Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

Chapter 345: Talent And Defiance [III]



Chapter 345: Talent And Defiance [III]

The shadow-wrapped blade of his longsword started traveling down in a lethal arc, poised to cleave Lily’s head from her shoulders as she lay helpless on the ground…

—THWAACK!!

But the blade was halted mid-descent as Michael turned and jerked the flat of his sword up to shield himself from a knee that came barreling at his face.

CLANG—!!

A metallic groan rang out, and Michael was forced exactly two steps back.

The entire left side of Ray’s torso still bore ugly third-degree burns. His flesh was charred and deformed.

If he hadn’t concentrated nearly all of his Essence on that spot at the last possible second to brace against Michael’s previous attack, half his body would have been blown to smithereens.

It was a mystery how he was still conscious.

It was an even bigger mystery how he had recovered so quickly.

Regardless, as soon as he forced himself to get back up, he went after Lily, who had gone in alone to help Vince.

Unfortunately, what he saw when he scaled the cliff and entered the forest shook his core.

Vince was slumped limply against a gnarled tree, a wet trail of crimson staining the bark behind his shoulder.

And Lily was on the ground, a pool of blood widening beneath her. The dark stain on her lower abdomen told him she was rapidly running out of time.

Ray’s breath hitched in horror before he propelled himself forward like a rocket, introducing his knee to Michael’s face.

…Or that was the plan, at least.

But Michael blocked the blow just in time.

That was fine, however, as Ray used his forward momentum to flip over, grabbing Michael by the gorget and converting his entire body into a living centrifuge — spinning across the y-axis like a wagon wheel.

As he sailed over Michael’s head, Ray used the back of the gorget as a pivot point to yank the swordsman off his feet.

Before he knew it, Michael was launched into the dense ferns and ancient trunks, crashing through the undergrowth until he tumbled out of view.

Ray didn’t even look to see where he landed.

Instead, his gaze snapped toward Lily as he scrambled to her side, skidding to his knees through the pooling crimson.

Not good, not good!

There was too much blood. She would bleed to death at this rate.

He looked at her pale face. Her breathing was shallow — more painful quivers than actual breaths. Her eyes were unfocused, the light in them slowly being snuffed out.

Ray slapped her face gently, calling out in desperation. “Lily! Hey, Lily, keep breathing! Just keep circulating Essence around your wound! It’ll tighten the tissues and help stop the bleeding!”

It was easier said than done.

To keep the Circulation Technique active, she needed to maintain a steady rhythm, which was a monumental task in her current state.

But somehow, she managed to pull through.

Her eyelashes fluttered weakly as she forced her draining focus to draw in deep breaths.

The Essence started to circulate bit by bit. It wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding entirely, but it did slow the flow.

Though Ray sighed in relief, he knew the situation was still dire. This had bought her… what, minutes instead of seconds?

He had to end this battle fast before anyone else got hurt.

•••

Michael had to put all his weight on his longsword like a crutch just to stand straight.

The shimmering white thread seeping from his chest — phasing through his armor and trickling toward the shore of the Lake of Grief — pulled taut, forcing him back into a battle stance.

He was like a living marionette, made to fight endlessly by a cruel puppeteer uncaring of his condition.

Swoooo—!!

That was when a fiery lance came zooming in from behind.

Thanks to his future vision, Michael saw the attack long before it reached him and dodged by tossing himself to the right.

—KABOOOM!!

The lance hit the spot on the ground he had occupied mere moments ago, detonating with the force of a truckload of TNT going off.

The shockwave slammed into Michael, stealing his breath, but he braced himself and managed to keep his footing.

He skidded back several paces, leaving deep grooves in the floor of wet moss and rotting leaves.

In front of him was an enormous crater, thick black smoke and a suffocating cloud of pulverized earth pluming into the air.

The overgrown vegetation and haunting greenery nearby were immediately incinerated, reduced to flakes of ash raining from the sky.

Ray was dangerous.

Even one of his concentrated lances was enough to decimate a small building.

Fortunately, to conjure that lance, Ray needed to supercharge his explosive energy before giving it physical form.

Moreover, he could only use three explosions in quick succession before a cooldown kicked in.

So that lance was an ultimate move that he couldn’t spam relentlessly.

That brought Michael some solace, even as his lungs burned.

If he was conscious, he would have noted his breath tasting of sulfur. He would have felt the mithering strain in his limbs and the skull-splitting ache at the back of his head.

But since he wasn’t conscious, he felt nothing.

As such, he didn’t slow down at all…

Not until he spotted another bright projectile speeding through the haze. Michael quickly threw himself to the side once again.

Just like before, the lance hit the ground and detonated.

The resulting impact flung Michael further and hit him harder than he had prepared for. It was like being hit by a moving truck.

Everything was still fine until then, however.

Sure, the battle wasn’t in his favor, but with his future sight, he could now move in and search the woods for Ray in the direction the boy was sniping from.

As strong as Ray was, he would be no match in close combat once Michael got the chance to eat the distance between—

Swoooo—!!

Something unexpected happened right then.

While he was still being flung back — while he was still in midair before he had even landed — yet another incandescent lance descended onto him from the heavens, zeroing in with pinpoint precision.

If Michael had been in his right mind, he would have been flabbergasted.

How on earth was Ray able to release two back-to-back fiery lances?

The answer was as simple as it was genius: Ray had stacked them.

He had created one, waited for his cooldown to reset, and then created another.

After that, he had lured Michael into such a compromising position where there was no way to evade, even with the copied power of future sight.

Because to dodge the first lance, Michael had already jumped. The second lance, meanwhile, came when he was still airborne.

With no ground to push against and no time to summon a defensive Card, he was a sitting— no, a falling duck.

…But Michael hadn’t lost yet.

Mustering all his strength, he whipped his arm forward and slung his shadowy longsword toward the incoming projectile.

—KABOOOM!!

The third explosion went off prematurely, several meters above Michael’s dark, tumbling figure.

The aerial blast sent a circular tide of fire sweeping outward, momentarily clearing the smoke and revealing the skeletal silhouettes of the trees above.

Because Michael had triggered the blast early, the lethal core of the explosion missed him, though he still felt the searing heat wave.

Gravity finally claimed him, and he slammed into the damp earth, rolling through the ash until he hit a gnarled root.

His sword, thrown by the force of the blast, buried itself point-first into the ground a few feet away.

Even with his body broken and his mind adrift, he knew it was imperative to reclaim his weapon. After all, challenging Ray empty-handed would be akin to inviting death with open arms.

So ignoring the protests of his legs, he stood up.

He willed Essence into his feet and dashed onward at breakneck speed, outstretching for the hilt of his sword with his left hand.

He was there in a blink. His fingers were inches away — so close he could almost feel the cursed steel on his skin.

…And it was still not close enough.

Right before he could actually grab it, Ray burst through the curtain of smoke from the right, his fist wreathed in the concentrated embers of a fourth lance.

It was the perfect play.

Michael immediately understood Ray’s strategy.

First, Ray used the explosions as a smokescreen to cover his movements.

Then, he forced Michael to part with his sword.

Finally, he emerged from the right.

Why from the right? Because Michael’s right hand was mangled to the point it was useless. Ever since Ray had detonated a point-blank explosion on his vambrace, Michael hadn’t been able to use that arm.

In simple terms, even if Michael reached his sword with his left hand, he wouldn’t be able to turn and parry this final blow in time.

He couldn’t escape this checkmate.

Because this was a checkmate.

This was… t-this was a checkmate, right?

Ray lashed out with everything he had left, gripping the fiery lance tight as he drove it toward the black-haired boy.

But Michael took one step more than was necessary… and reached for the planted sword with his right hand instead.

Those mutilated fingers of his, charred and unresponsive just moments ago, clamped firmly around the hilt.

Impossible!

Ray’s eyes widened in the realization that he had been tricked.

Michael… had been fully capable of using his right hand from the very start, despite the splintered bone and damaged nerves. He had simply faked the extent of his injury, waiting for a moment exactly like this one.

Of course, this realization came far too late.

The next thing Ray knew was his own hand severed was at the wrist by a dark blade whistling through the air with a speed that defied human anatomy.

The strike was so clean that there was a heartbeat of surreal silence before the spray of hot blood followed the arc of the blade.

…But Ray’s momentum was already a physical law.

Even as his hand was lopped off, the limb continued carrying the fiery lance forward until it rammed directly into the center of Michael’s chest.

—KABOOOOOM!!


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