The two of them flung themselves in the air, aiming for the other’s head. A straight attack, with little to no strategy, simply testing the other one. Mark dodged, barely.

The two of them stood at a distance, both of them with their backs turned to the other.

"Human, I shall show you why you shouldn’t mess with one such as myself."

The orc turned around, winding up his mace. Mark turned around as well, sword held firmly, wiping away the blood dripping from his forehead. He was lucky enough to get away with a slight graze.

Ok, perhaps I got too cocky. Time to think this through for a bit. I’m only putting to work my ideas from various mangas and my own interpretation. I can hold up for a while, yet the difference speaks for itself.

Before Mark could even process his own thoughts, he found himself flying across the street, rolling uncontrollably as he went. His sword found its way in the asphalt, putting his roll to a halt. Dizzy, he picked himself up, only to be thrown back to his original spot.

"How do you like it, huh? Being toyed with before death comes knocking on your door."

Mark got up, his body aching in more places than it had ever done before. His clothes took a hit as hard as he did, being torn in random places—no "vital" spot, luckily for him.

Their gazes met, making the air feel heavier. Mark said nothing, focusing on a slight movement of his hand. The ground shook, a large spike made out of stone bursting out in the orc’s direction. A sudden move of his hand was enough to turn it into a cloud of dust.

Mark’s eyes widened, watching in disbelief as the wind carried one of his strongest cards at the moment.

"Did you truly think the same trick would work twice? I spent some time watching you, studying you. I couldn’t care less about the ones you killed, yet I have an image to maintain. A few more mistakes, and that guy might want to have a talk with me."

Some questions were piling up in Mark’s head, yet answers had to wait. Right in that moment, his victory was of the utmost importance.

How do I defeat this bastard? Tough armor, he’s fast, it’s like fighting a tank that moves like a sports car. There must be a way.

"Try using some magic. You have a certain level of control over it, find something useful."

He was confused as to why the voice of his system assistant was booming inside his head, yet he had to wash away the feeling. His opponent wouldn’t wait for long –or at least that’s what Mark believed.

"Come on, human, where’s your cockiness now, huh?"

The orc seemed to chuckle at his own words, enjoying his opponent’s distress.

Mark, trying to cook up a plan, strengthened his grip on his sword’s handle, and went flying. The sound of metal clashing on metal kept the world awake, each hit sounding harsher than the last one, each hit fiercer and faster. Mark’s speed was barely keeping up with his opponent, and the weight of each strike put more and more pressure on his entire body.

If things keep going like this, I’ll die faster than I planned.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

One strike after another, his body was eroding, painfully trying to keep up.

Think, Mark, think! Your knowledge might come from manga and videos, but you still have to think—it is still viable knowledge!

His eyes lit up for a second, a split second during which his opponent struck him head-on. Once again, he found himself flying, coughing up blood as he hit a wall.

"I’m sure I have at least one broken rib, AT LEAST ONE."

He got up, his legs nearly giving out. His confidence burned up in a second, leaving him a rag to be thrown away.

The Chieftain kept laughing at him, watching from a distance.

"Heh, puny human, I told you to kneel before my feet. Now, I guess it’s time I end this useless squabble."

He placed his mace on his shoulder, walking towards Mark.

Barely standing, he had to remind himself why he got up despite being battered.

I might be a selfish bastard, yet I still have things I care about. I went on this suicide charge, knowing damn well that I wanted power and knowing what I had gotten into. I don’t care; call me whatever. As long as I can protect what I hold dear, I won’t give up.

His eyes drifted in the direction of the high school, memories of his sister flashing before his eyes. They might have had their ups and downs, yet he still cared for her.

A shadow loomed over him, waking him up from his trance. The sound of iron boots clanking marked his incoming death.

Staring death in the face—that’s how Mark wanted to go. He could barely see the eyes of his soon-to-be killer, yet he did not falter. Standing tall before his very eyes was death; that’s how he saw it.

"Any last words? Make sure to say them fast, since I’m tired of waiting."

Mark’s lips were dry, drier than usual, twitching ever so slightly.

"Yes, my last words. Listen here and listen well."

Out of respect for his enemy, the Chieftain bowed down just a bit, enough to hear him better.

"I know you can do it. You've thought about it time and time again, even as your body was broken. I know you can use it, make sure it works."

The sudden aparition of a voice other than his was a shock, yet he had no time to think about it. Mark’s eyes shot open, his hands moving as fast as he could muster.

"Hell-Blaze!"

"You scoundrel! I’ll-"

But his words never came, for a sea of fire made sure he’d drown in it. The entire street was a fiery blaze, with the orc caught in the center of it all. Mark stared at it all, his hand emanating a red glow.

"That should have done it."

A hand emerged from the bottom of the flames, pointing a mace right at Mark. He couldn’t believe it, his face yelled that more than anything. The mace went flying at him, yet its speed was far lower.

"I’ve been bested, you... scoundrel..."

With that, a few beeping sounds confirmed the kill. He could stop supplying mana to the fire, letting things chill for a minute, himself included.

"Damn, I sure got carried away with those weaklings. This guy was the real deal."

"I told you not to get too full of yourself. I know you’re a natural when it comes to these things, but don’t push it. Your sword skills are as bad as they could be. You’re lucky he was toying with you, otherwise, you’d be dead now."

Mark stared at the sky, thanking God for his victory.

"Phew, I do believe, yet I got scared for a second there."

He got up, ready to leave, yet something was pressuring him in a weird way. A feeling struck his gut, and it wasn’t a good one.

"Please don’t tell me..."

A portal appeared before the mountain. Mark could only watch in silence, his heart thumping in his neck, body shriveling in pain. A glistering armor, carved with intriguing details and lined perfectly in black, was worn by a fitting soldier. The knight stood tall, taller than Mark yet not as tall as the orc, but his presence was something else.

Please don’t tell me... level 100. I’m dead.