Chapter 91: The Final Struggle [2]
"[Ghoststep]"
> [Skill Activated: Ghoststep (S-Rank)]
I activated Ghoststeps.
The moment Ghoststep activated, the world around me seemed to slow.
My heartbeat steadied, every motion sharpened—like slipping into a familiar second skin. The air grew cold, but I felt weightless. Silent.
Bjron blinked. "What the—?"
I was already gone.
SWIP—
My silhouette blurred, vanishing from in front of him. He stumbled forward, momentarily stunned.
CLACK!
My boots touched the ground behind him.
I slashed low.
SHHK—!
"AGGHH—!"
A clean slice across his hamstring. Blood spurted, muscles spasmed.
Bjron roared in pain, twisting around, cleaver flailing blindly—but I had already melted into the shadows again, weaving around him with fluid steps.
"Stay still, you rat bastard!" he bellowed.
He spun, wide-armed, trying to catch me with raw force. The cleaver past my ear as I ducked and pivoted, keeping to his blind spots.
THUK!
Another cut—this time across his side.
"AAARGH!!"
His body convulsed, lurching, but he still wouldn’t go down.
"You think this is over?!" he spat, his lips red with blood. "I’ll gut you like a pig!"
CLANG!—
He slammed the cleaver into the floor—barely missing my foot. The tiles cracked under the force, sending shards flying. I felt a cut open on my cheek—but I didn’t care.
SLIK!—
I slashed across his forearm again—the silver of my stiletto glinting as blood sprayed.
"You little SHIT!" he roared, grabbing for me with his massive hand.
I ducked under his grasp and drove my blade straight into his ribs.
SHHHK!
"GH-HK!"
That one hit something vital. He staggered, spit flying from his mouth, his pupils wide with sudden shock.
Bjron reeled, his massive form shaking with rage and pain, but he didn’t fall.
Instead, his stance widened.
His eyes, bloodshot and wild, began to sharpen.
"Tch..." I clicked my tongue. He was adapting—faster than expected.
I lunged again—fainting left, then pivoting to strike from the right.
But this time, he shifted.
CLANG!
Sparks flew as the flat of his cleaver met my blade mid-swing. The jarring impact sent a vibration up my arm. He hadn’t swung at me—just blocked.
A deliberate defense.
"Not so slippery now, are ya?" Bjron growled through gritted teeth, sweat and blood mixing on his face.
He wasn’t fast, but he was smart. Muscle memory adjusting. Reading my steps.
I backstepped, circling.
Bjron mirrored me.
His breathing slowed—not calm, but measured.
No more wild flailing.
He knew now that I wasn’t going to meet him strength-for-strength.
FWHIP—!
I dashed in again with Ghoststep, the world blurring once more.
My blade went for his shoulder.
CLANG!
He twisted his torso, the flat of his cleaver catching it just in time. A counter—sloppy, but deliberate.
"Tch."
I ducked under the swing that followed, but this time, his fist came chasing after.
THUMP!
It grazed my shoulder—a glancing hit—but heavy enough to throw me off balance. I rolled with it, landing in a crouch.
Close one.
"Getting tired yet?" Bjron spat, dragging his foot back to a grounded stance, his cleaver lowered and ready. "You’re fast... but that ain’t gonna matter much longer."
He wasn’t wrong.
Ghoststep burned mana and stamina like wildfire. My lungs were already aching. My body, slick with sweat, felt heavier.
Like duel against Alice—who was pretending to be Aleck My already small mana pool was running out.
...Not only that I was hurt.
But he was hurting too.
He was bleeding from at least four deep wounds. His foot dragged slightly. His grip on the cleaver was tight—but too tight. Fatigue creeping in.
I darted in again.
SHHFT!
Feint high. He raised the cleaver—
I dropped low, blade aiming for his thigh.
But he shifted his stance mid-beat and caught the strike on the side of his knee plate.
"Damn."
CLANG!
Another spark. He brought his elbow down toward my head. I barely slipped away in time, skidding across the floor.
He was adapting fast.
But he still wasn’t countering. His blows were reactive, not predictive.
I just had to keep pushing the tempo.
I took a deep breath.
No more dancing.
I charged.
TAPTAPTAP—
Footsteps rapid against the stone floor. My silhouette flickered again.
Bjron’s eyes followed me.
He anticipated the right—so I veered left.
CLINK—SHHK!
My stiletto grazed his flank again, cutting through already-damaged muscle.
He grunted but didn’t flinch.
THWUMP!
His backhand came like a wall. I ducked under it—
Too late.
THWACK!
His knuckles clipped my temple. Pain burst white in my vision.
I stumbled, boots sliding over cracked tile.
THUD!
I hit the floor hard, shoulder screaming.
Bjron loomed above me, breathing ragged, red streaks down his arm and side.
He raised the cleaver again—slower now.
I rolled.
CRACK!
The blade split stone where I’d been a second ago.
That would’ve been my skull.
My hands moved on instinct.
SHLIK!
The stiletto pierced the back of his knee.
"GHHAAAARGHH!!"
Bjron howled, buckling forward, but didn’t fall.
His endurance was monstrous.
Still...
He was bleeding.
Breathing heavy.
Getting slower.
I could see it in the slight tremble of his arms. In the half-second longer he took to track my movements. He could defend now—but only just.
He wasn’t used to being prey.
I smiled through blood-stained teeth.
"I’ll say this," I muttered, rising to my feet. "You’re tougher than you look."
Bjron spat onto the floor. "And you’re dead the moment you slip."
I twirled the blade in my hand.
"Then I guess I just won’t."
THUMP. THUMP.
My heartbeat echoed in my ears. My breathing was ragged, every inhale scraping my throat raw.
Bjron looked like a beast—bleeding, battered, but still standing.
CRACK...
He rolled his neck. Bones snapped into place. His glare burned holes into me.
One wrong step. That’s all it would take.
But I’d already decided. No more dancing.
FSSSHK—
I kicked off the ground with Ghoststep again, the world slowing just enough and launched myself towards Bjron.
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Author Note:
Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.
It’s my second novel so if there’s any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar, please tell me and I’ll edit it as soon as possible.