98 To Figh (1/2)

”How do ya know I ain't gonna get hit a little too hard and just die,” said Azhar to Li.

Old Thane charged and swung at Azhar, and the hinterlander barely dodged by ducking and rolling again.

”I said I would try me best to not kill you,” said Old Thane. ”And you have little time to worry about anything other than the fight before you, boy.”

”Hells, guess I gotta do this, then.”

Azhar grimaced as Old Thane barreled towards him again. Li nodded in approval as Azhar sidestepped another of the old man's blows and then landed a solid punch at his side. Old Thane absorbed the impact with a smile before he lashed out like a wild beast, grabbing Azhar's arm with an iron vicegrip.

Old Thane was right. He had no real martial arts skills. His punches were heavy and wild, not at all controlled. He had no sense of footwork. But what he did have was monstrous speed, strength, and toughness on top of an almost animal instinct in knowing exactly when and where to move.

Li could see Azhar's skin tearing as Old Thane's hands, conditioned to be hard like rock, grated against the ranger's flesh like a meat grinder.

Azhar took this chance to kick Old Thane's face. A leather boot sole crashed into the old man's face.

”How do ya like that?” said Azhar with a smile. When he withdrew his foot, there was revealed Old Thane's face, a little dirty with a boot mark but unharmed. What was more threatening was the malevolent glare seared upon it.

”You still think this a game, boy?” Old Thane set his jaw.

Li blinked as he heard Azhar scream.

The ranger stumbled backwards, blood spurting from the open shoulder joint where Old Thane had torn his arm straight off. Had his other arm worked, he would have tried using it to staunch the bleeding, but because it hung limp, blood flowed from the grievous wound like water spurting from an open faucet.

The red pattered on the grass, and Li glanced down to see that the wyrm, instead of feeling excited from the scent of blood, had cowered further into his legs. He realized it was not because she had lost her bloodlust, no, it was because she could not ever imagine moving even an inch closer to the monster known as the Bloodfist.

”To fight is to kill. To fight is to survive. To fight is to prove you are worthy to live.” Old Thane looked at Azhar's arm held in his hand, scoffing at it. ”You are not worthy.”

With a growl, Old Thane dashed forwards and slammed the dismembered arm straight across Azhar's chest like a bat, knocking the ranger on his back.

Azhar did not get up, his breathing now faint as the blood loss and shock set in.

Old Thane grunted as he tossed the arm to Azhar's body. He turned to Li with a nod.

Li waved his hand.

Green tendrils of healing magical energy shone from Azhar's shoulder socket, reaching out for the torn off arm and attaching it back into place. A general shimmer of emerald magic washed over him, healing everything else.

Old Thane glanced at the blood drenching his hands with an almost annoyed glare. He flicked his hands down with a precise and quick motion, flinging excess blood down to the forest floor.

Li had an idea that Old Thane had been strong. Not only because the of the old man's many tales, but it was also easy enough to tell from his status. He was level 55, the highest out of any human that Li had encountered so far. Even the duchess's golden-armored personal guard were level 50 at best.

Old age had not lowered his level, which did make sense. Levels were meant to be a crystallization of experience, after all. What age had down was to deteriorate all his physical stats immensely to the point that though he certainly knew an impressive array of class skills and abilities, he did not meet the stat requirements to use them anymore.

His body made younger like this, those restrictions were lifted, laying bare to the world the Bloodfist once more, and that moniker was very fitting.

It dawned on Li why Old Thane, a war hero, had no real visitors and friends. Certainly, it was because the old man closed himself off, but it was also because his reputation preceded him. His title of ”Bloodfist” had been built atop a mountain of corpses, and that mountain, even now, warded away the common man from the farm.

Azhar stood up again, and Li inspected the ranger. Li would not have put it against the ranger to give up the training at this point. He could quit at any time, after all. This level of sheer brutality he would have to face was akin to torture.

But Azhar smiled, his teeth bared in an almost crazed grin as he stood up to Old Thane.

”They don't call ya the Bloodfist for nothin', huh?” Azhar crouched down, getting into a fighting position. ”Bout' time I get serious, then.”