Chapter 83. Arch ’em
“Arch ‘em swords, bad boy,” Rhys encouraged Archem with a vicious glint in his eye. He lifted his hand to match Archem’s bared sword, a chunk of dark metal barely visible in the palm of his hand.
Archem growled and swung down with all his might, putting his whole pu—ahem, self into it.
To be honest, Rhys was pretty sure fifty percent of the arch ‘em bullshit he was making up was nonsense—no, a hundred percent—but it bothered Archem, and that was what mattered. He’d say any amount of nonsense, so long as it antagonized the person on the other end. His long history as the shit-talker on coms in FPS games meant he could keep up an endless stream of trash talk mid-battle, as long as the other person got frustrated by it. And Archem was the perfect victim. He didn’t even have to hit the heights of his skills to piss the guy off. He could say literally anything, and Archem’s face would tint a deeper shade of red. Honestly, he was kind of enjoying himself… though he was pretty sure Archem didn’t share that sentiment.
Archem’s sword swished through the air, gleaming with ferocity. Seconds before it carved through Rhys’s hand, he activated the lump of metal in his hand. A cauldron formed of blue light manifested, and Archem’s sword cleaved into it, cutting halfway through—but not all the way through.
Archem stared, confused.
Rhys grinned. He waved, and with a flicker of his fingers, cast the rat projection. He was already under attack, so the rat immediately leaped up his body, swirled around his arm, and jumped at Archem. Archem shouted in shock and jumped back, pushing away from Rhys, only to find his sword lodged in the cauldron’s intent.
The rat jumped from Rhys’s arm to Archem’s and quickly clambered up to his shoulder. Archem batted at it with his free hand, only for the rat to crawl past him. It nipped at his ear, then darted away when he tried to smash it with his shoulder and head, dashing around to claw at his eyes instead. Archem yelped and jumped back, discarding his sword.
“Surprised?” Rhys gloated. Honestly, so was he, though he’d never let Archem know. He’d forcibly activated that cauldron’s intent, emphasizing not its desire to be the best cauldron, but instead its defensive desires, focusing on every part of the cauldron that wanted to hold strong against potions and resist the pressure from within itself. As a result, it had held up better to Archem’s sword than Rhys could have imagined.
He threw the cauldron intent, and consequently, Archem’s sword, behind him, off the platform, then turned to his opponent, prepared to take another attack.
Archem batted at his head and shoulders, struggling against the rat. He stumbled around, desperately keeping the vermin from gouging out his eyes. The rat scurried over his hair, reaching for them from above. He brushed it off, only for it to bite his hand, claw on, and scramble up his arm again. Panicked, he beat at it, dancing around wildly. “Get it off me! Get it away!”
Rhys raised his brows. Huh. That was easier than he’d thought. He hadn’t had to use his impurities at all, not burn them, ignite the star, or use his filth potions for evil. So much for ‘I belong in the upper brackets, not down with the trash like you!’—or whatever Archem had said. It looked like he was just as trash as Rhys was, though then again, that might be exactly why Rhys was able to handle him so easily. The trash master versus the trash? The battle was predetermined.
Mustering his strength, he spun around and hammered Archem in the chest with his heel. Archem staggered backward, still fighting the rat, and stumbled off the platform.