Charon had drawn first blood, and with a twisted grin, he ran his tongue over the tip of his scythe, savoring the taste as he contemplated his next move. His eyes gleamed with a dark satisfaction, sizing up his opponents with a look that promised he was only just getting started.
“So it’s going to be the hard way, huh?” Charon said as he tightened his grip on the scythe. “Fine by me. I love a good workout!”
With a swift motion, he swung the scythe toward Desmond, the blade gleaming menacingly in the flickering red light. Just as the weapon arced toward him, the muscular figure stepped forward, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.
“Really? Is that the best you’ve got?” he quipped, effortlessly blocking the attack with a casual flick of his wrist. The impact sent a jolt through the train, but he stood unfazed, as if he were swatting away a fly.
Desmond's heart raced as he watched the two clash, but then he felt something shift within him. A surge of energy pulsed through his veins, igniting a sense of power he hadn’t known before. Suddenly, it was as if he were no longer just an observer but a participant in this bizarre showdown.
Before he even realized it, Desmond found himself extending his arms, mirroring the stance of the powerful figure in front of him. He felt an inexplicable connection, a strange surge of energy that made him instinctively aware he could control the muscular being’s actions as if they were his own.
“I can control you…?” he gasped, astonished.
“Of course! We are one,” the muscular man replied with a chuckle, flexing dramatically. “Think of me as the manifestation of your will—your very own superhero sidekick, minus the spandex. Now, what’s your battle plan, partner?”
Desmond blinked, still processing this newfound connection. “Uh, how about we start by not getting killed?”
“Solid strategy!” the figure chuckled, a spark of excitement in his wild eyes. “I like it. Let’s show Charon what we’re made of! Oh, and by the way, no need for arm movements or anything—just think it, and I’ll handle the rest. Your wish is my command, no talking required.”
“Sure, Psykick!” Desmond exclaimed, feeling a surge of confidence as he faced Charon.
“Psykick? I like the sound of that!” the muscular figure grinned, dodging Charon's swings while keeping the atmosphere light. They continued to dance around each other in the cramped subway car, where every swing of Charon's scythe threatened to take out a row of seats.
Charon struggled to maneuver the massive weapon in the narrow space, his frustration growing as he swung it wide, accidentally slicing through the air where a seat had just been. “Why is this thing so unwieldy?” he grumbled, narrowly missing a metal pole that could have taken off his head.
“Maybe it’s time to consider a more subway-friendly weapon?” Psykick suggested, chuckling as he sidestepped another wild swing. “How about a nice compact sword or even a bat? Something that doesn’t take up half the train!”
“Enough with the jokes!” Charon huffed, clearly annoyed but unable to hide a smirk at the absurdity of it all. “You think I enjoy fighting in cramped quarters?”
“Honestly? You’re kind of doing a great job of it!” Desmond chimed in, his nerves settling as he realized they were managing to keep Charon on the defensive. “Let’s show him what we’ve got, Psykick!”
With a newfound determination, Desmond felt Psykick’s energy flow through him, ready to tackle whatever Charon threw their way.
As the battle raged on, something peculiar flickered at the edges of Desmond's vision, pulling his attention away from the frantic movements of Charon and Psykick. A translucent pop-up screen materialized, hovering in the air like a hologram, displaying bright, digital text that read:
Psykick’s Stats:
* Level 5
* Element: Light
* Strength: 15
* Magic: 25
* Endurance: 20
* Agility: 30
* Luck: 12
* Special Ability: Divine Shield – Protect from most weak attacks.
There was too much text for Desmond to absorb all at once, and the numbers blurred together in his mind. It was clear these were Psykick’s stats, but what they meant exactly was still a mystery.
As he tried to make sense of it all, another screen flickered to life before him, this one more vibrant and pulsating with energy. The words danced across the display:
Charon’s Stats:
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* Level 6
* Element: Dark
* HP: 90/120
* SP (Stamina Points): 80/100
* Strength: 30
* Magic: 20
* Endurance: 25
* Agility: 15
* Luck: 10
* Special Ability: Soul Harvest – Instantly drain energy from a target, regaining 1 HP and reducing the target’s HP in the process.
Desmond blinked in disbelief. “Wait, what is this? Am I in some kind of RPG now?” He didn’t know what had prompted the screen, but he wouldn’t complain—at least this strange scenario had taken a turn for the entertaining. “If this is a dream, at least it’s one of the better ones I’ve had—minus the whole impending doom and giant grim reaper, of course.” He paused, shaking his head at the thought. “And surprisingly, it doesn’t even involve any naked girls!”
Psykick, dodging another swing of Charon's massive scythe, grinned. “This looks pretty real to me! And stop thinking about those dirty dreams of yours! Focus!”
“Very funny!” Desmond shouted back, barely avoiding a deadly arc of the scythe. “But how am I supposed to fight a literal mythological figure while trying to read stats? This isn’t exactly a video game!”
“Just focus! Use what you’ve got!” Psykick encouraged, glancing at the stats. “It looks like we need to chip away at his health before he uses that Soul Harvest on us!”
With renewed determination, Desmond resolved to work with Psykick, figuring out how to turn their new dynamic into a strategic advantage against the unexpected foe. “Alright, let’s take him down!”
Desmond glanced at the RPG windows that had popped up, the glowing interface illuminating the chaos around him as he fought against Charon. He quickly navigated through the various stats and abilities, struggling to make sense of it all amidst the frantic energy of the subway battle.
His eyes landed on the ability Divine Shield, and its brief description drew him in.
"Let’s see what you can do, Psykick," Desmond thought, determination sparking within him.
Divine Shield
Type: Defensive Ability
Element: Light
Description: Psykick conjures a radiant barrier of protective energy around Desmond, absorbing incoming weak damage and negating harmful effects. The shield not only safeguards but also reflects a portion of the energy back at the attacker.
Duration: 1 second
Cooldown: 10 seconds
Cost: 10 SP
Effect:
* Absorbs up to 100% of incoming damage while active, if timed perfectly.
* Reflects 100% of absorbed damage back to the attacker, if timed perfectly.
* Negates all negative status effects for the shield's duration.
Visuals: The shield emits a warm, golden glow that envelops the user, casting away shadows and giving him a sense of invincibility.
“I’ve got an idea, Psykick,” Desmond thought, feeling the connection between them surge. Psykick could sense his thoughts as if they were his own. “Let’s keep the battle like this. Charon will probably end up using that ability of his, and when he does, I’ll command you to activate your special ability!”
“Got it, Des!” Psykick replied, the energy of their bond fueling his confidence.
“Des…? Okay, I like it!” Desmond grinned, feeling a spark of camaraderie.
As the battle raged on, both sides showed signs of fatigue. Charon, sensing the need to change the rhythm of the fight, contemplated his next move.
"You seem pretty confident, kid!" Charon taunted, a gleam of mischief in his eye. "But not even with the help of that guy will you win. It's about time I showed you my secret weapon!"
With a dramatic flourish, he raised his scythe high, and the air around him crackled with energy. Dark tendrils of shadow began to swirl around the blade, forming a vortex that seemed to suck the very light out of the subway car. Desmond's stomach dropped as he realized what was happening.
"Prepare yourself for Soul Harvest!" Charon bellowed, his voice reverberating through the subway car. Shadows coiled around his scythe, morphing into a menacing, ravenous silhouette poised to consume the very essence of its prey.
Desmond’s pulse raced as he connected with Psykick. “Alright, this is it! We’ve got to time Divine Shield perfectly!”
“Understood, Des,” Psykick replied, poised and ready. “Just give the word!”
Charon finally unleashed Soul Harvest, a massive tidal wave of darkness surging toward Desmond with a menacing roar. Desmond's heart skipped a beat as he frantically called for Divine Shield, watching as a window appeared with “SP: 90/100” flashing on the display. But in the chaos, his timing faltered.
Charon smirked, a dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he felt the surge of energy from the attack. His health replenished, and his stats glowed with renewed vigor: HP: 70/120. Desmond, on the other hand, felt the stinging repercussions of his miscalculation as his own HP flashed ominously in front of him: “HP: 42/100”.
“Hehe, did you really think I was a novice?” Charon taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. “I’m not some run-of-the-mill reaper. I knew about your little counter ability all along. I wasn't going to let you thwart my Soul Harvest that easily!”
With a flick of his scythe, Charon stood taller, exuding an aura of menace as he prepared to strike again. Desmond felt the weight of his failure pressing down on him, but he refused to give in.
“Are you alright, Des?” Psykick asked, concern evident in his voice.
“I… I’m fine, but don’t worry, Psy. We just gotta win this, right? It’s not like we have a choice!” Desmond replied, forcing a grin despite the pain coursing through him. “So let’s tough it up!”
He clenched his fists, blood splattering across the floor of the subway car as he steadied himself. The battle wasn't over, and he refused to back down now. Desmond could feel the adrenaline surging through him, igniting a flicker of determination even as he fought against the overwhelming odds. “Let’s show Charon what we’re made of!”