Chapter 81: Martin vs Thorn’Shield (1)
Martin and Thorn’Shield stood across from each other in the training grounds, the entire ring reserved for them alone. With so many people invested in the duel, no one could focus on practicing skills or sharpening reflexes, and the other players naturally drifted over to join the crowd.
As questions and speculation passed through the onlookers, Thorn’Shield summoned his weapons.
A shield depicting a wolf’s muzzle rimmed with fur appeared strapped to his left forearm, its dark metal heavy and brute-made, as though it had been forged to meet charging beasts head-on. In his other hand, he held a thick longsword shaped like a black wolf’s tooth.
A steady orange aura wrapped around the blade. It did not flare wildly. It clung to the weapon in dense folds, like a patient predator waiting for the first opening.
"Holy, that sword is a real beauty! That’s an orange-grade weapon! In other words, epic!" a player shouted from the crowd, the shout adding to the pressure building around Thorn’Shield.
The man’s smile widened into a grin.
Then Martin extended his hand and summoned his trident. He wrapped his grip around the shaft and lowered the weapon, its orange glow instantly stealing everyone’s attention.
He smirked.
"Yo, he also has an orange-grade weapon! It’s a damn trident! Where the hell did he get it?!" a player shouted.
The murmurs sharpened at once.
"It looks like Thorn’Shield focused hard on the Triple-Headed Wolf Boss in the Hidden Level One Dungeon. He said it was the best path, right?"
"Yeah, he mentioned it on the forums," another player said with a nod.
"He didn’t go for the Baby Kraken... but Emperoar did. Where else would he get a trident like that?"
A few heads turned toward Martin at once.
"Damn. Then he really cleared it?"
"Looks that way."
"And Thorn’Shield still called him out..."
"He wants that spot, doesn’t he? If he wins here, people are going to talk."
Crimson Halo cared little about bosses or weapon drops. The moment they started talking about another man taking Martin’s place in the party, her eyes sharpened.
She glared at them, but none of the men reacted much because of the gap between their levels. She also looked sexy when angry, so the men in their avatars suddenly grew another pair of balls and dared to stare right back. With a harrumph, she tore her gaze away from them and cursed men inwardly.
Idiots. Martin is not losing this one.
Then Martin pulled out the Vanguard Meat Stick and took his time with the first bite. He chewed slowly, loudly, with the kind of insolence that turned half the crowd stiff. The crowd froze. Crimson Halo deadpanned. Even Thorn’Shield’s hands clenched.
"You buffing in my face, bastard?!" he barked.
Martin chuckled. "Yeah, it is. My subclass is chef. What’s yours?"
Thorn’Shield’s lips flattened into a straight line. He had no subclass.
After finishing the food buff, Martin tossed the empty stick into his inventory. Then he braced his shield and tightened his grip on the trident, waiting for the duel to begin. Someone in the crowd shouted,
"Start the duel!"
That was the signal.
Both men raised their shields and braced their weapons, staring at each other through the narrow gap above their shields’ upper rims.
Crimson Halo saw it before anyone else did. Something in Martin settled. The approachable calm he had carried through the dungeon vanished behind the shield, and what remained looked leaner, colder, and far less willing to indulge mistakes.
Then Martin stepped forward first and charged at Thorn’Shield with Bulwark Rush.
Let’s see what you have to offer, Thorn’Shield. I can see you have less HP than me, so you must be focused more on damage.
[Emperoar Lv. 5 HP: 1450 MP: 225]
[Thorn’Shield Lv. 5 HP: 880 MP: 155]
Bulwark Rush launched Martin across the ring in a straight, punishing line. His shield led the charge, his trident drawn close, his steps fast and disciplined instead of reckless. Dust kicked up behind his boots.
Thorn’Shield did not retreat. He planted himself, bent slightly behind his shield, and answered with Taunt.
It was more than a shout. A savage howl ripped out of him and rolled across the ring, low at first and then sharp enough to scrape at everyone’s ears. The orange aura around his sword shivered with it, as though an unseen wolf had thrown back its head and called for blood. Even a few players in the crowd flinched.
It was a different, upgraded version of taunt, one that forced Martin to auto-attack Thorn’Shield and lowered his damage at the same time.
[You have been taunted by Predator’s Taunt.]
[You’re forced to attack Thorn’Shield.]
[Your damage has been reduced by 25%.]
Great skill. But that won’t work so well on me.
Martin’s smirk did not move as the effect forced him to thrust his trident straight into Thorn’Shield’s shield.
BANG!
The impact rang through the ring like struck iron. Thorn’Shield’s boots dragged half a step across the ground, and his left forearm went numb from a single hit. The fur-rimmed shield held, but only just, the wolf’s muzzle on its face trembling under the force.
Martin did not stop. He could not stop even if he wanted to.
The taunt dragged one attack after another out of him, and each one came down with ugly weight. The trident hammered into Thorn’Shield’s guard again and again, not wild, not frantic, but brutally direct.
With every strike, two more effects hit Martin.
Thorn’Shield still recovered fast. Even under the pounding force of Martin’s taunt-driven barrage, he re-centered his weight, dragged his shield back into line, and kept his sword ready at his side instead of letting panic lock him down.
Crimson Halo noticed that too. He was rough, proud, and far too eager to dominate the pace, but he was not some loud fool swinging steel because a crowd was watching. He belonged in the ring.
I’m losing HP with every strike. That must be the effect of his shield. He’s already using Fortify.
"Really? Fortify during a taunt?" Martin sneered.
At that, Thorn’Shield’s face twisted into something ugly.
That rush was boosting both speed and damage. Even with taunt cutting him down, the dog was still hitting too hard. Fine. He could keep coming if he wanted. He was still going to die in this ring.
Thorn’Shield twisted his wrist and shifted his grip on the longsword. The orange aura around it thickened and drew inward until it looked less like light and more like a starving thing wrapped around steel.
Then the sound rose from the blade.
It rose from the blade in a wet, tearing snarl, like a wolf ripping flesh free with its teeth. The noise swallowed every other sound in the ring. Even the crowd went still.
Crimson Halo’s eyes narrowed at once. That skill was different. It was heavier and meaner.
Thorn’Shield stepped in and drove the sword at Martin’s Control Devil’s Shield.
Martin read the line of the thrust perfectly. His shield turned at exactly the right angle, his stance firm and his timing clean. He would take the strike straight into the center of it and kill the force there.
He did.
Yet the moment steel met shield, the wolfish aura lunged past the point of impact like phantom fangs slipping through a closed guard.
[Your Control Devil’s Shield has lost 48 Durability.]
[You have taken -381 HP!]
A ripple ran through the crowd, then even that died. The damage number had been loud enough on its own.
Up until then, some of them had still been watching for spectacle. Now they were watching for a winner.
Crimson Halo’s fingers tightened around her tome. Most of the crowd only reacted to the damage number. She saw the truth faster. Martin had read the strike correctly, and Thorn’Shield had still gotten through.
Annoyingly, the sharp rise in her chest was not fear alone. It was offense. Thorn’Shield had actually thought he could break Martin down in front of her.
That was deeply inconvenient.
The force slipped through Martin’s guard and crashed into his body hard enough to jar his shoulder and knock his breath wrong for half a beat. His heart jumped into his throat.
I see why he was so confident. He has a skill that ignores Perfect Block, or maybe even any block at all, and still delivers a heavy blow... he’s a tank with a skill against tanks. No, he’s a bruiser. But... so what?
Thorn’Shield saw the hit land and bared his teeth behind the shield. His confidence sharpened at once. He had gotten through.
Martin exhaled once and rolled the shock out of his shoulder. Then he reset his stance with his shield forward and his trident low, his grip as steady as before.
Crimson Halo watched for hesitation and found none. Annoyingly, that steadiness struck her harder than the damage number had.
Now it was Martin’s turn to reveal all his cards.