Chapter 88: A Stab In The Back Please

Chapter 88: Chapter 88: A Stab In The Back Please

...Smoke rolled across the battlefield in thick gray sheets.

On the ridge, Kiki squinted through it, bow drawn, flames licking along her arrow. The fires she’d lit had turned the field into a haze of orange and black.

She had been skeptical at first and thought this was a coward’s weapon, but even her had to admit that it felt really good to shoot down people from afar.

After all, she was responsible for the most damage inflicted on the battlefield.

However, shapes had soon began to blur into each other because of the smoke, and she couldn’t tell orc from barbarian anymore, and a single bad shot would kill one of her own.

She reached for another arrow.

Her fingers brushed the bottom of the quiver. It was empty.

Kiki frowned. She lowered the bow, slung it across her back, and drew her broadsword. It seemed like the fun on this side was over. She’d have to go take care of business personally.

Then she kicked her Dire Lion’s flanks and charged down the slope.

The Lion ran hard, and as it ran it breathed out Frost Maw at the orcs ahead, freezing a handful in their tracks.

Kiki hit the edge of the melee with her sword already swinging. She sliced across necks, one after another, blood splashing across her face and chest, and she didn’t care.

Yes, this was what she had been built for. Not a damn bow.

But as she cut her way deeper, one thought nagged at her.

’Where is the Chief? Where is Milkshake22?’

Meanwhile, by the village, Victor’s fight with Vrok had reached a fever pitch.

No matter how many times he swung Vigil, it was like Vrok was playing with him. The orc’s movement made Victor feel like he was slashing through a mix of water and light. Every cut passed through where Vrok had just been. Without Stoneskin, he’d have died a long time ago.

But Stoneskin wasn’t free. His MP was bleeding out fast. Once it was gone, he’d lose both Stoneskin and Berserker, and he’d be done.

He could clearly see it. He only had a little below half as much MP as he normally would. That was just enough to activate Berserker for a decisive blow.

He had to gamble.

Luckily, he had resisted the temptation, time and again to use Berserker so that his hidden card was not figured out.

Still, after watching Vrok again and again, Victor had begun to catch the shape of it. Between the strikes, there was a rhythm. Vrok would vanish, flicker, then reappear. And there was always a gap after.

Victor did not have a skill for detecting other people’s status. But he had played this game as much as breathing air.

He recognized the skill.

Phantom Step.

It was not an Orc Movement Technique. Rather, it came from the highlands. Which told Victor certain things. The Orcs seemed to have invaded other places and not just the Barbarian lands.

But that was a problem for another time. The most important thing now was this.

Since this was not an original Orc skill, navigating it would be easy. Considering the Boundary had only recently been opened, Vrok must have gotten the skill of recent.

Which meant that he most not have upgraded it.

Also, Vrok was a level 4. Until level 5, one could not distribute points at will.

Victor calculated he still had a chance.

Phantom step was essentially a Short-range blink that left a trailing water like afterimage.

But most importantly, it had a Cooldown of 11 seconds. But from what he could see, Vrok’s Phantom step only had a cool of three seconds?

Was something wrong? Or was he the one getting the skill wrong?

He would have to confirm. After a bit more sword play, Victor smirked.

I have confirmed with his attack pattern. It’s indeed three seconds. That’s my window.

Victor suddenly changed his rhythm. He fed Vrok false openings, a stumble here, a late block there.

’It seems the fresh meat is getting tired.’ Vrok thought to himself, his tongue licking his tusk.

’If you get desperate like that. Then I can’t resist but eat you up.’

The orc grew bold and moved to finish Victor. Vrok blinked in for the major strike, and in the instant after the blink, in the cooldown, Victor was already there.

He turned a near impossible arc with his sword

Vigil, it bit deep. A long, ragged gash opened from Vrok’s right leg all the way up to his left shoulder, a good chunk of flesh peeling away.

Vrok howled in pain. His mind was in shock as to how Victor had done it.

He had observed Victor and knew he was not only getting tired, but such a strain should not be something his muscle should be capable of doing.

Then he saw it in Victor’s eyes. The White was gone.

Which Orc had not heard of the skill few talented barbarians were born with?

Berserker.

But this realization came too late.

Victor didn’t stop. He drove in again and again and again, never giving him a breath. Vrok reached for Phantom Step to pull away, but the skill was still cooling, and Victor was already on top of him, hammering forward. The orc staggered, stunned. He hadn’t expected this level 2 to have this much under his feet.

He didn’t know that the only reason Victor hadn’t collapsed yet was Vigil’s stamina bonus keeping him on his feet.

And that two points for defense from Vigil was the reason Victor’s fingers had not left the sword because of recoil when their blades clashed.

Victor drew back for the finishing blow, the one that would cut Vrok’s leg out from under him.

Then suddenly, his Barbarian instinct flavored.

Danger prickled along his spine.

Victor threw himself sideways without thinking.

A blade came down exactly where he’d been standing. Its edge still tore across his back as he rolled, searing pain lighting up his spine. Victor spun, grunting, and looked up to see who had struck him.

A figure stood in the smoke, axe in hand, not far from Vrok.

Popo.

Victor stared, shocked.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.