Chapter 42: Scarlet Waters I

The stones grew increasingly slippery the closer Allan got to the river. [Celerity] wasn’t as effective as it would be for a longer run, but it still provided a bit more speed and energy that he capitalized on.

Behind him, Dalton’s footsteps rapidly approached.

Allan cursed and spun around, bringing his axe up just as the Hound entered his range.

The blade slammed into the shaft of the spear, and Allan felt the muscles in his arms strain as Dalton attempted to brute force the weapon back. He held firm, and the Hound’s eyebrows rose when the axe didn’t budge.

Dalton jerked the spear back, putting space between the two of them. Allan kept his axe raised in preparation.

“Hell of a strength stat for a [Healer],” Dalton muttered. His eyes narrowed. “Unless that class was a lie. You lie all the time, don’t you?”

Allan distinctly remembered the man’s personal skill—[Candor], he believed it was called. What score had he been given? 21?

It made his skin crawl to think about it. He didn’t need a goddamn skill of all things peeling him back and digging at everything underneath. His fingers tightened around the axe. What gave the Hound the right to judge him? He did what he had to to survive, and he wasn’t ashamed of it.

Allan met Dalton’s condescending look with his own glare. He took a step back and his foot sank into soft dirt. The roar of rushing waters rang behind him.

They’d reached the river bank.

Dalton lunged, spear tip thrust forward. Allan jumped to the side to dodge the attack, but just as he was readying to retaliate, Dalton brought the spear around in a wide, sweeping arc that forced the [Healer] back.

He felt a slight sting on his cheek where the spear had grazed him. Dark eyes narrowed. The range of the Hound’s weapon was a problem, but if he could get close, that would be where the man was the most vulnerable.

He didn’t have time to think more before Dalton pounced again. Allan gritted his teeth as the spear tip sliced into his arm, his movements too slow. He ignored the cut and brought his axe up, locking it with the extended spear, and ran forward.

Metal screeched, loud and sharp against the backdrop of the river. Allan dug his feet into the ground and reeled his arm back, activating [Cleave].

Dalton’s eyes widened, the Hound leaping back just as Allan swung.

The blade sliced into his forearm, and the Hound cursed. He stumbled back, but managed to maintain his grip on his spear. Red dripped down from his torn sleeve.

Allan frowned. Not fast enough, he thought. The wound wasn’t deep enough to do real damage.

His own wound continued to drip, but he could still move his arm. Allan glanced around.

Beneath their feet, a few stones jutted out from the dirt, forming a slightly bumpy texture that allowed them to maintain a better grip on the otherwise slick river bank. Dark eyes narrowed.

The [Healer] surged forward. Dalton raised his spear defensively.

Instead of attacking, however, Allan abruptly dropped to the ground. He slammed his free hand onto the soft earth and activated [Even Path].

The dirt rippled, a flash of ultramarine spreading out from his hand like a passing wave. Stones overturned, the ground suddenly smoothing out, and Dalton stumbled.

Stolen story; please report.

Allan leapt to his feet. He activated [Cleave], taking advantage of the Hound’s unstable balance and bringing his axe carving down.

A piercing clang rang throughout the river bank. The axe blade collided with the spear’s metal shaft, but in his hastiness to block, Dalton’s foot slid, and the force of the blow was enough to knock him into the ground.

The man landed hard on his back. He grunted from the impact but kept his weapon up, the spear providing a thin wall between him and the [Healer].

Allan pressed his advantage, trying to force the spear back. His hands shook from exertion, but slowly but surely the blade crept closer and closer to the Hound’s neck. Dalton gritted his teeth.

Just when the axe blade was a hair’s breadth away from slicing skin, Dalton slammed his knee into the [Healer]’s stomach. Allan choked, the wind knocked out of him, and the moment was enough for Dalton to throw him off, knocking his axe out of his hands at the same time.

Allan landed on the dirt, coughing and skidding along the ground. He heard his axe land beside him with a clatter and gritted his teeth, forcing himself up past the blooming pain in his stomach.

Dalton ran at him, eyes murderous. Allan dug his fingers into the ground. The moment the Hound was in range, he chucked the pile of dirt at his face.

Dalton winced, some of the dirt getting into his eyes. Allan didn’t bother reaching for his axe. He rose and punched the man in the face, the hit landing cleanly and knocking his head to the side.

Roaring in anger, Dalton slashed the spear out, forcing Allan back again. He quickly grabbed his fallen axe and raised it defensively.

For a moment the two simply stood there, hunched over slightly, weapons raised, breaths loud. Neither one looked away, both watching for any openings.

Allan could feel the sweat on his skin mixing with dirt and smeared blood, the lingering dizziness from the earlier blow finally subsiding some. Carefully, he felt his stomach with his free hand, checking the wound while the Hound caught his breath.

The area hurt to touch—definitely bruised—but it didn’t seem too serious beyond that. He moved onto the cut in his arm and activated [Mend]. A faint blue glow surrounded the wound.

[You have gained experience! Experience shared with [2] other party members]

[Progress towards next level: 82%]

That was too much experience. Allan frowned. Leo and Spade must both be earning experience as well, for the jump to be that big.

He didn’t have time to think on the subject more, because the Hound in front of him spoke, his own breaths finally evening out.

“Some [Healer],” Dalton bit out. A dark bruise was beginning to form on his left cheek. He wiped his eye, clearing it of lingering dirt, and adjusted his grip on the spear. “Should’ve known. You’re another filthy fucking liar.”

“I didn’t lie about shit,” Allan spat. He could hear the river loud beside them, and he shifted a little, putting himself at an angle so that his back was partially to the waters. Dalton sneered.

“Yeah? I knew the friendly act was bullshit.”

Allan’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your problem with lying anyway?” He cocked his head, the corners of his mouth pulling into a sneer. “What, did a liar fuck you over?”

The Hound’s jaw stiffened. He took a slow step forward, muscles tense in warning. Allan remained stubbornly in place and tested his shoes’ grip on the dirt subtly as he continued.

“Never seen a personal skill like that. You so naive you need a skill to tell you who to trust?” He laughed coldly. “Whatever happened must’ve been your own fault if you’re so goddamn gullible.”

Dalton roared in fury and charged forward, spear aimed straight at Allan.

Allan twisted, the world around him seeming to slow down as the tip of the spear narrowly passed him. He heard his cloak rip, felt a faint sting, but he didn’t try to block.

Instead, Allan kept moving until he was behind the Hound, equipping his [Grappling Proficiency] passive skill, and threw himself at the man with his full body weight.

The force of the blow was enough to knock Dalton over, and Allan barely managed to catch himself as the Hound tumbled into the rushing river.

Churning waves splashed around him, and Dalton gasped, spitting out water and struggling against the rapid current. He seemed to be a fairly strong swimmer, barely managing to fight against the tide, but Allan could see he was quickly growing tired.

What felt like hours passed. Finally, the Hound barely managed to drag himself over to the river bank and grab onto the shore, chest heaving and soaked head to toe. The wound in his arm bled heavily, the blood leaking into the waves and mixing with the current.

Dalton slowly raised his head, breaths ragged and movements heavy with exhaustion, but his eyes remained venomous as they met Allan’s. The [Healer] tightened his grip on the axe.

He stepped forward and activated [Cleave], dark eyes hard.

Neither one looked away as the axe came crashing down into Dalton’s skull.