“What’s now, sir?”
The man called Claw was cautiously eying both me and his leader.
“...he uses a slashing technique, and a thrusting movement technique which he managed to deconstruct into a movement and a thrusting technique.”
‘Damn..’
I couldn't stop my brows from furrowing – he had accurately analyzed all my moves so far.
“You two, keep him here. Give chase if he runs.”
With those words, he instantly leaped back, and waited a second for his companion to get into position before sprinting to the right, towards where the guards were coming from.
Of course, I highly doubted he'd try to fight off around a dozen fully armed city guards, even with his skills. Rather, he probably dashed to the nearby alley, intending to circle around the building to my right.
‘Damn it!..’
My mind went into overdrive.
Given his outstanding mobility, he was guaranteed to reach the other side of the alley way before the guards made their way here.
Thus, I only had two realistic choices.
‘Should I run?’
I quickly discarded this idea. I would be getting farther away from the guards, the enemy knew the terrain far better than I did, the leader was faster than me, and fighting in the open would likely mean getting surrounded, which was certain death.
In fact, unless I expended more of my strength on [Charge], I wasn't confident I could even reach the end of this alley before the dual-wielding half-elf.
‘There is no choice.’
Since time was now working against me, I had to kill the two men blocking the path – the one on the right holding two forward-curved swords, the other pointing a halberd from the left.
Judging by the former's reactions in this fight, he was most likely an initial Path-bearer like myself, and the other man seemed like one as well.
In truth, even if both of them slowly advanced, I would likely be forced back. With both of them on the defense, I really couldn't think of a way to break through.
‘The Sphere?’
I decided against it – the last time, it caught them by surprise, but not only were they prepared now, the zero-vision environment also favored the defending or escaping party, of which I was neither at the moment.
‘Maybe?..’
For a fraction of a moment, I considered using magic, yet I was instantly reminded of the fact that I haven't even learned a single cantrip yet.
Resolving myself to dedicate a significant chunk of my time to arcane studies and training, I continued trying to come up with a plan.
While I was thinking, I had slowly taken my left hand off the sword, reaching for my potion case, opening it, and gulping down another 10th of my healing potion, bringing the remaining liquid down to about two similar small sips.
I was hoping this might bait the gangsters into action, ready to drop the vial for a chance to break this stalemate, but the only reactions I got were the furrowed brow of the dual wielding man, and a hate filled glance from the halberd wielding one, who was grinding his teeth in frustration.
At the very least, the wound on my thigh had already stopped hurting, and might have even closed by now.
‘Damn it, what can I do?..’
While gulping down half of my second stamina potion, smirking mockingly at the gangsters, my actual thoughts were close to despair.
I considered turning around, using two [Charge]’s to create some distance, and trying to break through to the other side, once their leader entered the alley.
Of course, it would be even better if I could finish him off, but giving his skill and strength, even managing to push him back out of the alley before his henchmen caught up would already be a considerable achievement – afterwards, I'd have to try to find a new defensive position, and hope the guards make it there in time.
In a last attempt to find a better solution, which might have been simple despair, I raised my eyes to the sky… and opened them wide.
The two gangsters’ gazes did not falter – they must have considered this another provocation, trying to distract them, at least slightly, before a final desperate lunge.
However, what I saw was my potential salvation.
Of course, this was still extremely risky – this wasn't something I could consistently pull off, and the margin for error was small. Anything but the slightest of miscalculation would certainly lead to my death.
Still, the other options were even more likely to end in disaster, and the potential payoff here was definitely worth it.
‘I just have to not make a mistake. Easy, right?’
The two men in front of me seemed to have misunderstood my nervous chuckle, raising their guard to the extreme.
Only when I turned sideways and ran towards and up onto the brick wall, soon to be dragged back down by gravity, did confusion finally settle in their eyes.
But by now, it was already too late to react – my next action would decide the outcome of this standoff.
[Charge] !
This felt like abusing a glitchy game skill, in conjunction with shitty game engine physics, to achieve an unintended effect. After all, the skill wasn't called [Wall Leap].
However, this was how it worked, and the physics were actual physics – as they say, this wasn't a bug, but a feature.
Trying to time the skill at the perfect moment, when my upward momentum was just slightly past its peak, I twisted my torso, as my body was launched into the air at a nearly perfect 60 degree angle.
Of course, my trajectory was an arc – since the alley was narrow, I was destined to either land back on the ground, had my angle been too wide or too shallow, or crash into the opposite wall.
Well, maybe if I had mastered [Charge], I would be able to somehow wall-leap my way to the rooftops, but my current level was nowhere near that.
However, what I was flying towards wasn't just the wall – it was a window, and one without bars, at that!
‘...YES!’
Between my perception and the speed of my thought, I could already see it – my trajectory was nearly perfect.
“Wha-”
Throwing a look around, mid air, I saw the mix of confusion, anger and tension on the faces of the gangster. As I turned my head left…
“...”
A pair of light-blue eyes had finally shown some emotion, as the half-elf's eyebrow rose up in disbelief. Still, he hadn't attempted to slow down, rushing down this way from the other side of the alley.
Tchaa
!
The high-pitched sound of shattering glass, accompanied by the creeks of a broken wooden frame, filled the air, as I crashed through the window like a big rock.
Thankfully, between my armor and my helmet (which I obviously picked up at the inn, and wore due to the sense of danger), only a few small shards of glass scratched the exposed back of my left hand, and the side of my left calf.
Veeee
A high pitched alarm, likely produced by some arcane (or regular) contraption, pierced the air right after my landing.
‘Makes sense. This looks like the office of one of the local workshops.’
I was in a spacious room – to my right was a large cabinet, filled with documents, while in front of me stood a few shelves filled with books, which could perhaps be ledgers.
To my left, near the other wall, was a luxurious wooden table, and to its side – a heavy wooden door, which was probably locked.
Noticing the blood flowing down my left boot, I quickly chugged down the one-before-last sip of my healing potion, and walked to the door, stopping in front of it for a closer inspection…
Thud
Before instantly turning around, sword raised, as the figure of my relentless pursuer landed right where I did a dozen seconds prior.
For a few moments we simply stood there, eying each other.
None of us said a word. There was no need for words – it was clear to both of us that only one would leave this room alive.
And then, suddenly, the half-elf’s hand darted into his potion case, and a moment later, a dark mist, one I've recently unleashed myself, filled the large room, dyeing my vision black once again.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
***
Zod was never one to show excess emotions.
Not when he was a small boy, working at the stables to support his sick mother.
Not when his foster father came home, drunk, beating him to half-death in place of the ailing woman.
Not when his mother finally succumbed to her sickness.
Not when he hid that long kitchen knife in his sleeve, slitting the drunk bastard's throat the next day.
Not when he had to live on the streets, clawing his way out of the slums.
Even when his first and only real mentor, the one who imparted his first techniques upon him, lay dying in his hands, a rapier belonging to a rival gang leader piercing his lungs, while the half-elf's young face might have shown a measure of sorrow or anger, not a single tear escaped his eyes.
Much later, long after he himself became someone others called ‘boss’, when the Crimson Shadows woman came into their hideout, single-handedly killing two of his loyal men, and, with a dagger pressed against his throat, recruiting him into her organization while turning the Undercity Hounds into yet another one of their subsidiaries, he did not tremble in fear, nor did he curse her, or his own luck.
He simply accepted his weakness, and left the men who once called him ‘boss’ and ‘big brother’ behind, vowing to one day become strong enough to never be separated from what was his again.
So it wasn't strange that even on this mission, as its final stage became abundant in unexpected twists and annoying surprises, he hadn't lost his composure – not even once.
He was annoyed at the carriage suddenly being that of the Solar Paladin order, but what could his subordinate do? It's not like he gave him a code for this particular scenario, and using contraptions capable of voice communication would not just be prohibitively expensive, but - for a criminal in the city - also extremely dangerous.
He was also not surprised by the carriage’s barrier, as it was standard practice among wealthy organizations.
The flare was annoying, costing him one of the hounds, but it was an acceptable sacrifice.
The Darkness Sphere was something he had somewhat anticipated, being a standard tool among underworld professionals.
In fact, as a level 3 Assassin himself, whose actual job often matched the name of his Path, he too used the same arcane contraption, sometimes in conjunction with a Superior Darkvision potion.
If anything, the target itself was the most annoying thing he had to deal with.
Not only was the young man's weapon a good match for his swords, and not only were the target's Attributes similar - and in the case of Endurance, superior - to his own, but the successful hit-and-run maneuver cost him one of his man’s lives, and the unexpected wall-leaping skill, which he held until the last moment, managed to buy him a lot of time.
By now, the remaining Hounds must have begun their escape, unable to follow the two of them here, with the guards getting too close for comfort.
Of course, he was confident in his ability to escape via the rooftops, but that was a concern for later. Right now, he likely had a minute or two to finish off his target.
Thankfully, even though the room was spacious enough to swing a two-handed sword with ease, its heavy wooden door was locked. At the same time, the effect of his potion would last for a few more minutes.
He knew the target had exceptional Awareness, perhaps higher than his own, allowing him to partially orient himself in the total blackness of the Darkness Sphere, but this type of perception was incomparable to actual sight.
And so, upon activating the contraption, he had chosen his course of action, dashing at the enemy.
whoom
A sword swing hurled towards his approximate position, intending to keep him at bay.
He lightly dodged to the left, without fully halting his momentum, and swung the sword in his right hand, while simultaneously stabbing with the one in his left.
clang
!
The initial swing of the greatsword was intentionally light, allowing for a swift backswing. However, that also allowed blocking that backswing with relative ease.
At the same time, the shorter offhand sword, which was also sharper at its tip, found its target, piercing through the light shield, leather, and steel links underneath, lodging itself into the young man's right forearm.
The wound wasn't too deep, and Zod was forced to instantly withdraw his blade and jump back, as the youth's kick would reach his abdomen otherwise, which might have even opened him up for a swift counterattack.
Instead of fully committing, he quickly slashed at the extended leg while jumping back, managing to just barely reach the flesh beneath the leather leg pad and leave another small wound.
The whole exchange, from the dash to the retreat, took barely five seconds.
This continued for six more rounds, most of them ending in the young man suffering more injuries.
While those types of wounds would probably take longer than two minutes to put the opponent out of commission, his movements had already become slightly more sluggish, thanks to a certain something he prepared in advance.
If he had to commit, Zod was somewhat confident he could take his target's life without losing his own. In a dozen rounds or so, that confidence would grow into certainty. And if the enemy, whose swings weren't that accurate due to the lack of vision, made an early mistake, he could finish this even sooner.
…and, lo and behold, after four more rounds, and three more successful wounds, the young man finally made a critical mistake.
His swing was a tad too early, and a little too far to the side.
This was more than enough for Zod, who rushed forward, dodging the swing without using his main blade, reserving it to deflect the desperate backswing that was to come.
The second blade was aiming for the chest – in a moment, this tedious mission would finally be behind him.
***
The moment my vision turned black, I knew the difficult battle just turned extremely so.
The first exchange, ending in two wounds, only served to reinforce this point.
‘This!..’
The enemy barely gave me any time to breathe, resuming his relentless assault time after time.
If I didn't try to integrate a defensive stance into my sword fighting style, slowly searching for a proper stance ever since my encounter with the hobgoblin, I might not have lasted throughout even those few exchanges.
The main swordsmanship style, taught by Sebastian's father, was focused on heavy burst strikes, precise deflection and movement. In this room, with only an approximate idea of my opponent’s position and aim, it was impossible to fight that way.
I also couldn't use skills in this situation – after all, they still had a wind-up time, and with his reflexes, the half-elf would have no problem disengaging beforehand, potentially throwing a feint to make me waste energy, too.
The other thing that allowed me to hold on, for now, was the fact that my greatsword constantly threatened the opponent's life – had he decided to throw caution to the wind, my own fate would be sealed with near-complete certainty.
Another unfavorable exchange had passed – and again, I managed to deflect the main threat to my life, at the cost of a shallow wound.
‘This can't go on!’
I realized my movements had become somewhat slower – at this rate, my death was guaranteed either way.
‘Damn it! If only I bought that potion!.. Without darkvision-’
My thoughts stopped; Quite abruptly, at that. The moment of delay caused me to take another shallow wound, but this was nothing compared to my realization.
‘Why do I have to rely on my eyes?!’
After all, I had another way to perceive my immediate surroundings.
Without even closing my eyes, I tried to focus on my surroundings in a different manner – one which I only just learned yesterday.
Another exchange – my split focus cost me a stab to my right forearm, sliding up my shield and piercing my left arm close to the shoulder. At least, like before, this was partially mitigated by my leather armor and chainmail.
The world turned into streams of translucent white particles.
It was somewhat chaotic, probably due to the magical darkness, making it hard to make out the specific shape…
‘There!’
…however, since I was still using my hearing, I knew where the half-elf actually was.
Another exchange – I barely avoided a follow-up attack by jumping to the side, something that was very dangerous in a tight room, without vision. However, it seemed that I managed to get the hang of it.
‘I have to end it.’
Still, in my current condition, I wasn't confident in winning a prolonged fight, even with my ‘vision’ restored.
The only advantage I had was that the enemy didn't realize I could ‘see’ him yet. In fact, that dodge, right after my sloppy defense, must have been seen as a desperate gamble.
‘I have to risk it!’
In the next split second, I made a decision – as the half-elf charged at me once more, my sword was swung preemptively. Too preemptively. It also veered slightly to the side.
Of course, the skilled opponent didn't waste such an opportunity. I could already see his next actions, as he readied his right sword to deflect the backswing, while the left one would aim for my chest or neck.
However, no backswing came, as I sloppily continued my sword's trajectory, while taking an unsteady step back.
This was the moment of truth – in a regular fight, rushing forward would be highly dangerous.
The correct (but risky) approach would be to either move with the sword's trajectory, preventing the potential swing from building momentum in the future, or, to stay on the safer side, regain a defensive position and be content with taking some of the enemy's limited space.
However, this could also be me losing my footing amidst my lacerations and exhaustion.
A fighter of the half-elf's caliber could easily see through such a feint… However, he had no reason to assume I could actually see him, and every reason to trust in my momentary weakness.
His decision was to lunge forward with all his speed, with the arcane particles dispersing away from his two swords, presumably due to a technique usage.
However, this was exactly what I was hoping for.
[Arc Slash] !!!
The swing angle was wide – beside allowing it to build momentum, this also gave the half-elf a moment to react.
Rather than abandoning his attack, using the weapons to block my strike once again, or committing to an attempt at mutual annihilation, he ducked down, intending to pass below my swing and pierce my abdomen.
Although I couldn't sense his precise expression beyond the general outline, I could faintly sense - or perhaps, I was just imagining - his eyes opening wide as the sword suddenly changed its trajectory downwards.
In a last attempt, he brought his swords upwards to defend against my–
Clang
!
Perhaps due to both his swords still retaining some energy from his technique usage, or perhaps due to him using a new technique, the collision between my sword and his was one of incredible force, sending vibrations down my arms. However, his swords couldn't survive such force.
His main sword shattered in the middle, while his offhand sword was simply pushed back, as my greatsword continued on…
Crack
!
…cleaving through his lower skull, right below the nose.
I took a step in the direction of the sword's trajectory, letting the body fall to the floor beside me.
“Ghaa…”
For the first time, the half elf tried to say something.
“Uhaaaa!”
But his attempt turned into a scream of pain, which finally registered in his brain, his convulsing body out of his control.
With no intention to prolong his suffering, I raised my sword in a reverse grip, and brought it down – straight onto his heart.
After a last convulsion, and a gush of warm liquid hitting my face and body, his scream finally stopped.
In the complete darkness, I couldn't check my real vision, but I felt my body become suspiciously light.
‘The wounds.. I'm losing a lot of blood.’
Dropping my sword, I leaned against the nearby wall. with a slightly trembling hand, I took out my healing potion, using every shred of my remaining focus not to drop it, and took the last sip.
Leaning against the cold wall, I could already hear the multiple footsteps, coupled with the clanking of armor, from downstairs.
‘Help is on the way. It’s ok if l take a little nap…’
Closing my eyes, and letting go of my Arcane Sense, I felt myself sliding to the floor, before my consciousness faded.