Endzone: Simulated Apocalypse

Ragnar faced Cyanide, a good thirty meters opposite him in a decrepit and overgrown area of grass and trees. Probably what used to be one of the parks near Aterra HQ, now desolate and overrun by the ravages of time.

"So, Cyanide," he boomed, inspecting his greatsword as he spoke. Cyanide scoffed at his insolence. "You claim to know me. My history. So it begs the question…do you consider me a threat?"

Cyanide responded bluntly, voice devoid of any emotion or arrogance.

"No."

But rather than being pissed at this like any normal person would, Ragnar gave a deep chuckle. "Hmph. I would call you arrogant, but… it would be more accurate to call you blinded. Let's see if I can knock that ego down a few… hundred notches!"

Cyanide ignored his goading, and immediately dashed away as Ragnar leaped forward with a frontal cleave of his greatsword. So predictable.

Ragnar, however, didn't back down, and ran at him once more, only to be out-maneuvered yet again. Cyanide landed on his head with one foot, as if taunting him, and then did a somersault in the air before gracefully landing behind Ragnar.

"… Hmph," Ragnar snorted, and turned around to face Cyanide once again. "You fight like a bitch, Cyanide. I'd expect more from a man of your caliber. Is that all you got?"

Naturally, Cyanide wasn't fazed in the least by his goading, and instead merely stood still, tapping his finger on his elbow as he folded his arms, beckoning Ragnar to attack again.

Also naturally, Ragnar took the bait.

From this, it was clear this man was just a simple brute who charged into every battle without a second thought. Cyanide had originally believed he could be used, but as it would seem… he was too useless for even that.

Jumping up into the air as Ragnar sweeped at him with the heavy stone greatsword, Cyanide pulled out his knife at last, and prepared to end this pointless conflict. But just as he dove downwards, aiming straight for the neck to pull off a perfect [Stealth Takedown] to execute his enemy-

"The same trick won't work twice, you dunce!"

"—!"

-Cyanide felt a hand close around his ankle, and his eyes widened.

Instantly, he turned towards Ragnar to see him staring up at him with a triumphant smirk on his face, but the battle was not over yet.

'Petrify.'

"What the fu-?!" Ragnar's mouth opened wide in surprise, but it was too late. The petrifying gaze from Cyanide's skill turned his entire body to stone, from feet to head. Cyanide forcefully tore out of his grasp and landed a few meters away, narrowing his eyes.

That was closer than he would've liked. Had this been back on Earth, without the help of something like Soul Arts, that fatal mistake could've very well spelled his death.

He had underestimated this man. If his teacher were still here, he definitely would've berated Cyanide for it. Even though Cyanide was crafted to be the ultimate human being, normal people could still catch him off-guard, given the circumstances. He knew this fact very well, and thus always kept his guard up no matter how weak his opponents were, but this… this was a surprise indeed.

But no matter. Ragnar had been turned into a statue of stone, mouth still hanging open like some kind of moron, and greatsword in his hand. He looked like a ridiculous sculpture of a barbarian, nothing like his armored appearance the last time Cyanide and him met, back on Earth.

Slowly, Cyanide raised his gun and pointed it at the statue's forehead. Ragnar Creed, was done for-

Crrrack.

Suddenly, the layer of stone on Ragnar's skin burst open into shards and splinters, and Cyanide's bullet ricocheted off of one of the shards. He was forced to cover his eyes to defend against the dust, and when the smoke settled, Ragnar, fully alive and well, walked out with his greatsword over his back.

"Haha, you got me there, I'll give you that!" he snorted with derision as he walked towards Cyanide, eyes no longer carrying any sign of playfulness and only sheer, raw anger. The greatsword on his back symbolized destruction, and his formal alias—Dreddnought—referred to 'dread nought'—fearless. Even as he stared down at the greatest assassin in history, he was not fazed.

Of course, the opposite was true as well. Cyanide too was not scared of his opponent in the least, but he was a bit warier now that Ragnar had displayed what he was truly capable of. Before, Cyanide only saw him as a mere maggot, nothing more. But now? He upgraded into an ant.

Deciding to test Ragnar's abilities further to see just how far he could go, Cyanide needed to show some more of his own cards as well. Slicing his hand in front of him, he called forth a mist of dark black smoke, shrouding himself and blinding Ragnar's vision.

At least, that was the plan.

"Flaming Crescent!" Ragnar roared, his blade catching a furious red flame as he swung it through the air. The heat reflected Cyanide's [Toxin Air], dispersing it immediately.

At this, Cyanide cocked an eyebrow in interest. So, this so-called 'Titan of Shadows' wasn't just a meathead—not completely, anyway. Very well. Cyanide realized there—perhaps there was some use in turning this man into his chess piece after all.

But of course… a pawn could not be TOO smart either, lest they betray their king…

Ragnar charged at Cyanide, his sword still blazing. Cyanide narrowed his eyes, waiting for the right moment, then dashed out of the way right at the last second. Ragnar's blade hit nothing but thin air once more, but it was fine.

He was learning.

For every time he swung his blade, even if he missed, he was observing his enemy's movements. So that the next time he swung, his sword would hit its mark.

Just as they say, the greatest power of mankind is the power to learn.

The same, however, applied to Cyanide. He too was studying Ragnar's movements, his fighting style, and the way he handled himself in the heat of battle. Both of them had yet to land a single actual damaging hit on one another, and both had not revealed all their cards yet.

Earlier, the true reason Cyanide chose to fight this man was because he was interesting. When Cyanide used [Inspect] on him, he discovered that Ragnar's stat distribution was utterly horrid: everything poured into STR and VIT, with only 20 points in AGI.

Under normal circumstances, there was no way anyone could survive in this world with those kind of stats. No matter how strong one was, they were worthless if they could too slow to hit anything, and couldn't run away either. Little by little, they would be worn down, and ultimately killed.

And yet… here Ragnar was, alive and well.

That could only mean one of two things: either he was extremely lucky (not the LUC stat)… or he was so skilled and experienced in this method of fighting that he was able to make it work, despite the stark disadvantages. Cyanide believed it was the latter.

If it truly came down to it, Cyanide was confident he could take this man down. It wouldn't be easy, but he had the level advantage, not to mention the great benefits Weapon Enhancement gave, which Ragnar had yet to unlock since he was not Level 30 yet. However, back on Earth, the battle may have ended in a tie, or even Cyanide's death. The chances were slim, but it was evident—this man, Ragnar Creed, was nothing like any opponent Cyanide had ever faced before.

"… Heh."

Before he even realized it himself, he was smiling. It was a sadistic, borderline psychotic smile, passed onto him from his former teacher, Anthrax. The thrill of a challenging battle, the taste of blood… Cyanide wanted it. And this man… would be the first to teach him.

Smirking like a crazy devil and licking his lips, Cyanide activated the Weapon Art [Vampiric Blade], causing the knife in his left hand to light up red, thirsty for blood.

"Now… let the real fight begin."