93 The Medusa Touch Part 1 (1/2)

”Ready player one,” I whispered to myself.

It was refreshing to hear the words I often used to boost my self-confidence a notch higher. Honestly, I wasn't the most self-assured kid out there, so a little positive attitude went a long way in psyching me up. But even this very important phrase wasn't enough to clear the doubt in my mind.

Yeah, I had a simple dilemma. The Magesong bastards set a trap for my boss, Great General Darah, on the other side of the center armies battlefield—far, far away from where I might have made a difference. And although she was a brilliant strategist herself, more than likely, Darah had sprung their trap even if she'd noticed it just so she could get within a few more feet of the opposing enemy general.

”The best defense is an unstoppable offensive strike that slaughters everyone in our path,” Darah always liked to say.

Now, as one of her retainers—at least the one she loved causing the most trouble for—it was my duty to break out of the trap set for me by the aptly named Lord of War and assist Darah in her goal of ending this war in our absolute victory. Simple, right?

Wrong. It was far from simple as there was a gigantic obstacle in my way. Introducing the murderous looking thousand-man commander of the Magesong clan's center army and my self professed rival, Azuma, the Immortal.

Yes, I had, through a series of incredibly challenging adventures, been able to rid Azuma of that pesky unkillable zombie status that I once thought was his default fairy gift. Still, this didn't make him any less manageable. The dude was strong and worthy of being placed upon a pedestal I reserved for guys like Darth Vader, Achilles, and All Might.

Standing barely twelve feet away from me looking all cool in his deathly stance—his spear pointed menacingly in my direction—the emaciated body of Azuma stood as the biggest obstacle to reclaiming my footing in this war. Victory lay through him, and that meant now wasn't a time for doubt or insecurities. If I wanted to help Darah, then now was a time for action.

With my doubt pushed to the back burner and my resolve to put myself squarely in death's crosshairs finally set, I pulled out the shadowblade dagger from my free hand, and with a reverse grip, raised it to my eye-level. Then I placed my falchion's shadowblade over the dagger's own shadowblade and kept it level against Azuma. I'd chosen this famous dual-wielding sword stance for its ability to maximize sword thrusts and combine them with sneaky dagger attacks that were geared toward catching a distracted opponent right in the gut. Not that I'd mastered dual-wielding, but I had to keep surprising my rival, right?

Once I was fully prepared, I took one large gulp of air and then shuffled forward inch by inch with my lead foot sliding across the wet grass. In contrast, Azuma remained deathly still. But then he coughed.

A second passed. He coughed some more. However, this coughing fit didn't even break his stance.

”Um, you alright there?” I asked in spite of myself.

Azuma cleared his throat. ”Come, Dean... I don't have all night to kill you...”

I shook my head. What the hell was I worrying for? The dude was intent on murdering me.

I continued my slow approach. A mere ten feet separated us now.

At this point, some of you might wonder why I hadn't reactivated Fool's Insight. Well, that's because I couldn't. Not if I wanted to use whatever ounce of fairy gift I had left for Basilisk's Eye. It was my trump card, and it took a lot of juice to activate. Sadly, that was something I was currently struggling with. Even now I could feel the growing strain on my eyes similar to that feeling one gets when they spend all day staring into a brightly lit computer screen. So, no, I couldn't use it—yet.

Eight feet between me and Azuma. I was basically in his range now. But he hadn't moved an inch. No more coughing either.

The atmosphere seemed to tense up, and you could feel the anxiety build up among the crowd of onlookers who watched me inch closer toward Azuma. Yet all was quiet. The gathered were waiting with bated breath for the upcoming exchange of blades. Even the wind had stilled.

My fingers tightened on both my falchion and dagger. My arms tensed with the strain of anticipation. However, Azuma didn't budge.

A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead, raced down my cheek, and then dropped from my chin. It was so quiet—like the pair of us was trapped inside a soundproof bubble—that I heard the dripping sound of the bead hitting the blade of grass beneath me. And like a starting pistol's explosion, that drop of sweat became my cue to charge.

I launched myself forward with my front foot and pushed my falchion forward like a rocket in flight.

Azuma reacted instantly. He uncoiled from his stance and charged me as well, his spear reaching for me like death's icy touch.

One, two, three, four, five exchanges. Each one a miss that would have taken the other's life. For every one of my sword swings blocked by Azuma's pole, his spear thrusts were also parried. Yet, I drew first blood. It was the dagger. I managed to slide it across the inner side of his arm when he'd extended it to pierce me with his staff.

Instead of a piercing scream, a stoic Azuma simply sent me another death glare and resumed his attacks as if I hadn't just nicked him with my dagger.