1232 Words Of Silence
Varian had fought many opponents in the short period since his awakening.
In fact, he fought so many warriors who had decades and centuries of experience behind them that it was a surprise his combat skills outclassed them.
Was it an innate talent?
A blessing of the sliver?
Or was he just doing something right he didn’t really know?
Varian had no answer why. But thanks to his combat experience, he could ‘feel’ the battle.
If speaking was an exchange through sound, then a fight was the exchange through movements.
Every movement indicated something.
The desperation of a loser. The rage of a father. The shades of discipline.
Just like every food had its flavors, so did every fight.
Slaughter Shade’s fight was a high mix of discipline and a low mix of disbelief—even until his death, that man couldn’t believe he lost to someone who barely defeated his brother.
It was evident in the way he struggled to escape his grasp, knowing full well such a move against an experienced warrior was too risky.
And like everyone else, the guardian’s fighting style also had a flavor.
‘…Desperation?’
There was always some level of desperation in every fight. You have to win after all or you’d fucking die. So, everyone, everything had some shade of desperation.
The Guardian also had a bit of desperation, but more rage and anxiety. But for some reason, perhaps because of the shock after seeing the Harvester, the guardian’s desperation reached its peak.
Unlike the previous careful play, every blow was now a finisher, every movement a step towards a potent move, and every block the start of a counterattack.
Varian raised his arms against his chest and blocked the spear of white-black mace.
As his forearm bones cracked and the momentum of the blow stirred up his insides, the mace turned into a spear and thrust into his right shoulder.
“Gotcha!”
Varian bent his knees and avoided the blow, while neatly performing an uppercut to the opponent’s jaw.
The guardian staggered back three steps before whipping out its leg and kicking him in the chest.
Varian blocked the attack with greater technique but he lost in terms of raw strength. He slid backward with blood leaking out of his lips.
‘If only that bastard wasn’t watching me so intently!’
The Harvester was keeping track of his every move.
Eshala’s phantom had locked him down and rendered him harmless for now. But if Varian did show something crazy—like space power or spirit power, then that man might really go crazy and do something dangerous.
There was just too much power difference between the two for Varian to hide his power switches like he usually did against other enemies.
So, Varian played it safe.
Even though Harvester was furious, he couldn’t care less if he was fighting the guardian. Even if Varian defeated the guardian and took the legacy, so what? He’d just snatch it from him.
The legacy may be very valuable but even in his most injured state, Harvester’s strength wouldn’t fall below a rank 8. After killing off Eshala’s phantom, no one could stop him.
‘Let’s play safe. Play sa—fuck!’
Varian covered his head with his hands as a hammer struck down. His knees bent, his thighs went almost parallel to the ground and blood flowed out of his cracked skull.
He blocked it with his full Adept power. Yet, the attack broke through his attack neat and clean.
“You son of a bitch!” Varian kicked the floor and jumped to the side, dodging the hammer that went down with enough momentum to crush an entire planet.
He stepped on the hammer’s head and flipped over the guardian, reaching behind it in an instant.
The guardian was already turning around, moving to block his attack but Varian was a step faster.
He feigned a punch to the back and bent his forearm using his adept powers, striking the guardian’s shoulders.
Crack!
One of the guardian’s arms went limp but before he could celebrate, the hammer shrunk into a dagger and reached him in a flash.
“Fuck!”
Varian sidestepped to dodge and ended up facing a move he didn’t expect. The Guardian used its limp arm like a whip to strike him on his side.
Varian bent backward, his torso going almost parallel to the ground and he put power in his right foot, ready to kick the guardian and flip back, creating a distance.
A kick in this situation wasn’t something one would expect but it was his aggressive style.
Boom!
The space cracked apart as his foot shot upwards with tremendous force and reached the guardian’s abdo—
“Huh?”
ραndαsnοvεl.cοm
Varian flipped back and distanced himself anyway, but he was no longer on his two legs. Standing on one leg, panting heavily, he faced the guardian who was facing him with one arm.
Both Varian and the guardian stared at each other. In each other’s eyes, the other person was a black and white humanoid monster whose eyes were plain and emotionless.
But somehow, they both had the same thought.
‘It feels familiar…’
That move from the guardian could only come if it’s very used to that move of his. It’s not a common move and unless you regularly fought with someone like that, your body wouldn’t make it an instinct.
‘Who did this guy fight to get his fighting instincts?’
On the other hand, Sarah had a similar confusion.
Even though the visual manipulation meant she could see Varian only as a white and black humanoid, his posture when he stood on a leg and the way he positioned himself…
‘It’s familiar.’
It wasn’t just that, the way he moved felt, attack after attack. Especially the kick just before, it was something she had to suffer under training with Varian. Even when they decreased their physical strength to the same base, she suffered under her dear husband.
So, her body ended up creating new instincts to deal with the situation. Just now, her body moved without even thinking.
‘But why…’
Sarah felt a bit perplexed but didn’t give it much thought.
Varian too put it aside and hopped forward.
His leg was slowly getting better, but without the use of Assimilator power, it’d take some time, almost the same time as the guardian would take to get its arm better.
The battle that unfolded next drove them to the extreme.
Varian had superior fighting skills but low raw strength.
The guardian had significantly inferior fighting skills in comparison, but somehow seemed more than familiar with his moves, bridging a lot of gaps and to supplement all that, it had a higher raw strength.
As a result, exactly ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, Varian had three cracks in his skull, blood literally showering down, two fist-sized holes in his chest, three fist-shaped depressions in his abdomen, and fractured bones everywhere else.
The guardian wasn’t in great shape either. But relatively, it was in better shape.
It wasn’t really bleeding or anything, it just remained that black-and-white caricature. But whenever he punched some places, it reacted more, proving that it did have wounds.
If his estimates were not too off-mark, then the guardian had displaced shoulders, an abdomen that had its internals nearly crushed, and a spine that almost shattered.
But he hadn’t won. And chances weren’t looking great for him either. Even moving an inch resulted in searing pain, his whole body screamed at him, and whenever he clenched his fist, the broken bone fragments cut into his flesh and nerves, making him feel like a hundred scorching needles were being pierced into his skin.
‘Fuck it!’
Spitting some blood on the floor, along with a few teeth that’d take an hour to regrow, he assumed his fighting stance.
He could read his battle flavor as well. It reeked of desperation. He had to win this. No other way.
The battle between the Harvester and Eshala’s phantom was coming to a close. If he didn’t finish this battle by then and get the legacy, he’d be done.
‘I have a minute or less…’ Varian’s aura grew heavier.
Sensing it, the guardian also assumed an aggressive poster. Sarah too realized the fight of rank 9s was about to end. If she was going to get out of here safely, she had to defeat this guy! Now!