Chapter 840 (1/2)

The Spearman watched the whole process suspiciously. From his previous experience, the Spearman knew that outside influences should be blocked by the System. Yet it allowed the gift of the spear?

And immediately after receiving the spear, Shal’s who disposition changed. He was glowing with a barely controlled joy. He spun the spear as if to test it, and the thing hummed beautifully. The Spearman tightened his grip on his own spear. His spear was not a delicate instrument like Shal’s. It was a thing made to kill.

It would bring him great pleasure to crush this unasked for spear that was added so late to the duel.

“You are weak-” The Spearman began, but he broke off as Shal rushed toward him with his new spear. The Spearman could tell that Shal’s left arm was no more than just stubbornly able to grip at this point; it would add no power to his strikes. So moving this to a direct confrontation was best.

Besides, the System suppression was bringing their Stats and Skills into alignment. Soon, they would be almost the exact same person, aside from images. And the Spearman had lived on Tellus for seven hundred years. He knew the deep darkness that covered this place. He felt it now, breathing down his neck, demanding sacrifice.

Did this foolish boy think he wanted such a world? Tellus was a hell. But even a hell was better than oblivion, especially when toiling away in this hell had meaning. That was reality.

So the Spearman raised his spear to block the attack. And watched wide-eyed as Shal’s spear simply twisted around the block and bit into his shoulder.

More of this? Then this will be even easier than I suspected, the Spearman thought savagely. His left hand shot out to simply grab the damned spear before it could cause more trouble.

A simple twist of Shal’s wrist straightened the spear in a flash and put it far beyond the close target the spearhead had once been. The Spearman froze, his hand off his spear and half extended, torn between what to do. Cursing, he brought his hand back to this spear and lowered his weapon to thrust toward Shal.

But Shal moved too fast and stomped the jagged and splinter filled wound in the Spearman’s thigh.

“Shal!” The Spearman bellowed, exploding with a wave of the energy that the images of Tellus had granted him. He shook and the darkness dislodged itself, content to lash out and strike those nearby.

Violence and bloodlust dispersed in a wave. One great advantage the Spearman had was he fought with images like this in the past when he had betrayed the First Propagator. It was not the cleanest victory to rely on this experience, but it would show how dominant the Spearman was. Like jackals, those dark images cackled with glee and rushed forward.

The images smashed into Shal… and dispersed into tiny motes of light that spun around Shal like a halo. The Spearman’s confusion only lasted until Shal moved again, this time attacking with a simple thrust.

Moving quickly, the Spearman’s weapon came up to intercept the blow. But his eyes remained fixed on the spear. At some point, it would again try and wriggling around his block, and-

Clanggggggg!

Rather than avoiding the block, Shal simply smashed forward with his attack. Even if the Spearman was slightly distracted, he was floored by the amount of force that the slender spear in Shal’s hands contained.

To his chagrin, he was forced to take a step backward, which put some weight on his injured leg. The only way to avoid falling down was to stagger back a few more steps, wincing as blood squeezed itself out of the field of gore that was the Spearman’s upper thigh.

“Shal-” The Spearman once more began, but Shal just thrust again with his spear. A simple thrust.

A feint, the Spearman instantly diagnosed, looking down his nose as Shal as his spear rose cautiously. You are five hundred years too early to fool me with a basic trick like-

But the angle of attack didn’t change. So the Spearman had to overextend himself to block the blow that continued to roll toward his chest.

Claannnnnggggg!

If anything, this blow was even more powerful than the previous one. But the Spearman would not allow Shal’s growing momentum to continue; he ignored the vicious spike of pain from his thigh and held his ground against the blow.

Of course, the pain helped the Spearman. Because nothing fueled violence like pain. The darkness around him was hot and wet, the weight of the dead or nearly so, clawing and grabbing at the Spearman’s back. He ignored those hands; to acknowledge them was to allow them to drag him down with them. All he could do is cut forward.

“Die,” The Spearman hissed, smashing outward with his spear. The blow was a short and sharp horizontal cut, aimed at Shal’s left midsection. It was time to test how weak that left spear arm truly was.

That obnoxious grin on Shal’s face didn’t fade. Those small motes of light around him seemed to be getting brighter. But before the cruelty of reality-

Shal wiggled the spear, causing a curving wave to flow through the middle part of the shaft. Then Shal snapped his wrist again, the spear exploding outward in what was almost a thrust as it straightened. With impossible precision, the tip of Shal’s spear blurred sideways and impacted the Spearman’s cut.

Donggggg.