Darling of Fate: A LitRPG Apocalypse Adventure, page 11
I suppressed a snort. Totally fucking overpowered!
My mind was reliving those previous fights, my new Intelligence allowing me to have a much clearer picture than without—when Kneer launched his first attack. Thankfully, some unconscious part of me registered the signs—when he tenses this way and steps that way, he’s about to lunge. My thoughts snapped back to the present, my main hand deflecting his attack as my offhand flicked out to counter.
But he was out of range well before my counter could connect. A flicker of surprise registered in his eyes—a look I wouldn’t have noticed before—and then he was back in range, a rapid barrage slashing from every angle.
I held my own for the most part. A couple of slashes penetrated my defenses, but they were superficial. And my Intelligence was cataloging every move, my Perception picking up on subtle body language that I’d never imagined existed, and my Mastery forming it all into a pattern that I could exploit. All the while, my skill with the two blades was improving. Within moments, the weapon Skill hit level 3, then level 4. As he launched another salvo, my blades worked together, weaving a nearly impenetrable shell that caused Kneer to growl in anger.
Level 5!
Despite all that, it was me taking the hits and not him.
My only hope was timing an attack, and I could feel that it was approaching. It was a nebulous feeling, not as concrete as the other patterns I was noticing. But that made sense—I had only seen him do it a few times. But I sensed it was close, so I watched his eyes, waiting for his tell.
He rushed in once more, this time scoring no hits as my own counter nearly cut across his face. Instead of retreating, he feinted once, twice, then—
There!
As his body vanished, I threw myself to my knees. The wind of his blade passed over me, his knuckles inadvertently punching into the top of my head with savage force. I ignored the pain, slashing my own blades across both of his thighs.
Or, at least, that’s what I had attempted to do. Somehow, he managed to retract one of his legs, clearing my blade by less than an inch while pushing forward with his other leg, slightly deflecting my second blade as his knee cracked into my chest. It was a weak blow, thrown while off balance and out of position. But it knocked me to my back, even as Kneer jumped out of range.
I took my time getting to my feet, noticing the look of shock on his face just as he noticed the slight trickle of blood dripping down his thigh.
Your skill with [Dual-Wielded Short Blades] has reached level 6
“Point… for… me,” I said through ragged breaths, the knee to my solar plexus knocking the wind out of me.
He said nothing, his eyes full of fire. Another attack came in, fast, wild, and straining the limits of my strength. I managed to deflect the barrage, but just as he jumped back out of range like he had a dozen times before, something appeared in his offhand, flashing toward me in a blink. Before I could register the new weapon and raise my own blade in defense, Hundirop’s bladed whip slashed across my neck.
Well, that was a surprise.
Futilely, I tried to staunch the arterial spray splashing across the sand. But within moments, my knees gave out, and my hand fell away of its own accord.
Through a gurgling throat, I tried to say, “Point for you.” But it was unintelligible, even to my ears.
As I collapsed to the sand, Kneer approached warily, giving respect even as I bled out. Just before darkness claimed me, I noticed him cross his arms above me and bow.
“You were a worthy opponent…”
Then the blue box of Fate filled my vision.
Chapter 15
A Blue Balling Blue Box
Okay, so the third time was obviously not a charm.
It pretty much went the same as the second redo. Instead of going back to my room to confer with Lex, I waited for the gang to congregate in the hallway before leading everyone into the Hall of Heroes. With me in the lead instead of Byron, no one shit their pants quite as much.
I let Kneer have his victory lap, waited for him to come over to sneer at us lowly humans, then challenged him to a friendly duel.
Once we were in the sand, I allocated the ideal ratio of Intelligence, Mastery, and Perception, and the two of us got to work.
The duel progressed identically to the last fight—eerily so. It was almost like my Mastery pushed me back into a familiar, winning pattern. I took a step that I knew I had taken the exact same way before, and Kneer responded inch-for-inch, the same as last time. It was almost like I could take my hands off the wheel until that unknown moment arrived.
When it did, I managed to dodge the bladed whip, leaning back, nearly to the ground. Almost instantly, I felt the patterns begin to coalesce, feeding into the preexisting patterns I had already built around Kneer’s fighting style. But he wasn’t fighting the same now that I had beaten his trump card. He maintained his distance, flicking the whip to keep me back, attacking aggressively whenever I tried to close the distance. It was only ten minutes into the fight when I realized I was going to lose. My limbs were shaking from exertion, my hands spasming around Jerome’s shanks, the sweat dripping into my eyes, blinding me.
But once I acknowledged that fact, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I could just use this time to learn, map his patterns, and get better at dealing with a ranged weapon. The fight ended only a few minutes later. My guard was exposed as I went to deflect a strike from the whip, Kneer’s blade tearing through my gut. Blood exploded from my mouth and into Kneer’s face. He didn’t even flinch as he retracted the blade and slashed it across my throat.
Well, that was annoying!
When that blue box appeared in my vision once more, I quickly picked the same checkpoint, my blood burning.
“Why won’t this fucker just die?”
“Huh?”
I came to, realizing I was in the Personal Space hallway, Byron and Jerome looking at me with concern.
Without saying a word, I shook my head, pushing past Byron to get at Kneer. I was chomping at the bit!
Only three more tries if I factored in one redo in reserve, just in case. Distantly, I felt Lex just coming to in the back of my mind, but I ignored his confusion and pain, pushing through the door and into the Hall of Heroes.
Once I saw Kneer fighting Hundirop below, my mind went blank, letting the earlier patterns run through until it needed me to take over. When my thoughts resurfaced, I found myself facing off against Kneer, the duel timer ticking.
I said nothing this time—no quippy remarks, no digs about his breath… nothing. Pure focus, my competitive side taking full control. Changing things up a bit, I changed the ratio of my Mind stats, pushing it all into Mastery to maximize that 50% boost. If this didn’t work, I’d confer with Lex before trying again…
Long story short… it didn’t work. It wasn’t that my learning had stagnated—I was still adding tricks and insights into my mental model of Kneer, his weapons, and my own. I had even gained another level in [Dual-Wielded Short Blades], pushing it to seven. It was more that my physical capabilities just weren’t up to snuff to capitalize on those insights. When Kneer finished me off, I barely even registered it. I simply clicked through Fate’s blue box, my awareness jumping into that version of me standing in the hallway. Byron and Jerome were talking to me as I materialized, but I ignored them, picking Lex up from his prone position on the floor and heading back into my Personal Space.
When the door was shut behind me, I plopped him down on the bed, sitting next to him.
“Dirk…? Oh, Heavens, I really don’t like this feeling.”
“Time to man up, Lex. I need your advice.”
“Oh.” He perked up a bit at that. “How has Jirijil’s ratio been working? You didn’t check back in with me after the last few redos…”
I shook my head with annoyance. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m better than him, for sure. I’m just… outmatched physically. I’m going to go all Body stats this time, but I wanted to see if there was a Jeri-ratio or whatever for Body stats before I go back out there.”
“Why, of course!” I felt his amusement through the bond, but I was in no mood.
“Spit it out, Lex. I’m just as hungover as you, and this fucker has beaten me 5 times… And I hate losing.”
He flinched back, feeling my fire through our bond. “Ahem, Mirian’s Golden Ratio suggests two optimal ratios—depending on whether one seeks to bias towards Strength or Agility. An Agility-based build would follow a 1.653:1.227:1 ratio for Agility, Strength, and Endurance, respectively. Interestingly enough, the Strength-based ratios are different. No one can explain—”
“Good enough,” I said, jumping to my feet. “Give me the totals so I can go end this fucker.”
“Ah… right. Again, we have to round up. So that’ll be an additional 16 Agility, 11 Strength, and 2 Endurance, putting you at 39, 28, and 23 for your totals. You’ve probably noticed that leaves one point—Oh, okay, uh… good luck.”
I was out the door, my mind laser focused. I’d round up my Agility to 40 with that spare point, bringing me within striking distance of Kneer’s 47 Agility. I recalled that his Strength was 29, putting me only one point behind, which was great news. His Endurance was 28, so my new Endurance of 23 wasn’t too bad. He was 6 levels higher than me, which meant that he would have 24 additional stat points—wait, I received an extra stat point every level… God, I hated math. 24 minus my level… so, 17 additional stat points, right? There were some stat points unaccounted for, but I imagined he must have put some into his Mind stats.
All in all, this definitely brought us to an even playing field.
Without realizing it, I found myself standing at the lip of the arena, looking down as Kneer and Hundirop fought. A smile spread across my face as I imagined his little panther groupies roaring in despair as I turned his fur into a pelt.
Okay, that was a little dark, even for me… But I was definitely going to enjoy this.
Movement on either side of me drew my eye. I turned to see that my party had joined me, their eyes wide as they took in the aliens across from us and the fierce fighting below.
Without looking at them, I said, “Jerome. I’m gonna need to borrow your blades… both of them.”
I held out my hand, my eyes glued to the battle below. I felt Jerome’s hesitation, but something in my tone let him know that I wasn’t fucking around. The weight of his two shanks plopped into my outstretched hand with a clink, and I immediately deposited them into my Inventory.
“What you about, white boy?” he asked.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Dirk,” Byron added.
Turning away, I ignored them, maintaining that state of mind I always slipped into when I was dead-set on winning something. My mind slowly emptied—not blank, but never letting a single thought dominate. An observation might slip in, be noticed, then slip out—like a dutiful concert pianist’s assistant turning the sheet music, then backing out of sight.
When Kneer landed the killing blow, and the cacophony of roars and hisses filled the Hall, I barely noticed.
This was the one… I could feel it in my soul.
Screw the stat-less run, I was ready to jump headlong into this Apocalypse and put the aliens on notice. They looked down on us, casting us hungry looks as my party trembled at my side.
Fuck that. Humans were going to be running this show.
When Kneer approached, my party retreated a few steps as if afraid he would lash out, despite the System prompt warning everyone that there was no violence allowed except within a duel.
I guess I should cut them some slack—it’s not like this was their sixth time facing off against the Jree Prime. And I couldn’t forget, I had my Mantle’s terror resistance inoculating me against his [Emperor’s Mantle].
“We wondered if any of your—”
He cut off as I willed the System to challenge him to a duel.
“No talking,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
His short snout twitched in surprise, then his head tilted quizzically in a very human gesture. “As you wish.”
We faced off inside the arena, the countdown timer looming in my eyes. I waited to allocate my stats until I felt that telltale probing effect of the [Analysis] ability. Once it passed—with only two seconds left on the duel timer—I assigned and confirmed the stat distribution just as Lex had discussed.
Distantly, I heard my party muttering under their breaths. Even the Jree appeared shocked at my audacity. I tuned them all out, my eyes never leaving Kneer’s.
When things kicked off, I didn’t play the same game as before. Instead of hanging back, I charged the Jree Prime, closing the distance in a blink. To Kneer’s credit, he didn’t let any surprise register on his face, though my speed must have thrown him off, given the low Agility he thought I possessed.
Our blades crossed, my feint-within-a-feint not fooling Kneer as my offhand came in high, then low, then high. My main hand occupied his single blade, but he proved quite adept at blocking and parrying with his free hand. We continued our melee in close, our faces nearly touching, when I made the second move of the fight. Rearing back my head, I slammed it into his snout.
To his credit, he managed to pull back at the last moment, dissipating most of the force. Pushing away from me, his feet hit the arena wall, and he jumped away, clear to the other side of the sand pit.
First blood to me.
It had only been two seconds into the duel, and I already had the upper hand. Ruthlessly, I shoved that pride deep down.
It’s not over till it’s over.
Racing after him, I was on him in moments, my blades weaving through the air so fast that I doubted anyone above could follow them. Kneer found himself on the back foot, once again, and was forced to separate in order to reset. And I could tell my strategy was working.
I had figured out his trump card—that teleport move he had used to kill Hundirop six times now and me twice. It was very similar to my own Darling of Fate ability, but it only affected him, and instead of being able to revert a whole day, he could reposition to where he was exactly 60 seconds in the past. My boosted Intelligence had calculated the timing in the back of my mind, and I could only marvel at how useful these Mind stats were. So now I knew exactly what he had been doing in all of our fights: corralling me into the spot he had been just a minute earlier—ideally with my back turned to where he would appear. When he activated his ability, he knew exactly where to strike, while his opponents didn’t expect a thing.
Only, I wasn’t letting him set up his positioning the way he wanted. I was on him like a Goddamn honey badger, my arms a blur, always pushing him away from where he wanted to be. And I could see it in his eyes, too. He was starting to get nervous.
Which meant…
There!
He jumped across the arena again, his offhand flicking out suspiciously. But I was more than ready. When Hundirop’s bladed-whip flashed across the space between us, I intercepted the chain portion just below the blade. It wrapped around Jerome’s shank, and I yanked with all my newfound strength, ripping it out of Kneer’s hands.
As I drew the whip in like a fishing reel, Kneer’s eyes stared back at me, wide—and for the first time, full of fear. A child’s grin filled my face.
“In my world,” I said as I pulled the whip into my Inventory. “There’s a special place in hell for people that torture cats…” I started towards the Jree Prime, taking perverse pleasure in his shocked expression. “But in this case, I think I deserve a pass.”
I finally let my steel trap focus wane—just an inch. Kneer was done; I already knew. He had no more trump cards, just a single blade in his hand and Hundirop’s buckler in his Inventory. And I had momentum on my side.
So it was with some shock that I finally noticed the cheers coming from above. It was my party, roaring and clapping and mocking the Jree from across the arena. Well, it was mostly Byron and Lacy, with Amos flashing a patented wanker pantomime as the Jree looked on in horror. They growled and roared back occasionally, but their hearts weren’t in it—they could see that their Prime was about to die. I could only shake my head at my party’s newfound courage, a rueful smile on my face.
Kneer’s eyes flashed and I braced for his teleport ability. But I knew he hadn’t timed it right and he appeared a dozen feet away, nowhere close to being in position to strike. I swapped my offhand blade with Hundirop’s whip—much as Kneer had himself—and found that it was extremely effective. The bladed-whip slashed out with thunderous cracks, and I scored a dozen cuts on Kneer’s arms and legs over as many attempts. But without my boosted Mastery, I didn’t gain even a single point in the [Whip] Skill.
It was for that reason that I decided to press my advantage. If I wasn’t gaining any more Skill levels with my current stat allocation, then I was just prolonging the fight out of spite. I wasn’t a sadist, and I had to admit, Kneer had never played with me. It was past time to end this.
He was limping now, blood dripping into his eyes from a gash in his skull. Putting away the whip, I brought Jerome’s other blade out and closed the distance. He tried to leap away, but I intercepted him, throwing him back down to the sand. He struggled to his hands and knees, his spirit broken.
But as I went to deliver the coup de grace, he spoke.
“Spare me,” he pleaded. “I will relinquish my Mantle.”
I reeled back in shock. He was… surrendering?
Kneer Ungr, Prime of the Jree, has offered to relinquish his [Mantle] in surrender. Do you accept?
Y/N
Immediately, angry hisses rose from the Jree above, and as one, they turned their back on the arena. Kneer ignored them, his head bowed and his blade held out in a reversed grip.
Glancing up at my own people, I saw shock writ across their faces. But it was Jerome who spoke first.
“End him. Always be lookin’ over our shoulder, otherwise.”
I nodded, giving Kneer a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, bud. Can’t do it. Plus, I owe you like… six of these.”
