The Foolhardies 93 The Medusa Touch Part 1

"Ready player one," I whispered to myself.

It was refres.h.i.+ng to hear the words I often used to boost my self-confidence a notch higher. Honestly, I wasn't the most self-a.s.sured kid out there, so a little positive att.i.tude went a long way in psyching me up. But even this very important phrase wasn't enough to clear the doubt in my mind.

Yeah, I had a simple dilemma. The Magesong b.a.s.t.a.r.ds set a trap for my boss, Great General Darah, on the other side of the center armies battlefield—far, far away from where I might have made a difference. And although she was a brilliant strategist herself, more than likely, Darah had sprung their trap even if she'd noticed it just so she could get within a few more feet of the opposing enemy general.

"The best defense is an unstoppable offensive strike that slaughters everyone in our path," Darah always liked to say.

Now, as one of her retainers—at least the one she loved causing the most trouble for—it was my duty to break out of the trap set for me by the aptly named Lord of War and a.s.sist Darah in her goal of ending this war in our absolute victory. Simple, right?

Wrong. It was far from simple as there was a gigantic obstacle in my way. Introducing the murderous looking thousand-man commander of the Magesong clan's center army and my self professed rival, Azuma, the Immortal.

Yes, I had, through a series of incredibly challenging adventures, been able to rid Azuma of that pesky unkillable zombie status that I once thought was his default fairy gift. Still, this didn't make him any less manageable. The dude was strong and worthy of being placed upon a pedestal I reserved for guys like Darth Vader, Achilles, and All Might.

Standing barely twelve feet away from me looking all cool in his deathly stance—his spear pointed menacingly in my direction—the emaciated body of Azuma stood as the biggest obstacle to reclaiming my footing in this war. Victory lay through him, and that meant now wasn't a time for doubt or insecurities. If I wanted to help Darah, then now was a time for action.

With my doubt pushed to the back burner and my resolve to put myself squarely in death's crosshairs finally set, I pulled out the shadowblade dagger from my free hand, and with a reverse grip, raised it to my eye-level. Then I placed my falchion's shadowblade over the dagger's own shadowblade and kept it level against Azuma. I'd chosen this famous dual-wielding sword stance for its ability to maximize sword thrusts and combine them with sneaky dagger attacks that were geared toward catching a distracted opponent right in the gut. Not that I'd mastered dual-wielding, but I had to keep surprising my rival, right?

Once I was fully prepared, I took one large gulp of air and then shuffled forward inch by inch with my lead foot sliding across the wet gra.s.s. In contrast, Azuma remained deathly still. But then he coughed.

A second pa.s.sed. He coughed some more. However, this coughing fit didn't even break his stance.

"Um, you alright there?" I asked in spite of myself.

Azuma cleared his throat. "Come, Dean... I don't have all night to kill you..."

I shook my head. What the h.e.l.l was I worrying for? The dude was intent on murdering me.

I continued my slow approach. A mere ten feet separated us now.

At this point, some of you might wonder why I hadn't reactivated Fool's Insight. Well, that's because I couldn't. Not if I wanted to use whatever ounce of fairy gift I had left for Basilisk's Eye. It was my trump card, and it took a lot of juice to activate. Sadly, that was something I was currently struggling with. Even now I could feel the growing strain on my eyes similar to that feeling one gets when they spend all day staring into a brightly lit computer screen. So, no, I couldn't use it—yet.

Eight feet between me and Azuma. I was basically in his range now. But he hadn't moved an inch. No more coughing either.

The atmosphere seemed to tense up, and you could feel the anxiety build up among the crowd of onlookers who watched me inch closer toward Azuma. Yet all was quiet. The gathered were waiting with bated breath for the upcoming exchange of blades. Even the wind had stilled.

My fingers tightened on both my falchion and dagger. My arms tensed with the strain of antic.i.p.ation. However, Azuma didn't budge.

A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead, raced down my cheek, and then dropped from my chin. It was so quiet—like the pair of us was trapped inside a soundproof bubble—that I heard the dripping sound of the bead hitting the blade of gra.s.s beneath me. And like a starting pistol's explosion, that drop of sweat became my cue to charge.

I launched myself forward with my front foot and pushed my falchion forward like a rocket in flight.

Azuma reacted instantly. He uncoiled from his stance and charged me as well, his spear reaching for me like death's icy touch.

One, two, three, four, five exchanges. Each one a miss that would have taken the other's life. For every one of my sword swings blocked by Azuma's pole, his spear thrusts were also parried. Yet, I drew first blood. It was the dagger. I managed to slide it across the inner side of his arm when he'd extended it to pierce me with his staff. 

Instead of a piercing scream, a stoic Azuma simply sent me another death glare and resumed his attacks as if I hadn't just nicked him with my dagger.

Blood gushed out of the wound on his arm same as the wound on his leg, but neither seemed to stop him. The man was relentless in his attacks. Even more so now than he was when our fight began. And I think I knew why.

With each heavy blow of his spear, Azuma's chest heaved harder. With each sweep of his pole, his breathing quickened. If I didn't know any better, then I'd think the sickness that drained his life on Mudgard was finally catching up to him here in the Fayne now that he didn't have the Curse of the Morrigan protecting him.

More and more, it looked like Azuma was desperate for a quick finish, but being the annoying teenager that I was, the determination to disappoint him lit a fire in me that strengthened each of my attacks. Each of my blows carried more weight than before. Each of my attacks more daring than the next. It was the wrong move.

As I tried to capitalize on him pus.h.i.+ng forward with a forward rotation of my own that ended with a backswing of my sword, I was met by another block from his pole that quickly transitioned into a side smack from his backhand.

I pulled my head back, and the sensation of another nosebleed nearly overwhelmed me. Thankfully, I was just fast enough to duck as his hand came reaching out for me, possibly in an attempt to push me into another knee strike.

I may have dodged his knee, but Azuma came prepared with another surprise. So, instead of a knee to the jaw I got a spinning heel kick that smacked me in the left shoulder. The impact pushed me sideward, introducing me to a left-fisted haymaker that might have knocked my clock out if I hadn't raised my right arm in time to block.

"Yeow!" I yelped.

Even more than the bruise I could feel had appeared on my forearm, the shockwave of his fist pa.s.sed through my entire arm and forced me to drop my dagger.

"Muddamit!" I yelled while launching another series of sword attacks at him. "Why won't you just fall!"

Azuma laughed, and it wasn't the crazy laughter he sported during one of our previous exchanges but the wheezing, coughing laugh he'd had back in his hospital room on that night Aura and I promised to set him free from the Magesong clan.

"I don't want to stop! This is too exhilarating! This is what it feels to be alive!" He said in a voice that was half-whisper.

He wasn't unmotivated at all. In fact, it just seemed like the wounds that wouldn't heal like they used to just invigorated him more. Fortunately, I'd already decided that I wouldn't get fazed by any of his crazy antics. Now was a time for action.

A lightbulb exploded to life inside my brain. A sick Azuma, no matter how skilled, could be beaten. The time was ripe to launch my trump card.

After twirling his spear around in a vertical rotation, Azuma raised it high, and using the momentum he'd gathered, launched another downward swing at me that would have been a terrible blow if it had hit. Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click for visiting.

But while he was laughing and spinning his spear around, I was actually whispering a sweet little incantation that went something like this, "Oh, great fool, let my sight turn deathly cold that I might turn my foes to stone." 

With the final word whispered, an almost searing heat shot out of my eyes, and I imagined it crushed Azuma with a pressure that made him feel like stone. Only, it didn't work out like it should have.

Azuma, who should have been momentarily paralyzed, just shrugged off my fairy gift and continued his attack. And although it clearly took him a great effort to do—nosebleeds and popping neck veins among other signs—he still managed to do it. The man was just that frighteningly strong despite cancer eating away at him.

His spear came cras.h.i.+ng down, and I barely had a moment to raise my falchion up to block. The impact sent me down on my knees, but I held. My arms shook as they held my falchion up. Above me, Azuma, his nose bleeding profusely, glared down at me.

"Neat trick," he said. "What else can you show me, Dean Dapper?"

"Seriously, dude… why won't you just lose?" I hissed back at him through gritted teeth. "You're half-dead already!"

"But this fight only became more interesting now that you've revealed your fairy gift!" Azuma replied in a wheezing voice. "I dare you to try it again."

Fear began to worm its way into my mind once more at the same time as my vision blurred. And yet, despite it, or perhaps because of it, my arms continued to hold. They did not shake. They stood firm. My breath, too, although ragged from fatigue, wasn't the least bit uneven.

I was reminded of a quote I'd heard long ago. "Courage isn't the absence of fear… it is the capacity to take action in spite of fear."

"You truly are an interesting boy, Dean," Azuma said in response to my babbling. "Shall we begin round three?"