Chapter 218 (2/2)

To his surprise, when his foot hit the ground, it smashed through and into a hole, that had been prepared for it. Even as he twisted, the stabbing roots curved, aiming to hit his weak points directly. Furious, Bertarn smashed again with his spear, destroying what remained of the root bush, revealing his opponent, the Ghosthound.

He was standing there calmly, his eyes a chilly green, spear at the ready, a small smile on his face.

Several roots punctured through his skin, thrashing towards his insides, but Bertarn just flexed his muscles and frowned, a powerful, dominating aura of a mountain emerging behind him. To be forced to use his image, in a situation like this… it was truly admirable. But this was the end.

But as he reached to grab his spear with his off hand, Bertarn discovered that it was bound by roots. It would take but a second to throw those off, but that was time that he didn’t have. The Ghosthound struck, and a strange ticking filled the air. Slowly, a woman manifested itself, a woman who was half flesh, half skeleton, and began to float towards Bertarn.

Not enough time. His hand on his spear flexed, and he swung his huge weapon to meet the oncoming thrust, even as an air of hopelessness and frustration filled the air.

BOOOOOOOM.

The blows met, and even though his was only a one armed, off balance swing as his foot was stuck in a hole, Bertarn was surprised to find them evenly matched. Further surprising him, the Ghosthound stepped forward, his emerald eyes burning, pressing forward, overpowering him further.

Bertarn gritted his teeth. If he had to, he would use-

But strangely, the Ghosthound’s strength very quickly waned, and Bertarn struck, smashing his opponent backwards. More roots stabbed upwards, but they had clearly lost some of their edge as their master was sent stumbling backwards. Bertarn rose, his spear rising with him.

A series of clever ploys were useful, but it was shallow. The Ghosthound was either weak, or still too wounded from his previous battle to continue.

Honestly, it didn’t matter. He still had a job to do. Although he disdained it, Bertarn still would follow the instruction of his Style’s vice-leader and break some of his opponent’s bones before he knocked him out of the ring. They must send a message. Bertarn personally must reclaim some of his sense of unstoppable strength.

Those emerald eyes locked on him as he approached, practically glowing. What would be truly satisfying about this, Bertarn mused to himself, was that his opponent would not surrender or drop his spear. That was what those eyes screamed to him. They declared their vicious rejection of this outcome, a refusal to accept the loss.

Although Bertarn could not do it now, this was a spear user deserving of acknowledgement, even though he had chosen to become a mage. His strength was still real.

But that was for later. Now, for the lesson.

*****

Groaning, Randidly woke again, a familiar face frowning down at him.

“The benefit of going early in the 3rd round is that you will have another hour until the 4th round begins.” The bearded referee said, eyeing at the strange angles that Randidly’s left leg was bent.

Randidly said nothing, grinding his teeth. At the last moment, as he was pushing that completely over muscled spear user backwards with Stalemate Breaker and Empower, his small Stamina pool, that was regenerated in the short time his roots bought him, ran out, leaving him practically helpless.

The amount of time that Bertarn had taken to rip through his screen of roots was intimidating to say the least. Although it wasn’t similiar, Randidly felt like the spear user that he had defeated in the first round, completely overwhelmed by the other’s strength. It was a wake up call, in a way.

Sighing, Randidly laid back and stared at the ceiling. Allowing his wounds to slowly heal. His head was pounding, slightly ringing from some of the previous blows. So this… this was truly his relative level. There were perhaps other methods he could utilize, but it would be difficult now, as he had 2 losses. He could not afford another one. Not for quite a while.

But for now...

He closed his eyes and began to meditate. One fight at a time. He needed to win the 4th match of today and secure his survival before he worried about anything else. God, he could use a nice massage. Or a day off.