Despite receiving my words to avoid a confrontation, it doesn't matter. This individual sought just that. With each step forward he tested the validity of my words. His stride was challenging and provocative, but I still held my stance. The figure loomed like a shadow with his slim frame akin to one of the withered branches of the nearby trees.
"Last chance. Step Forward and-"
I didn't get to finish my statement before the cloaked figure leaped forward. His fist was raised, and with a blur, it was blocked by my right forearm. My eyes narrowed and a couple of his features were revealed with our clash. To be honest, I did not expect what lay underneath that hood.
"What a pitiful creature that you are. To attack me and expect to win? You must be dumber than a box of rocks!"
There was no response from the man but instead offered a different approach. He removed his fist from against my forearm and leaped backward. He likely feared retaliation from me, and for good reason. Comparing the two of us was like comparing a watermelon to an orange. He was several inches shorter than me, and underneath his cloak was a face seasoned with several scars. On the side of his face were ears covered in dark grey fur, and with the move of his cloak, a bushy tail was spotted.
Here I was a noble and handsome kitsune dealing with what I would refer to as a mutt. A mangy mutt who thinks that he has what it takes to beat me. It was ridiculous to think that a small, frail-looking man could get the best of me. If you were to ask me straight up, I'd likely think you were trying to insult me. Yet, it was just that that was transpiring.
It was expected that an inevitable clash with another demi-human to occur, but I didn't think it would be this soon. The man moved towards me again and with improvised movements I parried all of his attacks with my dominant hand. Each time, I attempted to return the favor, the man somehow found a way to weasel himself out of range for my counterattack.
'A man of his size should have a speed advantageous in this situation. It was like that with Arch-Captain Silvers, but this man is no Silvers. He's far slower...'
"Aight bastard. You'll have to do better than that. If you are going to attack me, then at least provide me with a decent challenge. If not you'll be the first of many to learn a simple lesson; your arms are just too short to box with God!"
A devious smirk stretched across my face as my words seemed to cause a brief pause in his attacks. He must've found his resolve quickly as the barrage of punches was back on. If I broke everything down, I could spot something strange occurring. If I were to compare this to what I would expect from a normal person, I could detect that this individual was fast. Every movement he made created a blur and it seemed well paired with his cloak. It was battling a dark blotch. Well if I were to make a comparison it was battling a mosquito.
Down to the nick of blood that occurred... what blood? Sure enough, before I had realized it, a blade found itself buried into the palm of my hand. It was small with a serrated edge and now it was covered in my blood. This damn mosquito demi-human managed to pull a fast one over my eyes.
"I suppose even a God can be harmed by mortal hands, huh?"
It was such a simple comment, but the intent was clear. He was trying to imply a sort of weakness since he was able to draw blood. If I were a God, then it wouldn't have been possible for me to be harmed in such a way. Yet, here I stood, dagger lodged in my palm with the culprit staring into my eyes.
"That can be the case, but harming a God and beating one are two different ones. I can't be beat at least not by the likes of you, dog."
Despite having a blade jammed into my palm, there was little pain associated with it. If I were to make a comparison, it felt as if a paper cut was present at the location of the wound. It must be due to my high constitution as a member of the kitsune race, or perhaps something else. Either way, it was thanks to that, that I could make such a reckless defense.
I stepped forward and the man ripped his blade from my flesh. My blood streaked across the ground, but that fact gave me no pause. I assumed that he would take this opportunity to create separation, but instead, he pressed his attack. He must have thought there was an advantage to be taken, but I quickly proved that there was not.
The air whiffed with each movement of the blade, and to counter I knocked aside the serrated blade with my bracer on my exposed arm. Normally, it would warrant disaster to do so. This case was no different as many of my opponent's slashes managed to strike above my defenses and draw blood from my arm. The constant stinging of my exposed flesh being torn into by the serrated blade was enough to force me to change up tactics.
The man stepped backward, creating a small distance between the two of us before launching towards me. His blade rested at chest level as he prepared a horizontal slash seemingly directed toward my exposed arm. His movements showcased a familiarity with my own. I could tell by his actions that he expected me to continue with my previous approach, so it was refreshing to see his face twisted with shock. Instead of knocking the blade aside, I focused both of my palms on catching it. We wrestled over the weapon and with each pull, more of my precious flesh was torn into it.
My blood spilled to the dirt path and with it, I began to lose my grip. It would be a wise course of action to remove the weapon from his grasp, and if I could not pull it from him there was another option. Admittedly, there could have been better ways to prevent all of these cuts, but I preferred this way. I released the blade and swapped to a more offensive approach as my opponent recovered his footing.
Without my opposing strength locking him in place, my attacker lost his balance briefly and that granted me an opportunity. Despite the injury to my right hand, I readily clenched my fist and shifted forward. With a straight right punch, my sliced fist shattered the blade into shrapnel leaving only half of the original length and the handle in the man's hand.
While it remains dangerous, its reach would now be severely limited in comparison to before.
'View yourself as Roktavor...feel his strength...and shatter the enemy.'
I reminded myself of my conversation with my friends a few days ago when we first arrived in Astana. I am no longer just Mark Nicholson, the human. I am also Roktavor, the kitsune. His strength is my own, and my strength is his. It is that fact that allows me to be incredibly reckless when it comes to taking damage. I immediately followed up shattering his blade with another straight right punch and my enemy saw it coming. He attempted to block with his forearm, but there was a revelation that he had not arrived at until that moment.
My punch landed, immediately shattering his guard and with my superior strength, he was blown backward. He couldn't brace himself in time so for several feet my cloaked opponent bounced across the ground like a rock skipping across a lake.
"With all of this blood that you managed to draw, I imagined that you could hold your own. It appears that I overestimated your abilities... then again, any man who hides his scent and wears a cloak to ambush someone is bound to recognize their inferiority...even if it is subconsciously."
My words reached the man's ear as soon as he corrected his stance. The hood of his cloak flew off his head revealing the canine-like features present on the man's face. There was now a bruise coloring his cheek from the impact of my clubbing blow. His dark eyes burned with resentment due to my taunt, and he seemed to struggle to return to his stance.
"Inferiority? Where do you find such unfound arrogance?! One attack doesn't change anything. You're riddled- Impossible!"
If my shattering of his blade was a tough pill to swallow, I could only imagine the genuine surprise that this man was experiencing. I slapped my exposed arm twice before shaking off the loose blood from the closing wounds on my palms. After their repair was complete, I showed the result of my concentration to him. Here I stood a brand new man.
"I'm riddled with cuts? That's what you were gonna say, right?", I mused.
With my tail, I guided the cowering Lannister behind me once more. I could imagine the concern the young boy was experiencing after seeing me being sliced up like that. To alleviate it, I raised my arm to show him that not even a graze remained.
"No... That shouldn't be possible. Our kind could heal, yes but not this fast...", the man says, distraught clinching his voice.
"That's the problem with your type. You fail to grasp even the simplest of concepts. It should be obvious to you and the boy that I'm not a member of your kind. I may be cut and I may bleed, but compared to you... hahaha! I am God nonetheless!"
"They were right about you... a deluded fool who doesn't understand his place. A true demon described by Lord Cyto. Someone has to take you down a notch!"
So that is his goal... To take me down a notch is something that a random bandit would desire. Not to mention that he declared that some third party was right about me. That tells me that this poor bastard is doing the bidding of another.
"Well, it ain't gonna be you who does it, I can tell you that much.", I retort, pushing my glasses up my nose.
"My skills are more than sufficient for a man delirious on his own power. I am willing to wager that you walked around your entire life with others blowing smoke up your ass! You don't know what it is like to struggle... to not know-"
"Bitch, please! I don't give a damn about how poor you are or how weak you once were!"
As the man devolved into his pointless scolding, I moved to attack him. I prepared another straight right punch, but this time he had it scouted. He narrowly evaded the attack, and my momentum carried me forward. The man sidestepped and with the remaining portion of his blade, he slashed vertically at my exposed arm. The slash was quick and packed with the intent to deal massive damage to it.
Unfortunately for him, our speeds were relatively similar, but there was one glaring difference between the two of us. I was taller. That fact meant that the advantage when it comes to reaching belongs squarely to me. Utilizing that advantage, I countered his attack with a faster one to his torso.
My left fist found itself bashing into the chest of my opponent causing him to become winded. It would be easy to simply blow him away like last time, but I wanted a new outcome.
"You should try to dodge this one...damn too late!", I mused as my right fist blasted the attacker in the back of his elbow.
As a result of my precise blow, the blade that he had slipped out of his hand. It was common sense to remove the weapon from the man, so the next step would be accomplished with minimal risk. "Hey, dumbass! Is this the skill that you were confident in?! I expected better!"
My words were laced with condescension as my fists pummeled the exposed man. Each shot that I landed would have been bone-crushing had I not been holding back. Even still, I imagined being bashed with a sledgehammer over and over would be a more pleasant experience than the pain that I was dishing out. Heavy grunts erupted from the man as I battered him with the right straight punch and left uppercut combo over and over again.
To be honest, I was deliberately spamming the same two moves and it would be poor sportsmanship... if we were in a game. Here this isn't a game. This isn't Infinity Unleashed where I would be chewed out for abusing the same overpowered maneuvered by another player. This here is reality and in reality, anything goes.
"Yer getting your ass beat man and it's lookin' like a skill issue!", I declared as my eighth and ninth blows rocked my opponent's stance.
I could tell with each continuous blow that my opponent seemed to be losing his grip. There was desperation present whenever we managed to lock eyes, but I remained undeterred. With every attempt he made to evade, I merely timed the next strike to intercept him. When he attempted to flee, I used his cloak as a method to prevent his escape. Any options he managed to muster they were completely overpowered by my superior strength and power! This was a complete mismatch, so I don't know who sent this man, but they set him up for failure.
Following his latest attempt to avoid the mauling, I grabbed onto his cloak, but this time he shed it. Blood leaked from the lacerations on his face as the man pathetically collapsed onto the ground. I couldn't help myself from howling in laughter and amusement to the point that my glasses flew off of my face.
"Damn!", I growled as I moved to correct that mistake.
I may have become overzealous in my smugness and I hoped that he was too battered to...
"Now! Eternal Root Bind!"
'Ah shit..."