Chapter 515 (1/2)

Hank’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as he watched Ezekiel get humiliated by the strange teen before the cheering and hooting groups of miners. This teen simply was too fast, too graceful, and his body seemed to twist and shift into a very real monster during battle; in all areas, Ezekiel couldn’t keep up.

His unconscious body slammed to the ground without much suspense. What was perhaps the most impressive was that the whole while, the teen named Vandal Leviathan never seemed close to inflicting a deadly blow. It was playing, for him. This level of combat was simply play.

When Ezekiel fell, they turned to the rest of his group. Her expression stone, Affina walked forward and lifted Ezekiel, carrying the man out of the small arena that the group had created. It showed the signs of obvious wear, with scuffs around the stone edges of the raised space from constant hands on them.

“Who next?” The burly man, who had introduced himself as Paolo, said to Hank with a wide smile.

Hank’s grin was just as wide. “I reckon’ it’s my turn, friend.”

The crowd hollered and stomped their feet, enjoying the testosterone. Even the snooty Vandal seemed to get into it, very quickly forgetting about his little spat with Ezekiel and simply focusing on the fight at hand.

Hank knew people, for all that he spent his time in the wilderness when he could. But perhaps even because of that, Paolo made sense to him. When they both ascended into the arena, Paolo raised his hands to the cheers of the audience, playing on their energy. He even seemed to draw on it, growing heavier and more imposing the more the people cheered.

This was a man that cared about the audience, who took the time to create a show. Hank believed that even if Paolo was truly a more powerful individual, the fact that he played so heavily on the crowd would make him predictable, and give Hank an edge that he could take advantage of.

Or at least, that was the plan.

There was no announcement of the start of the battle, Hank just felt it in his heart at the moment the shift in the arena occurred. The energy spiked upwards, and the very air seemed to vibrate in sympathy for the explosive violence that was about to occur there.

Instantly, Hank rolled back and drew the repeater, leveling it at Paolo. The man rushed forward, moving in an easy loping gait towards Hank. It would have been almost relaxing if Hank didn’t quickly realize that the speed this man was moving was near the edge of what his eyes were able to follow.

Activating Hawk Eye, Hank Dodge Rolled backward, firing off several shots from the repeater. This seemed to catch Paolo by surprise, and his eyes narrowed as he took in the weapon and the oncoming projectiles. Then Paolo executed several short diagonal steps that let him weave barely between the bullets. It barely even slowed him too, which was aggravating.

Paolo’s smile was growing. Hank cursed quietly. Then he flicked his right hand forward and a Smoke Bomb hit the ground.

Instantly the cheering became quiet as if somewhat put the whole crowd on mute. Hank’s pupils dilated. That… wasn’t a natural change. But he had no time to examine it further because his instincts were screaming that the other man was in the smoke. Hank abruptly realized that he was being stalked like game.

A small noise alerted him, and Hank raised his pistol and shot several meters to the right. There was an answering laugh and Paolo rushed forward from the spot that Hank had fired.

“How did you know?” Paolo asked, arriving in front of Hank, hands raised to grapple.

Hank didn’t have time to explain his duelist sense. A noise like that was a mistake, and this man he was now facing did not strike him as the type that would make a mistake of that caliber, at least without being highly pressured.

This time Hank Dodge Rolled even faster, moving just out of Paolo’s outstretched hands. Seeing that his attack wasn’t going to land, the grab changed instantly into a punch, and Paolo’s fist smashed into the ground, cracking. A lot of the smoke screen was displaced by the fist blow, revealing the outside world. In addition, the attack forced Hank to take a half step to recover.

Hank’s ears seemed to be broken because the sound of the people outside cheering was fluctuating, as though coming through a choppy television receiver. One minute it was muted static, the next it sounded like thousands of people were beating war drums and marching. Either way, it forced Hank to force himself to let noise go, relying increasingly more on his Duelist Instinct.