94 The Medusa Touch Part 2 (1/2)

Azuma standing above me while I knelt on the ground struggling against the weight of his black steel spear while his killing intent rolled off him in menacing waves brought a feeling of déjà vu to my mind. However, this time I didn't have Fool's Insight to help me out of this predicament.

My vision had already gone from strained to blurred. It was like putting on prescription glasses that belonged to someone with extremely terrible eyesight. Not only was I forced to blink over and over, but just keeping my eyes open made my head hurt. Such was the price for overusing Fool's Insight.

”Well,” Azuma's voice, raspy from fatigue yet strangely jovial, reached my ears. ”What other tricks do you have up your sleeve, Dean?”

The truth, I had nothing left. The tank was empty. I was tired and in pain. I'd been outmaneuvered on every turn, and it was grating on the nerves to think that not even my fairy gift was enough for me to win. Yeah, I was done—and yet, I didn't feel like it was the end. Perhaps, after going through too many life-and-death struggles in this war I just couldn't bring myself to give up. In fact, my brain, although extremely fatigue, was already in overdrive thinking of anything I could do to escape Azuma's clutches.

Above me, the pressure from Azuma's spear increased, forcing my weary arms to buckle, and I barely managed to keep them half-raised. This attack only galvanized me into action.

”It's not over yet!” I yelled, and with herculean effort, I picked myself up from the floor and pushed on my falchion with every bit of my remaining strength.

This worked somewhat, as Azuma too was forced to pull back from my effort. Still, his spear remained over my head even as I stood on two feet. The man was taller than me, after all.

Our weapons remained locked together in fierce competition, and while the grinding of shadowblades screeched around us, neither side was willing to give in the tug-of-war we were playing.

”You're getting weaker, old man… Might want to give yourself a time out… Wouldn't want you to die now that I've got you on the ropes,” I taunted.

You had to give me credit. Even in the worst moments, I could still manage to banter like I was ahead in the count. Although there was a particle of truth to my statement. He was getting weaker. The weight of his attack, which at first was like gravity pressing down on me, had lessened with each pushback.

Azuma coughed hard. Dark blood leaked out the side of his mouth, and even through my blurry vision, I could see his face turn pale. However, this handicap wasn't enough for him to drop his spear. In fact, it only renewed his desire to wipe me out as quickly as possible.

The intense pressure returned as Azuma doubled his efforts. He sent his spear crashing toward me—and pushing myself against him felt like wading against the tide of a roaring river.

”Oh, come on!” I hissed through gritted teeth. ”Don't you have an off switch?”

”It'll take more than a second wind for you to best me, Dean,” Azuma spat at me. ”You are but a small pebble facing off against the mountain.”

I raised an eyebrow. ”Small?”

”You may have gained much fighting experience in this war, but it is still tiny compared to the number of battles I've survived,” he boasted.

I raised my other eyebrow. ”Tiny?!”

”A little effort—”

”—little?!” I screamed. ”Alright, that's it! No one calls me a miniature hobbit!”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew he wasn't talking about my height, and I could see from the fleeting surprise in his face that my outburst confused him. It's just that my brain went to crazy places whenever someone directed the words small, and tiny, and little at me. This may speak more about my own insecurities over how much taller Luca and Ty were than Azuma's choice of words, but I didn't care. No one called me small.

If Azuma doubled his efforts earlier, then I tripled mine now. I lashed out at him with the fury of a slighted teenager—and it was refreshing! For those few minutes, I didn't care about consequences or priorities. It was just raw emotion pushing me on, and I relished it. At least for as long as it lasted before my head cleared.

I pushed outward with my falchion and created enough space between us for me to pull off a stunt I'd seen Azuma do only minutes before. With momentum sending me forward, I raised my left foot and sent it pushing toward his armored front. My push kicked didn't reach him, however. Instead, he'd broken the blade lock and sent his spear's shaft in the way of my foot, which meant I'd still gotten what I wanted.

Now that we were separated, I pulled away to create even more distance which was really the only thing I could do considering my own handicap. Then I pulled out a red vial from one of the pouches hanging on my belt and raised it to my face.

Swoosh!

Air current violently slammed onto the skin of my face like a phantom of something sharp passing dangerously close to me.

I felt the red liquid spill out of the vial whose top half someone had cut in twain. And the potion that would have returned my sight washed over my hand and dripped ominously down to the grass beneath.

From beyond my hand, I spied through my deteriorating eyesight a black-clad figure with his spear stretched out to the side in one hand.

”Um… you missed,” I said, almost hoping this was true. The alternative was frightening to consider.