Clang Clang Clang
The sounds of clashing swords drowned out the noise of the Aura of Konabos. It was a maelstrom of silver blades, created between the two behemoths, swinging their weapons faster than an ordinary man could see.
Although the opponent was a legend, Faenys was still faster; however, she noticed the same abnormal feeling she had noticed during her fight with the sect leader. Sometimes it felt like she was cutting water or honey. The air grew resistant to her weapon, like a viscous liquid, and slowed it down. At other times, it tried to twist in weird angles, throwing off edge alignment.
It only happened a couple of times with the sect leader, but the ancestor kept spamming it during their fight. Whatever ability it was, the immortal was much more fluent in using it to his advantage, or he simply had greater energy reserves. It was actually kind of annoying.
Faenys was actually quite proud of her weapon skills. Since she actually came from a background of battle, she was one of the technically best fighters of Minas Mar. The only exceptions were people like Jonah or Monique, who were born with great talent. Monique even had training, like her.
However, in this fight, she was forced to admit that her opponent had vastly superior swordplay. She was unable to gain the upper hand, despite her passive power-ups and the auras. The immortal had extreme willpower and was unaffected by her skill. Not even the
Ever since he appeared, his face was a mask without emotion. Even when he lamented over his grand disciple's death, there didn't seem to be any great emotions involved. Facing such a cold man, not even her divine skills were able to find a leverage to take hold.
Although Phobos was a god involved in war, most of the powers and skills she gained through her patron supported and relied on status effects. She exploited the flawed human nature to feed fear and other mental weaknesses.
But without such a gap in the opponent's mental defense, or the needed power to pry it open, they were currently of no use against the cultivator. She doubted the man opposite her did not have mental defects; it was just that she lacked the skill to exploit them.
However, even if there was no gap, that didn't mean she couldn't make one.
As the blades were about to clash again, the marvelous, magnificent, mad Yatagan Mim and its wielder vanished from sight. With the Crow Killer trait and the sword's Blade Ghost Effect, Faenys could even evade the immortal's divine sense for a short time.
Using Seere's Spontaneous Movement, Faenys canceled her attack and changed her pattern. Crouching below his sword attack, Mim stabbed forward like the bite of a Viper. She used the
"Urgh! How?" Familiar words left the mouth of the immortal.
He didn't get to avoid. The yatagan's length grew with her attack. Despite taking a step back to avoid the unknown danger, the weapon still punctured the immortal's side, peaking out from his back.
Faenys found that his robes were unnaturally tough, but they couldn't stop Mim from going all the way through. With all her additional speed, she was currently stacking a lot of physical damage. But piercing the defense was only the start.
The immortal immediately suffered various effects that had already brought demise to his successor. The Power of Decay, coming from Mim itself and her gauntlets, infiltrated the wound close to his vitals.
Based on her weapon alone, there was also the Poison of Botis now spreading in his body, and it seemed like Mim's chance to cause bleeding had triggered. In addition came the effect of the
The ancestor's face twisted in anger for the first time since he appeared. He immediately turned to attack her. Dozens of energy blades comparable to his first attack materialized in the surroundings, forcing her to pull back. Mim exited the body of the man with a spurt of blood, leaving a festering wound behind.
Faenys smiled hesitantly. Although the man had not fallen to her power yet, she knew, based on his expression, that he had put a dent in his mental defense. As long as she kept going like this, his defense would break, and then the fight would be as good as over.
On the other hand, the storm of blades he had summoned in an instant, which turned the valley into a canyon landscape, was frightening. She had blocked a similar strike earlier, but it actually cost Yatagan Mim several durability points at once.
Although the brigand was ready for a couple more exchanges, the fighting style of the ancestor had changed once he suffered a wound. Maybe it was the festering wound, the poison, and a slow onset of fear, but he became more aggressive.
No longer did he only react to her attacks with blocks and light counters, but he started taking control of the flow of their battle. Strong controlled strikes hailed on her without pause, interspersed with sorcless blade energy, trying to strike from blind spots.
Almost resembling a dance, the style was the peak of efficiency. Faenys just started recognizing a certain sequence behind his systematic attacks when he had already called out the name of the technique.
"Brilliant Southern Net!" the immortal exclaimed, and his blade drew bright white lines in the air with every swing of his blade. The weapon moving at incredible speed barely gave Faenys time to block, much less interfere with whatever he was creating.
Streaks of white light, like lines of chalk frozen in the air, started accumulating around him and Faenys. She had a guess at what he was trying to do. One could kind of infer what the skill was going to do based on the name and what it looked like. Maybe she could have escaped the flurry of blows, but she actually got a different idea as things went on.
It didn't take long for them to be surrounded by a dense net of white lines. It was now that the ancestor jumped back, pointing his blade at her. At the same moment, Faenys brought out a scroll and ripped it.
"-Close!" as if he finished a sentence, he gave a command to the white lines. Suddenly, like blades of energy, the whole bulk of lines charged at Faenys. She had kind of expected this. It was like an attack that was charged or built up through certain actions.
The Chosen of Phobos showed remarkable bravery, as she didn't try to flee or evade. Still, her following actions seemed silly to any onlooker. The knight in blue armor turned her back to the rain of sword energy and crouched down. Tugging her head, arms, and legs in, only exposing her back completely.
Seeing the opponents' cowardly, almost childish actions, the sect ancestor was sure of his victory. The first blade of light hit the opponent square on the back, and blood drenched his robe. Unfortunately for him, not the blood of his opponent, but his own, as a wound had suddenly opened on his back, bursting with black flames.
Despite her unwillingness to waste any enchantments on defense, Faenys now relied on the Hide of the False God, and the Trait it granted, "Hide of the Brazen Bull". Of the immortal's attack, the trait reflected 40% outright. Another 10% was reflected as an attack of cursed flames. 70% of what remained was negated, leaving just 15% she had to tank with her defense.
To be on the safe side, she had even used the Scroll of the Turtle Shell, raising her overall defense by another 35%. With the armor's defense and defense buffs, she felt the blunt impacts on her back.
It would have left a couple of bruises at best. Nothing a healing potion couldn't fix, not that she needed one. With Jabberwock Constitution, the damage she felt healed almost the moment it appeared. Although it was the attack of an immortal, it apparently didn't use "legendary means".
While the chosen of Phobos suffered a rough back massage, the immortal looked worse for wear. The sect ancestor had fallen to his knees, and the robe on his back had burned away. The flesh on his back was raw, covered in cuts, as if he had suffered a harsh whipping. The difference was that a whipping didn't leave behind black flames that ate away at his flesh for a while longer.
Faenys could have embraced the hail of blade energy with open arms, but she had shrunk the area, so the old ancestor would suffer a concentrated backlash. Now, he was coughing and gagging, enduring the pain he suffered from half his own attack.
Faenys rose to her feet, unharmed by the flashy technique, grasping Yatagan Mim tightly as she faced the man on his knees. Now, she could see it as he looked up at her. Beyond the cold calculations and hot anger, there it was.
In his eyes, she found a hint of fear. She had her gap.