Hell-bent on returning to his craft, Roland dashed forward, his face twisted and eyes blazing with fury.
His hammer descended like a furious storm, aiming for a strike that would be the embodiment of his frustration.
The gleaming steel hammer cleaved through the air in the direction of the still-hammering figure, whose expression turned sour. Zhihui roared
"DON'T INTERRUPT ME!"
Then twisted his hips and spun around.
Putting all his momentum into his hammer, Zhihui swung his hammer with tremendous force, meeting Roland's ferocious strike with unwavering determination.
*CLAAAANGGG*
Their hammers clashed in a thunderous uproar that reverberated through the workshop. Sparks erupted from the point of impact, a brief, fiery display that illuminated the intensity of the confrontation.
In that clash, Zhihui came out on top by just a margin; his hammer was slightly heavier than the spare Roland currently used, and when they collided, the impact knocked Roland's hammer back into the air.
Roland gritted his teeth as the vibration from his hammer coursed through his arm. The replica was tougher than he had anticipated, and his goal of returning to his craft would not be easily achieved.
While he had occasionally been distracted by rude customers, no one had ever directly stopped him from working before.
In his anger, he had put quite a bit of force into his blow, only to find it ineffective.
Now he was forced to waste time exchanging blows with a figure he wasn't even sure he could defeat, which only further inflamed his frustration.
Anger coursing through his veins,
"DROP THE HAMMER!"
Roland Shouted. Then, once again, he brought the hammer down with intensity.
swoosh.
*CLANG*
The workshop, once a sanctuary of creativity and craftsmanship, now bore witness to a different kind of creation—a creation born from conflict and the clashing of forged steel.
"Do you have any idea how delicate this work is? This is not a tavern; it's a forge for serious work."
Zhihui exclaimed while they continued with a relentless exchange of blows and parries, each strike carrying the frustation of being disturbed from their craft.
swoosh. *CLANG*
"Who the hell are you?! In all my years at the anvil, I've never seen such audacity." Roland retorted, frustration simmering in his voice.
The air crackled with the heat generated by the friction of the conflict as they fought unrelentlessly, locked in a battle that transcended the physical realm, a clash of wills.
Roland's fighting style mirrored his straightforward nature—no tricks, no feints or finesse, just simple blows that carried terifying strength behind them. 'I see'
'This is how you battle? charging in head first with tenacity—are you a meathead? or so single-minded you can't think of anything else?'
'Which is it?
Zhihui was inwardly pleased; seeing the burly man in front of him show emotion was rare, but now he was visibly enraged, and the more enraged Roland became, the deeper he could peer into his soul, revealing more of his secrets.
'Show me more of you'
Immersed in his current character as Roland, he smiled and replied with strikes of equal nature. Meeting Roland rage-infused blows head-on.
Roland prepared to unleash another strike when seeds of confusion germinated in his mind. 'Even now he's imitating my movements,'- thinking this, he brought down his hammer, aiming for Zhihui's head, who responded with a horizontal bash that Ronald had used in the previous exchange.
'Interfering with my craft, my creation... how dare he?' The thought gnawed at him as sparks flew from the impact, creating a fiery display in stark contrast to the once serene forge.
Gripping his hammer tightly, he asks, 'Why is he getting in my way?!' He quickened his strides and intensified his blows.
Rooting his feet in the ground, Zhihui blocked the heavy hit, and a second later, another mighty strike descended towards him. They seemed to be getting more tenacious each time.
Facing the incoming blow, he sidestepped and flexed his arm.
Tightening his grip, Zhihui swung the hammer with all his might, the sound of metal hitting against metal resounding out soon after.
'My hands are already feeling numb; this can't go on for long,' he mused, his breathing becoming unsteady.
'Just a bit more, and I'll wrap this up,' he thought to himself as he traded yet another blow.
Although it seemed like he had the upper hand, he knew that the only reason he had sustained this far was because of his Qi and abnormally strong soul; his true body was still that of a 5-year-old child, even if it was three times as durable. On top of that, most of his Qi was being used to sustain his current form.
He had yet to learn any sort of combat martial arts; the fact that Roland's strikes were straight and simple was fortunate for him. However, he was strong.
When he first felt the weight of Roland's hammer, he had an idea that the blacksmith may be stronger than he seemed.
'But to this extent?' He was surprised and slightly apprehensive. While his plan appeared to be progressing without fault, he had a faint intuition that something was wrong.
Zhihui smiled wrly as he endured the relentless barrage of hammer strikes. He then sighed as the window to counterattack closed up more and more.
Narrowly parrying one of Roland's blows, Zhihui strategically backed away, creating some distance between them.
Yet, Roland, unrelenting in his pursuit, charged toward him.
'It seems the fake can't match up with the original after all' he pondered, and with that thought, his entire form underwent a transformation.
A gray smoke emanated from his body, dissipating into the air and unveiling his figure.
The once brown hair turned a deep black, and his piercing blue eyes gained an even more profound intensity.
While the robust physique remained, a significant height reduction occurred, creating a rather amusing disparity between his cute facial features and his still-muscular body.
Yet the changes weren't merely physical.
Chaos seeped into his thoughts, urgency reignited within him, and the cold, indifferent air, the psycho-crazed look, and the eerie presence all returned.
He admired Roland's determination and focus; they were similar in some ways, but at the same time, they were different in many ways.
As he felt himself becoming whole again, Zhihui smiled widely, excitement coursing through him.
Growing up, he always thought about—what would he be like if he never had his curse? or what if he had a loving family? what would it be like to live normal life? Becoming Roland offered a temporary escape from himself, an oddly peaceful respite, yet it also reinforced the realisation that, despite everything, he wouldn't trade his identity for anyone else's.
Acknowledging his own complexities and potential proximity to insanity, he remained true to himself. Being someone else? 'No thanks.'
At this thought, he looked towards Roland, who wore a thoroughly perplexed expression, witnessing the transformation of his replica into an entirely different person.
Zhihui then used all the air in his lungs and shouted:
"WHAT IS LOVE?!" "OH BABY DON'T HURT ME." "DON'T HURT ME, NO MORE!" His eyes turning sharp as they fixed on Roland, he continued.
"ROLAND!!"
"IS THAT HOW YOU GREET YOUR BEST FRIEND? BY SWINGING A HAMMER AT HIS FACE?!"
He then sprang into action with his hammer held high.
Expecting another clash, Roland adjusted his hammer while he prepared himself, but the strike never came.
If Rolands fighting style could be described as strong, direct, and simple.
Zhihui's could only be called
Dirty,
Roland watched on as a bucket of water soared through the air. The same bucket of water he would use to cool down his work after he was satisfied with it,
Calculating,
His eyes widened as he gazed at the bucket, what he realized made him grimace. During the last exchange, his replica began to back away.
Thinking he had found the perfect opportunity to end the charade and return to his work, he charged towards him.
A grave error.
On the left side of where he stood,
was the forge.
And unforgiving
With a resounding thud, the bucket of water collided with the forge, unleashing a surge of flames and a scorching fog of steam that billowed in Roland's direction.
Being a blacksmith who had multiple run-ins with fire, he was no stranger to the pain of burning and heat. He quickly raised his arms over his head, gaurding his eyes and any potential weak points.
Alas, it wasn't enough.
The hammer head shone as it cleaved through the air, blowing the steam away before impacting Roland's stomach.
"..ugh," he groaned, a pained sound escaping his lips as he instinctively clutched his lower body.
He was in a lot of pain; his expression didn't show it, though.
He stared at the figure in front of him as he felt a mix of complex emotions.
'Why me?'
Roland, a solitary man who cherished his quiet life, harbored no ill will toward anyone. Yet, the mysterious figure before him seemed insistent on disturbing the peace he held dear. What he did to receive this kind of bullying, he didn't know.
In a moment of uneasy silence, Roland, wearing a pained expression, faltered in his speech.
"Could you please return my hammer? I need to get back to work."
It had to be said that Roland was not a fighter; he avoided causing problems for others. His craft was his sanctuary, a passion that had captured his heart long ago.
The disruption weighed heavily on him, to him, his craft was everything.
"You can take the weapons, but please, leave my hammer. That, and the anvil, is all I need," Roland pleaded, in a disheartened tone.
'Huh, What's with that face? You're making me look like the bad guy'. Zhihui thought while he remained silent.
'I thought he'd keep on fighting. Seems he's not just a meathead...but I need to get him angry..'
Zhihui rubbed his chin in contemplation.
'Should I destroy his hammer?'