93 Duel II (1/2)

Azhar slinked back into his charging stance, his body low and his feet extended behind him, the tips of his feet digging into the dirt, channeling as much energy as they could. He took in a breath, every little muscle sculpted on his body clenching with the exertion. Magical energy surged from him, around him, manifesting as an angry red aura.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, pattering on the grass.

Li knew spirit shamanism was extremely hard to maintain. The magic, whether it focused on summoning spirit creatures or empowering the body, focused on toggled abilities, and those drained mana by the second at an astonishing rate.

The tax on Azhar's body was evident, and he wondered whether the hinterlander could maintain his relentless assault before he tired.

Launcelot did not move. He instead kept his guard up as always. He tucked his chin in and lowered his head a little while angling his body sideways, reducing the amount of torso that Azhar could hit and to compensate for the fact that he only had one arm to guard with.

His blue eyes were narrowed, pointing their razor-sharp focus towards Azhar. Those eyes did not change their focus even as Azhar disappeared from their sight.

To Li, Azhar moved slow as a snail, but he knew that to Launcelot, the hinterlander must have seemed like he had become a blur impossible to react to.

And Launcelot did not react. Azhar slammed his fist into Launcelot's stomach again, and with the recoil from the high velocity charge, flipped backwards to gain distance and reassume his charging stance all in one fluid motion.

Launcelot slid backwards, nearing the edge of the circle. Because of his guard, he took no real damage, but two more hits like this, and he would be out the ring.

”You're all outta' options, prettyboy,” said Azhar with a grin. ”All that muscle just weighs ya down. Think real fightin's all bout' eatin' hits to the face like ya always do? Get real.”

Launcelot remained silent rooted in his stance, simply continuing to stare at Azhar with an unyielding intensity. Li did not know what the shielder was going for here, and he waited, seeing how he would handle these turning tides.

Azhar shifted a little downwards – a hint that he was starting his charge. Launcelot instinctively flexed his muscles, hardening them to dissipate incoming impact.

This time, though, right before Azhar charged, a green light washed over him. A buff, and from conjecture based on his level, class, and the familiar color and particles of the buff, Li could guess this was [Ranger's Focus] which boosted attack speed and guaranteed the next attack as a critical hit.

Azhar charged again. He had charged twice to lead Launcelot on, getting him used to bracing for a regular charge's worth of force. But this critical hit would surprise him and send him straight out the ring. He might have fallen behind on technical skill, but in raw combat instinct, Azhar did not fall behind Launcelot.

Launcelot managed to react. Not to the blindingly fast charge itself, but to the green light that had manifested over Azhar for just a split second before the charge began. Launcelot casted a buff of his own, a blue light shimmering across his body.

[Unbreakable]. A warrior-class buff meant for reducing burst damage. It severely mitigated the damage from the next incoming source of damage.

When Azhar's fist crashed into Launcelot's stomach again, the result was the same. Azhar's critical strike loosed a cracking impact almost like a bullet, but because Launcelot had steeled himself with [Unbreakable], he was pushed back only two or so meters.

Even so, this was enough to put Launcelot right at the edge of the circle, his heels kissing the line in the dirt.

Azhar flipped back again, getting low to the ground for another charge.

”You're tough, I'll give ya that. But ain't toughness gonna' save you from the ring.”

Launcelot, like always, did not respond. He simply kept his guard up and head focused on the fight in front of him. Though it was almost imperceptible, Li picked up with his sharp senses that Launcelot had straightened his posture just a little.

Although Li did not know why Launcelot made this movement, it seemed important considering the shielder had not moved an ounce beforehand.

”Well, no last words for ya, I guess,” said Azhar before he charged again.

Launcelot's eyes widened for an instant, not in surprise, but in reaction. He swiveled his hips, thrusting his leg out in a kick.

The sound of flesh slamming on flesh slapped through the air as Azhar sailed backwards, crashing hard enough into the dirt that he skid into it, chunks of dirt clumped with grass sticking to his back. He wheezed; the air knocked straight out of him. An ugly, fist-sized red mark on his stomach indicated where Launcelot's kick had landed.

Li nodded in acknowledgement. Launcelot had taken the first few hits to get a sense of Azhar's timing. He had not responded to Azhar's taunts because he had shut them out, completely focusing on what movements Azhar made before he charged, how his breathing changed, how fast the charge was, when exactly he stuck out his fist, and countless other number of variables.

Knowing this, Launcelot had calculated exactly what to do. Li had focused his attention on Launcelot's face this whole time, and not once had the shielder actually ever had the reaction time to legitimately pick up and properly react to Azhar's movements.

Instead, Launcelot estimated when Azhar would be in range, and, knowing that the hinterlander's reach was longer than this, decided to throw out a kick at approximately the exact moment he predicted Azhar would get hit – something that Azhar had entirely not expected as Launcelot's boxing had conditioned Azhar to think the shielder fought only with his hands.

Li recognized that Launcelot was a genius combatant.

Almost the point that it was a complete waste that he had decided to become a tank and soak damage. His razor sharp battle instincts, predictive knowledge, and utter mastery of his physical limitations would have made him an exceptional damage-based warrior, but in the end, Launcelot did not wish to fight, he wished to protect.