Chapter 87: A Close Shave With Death.

Chapter 87: Chapter 87: A Close Shave With Death.

...The barrel went up in a fireball, swallowing the orcs as they crowded in. They screamed, rolling on the ground, boars shrieking and stampeding blind.

Oil had saved the barbarians again.

But every barbarian there knew this was the last trick. No more traps. Whatever came next would be Iron against whatever these Orcs carried as weapons.

Jaja slid down from his Dire Lion, long claws sliding out of his fingertips, and planted himself in front of the flames. The air stank of burning fat and scorched flesh, orc and boar alike.

Then again, there was nearly no difference between the two.

As the fire began to die, Jaja threw his head back.

"ATTACK!"

The barbarians surged forward, a wall of roaring bodies.

On the other side of the field, Vrok saw it happening and screamed for his guards. "Go! Help our men!"

One of the guards hesitated. "Young chief, the Chieftain said we are to stay by your side—"

"Do I look weak to you?" Vrok snarled. "I can handle a Level 2 barbarian. GO!"

The two guards charged into the fray.

The first one tore into the barbarians, and with a single swing of his long bone blade, he opened a tribesman’s throat. The man dropped without a sound.

Jaja saw it. His jaw tightened. This was the first death they had suffered all day.

He ran at the guard, claws out. The guard raised his bone sword to block, but these were claws grown from the Basalt Dragonic Lizard’s blessing. The bone sword was nothing to them. Jaja’s fingers carved right through it, and through the guard’s arm along with it. The orc screamed as blood sprayed from the stump.

Then the second guard came.

Jaja swung again. This time his claws met the blade with a sharp CLANG, and he leapt back, frowning. This bone sword was not like the other. It was an Awakened armament.

He refused to give ground. Jaja was Level 6, but fighting with claws was new to him, and the guard was a skilled, seasoned warrior. Their weapons clashed again and again. The guard’s blade opened a long cut along Jaja’s side. Jaja didn’t flinch. He was a barbarian through and through, and he pressed in harder.

Meanwhile, Victor was running.

Vrok had sworn he would have him, and he was chasing nothing else. Victor rode the Dire Lion hard, glancing back and seeing the boar close behind. Good. If Vrok fell, the whole battle would collapse with him.

He charged along the back of the village and pulled up at the riverbank, then slid off the Lion’s back.

Vrok skidded to a halt on his boar and sneered down at him. "This is it? After everything, you present yourself like a good slab of meat?"

Victor winced inwardly. That line was so cringe.

He summoned Vigil into his palm. "This meat’s very spicy," he said. "You sure you can handle it?"

Why did I even say that. That was even more cringe.

Vrok roared and charged anyway.

But Victor had prepared for this. He was only Level 2, and Vrok was Level 4, but he had aces up his sleeve. And the Dire Lion beside him was Level 3. With the two of them fighting together, Vrok should be manageable.

The first strike came. Vrok brought his bone sword down hard.

Victor threw Vigil up to block.

CLANG.

The impact sent him reeling. His whole arm buzzed, muscle tightening. He could take maybe one or two more like that.

And as the blade glanced off his own, he felt it, a faint hum running through the bone.

This fucker has an Awakened weapon too?

Curiosity suddenly arrested him as to the kind of stats his opponent’s weapon had.

Regardless, victor took several steps back. Why was it that all his opponents had to be people that could easily dispatch him.

He could suddenly relate with the struggles of those protagonists in Manwhas and and anime.

Still, that clash had told him something. If he used Berserker, he would be able to over power his opponent.

But overpowering did not translate to over skill.

Orcs were just as competitive as Barbarians if not more.

Even though Vrok was the son of the chief, reaching level 4 must not have been easy.

And didn’t Orcs have a skill similar to Berserker?

What if Vrok had unlocked it? That could easily over turn the situation of the fight if he used Berserker.

Wait! There was more. What if Vrok had other Skills he did not know of?

There were just too many what ifs?

Oh fuck it. I’ll just get a status appraisal skill when I can.

He concluded. Rushing for another attack. He raised his sword high and then brought it down in a diagonal arc.

However, Vrok gave a sharp side smile. And before Victor’s eyes, his body blurred, shimmering like a hand slapping through a water curtain.

His falling blade missed its mark.

What the fuck was that!?

The thought registered in his head half a second too late.

A movement skill. Shit, he dodged to my side. I can’t avoid it. My footing is wrong...

Vrok’s blade came down on Victor’s back.

CLANG

Like iron hitting iron rang out, shocking Vrok.

It was the Lion’s mane. But there was also something else. Something underneath.

Still, the attack had come with force, making Victor stumble. He lost his footing, and fell.

Vrok was already attacking again.

But then—

FROST MAW.

And just in time too.

Vrok was forced to block the Dire lion’s attack. Which gave Victor the opportunity to roll out of the way.

Victor breathed hard. His life had just flashed before his eyes. He turned to look at the Lion’s mane.

There was an observable cut in it. This thing could block attacks from a common grade armament. It seemed like Awakened was too much for it to handle.

The only reason Victor had not been diced into two was because his STONESKIN skill had flared up to protect him.