"F*ck." Louise could only curse as he stared at the two new arrivals.
The specters were more or less identical to the first one. Both were shrouded in ragged robes, their forms dark and ethereal, holding two-meter scythes that glinted ominously in the dim light. Their eyes glowed with a cold, malevolent light.
"You think you can survive against us, human?" one of the specters jeered, its voice dripping with disdain. "Your death is inevitable. And when you die, you will lose a part of yourself. You will be stripped of your qualifications to enter the game."
The second specter joined in the mocking, its laughter echoing eerily. "You're already dead, boy. Struggling is futile. Just accept your fate."
Louise calmly analyzed their words, realizing these specters knew far more than he did. "I don't care if I die," he replied, his voice steady. "And if I'm lucky, I'll take one of you down with me."
The cracks on Louise's barrier had gradually disappeared, though there were still parts that remained fragile and susceptible to attack. He could see the fractures knitting together, but it was a slow process, and time was not on his side.
He understood that as long as the barrier around him could touch the specters, he had a chance. He just needed to get close enough. One of the specters provoked him, "Come on then, try it! Let's see what you've got!"
With that, both specters launched their attack. Louise rolled to the side, evading the initial strike, and found himself near the scythe left behind by the previous specter. He grabbed it, noting that it was immune to the barrier's effects.
Using the scythe, Louise tried to defend against one of the specters, parrying its blows. However, this left the other specter free to continue hacking at the barrier. He gritted his teeth, feeling the strain as the barrier took hit after hit.
Desperate, Louise tried to bait them by accepting an attack, but his punch failed to land. The specters laughed and jeered at him, "We won't repeat Old Black's mistakes!"
Louise looked at them with a fearful expression and took a few steps back. His barrier was hanging by a thread, capable of withstanding maybe three more hits at best. He turned his back and suddenly started running, feigning fear. One of the specters laughed and gave chase, striking the barrier twice more.
As the specter was about to deliver the third strike, Louise suddenly turned around. The barrier shattered, and he was stabbed in the left shoulder. Blood oozed out, but he managed to grasp the scythe with his left hand, pulling it toward him.
In that split second, he touched the specter with his barrier. The second specter screamed in pain as its form burned. The third specter, who had been watching eagerly, was shocked and sprang into action.
As the second specter disintegrated into black smoke, the third specter was already in front of Louise, its scythe aimed at his neck. Louise's mind raced, knowing he had only moments to act. With a burst of adrenaline, he let go of the scythe he was holding and pulled out the other scythe stabbing his shoulder, using it to clash with the third specter's weapon. The force of the impact reverberated through his body, causing him to take a few steps back.
Blood gushed out of his wound, but Louise felt no pain. As he held the scythe with two hands, a certain memory from his time with Ymir resurfaced in his mind.
In one of those thousands of deaths, he was a middle-aged farmer, but one whose body was that of a formidable fighter. At the end of that life, he used a scythe and a rake to defend his farm against a horde of goblins. He only died after killing more than a hundred of those green bastards, succumbing to the thousands of wounds he had sustained during the battle.
Louise felt as if he was that farmer. The bleeding stab wound on his shoulder, although deep, didn't hinder his movements at all as he pushed forward toward the specter.
The specter recoiled, its eerie eyes widening in shock. "You think you can defeat me?!" it snarled, striking again with ferocious speed. It met Louise head-on, aiming at the latter's vitals.
Louise smiled. He had a feeling that there was no way to lose this battle—even if it meant losing his life.
He swung his scythe, not to defend against the enemy's attack, but to strike. He purposely made his own body a meatshield in order to hit the specter! The sudden assault shocked the specter, so much so that it barely missed decapitating him. Instead, it only grazed Louise's neck, but Louise was able to cut one of the specter's arms.
"You will burn like the others!" Louise shouted, his determination fueling his strength. The specter staggered, its form flickering. Louise didn't let up, pressing his advantage. He struck again and again, each blow causing the specter to retreat.
The specter screamed in anguish; it no longer held the advantage. Louise was clearly a wounded beast that was about to die, so it didn't understand how this puny human had suddenly become so strong.
Louise continued his onslaught for thirty seconds, swinging his scythe with reckless abandon, until the scythe in the specter's hand was struck away. With a smile, Louise touched the specter, causing it to disintegrate just like the others.
Breathing heavily, Louise dropped to his knees, his wounds throbbing with pain. The cracks around his barrier began to mend once more, slowly but surely. He looked at the two-meter scythe in his hand, as well as the two other scythes around him.
"I actually won? Is it finally over?" he muttered to himself, hoping this was the end of the harrowing battle.
"Bravo!" a voice echoed, the tone rich and elegant, like that of a noble middle-aged man. It seemed to come from nowhere. Louise tensed up, thinking that the battle was far from over.