Chapter 11: Black Eyes XI

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[CORBIN VILLAGE - Village Center]

The deathblow never came.

Just as Muse was prepared to meet her end, Cain appeared in front of her.

He had no delusions about his strength - the man was a head taller than Bron, and Bron already dwarfed him in size. So he did the next best thing he could, raising his bow with both hands.

The thing was made of concentrated wood, and built hardy in order to handle the constant duress that it would be put under. Not as sturdy as something meant to take blows like a shield, but sturdy enough for this specific case. Cain swung.

He nailed McDougal's right arm, the one that held the axe.

It was just enough.

The blow directed the war axe off its course, and it missed Muse's head by a hair.

She used this chance to grab the saber she had dropped, bringing it up with force. Not wasting any time, she channelled divine essence through her blade and pointed it at McDougal's center of mass.

A blast of wind shot out of it like a gun, enough to batter and break, sending the off-balance man backward. He landed on the soft ground, his feet dragging through the soil for several feet before he came to a stop.

"Shit."

Cain looked at the bow in his hand, the one that Bron had given to him. The string had snapped from the impact, and the wood had bent all the way back, free from the tension that had held it. It had done its job as a weapon; it had saved a life. But now Cain needed something else. None of the bandits that he had seen and slain were archers - it seemed that for ranged attacks they preferred to rely on throwing axes.

Dammit, he needed a bow!

Muse noticed his hesitation and charged. Right now, she needed to give him some time. She drew her blade, and locked eyes with McDougal. Within seconds they were engaged in a flurry of blows, each trying to get the edge on the other.

It wasn't a winning proposition for her, but this was something she needed to do. She couldn't possibly give him the time to concentrate and cast a spell again. The idea of another hailstorm of mud bullets, or something trickier like dragging them into the earth below sent ice into her veins.

Wait... Why did it need to be a bow?

The reason he had started using a bow in the first place was because Bron had given it to him for the hunting mission. He hadn't had a chance to try using another weapon - No, he hadn't even thought about doing it before.

Rather, after the hunting mission his mind had gone all-in on trying to figure out Control Scheme in relation to archery. But now that he thought about it; if games were the basis for his powers, and they certainly seemed to be, how many games out there had protagonists that used only archery and nothing else?

There had to be a bunch, but they were certainly in the minority.

His answer was clear. He looked back at where he had dropped the body of the bandit previously, and rushed on over.

As Muse engaged the bandit leader in combat, he rummaged through the dead man's things. Certainly, he had gotten mad earlier when he suspected Muse of stealing Rey's quiver off him as he was bleeding to death, but he hoped that his hypocrisy would be forgiven by the fact that the dead he was robbing literally tried to murder him.

Cain came out of the venture with two tomahawks and a war axe. He balanced the things in his hand. The tomahawks were smaller, and held a good center of gravity. He understood instinctively how to use them.

He tried the other weapon. It was about the size of a longsword, and felt almost like a club with the way that the majority of the force was concentrated on the tip. In exchange for the better balance of a sword, it seemed that this was a weapon more focused on power and penetrating force.

The debris behind him was settling down, and he noticed as he turned that there were a pair of golden slitted eyes on him.

The blue lizard hissed, and charged.

As good a foe to test things out as any, Cain supposed. He swung at the approaching figure.

It felt completely natural.

Memories broke through the haze. Unfamiliarity. There were sensations of scuffles, but no, he had never really fought before. His body didn't know the footwork; his eyes didn't know what to watch for.

But despite that, the war axe in his fingers sung. It sliced and diced, carving blood and scale, as he did what he could to send the creature back. Cain's attacks left no gap - one after another. If one attack landed, the stunned creature could not deal with the next one. They could only be described as combos.

Within moments, it felt as if he had cornered the beast.

Cain was not aware that this was a Dire creature; the same one that the hunting party had been wary of facing, and so his ignorance gave him courage.

He continued to move forward, slashing and cutting. He was simply not aware that the creature's iridescent hide was meant to ward off all glancing blows, and that it was a challenge equal to many better made weapons than the iron axe he held in his hands.

His attacks landed clean each time. His weapon struck at the perfect angle, and in doing so did more damage a weapon twice its grade would.

The Dire was reeling, it had never felt so cornered before, so defenseless despite its biology.

Then, it reeled back onto its hindlegs, prepared to let out a blast of chilly breath. Without a moment's hesitation Cain had grabbed one of the throwing axes and let it fly. The spinning blade entered the beast's mouth and out the back of its skull, and it fell to the ground dead.

Cain stared.

Was that it?

[LEVEL UP!]

Fire in his nerves again, but this time he was somewhat prepared for it and weathered it better. He had slain another two bandits, and this thing had obviously been much tougher than them. There was a chance that the EXP requirements had exponentially increased, but it seemed that wasn't the case.

He looked behind him - Muse was still locked in combat against McDougal. He was pushing her back, but she was fighting in a defensive manner that made it hard for him to land a decisive hit. That meant Cain had a split second.

[CAIN THOMPSON]

[LEVEL 4]

[EXP - 124/600]

[JOB CLASS: NONE]

[HP] 140/140 > 160/160

[MP] 70/70 > 80/80

[STRENGTH] - 17 > 19

[DEXTERITY] - 15 > 17

[CONSTITUTION] - 14 > 16

[INTELLIGENCE] - 14 > 15

[WISDOM] - 15 > 16

[SPEED] - 19 > 21

[LUCK] - 14 > 14

[YOU HAVE ACQUIRED 3 FREE STATUS POINTS! YOU HAVE 6 IN TOTAL.]

[YOU HAVE ACQUIRED A SKILL POINT! YOU HAVE 3 IN TOTAL.]

[SYSTEMS ACTIVATED:]

-CONTROL SCHEME-

He tapped the screen quickly.

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO ALLOCATE 6 POINTS INTO STRENGTH?]

[ YES / NO ]

Yes.

[YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY ALLOCATED YOUR STATUS POINTS!]

[STRENGTH] - 19 > 25

He swiped away the yellow panel, and hurled the last tomahawk he had in McDougal's direction.

The bandit lord saw it coming, and deflected it far, far up into the sky with his own axe. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Muse stabbed him in the side with her sabre. It was a real wound, the first one that had been dealt in this battle. Blood gushed out of his wound as he howled in anger.

She had hurt him.

Veteran of the barbarian suppression, bandit lord of the north, master of the land, and the Red Beast of Ermire! HIM! Milverton McDougal! Rage boiled within him at the audacity. A mere squire. He had sent hundreds to die in the war, and slain thousands more as a bandit!

He clenched his free hand into a fist and twisted it. The earth listened.

Then he turned back to her, his face twisted into a demonic snarl, and swung once more. Muse ducked, preparing to jump back to avoid the blow, only to notice that her previously solid footing had turned to nothing.

The ground underneath her melted, and before she could right herself McDougal’s blow struck true.

Cain’s eyes widened.

Her silver saber shattered, Muse was sent flying to the side and smashed into a tree. A trail of blood flew through the air, before landing on the ground. It disappeared quickly, absorbed by the roiling earth. Muse cradled her side, where red was quickly seeping through her clothing. Shuddering breaths.

She didn’t scream, nor make a sound of pain. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure.

Cain charged forth, wielding the war axe with both hands.

But unlike the Dire blue lizard, McDougal was a seasoned fighter. Cain’s strikes were deflected, dodged, and overpowered. His footwork was read in advance, and each swing countered before he could put his full power into them. It didn’t matter how high his [Strength] stat was, he couldn’t make use of it at all.

The crimson war axe slammed down once more, and Cain’s weapon broke again, falling into two pieces on the floor. He had been sent to his knees by the force of the attack, and he stared up once more at his would-be killer.

The picture perfect executioner, holding a glistening axe above a genuflecting germ. This would be the first direct hit Cain ever took, and he was going to die from it.

Then Cain saw the object falling from the sky.

The throwing axe. The one he had tossed earlier.

McDougal had deflected it into the sky with his own swing. Of course! There was still a weapon he could use! But there was no way he would reach it in time. Like how the battle went, it was just one step out of reach.

A gust of wind blew, righting the tomahawk’s course.

Muse smiled as she beheld the sight, one hand clutching her abdomen and the other one open in front of her, pointing directly in the direction of the falling axe.

McDougal saw it in the knick of time. It was headed right for the black-eyed boy in front of him. No time, he needed to make this count now, before something unbelievable could occur.

He lowered his axe.

And just like that, before the tomahawk could reach him, McDougal carved through Cain. His axe went directly from the top of his skull to the bottom of his pelvis, perfectly bisecting the man.

The Beast smiled.

He had felt the resistance, the weight. That familiar, hefty, and satisfying feeling of taking a life. Just as hunger was the best spice, a victory in a mortal situation like this was a drug he could never wean himself off of.

But wait, where was the spray of blood?

[CRITICAL! 147 SLASHING DAMAGE TAKEN!]

Cain’s arm moved.

McDougal didn’t understand what was happening.

The bisected fighter - no, his body was whole! - moved. His right arm flew above his head, catching the tomahawk as it was coming down. Then he brought it behind him smoothly, readying.

McDougal’s killing blow had been a killing blow. A haymaker with an oversized beast of an axe. He wasn’t ready for retaliation; there was no way he was still balanced properly, both physically from the strike and mentally from what he was seeing.

And so it went just like that.

Without understanding what was happening, McDougal saw the world flip.

Everything went off balance, and he couldn’t breathe. He felt hot fire under his chin. A chaotic situation, but he was a smart man. It wouldn’t take him long to comprehend what was--

Was that his body?

Thump.

A head with wide eyes, burning red hair and beard, and open mouth rolled onto the floor, twitching slightly before falling still and joining the rest of the corpses in the village.

And so the Red Beast of Ermire died in ignominy, decapitated by one of his own men’s weapons.

Cain Thompson stood triumphant in the moonlight, his arms at his sides, his heart beating out of his chest. It was over, it was finally over. The tomahawk, glistening with blood, dropped from his shaking hand. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, but only briefly. It would soon fade.

He clapped, and soon the silver glow of the moon was joined by another. Golden light spilled forth from the window he had summoned. Cain was the only one who could see it; Muse was unable to, no matter how hard she stared.

[CURRENT HP: 13/160]