“My name is Sir Artorious Pendragon of the Greycloaks,” the invalid swordsman said. “In the name of my Order, for the good of this world, and for my own honor, I shall destroy you.”
Ethan’s troll form blinked at the visage of the old swordsman cutting through a sheath of raindrops with his rapier.
…Pendragon? Really? If I could talk, I’d give you a roast you wouldn’t soon forget, buddy.
His desire to laugh out loud at the warrior’s ridiculous name was cut short by the speed with which the old geezer then struck—his blade a blur that shot through the air towards the heart of Ethan’s Host.
Shit!
[Hide: Activated]
The rapier of Sir Artorious impaled nothing but bloody rock at the far end of Ethan’s den. The warrior’s smile never left his old, grizzled face.
“A cave troll with the hide skill? I can see you’ve already picked up some tricks.”
Lemme show you another one!
Ethan came flying at the old geezer from the shadows of his lair, both arms raised and ready to pound the living hell outta the guy.
[Slam]
Ethan could have sworn that he hit him. He could have sworn that the power behind his sneak attack had connected with the swordsman as he struggled to free his blade from the craggy rock it was stuck in. But all his claws caught was the rock itself—smashing it to pieces and leaving him wondering where the hell his opponent had just gone.
Then—blood. Blood and pain, pounding just beneath his chest. A blow that had missed the heart of his host by only a few inches.
Ethan looked down, seeing that the blackened blade of the swordsman had just torn clean through his gut.
And just before he doubled over in sheer, animal agony, he activated the only other trump card he had.
He threw back his host’s head as the swordsman withdrew his blade and let out a roar that stopped the rapier before it pierced his heart. This time, his [Slam] caught the old man as he reached out and spun both his arms like a broken merry-go-round. His fists met resistance, and then he heard the grunting sounds of the warrior as he went flying out of the den and back into the rainswept forest.
Ethan stumbled forward, trying to maintain a sense of balance.
…Damn…that…that was…shit…
HP: 50/90
Forty goddamn damage from one hit!? he raged, feeling the blood of his Host pool and dribble from his fanged mouth. What the hell’s this guy packing?
As though in answer, Artorious flew like a sparrow through the hailstorm again, the tip of his blade aimed straight at the cave troll’s forehead.
Only through Ethan’s speedy activation of [Hide] did he manage to just barely avoid the seeking blade of his foe, though he still came away with a deep gash torn in his hulking shoulder.
HP: 40/90
He fell. He dropped into a roll and felt his left arm go completely limp, gasping for air and finding that one of his Host’s lungs must have been punctured by the first strike of his foe.
Sys… he wheezed as he tried to find the old guy amidst the thundering storm of rain and sleet that blasted the forest. What’s this guy all about?
That information is considered [Classified]
“Do you feel afraid, creature?” a voice then emanated from a direction Ethan couldn’t intuit. “Good. Die, alone and fearful.”
A flash of silver shone in the night. Ethan turned and met the attack head-on, letting the blade of his foe pierce right through his wounded arm and watching as the snarling face of his opponent finally came into view.
He felt unbelievable agony radiate up his entire left side, but brought up his other arm in a [Slam] that managed to pulverize the chest of the warrior, finally disarming him and sending him flying back into the storm-wracked trees.
Have—that! Ethan yelped, tearing the blade from his hand with an extreme effort. It was taking everything he had not to relinquish the form of the clearly dying troll.
HP: 20/90
He tried appraising the weapon of his foe that now lay at his feet, thinking he could get a Transmogrification off that could turn the tide of battle. But once again, the blade was nothing but a series of blurry sparkles to his untrained eyes. Whatever the vile weapon was, it was clearly better than [Common] in nature…
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Perhaps you would like to recall the advice this System gave you?
Ethan grimaced, eyes scanning the bushes and brambles for any signs of movement in the rain-wracked landscape.
Yeah, I could run… he thought. But then I’d be letting my end-game puppet here get away…
He watched the lithe form of his opponent slowly rise from the northern edge of his den, a spear of lightning announcing his survival.
“Surely you know by now that this is a fight you cannot hope to win, beast,” he said. “Lay down your life and I will make your end swift and painless.”
Fuck me, will this guy stop it with the hero platitudes already? Anyway, he ain’t doing shit as long as I’ve got his little toothpick under me.
Ethan kept his muscle-bound troll feet on the handle of the swordsman’s blade, never once dropping his eyes from the sight of the hooded, still-smiling man.
Come on, Ethan. There’s always a way, remember? You can always find a way… Let’s try a basic Appraisal. There’s only one thing I gotta see…
Species: Human
Class: LIGHTBORN
LVL: 50
HP: 280/350
WILL: 50/???
Ethan’s snarl was clearly visible even against the storm sweeping through the night.
That’s all I need to know, he thought. He’s strong, but his Willpower’s failing him. Probably comes with dueling a beast that’s actually putting up a fight. I get the impression this dude ain’t used to monsters putting up resistance against him. He’s got the air of a veteran monster slayer about him. With a class like ‘Lightborn’, that checks out. He’s good—even if his name does sound like an Arthurian dweeb’s Reddit handle. I’m gonna need to wait for the right moment.
Artorious stalked towards him through the dark, his every step the silent glide of a reaper.
“You’re a fool if you think I need that sword to kill you,” he said.
And you’re a fool if you think I need this body to survive.
Another bolt of lightning signaled Artorious’ inhuman charge. One blink and he had already bridged the gap between him and Ethan, his eyes staring not into the beady pupils of the troll, but into the demonic slit of Ethan-the-hat himself.
Ethan readied a [Roar] just before the old man initiated a gut jab that could have probably punched clean through the troll’s chest. Artorious managed to dodge backward just out of range of the [Roar] as it came, his form blinking into and out of existence as he waited for his chance to attack again.
He’ll go for the kill—straight for the heart, Ethan thought. But even though he’s moving faster than my eyes can keep up with him, he’s still moving across the ground, isn’t he?
Somewhere deep within his consciousness, Ethan felt a distinct sense of satisfaction emanating from someone or something. At first, he thought it might have been the remnants of the troll’s subconsciousness. Then he realized that there was only one other person besides himself that truly cared whether he lived or died here.
Sys? Is that some pride I’m feeling coming from you?
…You have a battle to win, Ethan.
Artorious wasn’t wasting any time. Already, he was renewing his assault, blinking forward a few paces at a time, darting into and out of the rainstorm, his every move cold, calculated, and precise.
But Ethan knew more than anyone that precision wasn’t the only thing that won battles… sometimes, raw strength did the heavy lifting.
[Slam]
He balled his good fist and pummeled the ground, his Grade E [Slam] managing to cause the earth itself to fracture and quake, sending reverberations through the ground that caught Artorious mid-charge. Ethan found his stumbling form before he could blink away, and sent a ravenous punch at his face that sent him reeling back, rolling across the forest floor.
Hurts, doesn’t it? I should know…
He watched the grey-clad swordsman wipe his bloodied nose and clutch his chest with his only arm.
“…Clever beast,” he murmured.
Ethan wasted no time pressing his advantage. He bounded toward the fallen warrior and, with a screech that tore through the crying heavens themselves, brought his claws down upon the broken human.
“…but not experienced enough.”
Ethan’s blow never came. In the second he was about to bring both his arms down, he felt a resurgence of agony radiate up his spine, and his eyes shook as they rolled towards where the rapier had wedged itself: his lower back.
The thing had flown toward its master, and in the next second, it detached itself from his back, spun like a ghostly top, and levitated right back into its master’s open hand.
That… is… so… bullshit.
HP: 5/90
He crumpled, feeling the lifeblood of his host run dry as its arteries opened and spilled out on the ground. Rain battered his fading form, and as the heavens opened to send another blanket of hail upon the forest floor, the image of the triumphant Artorious emerged above him.
“I’ll bet you felt so strong using the life of another to serve your vile whims,” he said, placing a firm boot upon the troll’s shuddering chest. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Having others obey your every command without question. Taking power you haven’t earned. Casting a shadow across this world for you and all of your vile hellspawn.”
Oh, great, Ethan mused. A fucking monologue…
Artorious bent low, his smile fading for an instant as he looked into the singular eye of his true enemy—the hat he had come here to destroy.
“…every time,” he said. “Every time you wake up, this world gets just a little more wretched. Why do you do it? Why do you keep coming back?”
The fuck if I know, dude. I just got here. Seems like you’ve got beef with someone else besides little ol’ me. Now, while you’re spouting LORE, would you kindly come just a little bit closer?
Artorious lifted his blade and angled it just above the throat of the dying troll.
“First your slave, then you,” he said. “Perhaps this time, this life will be your last. Pray to whatever devil first spawned you in this realm that it is, Archon. For if you do rise again, you shall see my eyes staring back at you.”
A swift, unbroken movement was all it took for the swordsman to end the life of the troll by plunging his blade into its neck. Ethan felt it—every pulsing welt of the creature’s death throes thundered through his own incorporeal mind, sending shockwaves through his system that would have killed a regular human.
Lucky… for us… I’m not a regular human anymore.
With his final command, he summoned all the troll’s strength to commit to a single death-spasm—one that removed himself from the creature’s head and wrapped his threadbare form firmly around the pasty scalp of Artorious.
“Wha—what trickery?!”
The swordsman staggered back from his fallen foe, eyes upturned, and face contorted in pain, as Ethan’s single eye bulged and his pointed tip wiggled to avoid the frantic slashes of the old geezer’s blade.
Time to take a rest, old man! he screamed in the consciousness of the flailing swordsman. Now, I do the talking for both of us!