t be deceived, though! My rank doesn’t represent shit!”

“Seems so,” Lawrence smiled.

Angered by the ever-jovial nature of the clown-man, the bandit rushed forward, dashing with a low form as he swiped his blades towards the man’s legs.

Lawrence watched him, spinning around almost like a ballerina as he evaded the sword strike before responding with a swift kick to the man’s chin, knocking him across the corridor.

“Gyuh-!” Dingo spit out.

What is this? He’s skin n’ bones, ain’t he? Why’s it feel like I was just hit in the chin by a hammer, then? Dingo thought.

Sliding across the rough, stone floor, the red-haired bandit picked himself up, pulling down his bandana to reveal his chin had been split open by the swift, seemingly casual kick.

“Grgh…” Dingo winced, groggy from the blow.

As the bandit looked up, a wave of primordial dread ran through his body as he watched the man as pale as the moonlight slowly walking towards him, watching him with those merciless, scarlet eyes.

…He’s too strong–no, fuck that noise! I’m not layin’ down and takin it! Dingo thought.

Rushing to his feet, the bandit sprung towards the Chaos God Style swordsman again, this time spinning around in a form of unorthodox swordplay, using the wall as almost alternate flooring as he managed to get behind Lawrence.

I’ve got ya now! I told ya not to underestimate me! My rank may be low, but that’s just cuz I’m dumb as bricks! Dingo thought.

Going for a cross-slash towards the clown-like man’s back, the bandit found himself sorely mistaken as an ungodly counter to his swift attack revealed itself.

It was something simply unpredictable; a technique that shouldn’t exist; something more monstrous than human.