HAHAHA! How is it?" Rook asks, a storm of dark green mana surging around him as debris and dust kick up violently.
"Flashy as hell," Tristan replies, a nervous smile creeping onto his face. "How am I supposed to fight against that?" He tightens his grip on his sword.
"Round 2," Rook declares, his grin widening as his great hammer settles on his shoulder.
"…"
Their gazes lock.
Both ease into their stances. Tristan raises his sword flat against his shoulder, the tip pointed directly at Rook. Rook crouches low, one hand gripping the great hammer, the other reaching outward.
"…"
A bead of sweat rolls down Tristan's face.
Concentrate.
The single thought echoes endlessly in his mind.
"FIGHT!" Rook roars.
They rush forward at the same time, the ground shattering where they once stood. Rook swings first, his great hammer tunneling through the air. Tristan slides under the blow, his body skidding across the floor before coming to a halt.
Tristan lunges, mana coating his sword.
CLANG.
The blade rebounds violently off Rook's dense mana.
"Damn it," Tristan curses, leaping back two steps.
"You're one slimy ass rat, ain'tcha?" Rook growls, irritation creeping into his voice. He charges again, dragging the hammer backward before swinging it horizontally.
Again? Tristan thinks, tilting his head back to avoid the blo—
"?"
It stopped mid swin—
The hammer slams into him.
The impact drives Tristan straight into the ground, the force lodging him deep into the floor.
"Hehe, I didn't think it'd work," Rook says, slowly lifting his great hammer. "I'm even more surprised you managed to survive that as well."
His eyes narrow in annoyance.
This bastard… he used his mana to stop the hammer mid-swing?! Tristan realizes, forcing himself to breathe.
If my brain hadn't instinctively squeezed out mana just now, my head would've exploded.
Agh… my head hurts from the shock—but thanks to that… I've found a way to beat this guy.
His constitution makes him like a sponge in water, Tristan deduces as he pushes himself up. He continuously absorbs surrounding mana—whether from the air or from another person.
Blood drips from his nose. He spits the blood out and wipes his mouth.
But there are two things I've figured out while fighting him.
He shrugs off his suit jacket and loosens his tie, settling back into his stance.
First—just like a sponge, after absorbing enough, it reaches saturation. Excess mana begins to leak out. That doesn't mean he can't still wield mana… but it means there's a limit.
"You want some more?" Rook asks, tilting his head.
"…"
No response.
"Fine. Let's proceed."
Rook dashes in again.
Even if mana leaks from him, he can replenish it using residual mana, Tristan thinks, spinning around the thrusting hammer.
Right now, I can't bypass his defense. It's perfect. I just have to wait until he can't absorb any more.
Tristan attacks in a flurry, his sword blurring as each strike crashes against Rook's mana defense.
"Tsk," he clicks his tongue, retreating again.
Second—I can still use mana.
The moment he took my mana was when I applied it externally—to reinforce my skin.
Rook leaps, slamming his hammer down. The ground beneath them fractures.
The dust clears.
Tristan is beneath the hammer, his sword raised, barely holding it back.
If I strengthen only my muscles, he realizes, then he can't absorb it. I can use mana internally to boost my physical abilities.
His sword trembles under the pressure.
CRACK.
A fracture spreads across the blade.
Tristan twists sideways at the last moment, letting the hammer crash down as he retreats. Blood drips steadily from his clenched hand.
"This is getting annoying," Rook mutters. "You know what—fuck the hammer."
The great hammer dematerializes.
"Let's see if you can still run."
Rook vanishes.
"!"
"What?!" Tristan gasps, his eyes flashing gold.
"...If I'm this close," Rook's voice whispers.
His fist stops inches from Tristan's face.
"Shit!"
The punch sends Tristan flying into a nearby wall. The impact explodes debris outward as the wall collapses.
"…"
"You really went flying," Rook says, walking forward.
"Hm?"
Confusion flickers across his face.
The dust settles.
Tristan is gone.
CLANG.
Rook turns.
"Are you still trying that? You should know by now—my defense is impeccable."
"I'll be the judge of that," Tristan snaps, sword raised.
Rook sighs, shaking his head. "I expected better. This is turning out pretty mediocre."
"Shut up and get ready," Tristan replies, tilting his head slightly. "It's time for round three."
"…"
"Keke… sure. As you wish."
The third exchange begins.
Kade dashes in—
Tristan slashes at the incoming figure, his blade deflecting off target and leaving his guard open.
Rook capitalizes immediately.
A punch to the liver.
A right hook to the jaw.
Tristan weaves back, regains footing, and drives his hand forward—aiming for the lung.
The sword shatters on impact.
He tosses the hilt aside, his eyes glowing gold.
A two-piece—Tristan dodges.
Rook steps in close.
A kick to the head—blocked.
Tristan grabs the leg.
A sword materializes in his hand.
He swings down with everything he has—
A sudden surge of mana sends the blade flying.
Tristan jumps after it.
Rook stomps, kicking debris into the air.
Tristan slices through every fragment mid-air, channels mana into his sword, and releases a wave with a single slash.
The impact blasts Rook backward.
"Haha… I knew it," Tristan says, smiling. "I can win now."
Rook lowers his hands, eyes locked onto Tristan.
"Mmm… amwazin(amazing)."
The sound of chewing echoes.
"!"
"You both aren't that bad," a voice says.
A figure steps into view from atop a nearby building.
Rook and Tristan freeze.
"Who the fuck is this guy? His mana is so faint it's almost nonexistent," Tristan thinks.
"And you are?" Rook asks, veins bulging.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the man says, tossing his plate aside. "I am—drumroll, please."
He pounds on his belly, the sound echoing.
"Bobby!"
"Bobby?" Tristan repeats, sweat trickling down his face.
"That's right. Bobby," he says proudly, hands on his waist.
"The strongest E-rank hunter."
"?!"
"E-rank?" Rook scoffs. "Aren't only A- and S-ranks allowed here?"
"Normally, yeah. But not for me," Bobby replies.
"And why's that?" Rook growls.
"'Cause I'm strong enough to be S-rank."
"…"
"Hahahaha! An E-rank becoming S-rank? This 🥷🏾 funny as hell," Rook laughs uncontrollably.
"What are you talking about, unc?" Tristan snaps. "We're busy. Beat it."
"Wanna see for yourself?" Bobby asks, smiling knowingly.
"What?" Tristan frowns.
"Let's fight. Right here. Both of you against me," Bobby says, pointing at them.
"I'll show you a whole new world."
"What even is this guy?" Tristan thinks. He's out of shape, short, messy hair and beard… and an E-rank?
"Don't be scared, kids," Bobby chuckles.
"It'll be quick. Trust me."