Chapter 277 (2/2)

Claptrap stepped over him, not trying to finish him off, but also not paying him any attention. The monster above him roared for blood, the red light growing brighter, and Claptrap stumbled, but continued further.

“No point, help first,” Claptrap mumbled, annoyed at the way the monster inside of him was rebelling against his control. After a brief struggle, the monster relented.

Lucretia was overjoyed. The fact that they were fighting already… she couldn’t wait to watch the monster inside of him slowly eroding Claptrap’s own will, beating him down, haunting his dreams and twisting his perspective. Although she hadn’t started out like this… now, watching this sort of dark transformation was her favorite part.

But to both her and Claptrap’s surprise, after a flicker, an image appeared, interposing itself between Claptrap and the ongoing fight: an Iron Bulwark.

Claptrap snorted, and swiped his spear, aiming to disperse it, but his spear hit the Iron Bulwark and rebounded off with a clang.

Even Divveltian paused briefly at the sound, his eyes widening, before he resumed his furious offensive, inflicting large blows on Black Spear.

Lucretia tapped her jaw, frowning.

“You…. you’re at the Adept level!??!” Claptrap said, some of his confidence visibly leaving his face.

There was a chuckle. “Perhaps you didn’t know? My name is Roger Kingsley, and I am a genius.”

Claptrap turned around to gaze at the male spear attendant, Roger Kingsley, who held his gaudy spear, flashing with light from the slowly rising sun. Although his body was trembling, his eyes were bright, his gaze even. More and more of his Iron Bulwark sprang into being, hemming Claptrap into one spot.

“Sit in timeout,” Roger announced, “Until you remember that we are friends. I meant no insult to your woman-”

“She was never my woman…” Claptrap said bitterly, raising his spear. The monster bellowed, morphing and twisting, growing a shark fin and an arm that resembled a spear. Then it they lashed out together, attacking the Bulwark between him and Roger. The thing cracked, but the image held, much to everyone’s surprise.

Lucretia narrowed her eyes. The transition to an Adept level was mostly one in utility, rather than power. There were some that got to that level through a mental insight, allowing them to prematurely condense their image. Or they used the Intermediate Battle Intent Path, which gave you a very real boost to crossing that line.

Somehow, she knew that this Roger had done neither. This was done through sheer force of repetition, constantly refining his image. This… was an annoying variable.

“You… you…!” Claptrap roared, fear and confusion filling him as he ripped through wall after wall of spiky iron, some of the stray metal ripping small gashes on his side. He was surprised when Roger stepped forward, meeting him in close combat.

Claptrap’s eyes glinted, and he lashed out, using the techniques of the soul inside of him to attack unpredictably. Roger was sent staggering, but recovered instantly, righting his stance. As Claptrap watched, the Iron Bulwarks around him wavered, then disappeared. Condensing suddenly, those Bulwarks reappeared on a smaller scale, covering Roger in a thick, glistening armor. He looked like a chosen of god, glittering there, his body covered in huge sheets of spiked iron.

In that moment, Claptrap began to sweat. The armor flickered, and then reformed, a more refined form, more sleek. And yet there was still a billowing aura of power that spread out from Roger, that shook Claptrap to his core. This was… even now… even now they treated him like he was just a joke to be stepped on…!

Roger grinned at Claptrap. “One spar, for old times sake, friend? I promise to go easy on your, or my name is not Roger K-”

At Lucretia’s instruction, her third zombie struck him from behind, drilling a hole through the armor, and into Roger’s back, puncturing a lung.

Roger stumbled forward, and his Bulwarks flickered. Claptrap watched it happen, almost in slow motion, the man who he would have once referred to as a friend falling in front of him, defenseless, his self created armor technique broken.

Although it was a chance, Claptrap couldn’t find the strength to strike. Now that he was at this moment, this…

But Claptrap was no longer the only passenger in his body. His arm lashed out, the blow catching the male spear attendant cleanly in the neck.