Chương 54: Don't Lose Too Quickly

The bell chimed. Rielle finished her grandstanding and turned to face him. She rolled her shoulders, her silver engraved spear catching the sunlight. A cold smile curved her lips.

"Don't lose too quickly, kitchen boy." She projected her voice across the platform, pitched for the crowd.

"I want to enjoy this." Laughter murmured through the Illuminet section. Caleb flared his [Spiritual Perception], and what he felt was an unwelcome shock. In Narbok, the spiritual signature had been a messy bonfire of aggression: a gritty, wavering red that tasted of rusty vapor. Rielle's was a flawless, polished gem. The felt color was a deep purple that seemed to absorb all light, while the resonance rang in a tone so clean it made his ears ring. He marveled at the texture.

Most every other aura of the cohort he'd touched had felt coarse, like rough-spun wool or grainy stone. Hers was impossibly smooth; a seamless, unblemished surface. The sheer perfection of it was overwhelming. He searched for a flaw or an edge, something to analyze; he found only a blinding signal of undiluted power. Peak Harmonic Path. She attacked. The blur of motion came faster than his eyes could track.

One moment she stood fifteen feet away, the next her spear was already driving toward his ribs as she used a movement Ability to close the gap. Caleb reacted on instinct, his spear sweeping up in a desperate [Phalanx Guard]. The impact rattled through his arms, shoving him back two steps. She didn't press. She simply withdrew, reset her stance, and attacked again. The second thrust came low, aimed at his thigh. He twisted, using [Dodge] to slide away from the point. The tip still grazed his armor.

The third strike chased the second, a horizontal slash targeting his ribs on the backswing. His spear came up. Wood cracked against wood, the shock reverberating through his palms. Crumb, she's too fast! Too strong, too! [Combat Analysis] was already running, cataloging her movements, her timing, and the microsecond tells in her posture that preceded each attack. Data streamed through his consciousness in a clinical rush, building a tactical picture even as his body failed to keep pace.

Rielle's next attack came from a different angle: an overhead strike that forced him to raise his spear high to deflect it. The moment his guard lifted, she pivoted and drove a kick into his thigh. Pain exploded through his leg. He staggered, his stance breaking. She capitalized instantly, the butt of her spear slamming into his shoulder and driving him further off-balance. Before he could recover, the silver tip sliced across his bicep. The cut was shallow, barely penetrating the leather of his armor.

But he knew it was because she intentionally held back to deliver a message. A message delivered in blood and pain.

"You can't stop me. I can hit you whenever I want." Caleb gritted his teeth and hauled himself back into readiness. [Iron Root Stance] anchored him, providing the core balance his body desperately needed. She came again. A flurry of strikes, each one faster than the last: high, low, left, right. Her spear became a silver streak, testing his defenses from every conceivable angle. He blocked when he could, dodged when he couldn't, and felt his stamina draining with each harried reaction.

A thrust slipped past his guard and scored a line across his ribs. Another caught his forearm. A third opened a narrow cut along his thigh. The wounds were all superficial. She was playing with him, drawing out the inevitable, each strike another careful cut toward a finish she had planned. The crowd's noise shifted. The Illuminet and Gilded sections roared their approval, delighted by the display, while the Duskborn section had gone silent as their earlier hope was crushed under the power of Rielle's dominance.

Caleb channeled Stamina into his legs and used [Flicker Step], creating distance between them. Rielle mirrored the technique completely. She appeared beside him before he'd even completed the hop, her spear in motion. The tip grazed his cheek, a thin line that sent blood trickling down his jaw.

"Did you think you were the only one who could use Stamina Abilities? How quaint." She attacked again, this time combining [Flicker Step] with a vicious sweep that forced him to jump or lose his footing entirely. He leapt, twisting in midair to avoid the follow-up thrust aimed at his exposed torso. He landed hard, his injured leg protesting. His breath came in ragged gasps. The tactical picture was devastatingly obvious. She outmatched him in speed, strength, and technique.

She held every advantage, and she knew it. His only weapon was his mind. Rielle disengaged, stepping back several paces. The smile on her face widened as she turned slightly, addressing both the crowd and him.

"Let's make sure we give the people what they want, shall we?" Her aura blazed, and the platform filled with copies of her. Five identical Rielles materialized around him, each one indistinguishable down to the smallest detail he could discern. They had the same posture and mocking smile. Carried the same silver-adorned spear. They moved in full synchronization, tightening their circle around him and cutting off every angle of retreat.

Cheers and gasps of wonder filled the stands as the arena's energy spiked with the spectacle. [Combat Analysis] sent off warning bells, knowing that his chances had just dropped significantly. But his conscious mind… his conscious mind only felt one thing. Relief. It surged through him. He'd staked everything on her arrogance, and it'd paid out. Her ego had done all the work. Heck, he doubted he could have baited or tricked her if he'd tried.

He'd simply speculated on her vanity, on her need to perform and turn violence into tortuous art. And she'd done exactly what he'd hoped. The illusions attacked. Five spears thrust toward him from five different angles. He reacted on pure instinct, his spear moving in a frantic arc to block the one aimed at his chest. Wood met air. The illusion vanished like smoke. Pain licked across his back as the real blade raked between his shoulders. He spun, raising his guard.

Three more thrusts came simultaneously: one high, one low, and one at his center. He tried to block the middle strike and felt his spear connect with solid wood. Fire still lanced through his hip; his strength had not been enough to overcome her attack. The pattern repeated: attack, block, miss, pain. She was using the illusions to create openings, forcing him to guess which strike was real. Each failed block left him exposed, and she exploited every gap.

The cuts multiplied as shallow slices appeared across his arms, legs, and ribs. She was working through his armor, targeting the same spots again and again, wearing through the leather in layers until she found flesh underneath. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Blood seeped from a dozen wounds, his armor starting to look like Swiss cheese. Concentrate Foster! He leaned on [Ignore Pain], pushing the agony into a distant corner of his mind.

His [Pain Tolerance] helped too. He was adapting to the steady accumulation of damage, but the cuts just kept coming. She was enjoying this. Savoring it. Making it last and completely confident. Good. Caleb closed his eyes. The crowd's roar faded to a buzz. The pain became muted. His world narrowed to the sensation of Mana flowing through his channels, responding to his will. He shaped it. Focused it.

Compressed the diffuse, omnidirectional awareness of his [Spiritual Perception] into a narrow spatial beam, just as he'd done in the goblin cave. Caleb swept the beam across the illusions on the platform. Five Rielles moved through his perception. Four were hollow, ghostly projections painted with her aura. The spatial feedback from those was thin and formless. The fifth, though. The fifth was solid. There you are. Satisfaction flooded him, driving through the pain and exhaustion. The theory had worked.

His gamble had paid off. Now he just needed to land a blow. Two more cuts opened across his body, on his left shoulder and his abdomen. He clenched his jaw and waited. The real Rielle circled behind him, hidden among her phantoms. His beam tracked her movement, maintaining the lock even as his eyes remained useless. She was preparing another strike, her body language showing the telltale compression that preceded a thrust. Now!

Caleb pivoted hard, forcing Stamina into his legs for a [Flicker Step] while simultaneously pouring more into his arms and torso for a [Sundering Strike]. The combination was crude and inefficient, as the two techniques fought each other for dominance inside his body. He didn't care. He charged forward, body and spear driving toward the point where his perception showed her center mass. Rielle's illusions' eyes all went wide. She twisted her body, reacting with inhuman speed.

The thrust barely missed her midsection, and the iron tip passed through empty air where her ribs had been a fraction of a second earlier. Caleb's heart hammered in his chest. Crumb! Does she know? His mind raced. That strike might seem too accurate to be a coincidence. Too close to landing. If she realized he could see through her illusions, she'd drop them and finish him with her superior attributes before he could get another chance. He had to sell it. Had to make her believe it was luck.

Caleb immediately spun and attacked the nearest illusion, his spear thrusting wildly at the projection. He let frustration color his movements, making the strikes sloppy and panicked, pulling on every ounce of [Deception] available. He attacked another illusion. Then a third. He screwed his face into an expression of clumsy confusion. Please work, please work, please work! Please! His beam pinned the real Rielle. She'd reset her stance, but her posture showed hesitation. Confusion.

She tilted her head slightly as she watched him flail at empty air. Then her smile returned to the copies. She attacked again, and the illusions resumed their coordinated assault. This time the pace was faster. More aggressive. She had been startled by the near-miss and was compensating with increased pressure. But she'd bought the ruse. Relief lasted exactly three seconds before a more pressing problem took its place. Now what? The failed strike had revealed the fundamental flaw in his plan.

His perception gave him information, but his body couldn't capitalize on it. She was simply too fast. He needed to be faster. More cuts striped him. His right arm. His left hip. A particularly vicious slash across his hamstring that nearly dropped him to one knee. His vision swam as blood loss began to affect him. Think, Foster! [Savant of the Mind] continued to churn, processing the data.

[Combat Analysis] fed it information on attack patterns and timing windows, while [Savant of the Body] helped cross-reference the data with the feeling of the failed attack. He analyzed the motions and what had happened inside him. The pieces assembled in his mind. [Sundering Strike] worked by overloading the arms, back, and torso with Stamina for devastating impact. [Flicker Step] worked by streaming power into the legs for explosive speed.

Using both at once meant dividing his focus, splitting his Stamina between competing techniques. He needed a technique that united the kinetic chain. A single, harmonious surge that flowed through his entire body, from legs to core to arms to weapon, in one concerted motion. A symphony of power, unified and complete. Another gash crossed his shoulder. Then his ribs. His endurance was flagging. The accumulation of shallow wounds was becoming a critical problem. There's no more time… it's now or never!

Caleb stopped trying to block the phantoms. He stood in the center of the platform with his spear held low and closed his eyes completely. The beam swept across the circling Rielles, tracking the real one. [Combat Analysis] monitored her pattern. She favored a clockwise rotation and preferred to strike from the left. Her attacks came in clusters of three, with a brief reset between each combo. She was approaching the end of a set now. Two strikes left, then the reset.

His Stamina was a steady energy suffused throughout his body, waiting to be commanded. His Intent shaped it. Directed it. Unified it. He drove the downward, pushing it deep in his legs until the muscles burned with contained might as an anchor point for the violence to come. The beam showed her exact position. He calculated her trajectory. She would step forward with her left foot, extend her arm, and drive the thrust toward his right kidney. He waited. One heartbeat. Two. There! Caleb snapped his eyes open.

He pivoted, his back foot digging into the platform as the charge in his legs detonated. The power swelled like a wave, building into a torrent that rushed up from his feet, through his hips, and ignited his core with rotational force. The twist of his torso acted as a conduit, funneling the current seamlessly into his shoulder and down his arm. As the crest rolled up his body, he released it from where it was no longer needed, preserving his muscle integrity. It was one unbroken flow.

The spear drove forward, the final expression of a seamless transfer of momentum that began in his heel and whipped through his frame. A lunge that rocketed him forward and moved into a thrust that was timed to fully unload where he knew she was going to be. The spear struck true. The iron tip hit Rielle's sternum with a sound like a hammer striking an anvil. Her [Life Shield] manifested in an instant, the silver barrier flashing between his weapon and her chest as she was knocked back ten yards to the ground.

The ward held for a few moments, then shattered. A chime and a translucent blue window coalesced into existence before him. [New Ability Gained: Lancing River (F) - Novice] [Your proficiency with Stamina Channeling (F) has increased to Adept] Rielle rushed to her feet, her hand flying to the point of impact. Her illusions wavered once and dissolved, the bloodline technique failing as her concentration broke. She stood alone on the platform, her eyes wide with pure, uncomprehending disbelief.

Her mouth opened and closed in rapid succession, but no words emerged. The moment stretched for one long, pregnant second. Then the Duskborn section erupted. The roar was primal. Deafening. Thousands of voices howling at the top of their lungs in triumph, the sound rolling through the arena and into his chest, vibrating up through the platform beneath his feet. The Illuminet section sat in stunned quiet. Rielle's face transformed.

Her disbelief twisted into something darker and her face contorted with rage, violet eyes alight with incandescent fury. The petulant anger of a child whose favorite toy had been stolen. She screamed, then. Incoherent and wordless. Her spear came up, the silver tip aimed directly at his heart. She lunged forward with murderous intent, her features a mask of hatred. A blur of motion crossed the platform. Captain Hatch appeared between them, his hand catching Rielle's spear shaft inches from Caleb's torso.

The weapon had stopped dead, arrested by the D-tier warrior's superior strength and speed.

"The match is over," Hatch growled. Rielle yanked her spear back, her chest heaving and face flushed. She glared at Caleb in a way that made his skin crawl.

"You—" Her voice cracked.

"You cheated! No commoner could—""The match. Is. Over. Leave the platform, Lady Draha. Now." For a moment, it seemed she might refuse. Might actually attack again despite the direct order from a Legion captain two tiers above her. Then she spun on her heel and stalked toward the tunnel, her spear gripped so tightly Caleb thought it might splinter. She didn't look back. Caleb stood with Hatch on the platform, his body trembling with exhaustion and the aftereffects of the massive Stamina expenditure.

Blood seeped from a multitude of cuts. But he was still standing. The Duskborn section continued to roar, their chant resolving into a single word repeated over and over.

"Thal! Thal! Thal!" Caleb turned away from the crowd as Specialist Spinova approached, her hands already glowing. A couple other notifications waited at the edge of his awareness. [Your proficiency with Phalanx Guard (F) has increased to Adept] [Your proficiency with Pain Tolerance (F) has increased to Expert] [Your proficiency with Iron Root Stance (F) has increased to Adept] He stood still while Spinova completed her work, each moment requiring conscious effort.

He was already past the victory though, past the triumph and focused on the only thing that mattered. The finals. Astrin Kaelix. Another Peak Harmonic with flawless technique and a bloodline legacy that could end fights in one strike. Except this one preferred to crush her opponents as quickly and decisively as she could. How do I beat that? The question followed him off the platform as the crowd's chanting continued.