"You know," Varkis began, his voice low and unnervingly casual, "I was quite certain the bug in Marla's body would kill her before she could squeal. Especially the juicy bits...my name, my position."
He stepped forward. Just one step.
But the air itself seemed to shrink, like the mountain was holding its breath. Then, his voice dropped another octave. Gravel grinding against steel.
"So, tell me, boy. How the hell did you figure out who I am?"
Because Inspect screamed your name and that ludicrously overinflated stat sheet like a cheat mod had a baby with a nightmare?
My fingers tightened around the hilt of my sword.
"Ahh… no. Not in the mood for explanations."
Varkis chuckled. A dry, humorless sound that slithered into my bones.
"Isn't your plan to send your only real powerhouse to clean up my men and then tag-team me? Better chance of survival that way, right? And now here I am, offering you time with a friendly little chat. How considerate of me."
A bead of sweat rolled down the back of my neck. Cold. Slow.
He lives up to his Intelligence stat, that smug bastard.
I tilted my head, smirking back. "Or maybe I thought I was more than enough to handle you on my own. Sent Clara ahead to avoid unnecessary casualties."
His lips curled. Not in amusement. In disdain.
"Marla said you were smart. Guess she was wrong. You're clever when it comes to childish crap like trades and politics. But here? Disappointing."
And with that, he moved.
Not walked. Not charged. Just vanished. His speed easily rivals Clara's.
The path flashed before my eyes, Inspect flaring red like a screaming alarm. Reflexes took over. I ducked, barely clearing the arc of his blade, but the wind trailing his slash struck like a physical force, launching me across the terrain like a ragdoll.
His strength exceeds Clara's by a significant margin. Our strategy must wound through decreasing the area of activity of his swings.
My back hit the dirt, then my boots. Controlled. Ground roll. Clara's drill on fall control, break-fall stances, recoil-recovery transitions, and short-step parrying, every grueling hour of her training kept my spine intact.
But I didn't get time to breathe.
Another flash. Inspect flared again.
No time to look.
I dove sideways, kicking off a protruding rock behind me, mana surging into my legs.
The next second the stone behind me shattered...not cracked, shattered...into splinters of gravel that sprayed the area like a shotgun blast.
Varkis had crossed the distance in a blink and struck the exact spot I'd been a heartbeat ago.
I landed in a crouch, panting. My sword trembled in my grip.
One more dodge. Maybe two, if I was lucky.
But something inside me twisted. Not fear.
Excitement.
Clara and Sylvia pulled punches. They trained me.
This man was going for kill every time he attacked.
"Let me guess," Varkis said, strolling slowly toward me with the calm of a man out for a morning walk. "You've been learning from Clara. That dodge-heavy assassin style, all parry and counter. Pathetic in a real fight. You picked the wrong teacher. It's going to cost you your life."
He wasn't wrong. Assassin combat wasn't built for direct confrontation.
But that's exactly why I trained in it. Escape. Evasion. Stealth.
I didn't need to win.
I needed to survive.
Varkis stopped, tilting his head.
"You're lucky I enjoy good theater."
He sheathed his sword with a slow, deliberate click.
Then lunged. No weapon. Just his fist.
Inspect screamed again. This time, the arc was wide...too wide. The attack would flatten everything in front of him.
No space to dodge backward. I ducked low, let the punch pass overhead, and dropped my sword.
Momentum carried me forward. I twisted around his outstretched arm like a snake and reached for the dagger hidden in my boot. One clean strike to the neck—
—Only for my world to flip.
He caught me by the ankle mid-spin and flung me like a sack of wheat.
I slammed into another rock wall, reinforced my legs with mana just in time. Pain exploded up my calves, but nothing broke. Still, my sword was gone.
And I was now between a killer and a cliff wall.
"Stupid," I muttered, panting. "So stupid."
I'd gone for a flashy move when I should've kept my damn distance.
Inspect pinged again.
Varkis. Front. Fast.
I ducked right. His fist grazed my jaw, close enough to burn.
Behind me, the boulders exploded.
I was thrown like a rag doll. Dirt, stone, blood. My spine skidded against jagged rocks until I slammed hard against a ledge.
Coughing, I pushed myself up, shaking.
My body screamed, but I stood.
I had to.
Varkis approached, his footsteps deliberate. Leisurely.
Death in motion.
"Not fond of bullying," he said, cracking his knuckles. "But I gotta admit… this is surprisingly pleasant."
I smirked, wiping blood off my lip.
"Glad to be of service."
Maintaining distance wouldn't work.
He could close gaps in the blink of an eye, and his attacks… they weren't just fast or strong, they were shaped, timed, and honed to make dodging meaningless.
It was like he trained specifically to make every escape route a death trap. The kind of guy who'd throw a punch and still hit you even if you dodged perfectly.
Stalling him until Clara arrived is a pipe dream...from the beginning
My only real options were either to lead him on a wild goose chase through the terrain, using every rock and ridge to delay him... or bolt straight back to Clara and the Commander and pray the afterlife had decent tea.
He started walking toward me.
No fancy stance, no sudden dash. Just a predator's casual pace, like he knew I was already dead. And maybe I was.
I chose the first option.
I scanned my surroundings, cliff walls to my left, a patch of scattered boulders ahead, a slight drop to the right. Good enough.
I ran.
I darted behind the closest rock, angled to make him veer. Behind me, I heard him chuckle.
"What a fool."
His voice was almost disappointed.
And then came the rush.
A gust of wind slammed against my back as he lunged in one fell swoop, erasing the space between us like it never existed.
I ducked. Hard.
My fingers scraped across the dirt and seized the edge of a boulder. Surging mana into my legs, I kicked the boulder's tip with all the force I could muster.
It shattered.
The fragments exploded outward like shrapnel, tearing through the air at his face.
Varkis raised his arm and blocked the barrage, shielding his eyes. The impact obscured his vision.
Perfect.
I didn't aim to hurt him. Just move him.
I sprang forward and slammed my foot into his gut, not to deal damage, but to launch myself. Like a cannonball. Like a damn bazooka.
Air twisted around me as I flipped backward mid-air, twisted, landed hard, and skidded down the slope. Pebbles and sand scattered in my wake as I kept running.
A hiss behind me.
Seems like I successfully annoyed him, a great way to get butchered by a raging bull.
His footsteps thudded like war drums. He moved, faster than before. This time, the air lagged behind him. A sonic blur that brought pressure before his body even arrived.
Then came the sword.
A flash of steel feinting for my legs. Inspect, as usual, showed the real intent.
I ducked sideways, spinning smoothly to dodge the real strike that came for my torso.
Before he could follow up, I reached into my sleeve and splashed the gathered sand into his eyes.
He swung his sword reflexively, the pressure of his slash clearing the air with sheer impact.
Sand? Gone.
But I was already flying again, using the blast of wind his swing generated to hurl myself backward.
By the time he blinked the grit from his eyes, I had already climbed halfway up the cliff wall.
He looked up at me.
And smiled.
With one casual kick, he sent a boulder soaring skyward. Then, with a flurry of slashes, sliced it mid-air into a dozen stone bullets.
The pieces glinted.
Then came the kick.
The shards turned into missiles, shrieking toward me like the wrath of a god.
But Inspect showed their paths.
I twisted my body, letting them pass by within inches. One grazed my hair. Another tore a flap from my cloak. But none hit.
I landed on a ledge and looked down at him.
"Desperate now, are we?"
The smirk on my lips was automatic. Cocky. Fake. But it did the job.
His expression cracked.
For the first time, his eyes narrowed.
And then he ran.
Straight up the cliff.
No handholds.
Just legs and force.
He jumped up the wall like gravity forgot to apply to him. One leap after another, as if the cliff was flat land.
My brain stalled.
"That's not fair," I muttered.
I jumped off.
His sword came down exactly where I'd been a second ago. The rocks cracked under the force, fissures spidering across the cliffside.
My body plummeted, the wind screaming in my ears.
I drew my last dagger and stabbed it into the rock. Sparks flew. My descent slowed, barely. Pain lanced through my shoulder.
I hit ground hard, but I was still breathing.
Not for long.
Varkis didn't care about his sword. He didn't even retrieve it. He just leapt again, a blur of muscle and intent, his eyes feral.
A beast.
I looked up and surged the mana through my arms and threw the dagger with the intent to take advantage of his mid air suspension.
The dagger whirled through the air, spinning end over end.
He caught it....With his teeth.
Like a damned animal, he bit down and snapped it in two. Metal crunched in his jaw.
He twisted mid-air and launched a spiral kick straight toward me.
I couldn't dodge.
The air bent.
His heel landed like a meteor.
Pain exploded through my ribs as I was hurled backward, rolling through gravel and dirt. I spat blood and felt it sting my tongue.
My body screamed.
My dagger was now just a alloy dust and my sword far out of reach.
Still.
I stood.
Shaky legs. Bloodied hands. No weapons.
I raised my arms in a loose, freestyle stance. No form. Just instinct and stubbornness.
Varkis tilted his head.
"Did your little rat farce not work?"
I coughed, then grinned.
"Don't know. Might've bought enough time for my unit to dig daggers into your unit's asses."
His eyes twitched.
For a split second, he forgot.
Forgot the bigger picture.
Anger surged.
"I've played enough."
And then he moved.
Faster than ever before. This wasn't speed. This was instantaneous.
Even with Inspect, I saw the intent path..red, deadly, perfect. But my body had nothing left.
I crossed my arms to shield myself and closed my eyes.
Braced for death.
...
But it didn't come.
Instead, I heard a sound like slicing silk.
I opened my eyes.
Blood droplets floated past my vision.
She was there. Clara.
Dagger in hand. Her arm traced clean arcs through the air, redirecting the blow mid-strike with such precision it felt like watching gears in a divine machine.
Varkis reeled back, thrown by the force of his own deflection. Clara's frame was pushed the opposite way, her boots skidding across the gravel.
For the first time, he bled.
A clean gash ran along his forearm, blood trickling down and dripping onto the stone.
He stared at it.
Then... licked it...?
Slowly. Deliberately.
Like a beast savoring its own flavor.
The way his tongue traced the cut..it wasn't human. It wasn't sane.
His gaze lifted.
Eyes now glowing with the same shade as his blood.
Crimson.
Locked first on Clara.
Then on me.
And then—
Boots thudded behind us. The Commander arrived, his stance solid, his blade already drawn. He stepped forward, placing himself between us and Varkis.
Varkis chuckled.
And then grinned wide.
A monster's grin.
Crimson eyes gleamed beneath the dusk light.
"So many monkeys showing up before dinner," he whispered, voice husky with glee. "How thoughtful."
Clara barely gave Varkis another glance before turning to me, her eyes burning with urgency.
"Can you run?" she asked, her voice sharp, yet still holding that sliver of softness only I could notice anymore.
"I can move just fine," I muttered, coughing out the last of the blood clinging to my throat. I could stand. I could run. I just didn't know for how long.
She gave a quick nod. "Good. Then you've done enough, my lord." Her eyes didn't linger as she turned toward the cliff's edge. "Go. The guards on their way will escort you to safety. Join them."
I wanted to protest. I had every reason to. But I also knew better.
Two figures, armored and swift, came into view, hurrying down the slope and rushing to me with grim expressions. They flanked me like trained shields, one on either side. Without words, they motioned for me to retreat with them.
As my legs moved on instinct, I glanced back.
Clara stood at the ready again, blade in hand, blood on her cheek from earlier, hair whipping in the wind like an omen. Commander Varnen stood beside her now, face unreadable under the flicker of tension across his brow.
I slowed my pace just enough for the guards to adjust.
Now that Varkis had used mana, they could feel it too, the strength I was afraid of letting our troops engae at the beginning.
Clara and the Commander, Deep down, I was sure even they didn't know whether they could win this.
Commander Varnen spoke without turning, his deep voice carrying more weight than before. "The remaining enemies have been neutralized. Only their leader remains." His tone then shifted ever so slightly. "And I've been briefed on your… unconventional strategy, young lord."
Good then he must know that they didnot need to win, they just have to hold out until night fall.
I didn't respond. There was no need. We both knew there was no time.
Before Varkis could add a word, he let out a low chuckle, sinister and guttural. "If your little parting words are over…" His eyes gleamed red again, and he tilted his head. "I'm itching to begin."
The crimson gleam in his eyes is the sign of 'berserk' at play, an A rank innate skill, boosting his instincts, endurance and strength; it would be an S rank skill if not for its inhibitory effect on intelligence.
Varnen narrowed his eyes, lips parting to answer—
But wind exploded past him.
Clara.
She had already moved.
Like lightning in human form, she surged ahead and drove her dagger straight for Varkis' exposed chest. Her expression was colder than I'd ever seen it, like the concept of hesitation had been surgically removed from her soul.
Varkis met her charge with a predator's grin, and instead of dodging or blocking, he simply dove a fist toward her.
That was when I realized.
He wanted her to stab him.
It would've been a trade. Blade for fist. But Clara, thank every god, did not fall for it. Her blade halted mid-air, and her body twisted just in time to evade the pulverizing punch. She barely cleared it, yet didn't break form. It was a decision made in less than a breath.
She understood. Just like when she pierced his arm earlier to save me. Clara had gauged the damage ratio in her mind and chosen survival. If she had gone through with her thrust, that fist would have shattered her ribs, spine, maybe worse.
By the time I processed the narrow dodge, the rest of the guards had arrived.
They formed a wide defensive arc around me, spears braced, nerves frayed. I could almost hear their thoughts screaming behind their visors.
Commander Varnen gave me a brief glance, then said firmly, "I'll leave the young lord to your protection."
He didn't wait for acknowledgment.
In the next instant, he lunged, his blade flashing beside Clara's as they resumed the dance of death.
Two against one. But it didn't look like it.
Varkis had no weapon.
Yet not a single attack landed on him.
That wasn't the worst part.
He wasn't dodging. He was letting them try.
Their blades slashed, stabbed, twisted in flawless formations, but he would parry just enough, pivot slightly, or simply walk forward with minimal motion, like their efforts were annoying breezes, not threats.
The berserk effects are insane, being an A rank skill, it just needs 77% mana control to activate, and Varikis had just enough to do so.
Every strike Clara made ended with her being pushed back.
Every combo from Varnen collapsed mid-way as he was forced to retreat to avoid getting crushed by a return blow.
I could see it all from the hill, like some deranged spectator of a sport where the rules didn't apply to the monster in the center.
"Shouldn't we help?" one of the guards near me asked in a shaky voice.
"No," I said quietly, my jaw clenched.
Most of these men were my level or weaker. If they entered that fray, they'd just become meat to be sliced. Liabilities.
I looked again at Clara. Her face betrayed nothing now. But I knew her well enough to see the tightening of her grip. The slight hitch in her breathing.
Commander Varnen's expression, too, was now… grim. Focused, but with the growing realization that tactics weren't enough.
And Varkis?
He wasn't even trying yet.
That thought chilled me deeper than the wounds in my side.
He was playing.
Still playing.
No weapon, outnumbered, and yet, they couldn't touch him.
Not decisively.
No blood. No real damage. Just the ghost of injuries he brushed off like mosquito bites.
Then he smiled again.
That same, unnerving grin.
And I felt it.
The air thickened once more.
The weight of real danger hadn't even begun.
Not yet.
Not until he chose to end the game.
And as the clouds darkened and the wind stilled, the thought haunted me:
We still didn't have a way to beat him.
Not yet.