Chapter 241

To Overcome (I)

Senna returned to the Palace’s compound swiftly and without looking back, largely from fear of turning around and bolting back to Cain. She immediately spotted others still sitting around the same rock, eating from the looks of it, and vaulted over the wall by flying on a sword, joining them. They took account of her and greeted as she sat down, quickly chowing down on the chicken as she was quite hungry herself.

“Where’s Sera?” Izirdul asked.

“Stayed back,” Senna replied. “Dad went and done ‘full-on-Cain’ so I left her with him to keep him company.”

“Full-on-Cain?” Anna quizzed, tilting her head.

“She means he used up all his Mana in the over-the-top skill to make it look cool and then completely bottomed out afterward, unable to move.” Daniel elaborated.

“Yup,” Senna nodded. “We found him chugging beers next to some corpse. Can you guess the first words that came out of his mouth?”

“... you should see the other guy?” Kramer mumbled while everyone else sighed.

“And he literally pointed at him,” Senna said. “Sometimes... I wonder what his brain is made of. What’s the status here?”

“Nothing new,” Jamal said. “There were a few groups that tried to get inside, but Daniel boy struck the fear of God in everyone. Honestly, when we’re out, we ain’t sleeping in the same building mate.”

“You think that’s somehow gonna make you safer?”

“We should lock him up in a cage or something. He’s dangerous.”

“Alright, pipe down,” Emma spoke out at last. “Now that Senna’s back, we should regather and push onward. With the way we are, Cain’s gonna come back and just ruin our fun.”

“That’s true.”

“Yup, need to beat this shit before he recovers.”

“A’right, let’s plow some cocks.”

“... was that you coming out?”

“What? No! It’s just a sayin’.”

“Of gay people coming out?”

“No! Of badasses ready to kill some fools!”

“Whatever you say, mate...”

“Oh, suck it--ah, I heard it. Shut up. Let’s go.”

The group moved out and found their way beyond the courtyard and through an arched stretch of corridors that led out to the massive gate leading directly into the Palace. In front of him, a Knight garbed in jet-black armor stood, his cape flapping in the scorching winds, while the gray flames burned solitary around him in a ring-like fashion.

As soon as the group stepped forward, the Knight’s eyes opened beneath the visor, a flare of red bursting out as the pair of ruby eyes stared at them. The atmosphere chilled and sunk, the winds curling the only sound they could hear -- at least for a moment, before their sights were covered in a notification window.

//Ar the Undone is awaiting a Challenger!

Context: Ar the Undone is an honorable, gilded Knight of the Kingdom. As such, he only fights in duels-- whoever is to fight him needs to step forward and officially challenge the Knight. Attempting to attack Ar with more than one person will result in berserk empowerment, increasing Ar’s stats by 6000% for 30s and granting him ‘Reaper’ buff, empowering each one of his strikes to be deadly.

Note: Only the person who defeats him will be rewarded, and the rewards cannot be traded. It is recommended that a duelist fights him. //

Emma sighed at the sight of it, but before she even had a chance to say anything, Sigmund stepped out, startling everyone.

“What are you doing?” Kramer asked, frowning.

“Goin’ to kick some ass,” Sigmund replied. “I’m sure you can see it, K’,” Sigmund added, smiling bitterly. “I’m falling behind.”

“...”

“I don’t mind bein’ the weakest, but... at some point, I’ll just slow everyone else down. I don’t want that.”

“You can always retire with some cute girl in the countryside,” Kramer joked. “Wasn’t that your dream?”

“... I’ll whoop his ass.”

“Be careful. For a change, you can even think a bit before attacking.”

“Na’,” Sigmund chuckled, taking another step forward. “My brain’s too fried for that. Listen up, you ugly chunk of armored crap! I’ll quickly knead you up into a ball so we can move on, so don’t resist and just welcome your fate, a’right? Cool. Let’s do this shit!”

Without pausing, Sigmund’s feet glistened in milky-white, starlight surging through his entire body as he bolted forward. He ignored the countless notifications that popped around, focusing entirely on the armored knight that, similarly, bolted forward, coated in fumes of black. The latter heaved his greatsword and struck downward, with Sigmund spinning as to garner momentum, striking upward at a curve.

The two blades clashed, resulting in a loud explosion that uprooted the bricked path beneath and blew the perched walls framing it outwardly. The desaturated colors of black and white dominated the lush gardens, sporadically combusting into the rush of dyed energy that flew over their frames as their clash became the battle of attrition.

It lasted for but a few seconds before both were propelled backward, but similarly used their weapons to halt their momentum before springing back forward. Their blades whizzed through the air, cutting it clean, each clash shaking the world around them and blowing out torching white and black.

Losing his footing, Sigmund slipped slightly as his defense cracked, his blade sliding off; the Knight didn’t waste the opportunity, kicking out and squarely hitting Sigmund’s jaw, nearly snapping it. The pain blurred his mind for a moment as he found himself aflight, rolling midair. His gaze caught the worried expressions and gaped lips of everyone beyond the barrier; they were likely shouting, but he couldn’t hear them. He could only hear the buzzing in his brain, the incessant white noise that hurt nearly as much as the kick itself.

Unable to recover in time, he got hurled directly into the barrier, a few of his ribs cracking due to the impact as he hurled a mouthful of blood directly. Knowing there was no time to tame his wounds, he rolled sideways and avoided a clean strike of a jet-black blade that usurped the bricked pavement. Though still feeling slightly disoriented, Sigmund heaved by slapping his palm against the ground, spitting out a good chunk of raw Mana to propel him up, almost like the wind.

He immediately swung the blade to the side, deflecting yet another one of the Knight’s strikes and dislodging the latter from the perfect footing. Using the opportunity, he gritted his teeth and ignored the pain, kicking forward as he charged his foot with starlight and landing a strike on the Knight’s torso. Though unable to crack through the armor, Sigmund managed to push him back.

The Knight’s two feet dug out a trail in their wake, with him only stopping some thirty feet after. He quickly sprinted forward, however, meeting Sigmund halfway there as the two began to swing their blades at each other at increasingly insane speeds, leaving afterimages behind with each strike.

The sounds of shockwaves kept booming out, the winds stirring the dust and dirt around them and uprooting whatever few bricks remained, digging out a set of holes in front of the arched entrance-- which, surprisingly, remained entirely intact despite all the fighting.

Everyone keenly observed the battle, especially Kramer. He’d know Sigmund for nearly fifteen years now, and had seen the man grow up from a young, inexperienced pup into an elite soldier. He also understood why he stepped out-- it was the same during the first year of the military training. He’d joined in as a latecomer to a group Kramer was polishing, and was lagging behind considerably in both mentality and physique. However, rather than quitting, he persisted; he worked till his limbs literally gave out, and practiced until he passed out.

In the end, it did a number on his body, so much so that he had to have three surgeries to somewhat fix him. He never quite reached the peak physique, and despite his robust and straightforward personality, he was forced to be a strange combination of a recon group and a sniper. When it became clear what ‘Classification’ meant and especially the appearance of healing classes, Kramer knew from the get-go what Sigmund would choose-- whichever class was the loudest, the most bombastic, and the most straightforward one-- Berserker.

Watching him go all-out, even at the expense of his own body that was being gashed and maimed and scarred, Kramer, however strange and eerie it may seem to others, couldn’t help but smile. There was something ethereally freeing about Sigmund at that moment; he seemed entirely unfazed by the reality of things, by the fact that he was fighting a boss all on his own. He didn’t look like he was thinking much, but merely enjoying it all-- enjoying the fact that he could move freely, and do all the things he always wanted to do... and more.