Lorin pulled his Longsword from the young man’s throat and stared at the familiar figure before him with a dark expression. "How could it be you?"
Seeing his subordinate die so effortlessly sent a jolt of shock through Soron’s heart. However, things had already reached this point; he had no other choice but to see it through to the bitter end. He raised his One-Handed Sword and shouted in exasperation, "Enough nonsense!"
Before his voice had even faded, he let out a low shout. A layer of red light surged across his body, and in an instant, he turned into a blur, rushing straight at Lorin.
"Charge?" Lorin’s mind barely had time to register the word before the tip of the blade was right in front of his eyes.
He instinctively dodged to the side, raising Rusted Throat horizontally to block.
CLANG!
The two swords clashed. A tremendous force transmitted through the blade, nearly snapping his wrist. Before Lorin could react, Soron crashed into him, slamming his shoulder directly into Lorin’s chest. He instantly felt as if he had been hit by a heavy truck.
"Pfft!" Lorin spat out a mouthful of blood as the impact sent him flying backward. His back hit the ground heavily, and the Longsword Rusted Throat slipped from his grasp, landing a few steps away.
"Am I going to die here?" he thought. His chest hurt terribly, making every breath a struggle, and he had no idea how many ribs were broken.
Soron didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath. Steadying his stance from the residual momentum of the Charge, he raised his One-Handed Sword high and slashed down at Lorin. Gritting his teeth, Lorin threw himself to the side. Driven to a desperate corner, his body momentarily forgot the pain and unleashed a Burst of Power far greater than usual.
He grabbed the Longsword from the ground, rolled, and sprang to his feet. Stomping hard on the ground, he swung Rusted Throat at Soron like a bolt of lightning. The two swords collided once more. Without the added Power of a Charge, Lorin was not knocked back this time.
"Bring it on!" He pressed his entire body weight onto his blade, struggling to force Soron’s Longsword downward.
The blades ground against each other, emitting a harsh, ear-piercing screech as sparks flew from the point of contact. Soron’s face flushed bright red, the veins bulging on his forehead. He practically squeezed the words through his gritted teeth, "Are you still a fucking Caster?"
"Die!" Lorin roared. The tip of the sword reached Soron’s chest, slowly piercing through his Leather Armor and biting into his muscle.
"Ahhh!" The pain only spurred Soron’s fighting spirit. He leaned back and slammed his elbow into Lorin’s face, attempting to knock him away.
Lorin played along. He completely released his grip on Rusted Throat, sinking his body downward as a bright light suddenly flared in his palm. The continuous fighting and casting of Magic had nearly drained him of all physical stamina and mental focus. Agonizing pain tore at his head, making his hands tremble uncontrollably. Read the latest chapters at novelping . com.
"Did you forget how I killed that Hobgoblin?!"
His Flaming hand clenched into a fist, striking Soron’s abdomen from the bottom up. Orange-red Flames blossomed across the Leather Armor, with dancing tongues of fire rolling outward. The Leather Armor that had protected Soron countless times now became a wick for the fire. A fiery bud bloomed right within his flesh and blood.
"Ahhhhh!" Soron let out an inhuman shriek of agony. Yet, this man still refused to die, stubbornly slashing his sword at Lorin. However, he had no strength left. The One-Handed Sword that could once cleave through bone now only barely cut through Lorin’s Leather Armor, leaving nothing more than a faint, thin red line on his shoulder.
"Damn it," Lorin snarled, raising his fist once more and smashing it into Soron’s chest. "Warriors are so fucking tanky."
Punch after punch. He continued until his physical strength was utterly exhausted and his Mana was completely depleted. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and Lorin swayed on his feet, forcing himself to stay standing. Soron’s corpse was already mangled beyond recognition, his skin burnt crisp and curled by the Flames, emitting a nauseating stench of charred meat.
"I won," Lorin grinned. Then, his vision went black, and he fainted.
...
CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP...
The sound of birdsong drifted in from outside the window. Lorin struggled to open his eyes, only to be greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling. A gasp sounded beside him, and he turned his head to see a teenage boy holding a steaming clay bowl.
"Did I transmigrate again?" he wondered.
"Hiss..." Lorin wasn’t sure where he was right now, but his chest still felt so tight that it was hard to breathe. Frowning, he clutched his chest, recalling the sensation of being sent flying by Soron’s tackle. "Where is this?"
A frightened expression appeared on the boy’s face. He placed the bowl on the bedside table, took a step back, and turned around, running out of the room with a flurry of footsteps—THUD THUD THUD.
"Hey!" Lorin called out, raising his hand, only to grasp empty air. "How impolite," he muttered.
He lay on the bed wearily for a while, listening to the chirping birds outside the window and the faint crowing of a rooster in the distance. After quite some time, seeing that the boy didn’t seem to be coming back, he forced himself to lean against the edge of the bed and slowly sat up. Get faster updates on novelping(.)com.
"It fucking hurts..." he thought. After taking that hit from Soron, he had no idea how many bones in his body were broken. Every slight movement felt like pure torture.
Wait a minute... didn’t he still have the Ring of the Flame Speaker?
Lorin hurriedly raised his hand and let out a sigh of relief when he saw the black ring still sitting securely on his finger. He slowly lifted the worn-out quilt covering him and saw that he was still wearing his Wild Boar Hide Armor, though its laces had been undone and it was left open. The clothes beneath the Leather Armor had been torn open, revealing bandages wrapped haphazardly around his body; whoever had applied them clearly lacked skill.
He then touched the spot on his shoulder where he had been slashed. His fingers could feel a wound underneath, but it wasn’t particularly painful, so he figured the injury wasn’t serious.
"I need to heal the fractured ribs in my chest first," he thought. "If a broken bone pierces my organs, I’m done for."
Lorin placed his right hand over the bandages on his chest and mentally activated the ring on his index finger. A familiar warmth seeped into his chest. Before long, the sharp, piercing pain in his chest eased significantly, turning into a dull, tolerable ache.
"Lifesaving items are truly crucial," he mused. He figured that with three or four more healing sessions, he would be able to move normally again. For the next few days, he would probably be brothers in misfortune with Pip.
"So, where exactly am I?" Lorin looked around his surroundings.
It was a square room with wooden walls. There were thin cracks in some places, allowing faint slivers of outside light to seep through. By the window sat a rough wooden table with a pitted surface, cluttered with a messy pile of tools. Taking in the environment, Lorin had already formed a rough guess as to where he was: Old Hunter’s wooden cabin.
"Then that boy from earlier was his son?" he thought. "I didn’t expect him to be so young."
Lorin turned his head to look at the clay bowl Little Hunter had left on the bedside table. Right on cue, his stomach let out a loud GRUMBLE. He picked up the bowl, tilted his head back, and downed the contents in one gulp.
"Smells pretty good. Is this chicken soup?" Lorin smacked his lips, savoring the lingering taste.
As the warm broth settled in his stomach, he felt his numb limbs revitalized with a renewed sense of Power. He gently shifted to the edge of the bed and swung his legs off.
"I’ll head out first to see what’s going on."