The heroes want to kill me

Chapter 41: Mocked me

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‎He stumbled backward, his body battered and bruised. He knew he had to think of a new strategy, or risk being defeated by the statue new ability. But his mind was foggy, and his body was screaming in pain.

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‎He saw the statue moved back from his position directly in front of him, it then stood in the center, waiting. It was like how a cat toy with the rat. A very upsetting and demeaning thing to do, especially to your enemy Its body. it body stood there silently waiting for him to make his move every muscle, every tendon, every anatomical detail was rendered with surgical alertness. Its grin still plastered on its face like a mask, a mask that fully show the delight the bastard is getting at my own expense.

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‎The Statue exploded into motion.

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‎Its lead leg snapped up, the shin cutting through the air like a blade. The push kick was aimed at lupingo solar plexus, a fight-ending strike that would send him crashing into the wall behind him again. I guessed it was tired of waiting. So I did what any sane person would do after doing that. I moved away from its body, pivoting to the side as the foot passed within inches of my ribs.

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‎I learned one thing from that kick. it thought me that sometimes the scene in movies, no matter how far fetched it is can be sometimes right. the wind from the kick hit me like a physical blow. The force behind it was monstrous, tripled by the statue’s ability into something that could shatter bone. If it had connected, my ribs would have turned to atom, no ions.

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‎I slashed with my sword, aiming for the extended leg. The blade struck the granite shin and scraped across the surface, leaving a thin line of glowing residue that faded within seconds. The statue’s leg withdrew, unharmed.

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‎The statue reset its stance, returning to that perfect guard form, I believe it’s muay thai guard. I know because I have watch a lot of fight scene in other to implement them in my writing fight scene. Too bad I am unable to perform them perfectly in real life. the statue did not even bother to react to the counterattack. It did not show any sign of pain or discomfort. it was as if it did not affect him at all. It simply resumed its position, waiting for the next exchange.

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‎i wanted to feel angry but there is no time for that. I circled to the left of the statue, the sword held in a low guard. my breathing controlled, my heart rate elevated but steady. i had not even be fighting for long yet I am so tired. I guess the reason will be before the fight. I have no idea on this statue move, but I know one thing, and the one thing is to survive.

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‎The statue was not a mindless brute. It was like a machine of violence, programmed with the sum total of Muay Thai’s destructive potential. Every strike was picture perfect. Every movement was perfectly efficient. it was like it was doing too much, like we already know you can fight, why the extra. It did not waste energy on feints or flourishes. It simply attacked, defended, and attacked again, an endless loop of calculated aggression.

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‎And yet the one thing that still remains constant is that annoying grin, the annoying grin that will make me destroy the statue, yet still go to hell to destroy it there, and it was annoying fast, like what the F...

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‎I had learned that the hard way. the statue first move was exactly this annoying fast move, he did not even had the chance to last close to thirty seconds.

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‎The statue ability made everything worse.it ability that I have now find out, the ability to multiply any of it attack. A cross that should have been survivable became a concussion. The knee had cracked his cheekbone..

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‎The statue attacked again.

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‎It stepped in with a jab, its right hand shooting forward like a piston. he parried with his sword, deflecting the blow to the side. The impact rattled his arm, sending shockwaves of pain up to his shoulder. The force was incredible. But he felt that this time it didn’t multiply it’s ability.

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‎It threw a cross next, a straight right that would have caved in his skull. He ducked under it, feeling the wind of its passage ruffle his hair. He tried to counter with a slash to the statue’s midsection, but the statue was already rotating, its hips loading for a kick.

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‎The roundhouse came at head height, the shin a blur of gray death. he threw himself backward, the kick passing so close that he felt the rough texture of the stone graze his forehead. He stumbled, his balance compromised, and the statue capitalized immediately. But not before saying something annoying.

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‎"Don’t tell me you can’t take it anymore, is it that our honourable guest is too weak and is already tired. "The statue said.

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‎It immediately stepped forward and launched a knee.

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‎The strike was aimed at my chest, a flying knee that would have stopped my heart if it connected. I twisted desperately, throwing my self to the side, and the knee caught me on the shoulder instead.

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‎The pain was instantaneous and overwhelming. although it was lesser than if it was multiplied. But still It felt like his arm had been torn from its socket, my joint groaning in protest as the pain set in. I was thrown across the courtyard, my body tumbling over the wall. I crashed unto the wall, the same position I always crashed in. I think this is the third or fourth, I don’t know.

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‎The impact knocked the air from my lungs. my sword fell down from my hand, the light in my eyes sputtering on and off, as if my brain concentration is about to be shattered. I slumped to the ground, gasping, my vision swimming with dark spots.

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‎The statue waited and said.

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‎"How sad to see. "why do our dear guest die so quickly? why god are they just so weak. "The statue said

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‎It then stood in the center of the hall, resuming its perfect stance. Its grin like face was turned toward him, watching. Waiting. It would not attack until he rose. I am the rat, and it’s not tired of playing games with me, it’s relishing it unconquered victory over me. it believes that a downed enemy was not a threat. A downed enemy was not worth the energy. only when I move will it be worthwhile.

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‎I pushed myself up, my injured shoulder screaming. I could feel something wrong with it, a grinding sensation that suggested ligament damage I believe, I am not a medical students, but I sure as hell know my own body. I rotated the arm carefully, testing its range of motion. It hurt, but it still worked. A man can’t give up, and who am I to give up because of something called pain, that would be something very disappointing, and I won’t disappoint myself no matter the pain. i would fight even with the heavily defying pain

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‎I grabbed the sword again, I activated my light, let it flickered to life around my hand, let it aid me in the battle and see if it can provide me the change I need. I was running low on whatever energy fueled me, but I sure as hell have enough energy for my light power, and even with my low understanding of it, I can see some applications, application that could aid me in this battle.

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‎The Statue continued to wait. it continues to underestimate me, and I am very thankful for it, it is the reason why I am still alive till now. So I decided to look for any way to finished the bastard before it stopped, before it stop underestimating me.

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‎I charged toward the statue.

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‎He feinted high with his sword, then dropped low, slashing at the statue’s lead leg. The statue checked the kick with its shin, the impact sending vibrations through my arms. He spun, using the momentum to deliver a back kick to the statue’s midsection.

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‎The blow connected, but it was like kicking a mountain. The statue didn’t move. It didn’t even react. It simply grabbed my leg with both hands and twisted.

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‎The pain was blinding. I felt my knees pop, the joint dislocating under the tripled force. I screamed, a raw sound of agony that echoed off the large hall walls. The statue released me, and I collapsed to the ground, my leg refusing to bear my own weight.

‎The statue stepped back, resuming its stance. The grin plastered on it face was still annoying, even more annoying than the injury of his leg.

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‎"Oh, the poor little guest has gotten his leg broken, do you want me to call one of those damsel to kiss it for you. "The statue said in a pure mocking way.

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‎He wanted to reply, i wanted to reply yes, even though he knew he was being mocked, but the leg pain was just annoying too painful.

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‎He couldn’t rise. His knee was dislocated, his shoulder was damaged, and his entire body was a symphony of pain. a person from a car accident would look better than him, his position now was very pathetic and he knows it too. He lay on the cold hard ground staring up at the white void above, and felt despair creeping into his heart.

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‎"hmmm void, "he thought in his mind.

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‎if his darkness power was still working, he believes that he would be in a far more better position.

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‎Now he is lying on the cold hard ground, about to die.

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‎The thought was strangely peaceful. He had fought well. He had lasted longer than he had any right to. But even self he still filled with annoyance, annoyed at the fact that he was about to die at the hand of the statue. But what can he do, the statue was unbeatable. It was too strong, too fast, too perfect. There was no way to defeat it with the power he had.

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‎The power he had.

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‎His light.

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‎he looked at his hand. The glow was still holding strong, it hasn’t turned into a faint shimmer that barely illuminated his palm. it was bright, and somehow peaceful. He had been using it wrong. He had been treating it as a weapon enhancer, a enchantment to his blade. But light was not a enhancer. Light was a weapon in itself.

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‎What was light? He couldn’t help but to ask himself that question.

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