Chương 14: Scorched Field

Back against the wall, Evel stared at the sky and reflected on his last battle. Higher affinities are terrifying. I thought he'd be low on Energy multiple times that fight, but he still had enough for that final pull. That fight had been extremely taxing. Yet, the expression on Evel's face didn't show displeasure; instead, it showed great excitement. He had made several massive gains, and his thoughts were racing at ways to utilize them to their max. First, his ability had grown stronger.

He wasn't sure what specifically caused the growth, but it was equivalent to multiple days of training. Was it desperation? Or maybe I just truly pushed it to the max? If Evel could figure out how to replicate this, he could curb one of the biggest weaknesses of having a low affinity: longer training breaks. The more someone could train with their ability, the more adept they'd get at using it, but Evel was frustrated by his slow Energy regeneration, this was a huge step to a remedy.

His second gain was the fact that he was even able to kill somebody. That meant a reward should he make it out of this forest. Although not immediately helpful, it was something he looked forward to. His third, and perhaps most relevant and important, gain was inspiration. In the final struggle, Eth had helped him pull the spear, giving him just enough power to claim victory. In that moment, Evel realized something crucial. He had underestimated his own ability.

The invisible, imperceptible hand was weird, but its lack of capability for violence had pushed Evel into thinking it wasn't useful for direct combat. Traps and bluffs, sure, but in a fistfight, it would be completely useless. However, a real fight wasn't just two parties trading blows in turns. It involved dodging, blocking, feinting, footwork, positioning, the environment, and more, many fields in which Eth could be helpful. For example, Evel could simply use Eth to block a punch.

Of course, that would be a huge waste of his already scarce Energy, but the idea was there. What if he used Eth to slightly adjust the angle his fist travelled, negating his opponent's dodge? What about using Eth as a handrail to regain his footing, should he lose balance? A wave of new applications flooded Evel's mind as he reconsidered his fighting style. Of course, there were many problems as well.

His Energy was very limited, Eth couldn't teleport and took time to travel around, and most importantly, Evel had no practical training with this sort of usage, so he couldn't determine its feasibility. One day… Fueled by optimism, Evel forced himself up. Ultimately, he needed to find his group and survive this trial for any hope of making use of his gains. He pushed forward once more, each step of his left foot enduring a sharp pain as if he were walking on a path of jagged glass. Earlier… Clang!

The vibrations of the strike reached Brenton's teeth as he continued throwing strike after strike, trading equal blows with his opponent. In the center of an open field, these two men had been in the midst of battle for more than a minute now, and neither side had given an inch. His opponent went for a wide cross slash, and Brenton made use of the opportunity. THUD! This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

The longsword slammed into his buckler with immense weight as Brenton's forearm strained under the pressure. Brenton didn't pull away, and instead leaned into the impact using the counterforce to push the sword back, as his own blade dived in for a quick, sharp jab. His opponent leaned towards the side of the buckler and away from Brenton's sword to get enough space, causing the jab to hit nothing but air. Ha!

The foe's body was awkwardly positioned, and Brenton took this opportunity to go for a side sweep, but by now the opponent had brought his longsword back to block. However, this was what Brenton was aiming for. He pushed his legs against the grass to create as much power as he could and gave his opponent a direct punch in the gut. His opponent reeled back, but before giving Brenton a chance to follow up, he activated his ability.

FWOSH Fire bellowed from his mouth, but the gut punch had made it hard for him to breathe in enough air to create a more powerful flame. Yet, Brenton was still forced to abort all his subsequent attacks and backstep to create some distance.

"Fire powers, huh? What's a richy like you doing with the rest of us chumps?" Brenton mocked.

"You know nothing, dirty farmboy." His opponent scowled. He really"Dirty farmboy?" Brenton immediately charged in once again and rained down a flurry of strikes. CLINK! CLANK! CLANG! Each contact produced a loud, sharp noise.

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE CALLING A FARMBOY!" The noises increased in frequency as Brenton raised the frequency and intensity of his attacks to his limit. Until… SWISH! The sideswing hit empty air, as his opponent used this opportunity to counterattack with a swing of his own, and the weapon crashed down. THUD! Brenton's left forearm fractured as he relied on his buckler once more to block the strike.

Yet this time, instead of it being an impact, his opponent continued pressing down the weight into his arm, leaving Brenton no opportunity to make a quick retreat as he had earlier. His opponent took a deep breath, now able to use the full power of his core ability. FWOSHHHHHHH Scorching heat rushed out of his mouth once again as Brenton took it head-on. Hot. So fucking hot. The skin on his face started bubbling, as the smell of singed hair and smouldering skin filled his nostrils.

He tried to scream, but the air had been sucked up right out of his lungs to further fuel the flame ravaging his face. He tried pulling back his overextended sword for a counterattack, but he was slow. In the immense pain of burning alive, it was difficult to focus on anything else. His opponent easily side-stepped it as he continued breathing, now angling his mouth to burn the rest of Brenton's body. Brenton's face had already been charred black, and now the rest of his body was getting the same treatment.

It's so painful. The moment he's out of juice, I'm gonna rip apart this dipshit's insides! Just a bit... FUCK IT BURNS.

"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Brenton cried out in a desperate attempt to reclaim the air in his lungs. As the fire tore through his chest and arms, his armour melted into his flesh. The grass at his feet burned up, slowly spreading across the battleground as the once lush green field transformed into brown, dry and brittle cinders.

Soon, the rest of his clothes burned away as well, and all that could be seen was a charred figure with no resemblance to Brenton stumbling around holding a sword, just one step away from death. His opponent wiped the sweat off his face, placing his hand on his head for support. His eyes were fixed on the figure ahead of him.

"The world is a cleaner place now." He mocked the charred figure with a smug smile. Slumping down, he took deep, heavy breaths, hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. Along with the air, he was heaving in the reek of burning flesh and metal.

"Heh." He wiped the sweat off his forehead as he continued to catch his breath. Suddenly, a massive burst of aura surged in front of him. With Energy and stamina completely exhausted, the sheer power of the aura was overwhelming, causing him to stumble back and fall. The cinders seared lightly into his clothes. His eyes widened, unable to believe the anomaly before him.

Before him wasn't charred skin, not the fused metal and skin which had been there previously, instead it was a grinning, naked man with raw, pink skin with a sword already mid arc. Before the shock left his eyes, the world began spinning. He'd never get the opportunity to figure out why. The head hit the ground with a dull thud, tumoring across the burnt field before coming to a rest, leaving the gaping face facing the sky.

"Fuck! I gave him an easy end!" Brenton stood straight, with no signs of any of the torture he had just endured. Only able to use his ability once, pulling the trigger was always a risk. I've never pushed my ability this far, though. Brenton knew he was outclassed from the first few exchanges. While his opponent had been cautiously trading blows with him, cautious of Brenton's unknown ability, Brenton went all out from the start.

And even then, they were equally matched, not to mention Brenton didn't have an offensive ability. The only time he had ever beaten Elena in a duel was when he pulled a cheap trick on her, catching her off guard by mentioning her family, so he figured the only way to beat this superior opponent was to let them exhaust their Energy and catch them by surprise. With Brenton's body now fully recovered, the immense pain he had grit through was now a memory, but the psychological phantom of the fire remained.

He brushed his hands through his hair and rubbed his own skin, taking a deep breath of the air he could now breathe. He looked down at his stark naked body. His buckler had burned to a crisp, and his sword's handle was now difficult to grasp. Even his compasses weren't spared.

"Hmmm." He looked at the headless body lying amid the scorched thatch. Between the expensive, high-collared tunic, now ruined by a spray of gore, and the glint of the shiny longsword nearby, an idea began to take root.