My technique had to sharpen. There was no holding back anymore, this mouthy one-trick pony of a tank lost that privilege. After the disappearing tank laughed his fill at nearly having his face turned into a bloody mess, I decided to treat this like a fight, rather than a slaughter. My focus broadened, letting the information my peripheral vision captured signal my reactions rather than focus on any particular part on the tank with my center vision resting on his chest plate.
Refusing to miss a motion, I chose to ignore the obnoxious notification ding that rang through my head after my lightning technique illuminated across my weapon, killing the tanks imaginary twin. Whether it would end in overkill or not, I dug deep within my bag of tricks, sifting through every painful form and technique at my disposal. I sought to make one thing clear; this guy was not going to beat me.
This slippery, halberd wielding tank simply shouldn't be giving me this kind of trouble. Judging by his shaky stance and sweat visibly dripping out the cracks of his heavy armor after mere minutes of combat, he definitely doesn't do this very often.
Well, I do, and it was time to make that apparent. My approaching steps were concealed under a low angled lunge upward toward the tanks chin. The stab was thrown with genuine murderous intent, however it just needed to grab the tanks attention.
Catching his eyes lock onto my Wakizashi and immediately raising guard, my lead leg stepped diagonally while the rear quickly replaced it. Finding a gap in the tanks defensive pose, I fired out my heel, twisting my hips forward as I pivoted my planted foot, putting full force into a rib crunching body kick. The impact of my boot denting into his body armor shot a small pain up my knee, though the damage was a fraction of what the tank suffered.
His body flew back like he'd been shot in the chest with a cannon. His armor clanked loudly while rolling along the arena floor, spitting blood all over the beautiful oceanic artwork etched across our arena battlegrounds. The unintentional desecration of my favorite place since discovering amateur kickboxing gyms removed any ounce of remorse for this smug prick I had left. Luckily, he'd just proven himself unreasonably reactive, and therefore exploitable.
"You're over-committing, even if you don't bite on every attack. Stop relying so heavily on your reach, it got boring six sequences ago." I instructed with a raised brow. He didn't seem fond of my backhanded advice, waving his hand from his polearm with a dismissive 'pshh', but I wasn't joking. We once shared this weakness to moments of irrational certainty not long ago, but I learned what royally fucked that up through painful first hand experience; lying.
Was it ratty? Sure. But so is teleporting around at level one, who the fuck does that? If there's more of these kind of monsters around here, I have got to step it up, maybe collect a few crazy skills for myself. Even with my fighting skillset, I need more leverage.
Bursting to his feet with a series of metallic clanks, the halberd wielding tank-wizard began slowly inching closer, implying he was ready to clash once more. Of course, he didn't initiate. Not immediately at least, until I took a cheeky stab at his knee with my lead blade while diagonally Water Stepping around him, putting his newly exposed side in my range. Unfortunately, my momentum carried me across his center line too.
That's mistake number two, as I took the bladed spear-tipped pommel of his halberd to the stomach. A grazing blow, but it still stung to no end, as now my own blood began defacing this aquatic sanctuary's magnificent flooring. Now, I was pissed.
If Korbin saw this, I wouldn't hear the fucking end of it for the rest of my natural life.
A painful amount of pressure welled at the idea, crushing my mind enough to jar loose another technique I'd learned. A type of water step that always kept you off center from your opponent by constantly stepping back diagonally, switching stances and either keeping in your range or out of theirs if done right. It held an array of dynamically powerful options to choose from at most any position between each step, and defense was as simple as doing more of what you're already doing; move.
Using the unarmed footwork with both weapons in hand, a pleasant smile crept across my face feeling little effect on my balance holding two blades. After the tank suffered another glancing slash behind his knee while stepping away, he began putting a high value on blocking the less powerful attacks I was constantly poking with. Now, leg kicks or slashes, and arm or shoulder stabs were treated like mortal attacks. The more he frantically moved the more he bled, and I could see a hint of panic creeping in his eye.
Setting my trap, I stabbed my blade for his bracers only to be met with a moments frustration seeing the tanks hand appear just an inch over where I had stabbed into, indicating he used that ability again. This also probably meant he was about to counter attack, finally.
The tank violently whipped his bulky frame into his patented angled slash. My hips opened in anticipation, pushing me diagonally away from his attack, leaving me on the side of his now exposed midsection. His hands gripped firmly onto his halberd as it panged off the ground, struggling to twist his momentum to face me. There was no way I was going to miss this opportunity, thrusting with my lead hand Wakizashi about 2 inches deep into his ribs and twisting as I pulled out.
A follow up kill shot from my rear blade would have swiftly followed if not for the tanks unveiling of yet another surprise; a second attack. It came within moments of the first, and swung from the opposite direction. Repeating my retreating technique, another identical gap in the tanks defenses opened as I stepped the opposite way. This time, it was on my left side, my strong side.
My wakizashi's path immediately twisted for his neck, slipping around his guard not willing to dance around long enough for him to catch on to my own patterns. The squelching shiver along my blade impacting soft skin indicated my counter strike found perfect purchase. In a blink, the tank was suddenly standing a few inches over, with a long cut bleeding from his neck.
An internalized prejudice towards tanks and mages alike began to billow deep within me, before quickly deeming it unfair to pass judgement on all of them over this…rat. I've killed him twice now by all practical metrics, but apparently no one told his movement skills the rules. I will be certain he leaves educated.
Before my next cycle of stepping away and punishing, I noticed something else in the tank. Nothing he actively did, but rather what being nearby him had. It was like he carried his own subtle gravitational pull. Obviously not to the degree of planets, but the invisible pull was definitely there. My sleeve visibly wavered upward towards him as I lunged a stabbing strike. He swung his halberd again in retaliation, as the pull considerably strengthened simultaneously. My water step had plenty of force to break free with ease, but the implications of this ability worries me.
These people don't really die here. I'll probably be either fighting with or against everyone here again, outside of Korbin being the single certain ally. That means I'm going to see this asshole again too, making this a golden opportunity to rub in his lackluster skillset some more while gathering more information.
"Hey, slow poke?" I began, stepping forward throwing an especially quick fake stab, landing a stiff leg kick.
"You got some cool tricks, big guy. What's your name?" I asked him, but he was too preoccupied disparagingly inspecting his halberd. Whether his contorted stare was a result of a shocking jolt of relief that I hadn't thrown the initial stab attempt or doubt setting in was hard to tell. It's also irrelevant to me, his worries are not my problem.
The tank staggered for a few moments struggling to reframe his stance properly, barely putting any pressure down on his leg. The same one I've made certain to kick, slice, and stab after every engagement.
"Really? You want to know my name? Heh, alright sure, it's Derrick. My name's Derrick. You?" He seemed to relax between his heavy breaths, indicating a response wouldn't be interrupted with violence.
"Tom. And yeah, I got a feeling we'll be seeing each other again. Better train better than this, son." Based his grizzly voice and much thicker skin, Derrick was clearly older than me. Which was all the more reason to call him my child here. He talked shit when I was trying to conserve myself, like an asshole.
In hindsight, I should've taken the third fight of a global tournament to the death more seriously from the get-go, especially after watching thousands of people get teleported in from afar between matches. They'd later wander to their respective dooms, but there were bound to be outliers. Now, I'd need to step up my attention to detail during meditation to insure nobody can counter my style at the start of the fight like this guy.
Speaking of, Derrick was red-faced livid after this comment, and began actually charging at me. His eyes were bulging with rage as he drew nearer.
Got 'em.
Now he's being aggressive, which opens up an ocean of opportunities for me to strike at will, like Christmas wraps in greedy, spoiled hands. Initially I was apprehensive, but when I felt the familiar pull from the tanks small atmosphere again. Only its strength was even more amplified, I assumed he was fully focused on this attack and not teleporting or whatever defensively.
Dipping low, hastily building the Flow in my left hip aiming to seize this opportunity while everything felt slightly slower due to my stance. A crackling whip erupted through the air rocketing my momentum again. I shuffled even further off his chests center line, aiming my strike a bit higher than the prior ones. He clearly expected the blow to hurtle toward his head, and technically it did, only while looping under his high guard toward his chin.
The problem with being tall is, 'down' is a relatively longer distance to travel for you than your opponent. Meaning, they could sneak shots under your vision way faster than you could them, at least without compromising too much defensive integrity from the hips down. Especially if they fake a horizontal stab, forcing you to duck or, his case teleport down and away to dodge. I never got to utilize this advantage before, instead having succumbed to Korbin using my height against me as his fist would appear at my chin from under my guard. Now it was finally my turn to be on the enjoyable short-end and boy, did I make it count.
Blood streaked from my Wakizashi buried deep into Derrick's skull, clamping his bottom jaw shut. His halberd clanked to the ground at his side as his eyelids began to flutter. The initial blood splatter paused my mental process entirely, only now realizing the Wakizashi emitted a hot white glow along it's sharp steel, yet the heat didn't bother me. If anything it was cozy, like the white hot air was slowly hugging my skin. The same energy that exploded into his jaw on impact, dispersing all at once and exploding bone shrapnel everywhere. One fragment nicked my arm, hitting hard enough to draw blood under my light armor.
This...is grosser than I thought it'd be.
After some considerable difficulty yanking my blade free from Derricks skull, I finally heaved the blade from his head. After a final wretched spray of blood and other gelatinous fluids spewed at my feet, Derrick disappeared, and I was teleported right outside of the arena. My hand pressed against my mouth fighting back the urge to release my stomach bile across the marble floor, standing in fresh, cleaned attire.
It only took a glance to spot multiple horrified glares from the other fighters. It would bother me, being judged so openly and audaciously, but they couldn't piss me if they tried right now. A massive warmth had filled my chest, as finally, fucking finally, I got to let loose.
Quickly, I shuffled through the crowd toward to the corner closest to the waterfall flowing off the arena's larges rock formation. I sat down beside the pair of gloves the system offered me because, well, they were free. My hands are plenty calloused already however, and I have no intention of pampering them now. Though, after that drawn out fight, I wondered if they'd ever be necessary when I'm being fully healed after every victory.
Because after inspecting my hands, they looked just as clean as they had been when I entered.
Hell yeah, auto-healing is way overpowered.
I quickly nestled into my meditation spot, crossing my legs and closing my eyes. My mind began replaying the fight by memory while it was fresh, making a note to leave out the gore covering my shoe out of my study.
While our fight ended less than 30 seconds ago, I simply didn't want to forget a thing. I felt there were a few too many lessons hidden throughout this surprisingly difficult fight, the kind that could hint at areas of potential growth as a fighter. These moments have been essential for years now, long before the stakes were this high, and I valued them far more than riches and comfort. How else could you even get there in the first place? Other than being lucky, but that's nothing to be proud of. Only thankful over.
The first glaring opportunity for growth was the lighting strike I managed to use rather affectively. Which reminded me, I had gotten a notification after I threw it the first time, but chose to ignore and focus on killing Derrick instead. Opening the tab in my head, a rush of pride and elation washed over me to find my prior practices were already translating into some actual returns.
*Skill Acquired*-> Lightning Strike (common) - Wielder is able to infuse Lightning mana into an attack, amplifying its speed depending on the total mana spent while using it. User gets a +4 agility when using this strike.
Now THAT is what the fuck I'm talking about.
My body and mind both felt supercharged, now more inclined than ever to focus on picking apart every single one of my fights. Clearly, it yielded valuable lessons I'd be a utter fucking moron to let fall to the wayside. The first step was to settle down my nerves, so I refrained from checking my full status just yet. If I were able to get a few more skills, or, something more to show for this violence before then, it would make the review all the sweeter.
Finally settling myself, my focus shifted to channeling Flow into my head. Well, to be more specific, and don't laugh, my third-eye. Look, it's a belief I had developed this year, and it really felt like something in the literal center of my forehead opened on command when I got 'good' at it. Often what followed was an absolute cacophony of vastly differing concepts, emotions and ideas flowing through my thoughts. Compared to the normal traffic of ideas, that is.
Sometimes I even managed mentally placing myself in the most serene locations I could imagine, my favorite being an empty beach in the middle of summer. Warm, smooth sand sifting under my toes, the cool breeze keeping the sun's powerful rays at bay. Waves crashing across the shore as I'd ponder things as trivial as budgeting at times, but it always helped me think all the same.
Putting myself back into the fight, I did my best to just ignore that Derrick guy's abilities. It felt fruitless considering it was probably something stupidly good that made zero sense to me now, and that I'd have plenty chances to learn more later. After playing back the actual sequences a few times in my mind, I made note of how often I was water stepping. Wondering if it played into my Water Stance skill based on how effective it had been, I decided to do some testing.
Rising to my feet with closed eyes, I began water stepping about my immediate area. Focusing intently on if and when my speed changed, figuring agility was boosted from this skill. The skill hadn't mentioned it explicitly but, Flow was Flow. There's big and small Flow. Small keeps you alive and fast, and big kills, normally. It's fuckery, and it felt more so now than ever, so why shouldn't they overlap?
As I stepped, I played around with the idea of seeing a bunch of skills with high rarities, accidentally pulling it up.
Wait…I'm not actually getting boosted.
That couldn't be right, I was clearly faster, like, much faster doing the steps in form than just walking, or even messing up the steps themselves. Yet, when I did it with my status open, no boosts triggered. When doing my normal fighter bounce, low and behold; +3 agility, +3% endurance. Turns out, flow is indeed that much more bullshit to try and understand now. The realization pissed me off to no end initially, only to be replaced with a sense of excitement at the opportunity.
If there isn't one yet...bet I could MAKE a skill out of this shit.
Sadly, before I had the chance to start my mental water step training session, I was blipped once again into the arena.