Chapter 117: Final [3]
The tension between us snapped like a drawn wire.
Her eyes narrowed—just slightly—but it was enough. That flicker of curiosity. Of calculation.
She knew.
She felt it too.
I stepped back slowly, letting my breathing settle despite the fire raging in my lungs. My arms trembled from the weight of my weapons, and sweat mixed with the blood running down my cheek.
But I smiled.
"You’re not the only one who prepared."
She didn’t reply, but her blade rose again—ready, cautious now. Not because she was scared. Because she was respectful.
She knew I wasn’t bluffing.
I lowered my stance, sliding my dagger into its sheath. With one hand, I gripped the hilt of my short sword.
As soon as I was about to put my second hand in my pocket, She dashed towards me in instant and swing her sword.
Clang!
...But I managed to blocked her attacked.
"I don’t know how but somehow you managed break the armour of your opponents with some kind of relic. Do you think I would let you use that on me?"
Ahh...I see.
That’s why she had been launching relentless attacks without letting me get close enough to touch her armor.
But Alice you are wrong this time.
I wasn’t going to use [Echo Rod] on you...At least not yet.
...And it wasn’t my hidden ace from the beginning.
The clash of our blades echoed like a thunderclap across the empty courtyard. Sparks flew, steel bit against steel—and for a heartbeat, everything froze.
Then, with a grunt, I twisted my wrist, redirecting her blade just enough to create space between us.
She clicked her tongue and leapt back with uncanny grace, putting five paces between us in the blink of an eye.
Good. She was starting to take me seriously.
"You’re stalling," Alice said flatly, her voice calm but laced with suspicion.
"And you’re scared," I shot back, steadying my breath. My grip tightened around the hilt of my short sword. "Scared I might have something else up my sleeve."
That earned me a faint smirk.
She wasn’t denying it.
The truth was—yes, the [Echo Rod] was a relic capable of bypassing magical defenses and shattering enchanted armor. I’d used it before, against my privious matches, which is why she had been careful to never let me within arm’s reach. Her relentless attacks weren’t just an offensive strategy—they were a shield. A preemptive counter.
But she’d made a crucial miscalculation.
She thought the rod was the only trick I had.
She didn’t know about this.
I muttered under my breath, "Shadow Pin!’’
Immediately a system window open.
---
[Skill: Shadow Pin]
Rank: A rank (Stealth-type)
Description:
A targeted strike aimed at key nerve clusters or tendons. Upon successful impact, the enemy is partially immobilized for 4 seconds. Vital movement is restricted—perfect for ambush or disengage scenarios.
— Can be used mid-air.
— Cripples target if used from stealth (reduced speed by 40% for 5 seconds).
Cooldown: None
Mana Cost: minimal
---
I ignored it and focused on activating my skill.
Snap.
The shadow beneath my feet stretched unnaturally, peeling away from its natural shape. It slithered across the floor like a sentient liquid, jagged tendrils rising from it like spears of dark glass.
They froze mid-air—then struck.
Pin.
Dozens of needle-thin shadows shot outward, silent and swift.
Alice sensed it.
But she was a heartbeat too late.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
Three of the dark tendrils found their mark—one pierced just beneath her shoulder, another grazed the back of her thigh, and the last jabbed near her ankle. Not deep enough to wound—but precise enough to interrupt the flow of mana in her joints.
Her graceful footing faltered.
"—Tch!"
She staggered mid-step, her sword arm twitching as if it had gone momentarily numb. Her body responded half a beat too slow, and in a duel like this, half a beat was the difference between dominance and defeat.
I didn’t waste the opening.
In a flash, I surged forward, kicking off the cobblestone with every ounce of force my legs could muster. My short sword gleamed under the moonlight—low and angled, aimed not at her chest, but her hip. A strike meant not to kill, but to destabilize further.
Clang!
She barely deflected it, the blade sliding off her pauldron. Her fingers tightened around the hilt, but her stance was uneven. She was strong—absurdly so—but even the strongest falter when their body refuses to listen.
"You’re fast..." she muttered, breath short.
"And you’re predictable."
Another swing—this time upward, a feint. She raised her sword instinctively to block—
But I vanished low, spun around, and drove the pommel of my sword into the back of her knee.
Thunk!
"Gah—!"
She buckled, one knee hitting the ground, blade dragging beside her.
I jumped back immediately—no overextension. No greed.
This wasn’t a match I could win by brute force. She was still stronger. Still sharper.
But I didn’t need to overpower her.
I just had to make her feel overpowered.
"You’ve been swinging that sword like it’s the only language you speak," I said, circling her like a wolf. "But what happens when your body doesn’t follow orders, My Lady?"
Her glare could’ve cut through steel, but she didn’t rise immediately.
For the first time, she hesitated.
"What was that? Was it magic?..." she said slowly, trying to push herself back up, "...where did you learn that?"
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t need to.
My silence was the answer.
Alice gritted her teeth and stood, albeit slower than before. Her movements were no longer fluid—each one laced with effort. Her expression turned grim.
"You really were hiding something..."
I nodded once.
Then pointed my blade at her chest.
"And now, My Lady..."
I stepped forward, just a little.
"...let’s see if you’re still underestimating me."
She raised her sword, both hands now gripping it properly. A soft laugh escaped her lips—half frustration, half admiration.
"You’re annoying," she muttered.
I grinned.
"That’s a yes, then."
And with that—
She lunged.
And the next round of exchange began.