Chapter 38

  ‘In any case, the guy is over level 40. Hm, maybe around 42 actually.’ Burning Darkness informed me as a large ring of minotaurs formed around us, and the general hefted his weapon; it was some sort of hammer with a long wooden pole with metal inlays — or perhaps supports — running along its length. The head of the terrifying weapon had two sides; one was a flat, hammer-like affair with protruding prongs like on an old-fashioned meat tenderiser, the other had a single, sharp spike that reminded me of a pickaxe. I could tell that anyone unlucky enough to receive a blow would have a hard time getting up after, regardless of levels or armour or anything else. And talking about armour, I was quite sure the mail and plates he wore were also bonded, which meant he could reinforce it with Hell Mana. I didn’t want to fall into a loop of pessimism, but this setup was looking like the equivalent of a civilian with a pocketknife facing down the barrel of a main battle tank.

  ‘Yeah. I can sense he’s strong,’ I said as I walked into the ring of cheering and jeering enemy soldiers, becoming more and more worried by the second.

  The minotaur general was oozing confidence as he waved his weapon around without any visible effort, showing off for his troops.

  [Skill: Psychic Resistance (Combined) has reached level 8.]

  And it seemed he wasn’t letting up his useless psychic attacks either, and it annoyed me.

  ‘General! You can stop your psychic attacks. It’s not working.’ I called out to him.

  My monstrous opponent, standing some ten metres from me, turned around amidst the roaring support of his soldiers.

  ‘Attacks? Our duel has not yet begun,’ he said, his gaze boring into me. ‘Are you getting nervous, Champion?’

  I wasn’t an expert on the facial expressions or behaviours of his kind, but I believed him; something in his tone or in his eyes told me he had no idea what I was talking about. But then where was the psychic influence coming from? I looked around instinctively, scanning the crowd, knowing full well I wasn’t going to find any … and there it was! For a moment I saw a flicker of a shadow, a blurry figure standing amongst the minotaurs who didn’t seem to even notice that something or someone that didn’t belong was in their midst. And the moment I laid eyes on it, it vanished.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ I whispered, my mind entering full on panic mode.

  ‘What was what?’ Burning Darkness snapped at me. ‘My man, stop looking around like a tourist! Eyes on your opponent, alright?’

  He was right. I re-focused on the huge minotaur, doing my utmost to not let the remnants of my confidence slip away from me. Normally, someone of my opponent’s size would be slow and ponderous, but based on what I knew about how levels and stats worked, and that the guy had been clearly cultivating a warrior-type build, I was sure he was fast, strong and deadly. Underestimating him would be a fatal mistake.

  ‘That warhammer is a bonded weapon, right?’ I asked Burning Darkness.

  ‘It sure is. I can feel it. Bear in mind, his skills for that weapon are likely to be higher than yours too, so expect his strikes to be infused and aided with Hell Mana.’ He confirmed my worries.

  ‘Great. Think I can win?’ I asked.

  ‘Definitely. More than half of your 39 levels belong to your set, and set levels are quite misleading, especially in our case. It builds on the equipment’s natural base, amplifying it, and your SAC has a very strong base. If I had to guess, your set’s 22 levels would translate to at least 38, maybe even 40 levels in real terms, compared to any other armour and weapon set. On top of that you have your own levels to which the set adds. You, my man, are yet to reach the limit of what you’re capable of. Push yourself a little, let your combined levels do their thing, let your skills help you, and you will win. Just … don’t let him land a full hit on you with that weapon. It would leave a dent.’

  ‘A dent? How big a dent? Large enough to kill me?’

  ‘Uhm … maybe? Maybe not? Let’s not find out, eh?’

  ‘Okay.’ I exhaled. ‘Sensible advice.’

  He wasn’t wrong; I was a lot stronger and faster than I had been pre-levels. I did feel like I would be capable of more, and I knew the obstacle wasn’t my body or my SAC. Believing it, accepting it and utilising it was a thing of the mind, and my mind still wasn’t fully used to it. I supposed my entire life experience as a run-of-the-mill human wasn’t exactly conducive to such a quick and major shift, and if there had ever been a time to change that, it was now.

  ‘This won’t take long, Champion. I’ll peel your crushed body out of that armour of yours.’ General Oxorranokh stated, turning to face me as he finally had enough of the encouraging chants of his adoring fans all around.

  The mountain of a minotaur lifted his warhammer with both hands, assuming some sort of a stance I guessed was a part of the fighting style associated with his weapon and the related skills. I drew Burning Darkness from his spot on my back. I felt the Master of the Hellfire Blade skill whispering into my soul and to my mind — probably my subconscious mind as it wasn’t in the form of words — and with no small amount of trepidation I relaxed my body, emptied my mind, and let the skill’s guidance permeate my being more than I had ever let it before. It was rather counterintuitive to let go of conscious control to this extent, if I was honest, but it was time to squeeze every scrap of advantage I could get from my skill and my weapon.

  ‘Well, come and take a look then!’ I taunted the general.

  I shouldn’t have bothered; the giant, horned bull demon was already in motion before the last word left my mouth, leaving me with only a fraction of a second to react. Levels, skills, instincts and training kicked in all at once; I jumped aside and ducked at the same time as a sweeping hammer strike whooshed overhead, a mere couple of centimetres from my head. I had no time to think or to relax. The general stopped his own momentum and his hammer with ease, drawing it back for another strike. He pivoted towards me as I was still in the motion of the clumsy ducking-dodge, so fast I could barely follow his movements even with my enhanced perception. Black and red Hell Mana covered my enemy’s warhammer, leaving a smoky trail as it came at me. I only had a split second before it would land on my head, which was just enough to find my footing and raise my sword up to block the strike with all the speed and strength I could muster. The hammerhead met my blade with the force of a meteor slamming into a moon; my body shook, I was pushed back like a toddler in queue for ice-cream. Burning Darkness, in a cloud of Mana and sparks, flew out of my hands. Shit!

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I slid some two metres back, but luckily I managed to stay standing. My instincts begged me to draw my sidearm and shoot, but I could feel the Genius’ restriction on me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that, so I didn’t try.

  ‘You dropped me! How dare you drop me? Do I mean so little to you?’ Burning Darkness yelled at me indignantly. ‘I can’t believe this! Get a grip, man, get a grip!’

  ‘Stop screaming, it’s not helping!’ I bawled at the sword on the ground as I jumped back to avoid another lightning fast strike of the warhammer.

  The minotaur was coming at me relentlessly, swinging his oversized weapon with an ease that defied all laws of physics I was aware of, pushing me away from my complaining sword, and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep dodging. Ten seconds into the duel and I was on the back foot already. I had to change that.

  ‘Infernal Storm!’ I cried the name of the spell, pointing at my opponent, willing every drop of Hell Mana in my soul to rush out and bathe the giant demon in hellfire. I knew it wouldn’t be near enough to kill him, but as the spell burst into existence and enveloped him in a searing hot vortex of fiery death, it blinded him for the two seconds I needed. I ran past him with all the speed I could wring out of my levels — the fastest I’d ran to date — avoiding a blind swing of the minotaur’s warhammer. I jumped the last two metres, landing next to Burning Darknes. Thanks to my magically enhanced perception and coordination I managed to pick him up without stopping — the moment he was in my hand I jumped again, just in time to get out of the way of the hammer that slammed into the ground where I had been half a second before, pulverised earth kicking up into the air behind me.

  The crowd cheered and booed as the minotaur general — his armour and skin singed by my spell but otherwise unharmed — slowed down, letting me put some distance between us.

  ‘A champion who drops his weapon?’ he sneered at me. ‘Are you the best this ring has to offer?’

  ‘He’s got a point,’ Burning Darkness commented.

  ‘What the hell?’ I grumbled at him.

  This was not going well. Not at all. The general and I stared at each other as we came to a complete halt — I wasn’t sure why we stopped but the break was a welcome thing.

  ‘I told you, my man: let your levels loose! Let your skill guide you. You’re thinking way too much. You could learn a thing or two from this guy.’ Burning Darkness advised. ‘Otherwise you’ll end up dead. And on that note, if you kick the bucket here, can I take the set with me?’

  ‘Just whose fucking side are you on?’ I demanded angrily, but I knew he was right.

  The Master of the Hellfire Blade skill was trying its best to guide my actions, but I had to realise I was still resisting it — not as much as before, but I still wasn’t letting it to take over fully. Was this a trust issue on my part? Or just my unfamiliarity with it? My opponent didn’t give me any more time to ponder this: he lunged forward with insane speed, hammer held above his horned, bovine head, coming at me like a missile. In that microsecond between life and death I made a decision and took the gamble I had been reluctant to take until now.

  I didn’t understand how it worked, I couldn’t place the feeling and sensation, I wasn’t even sure if I was the one acting or if it was the skill. As the minotaur barreled towards me, only a heartbeat separating him from me, I moved. My legs, suddenly and with no uncertainty, knew how to step, my body knew how to twist, my arms and hands knew how to hold Burning Darkness and how to best use him, all as if by magic. The speed and precision of my movements shocked me even though I was the one doing it. Instead of jumping away or dodging — as I had been doing so far — I leaped forward, ducking under the swing of the minotaur’s weapon. He did not expect that, and as he halted his strike and tried to move away, my sword giggled with delight as I stabbed at him. The minotaur’s armour sparked, spitting puffs of Hell Mana as the tip of my blade pierced the layered plates covering my opponent’s belly. Bonded or not, this was a hit!

  [Skill: Master of the Hellfire Blade reached level 5.]

  Oxorranokh tried to back away from me as I pulled my sword free, his black blood dripping from the tip. He groaned loudly and angrily, but I didn’t let him get away; I followed the much larger creature with sure steps, sticking to him like glue, staying close enough that his long, heavily muscled arms and his warhammer struggled to find an angle against my much smaller form. Unfortunately, sticking this close to my opponent wasn’t a long term solution; while I could still stab and slash at him with my much shorter weapon, I wasn’t able to put much power into my strikes. His bonded armour was accumulating scuffs, but I couldn’t pierce it like I had with my first strike.

  The general kicked out at me, his hoof connecting to the chestplate of my SAC and pushing me away. I faltered and fell back, and of course with the distance came the warhammer, and it came fast, giving me just enough time to twist my torso enough to receive the blow on my left shoulder instead of my head. My pauldron cracked, I flew back like a ragdoll, pain spreading out from my shoulder to my entire body. I ignored the warning messages from the IFD suite, and my grip tightened around Burning Darkness in my right hand as I landed on my back. I saw the giant minotaur coursing through the air in a leap that would land him on top of me.

  ‘Hell Lance!’ I yelled the name of the spell, not feeling my left arm as I pointed at the demon flying towards me. A glowing, orange stream of Hellfire shot forth from the empty air in front of my finger, slamming into the general’s face, and the moment it did I rolled to the side. He landed on the spot where I’d been half a second ago, his head on fire. This was my chance; the bastard was patting down the flames with one hand, disoriented and blinded again for the moment. I clambered to my feet in a second, my left shoulder burning like hell. Now, with enough room to put some serious momentum and power into the thrust, I drove Burning Darkness into the general’s side, the skill guiding my aim to just above his hip where his armour was visibly thinner. Hell Mana swirled and metal screeched as my blade went in deep. The beast roared in pain, sinking to one knee, his heavy warhammer falling to the ground. He swung at me with his bare fist as I wanted to pull Burning Darkness out of him. To my horror, my sword was stuck in tense muscles and crumpled armour and I couldn’t pull him out. I let go and ducked to avoid being struck by the coming punch.

  ‘Damn it, man! Again?’ the sword protested.

  I was without a weapon now, but so was the general. He moved noticeably slower, but so did I — pain did neither of us any good — and with the Hellfire Blade no longer in my hand, I felt the skill’s guidance receding and my old, human instincts taking over. Listening to those instincts — and to the growing pool of adrenalin and anger inside me — I threw myself at the giant minotaur before he could stand up or throw another punch. I was bare handed, but all the weight and levels my SAC and I had were enough to tackle him to the ground. Whether it was a good idea, or whether I was at a disadvantage due to my smaller size or not, didn’t even cross my mind; we were in the dirt now, and I was going to make the most of it. He clawed at me, I clawed at him, I punched, he kicked. The messages on my NeuroHUD were blinking red, probably trying to warn me about SAC integrity, but I ignored them — I was seeing a different kind of red.

  The general was weakening, I was slowly getting the upper hand, and the more we squirmed, rolled and grappled on the ground the more damage the sword stuck in his side was causing. The ferrocom plating of my SAC screamed against the minotaur’s hellish armour — whatever metal it was made of — as I finally pushed him onto his back and got on top of his chest, looking down at him, at his face, at his thick, exposed neck. I didn’t hesitate.

  ‘Eat this you stupid cow!’ I growled at him viciously as I slammed my fist into his throat right under his pointy, bull-like chin, with as much force as my levels, the servos and synthfibers and the hellish fury I felt afforded me. Crunch!

  The minotaur general Oxonarrokh gasped and gurgled, trying to reach for his own throat — probably instinctively — but I was in no mood to let him do anything other than dying. I batted his now weak arms away and I punched down again with no hesitation and with a cruel desire to end him. His throat caved in under my fist, crushed completely, and he was finished. His black, beady eyes were wide open, staring at me in his final moment, a moment which was marked by a somewhat fuzzy-looking message appearing on my NeuroHUD.

  [You have defeated Minotaur General, level 42. You receive EXP.]