The long sword, infused with a flicker of energy, suddenly swelled in James's vision, gleaming like a lightning bolt. Just as the blade threatened to strike his head, he instinctively retreated, summoning his sickle; the "Sickle of Death" to intercept the attack.
A shower of sparks erupted as the sickle met the sword, the shockwave reverberating through James's arms and forcing him back a step.
"Heh, not bad for a low-grade F-level warrior," the Blonde-haired man sneered, a jagged scar twitching across his face. His voice dripped with a harshness that grated on the nerves.
"You..." James pushed down hard on the sickle, pinning the sword in place. Without hesitation, he unleashed a swift kick to the man's stomach, sending him staggering back. "Your voice is unbearable. Just stop talking."
The Blonde-haired man skidded to a halt, desperately trying to regain his balance, but his momentum carried him forward, leaving a long scratch in the hard ground behind him.
"You...!" His forehead was veined with fury, and he unleashed his intermediate F-grade aura with a ferocity that made the air crackle. "Are you kidding me?"
Laura, observing from the sidelines, couldn't help but roll her eyes. Where did James find the audacity to critique someone's voice when his own was far from melodic? She cautiously stepped back, realizing that this was a fight beyond her current capabilities.
"I just think your voice is annoying," James muttered defiantly as he lunged forward, sickle raised high.
"Wait—" The Blonde-haired man barely had time to react before James's weapon was upon him. He raised his sword in a desperate attempt to block, but the force of the sickle sent him staggering.
"Just let me—"
"Don't—"
The back-and-forth continued as James relentlessly swung his sickle, pushing the man back with each strike. With a well-timed maneuver, the Blonde-haired man finally managed to leap away, creating some distance between them.
Breathing heavily, he assessed the damage; his sword bore several deep cracks, a testament to the strength of James's blows. He winced at the sight, his heart aching for the weapon.
"Is this really the level of a mid-grade F-warrior?" James taunted, a smirk on his face. "By the way, why did you attack me in the first place?"
"Hmph!" The Blonde-haired man's temper flared, veins pulsing angrily at his temples. But he knew better than to underestimate James. "That woman just killed Harvey, one of our association's officials. I won't hold you accountable for his death since you're clearly strong, but you'll have to hand over his storage..."
Before he could finish, a massive sickle descended toward him. Panic surged through him as he raised his sword to block, only to feel the cracks in the blade begin to splinter further.
"Your voice is too annoying. Just be quiet." James pressed down with unyielding force, the cracks spreading rapidly across the Blonde-haired man's sword. Realizing the imminent danger of his weapon breaking, the man gritted his teeth and vanished in a flash, narrowly escaping the sickle's arc.
"Huh?" James's senses tingled as he lost sight of his target. Just then, he felt a presence behind him. The Blonde-haired man appeared, long sword glinting menacingly, poised to strike the back of his neck.
"I've got you now!" The man's lips curled into a cruel grin, confidence swelling as he anticipated his success.
"Heh," James replied, a smirk playing on his face. A flash of red ignited in his eyes as thin strands shot from his body, wrapping tightly around the Blonde-haired man's arms.
With a swift motion, James planted one hand on the ground, pivoting to counterattack. His sickle met the long sword with a forceful strike, shattering it into two pieces. The sickle, undeterred, continued its arc toward the Blonde-haired man's chest.
Reacting just in time, the man broke free from the grasping straws and dodged backward, narrowly escaping a fatal blow. However, the sickle grazed him, leaving a shallow, bloody mark across his chest.
Around them, onlookers gasped, captivated by the intensity of the battle. It was a fierce spectacle, rare even among mid-level F-grade warriors.
"We should go. This is way beyond us," Michael urged his team, glancing nervously at the chaos. "Stay clear, or you might get dragged in!"
The crowd began to disperse, following Captain Michael toward safety, but one figure remained rooted in place. Philips, carrying their gear, stood transfixed, a strange smile playing on his lips as he watched the clash unfold.
"Hey! Didn't you hear me? Get moving!" Teresa approached Philips and kicked him to the ground, frustration evident in her tone.
"Do you want to get caught in this? It's one thing if you get hurt, but don't drag us down with you!" Her sharp voice sliced through the tension, drawing the attention of those nearby.
"Exactly! You're the weakest link. It's a miracle you're still alive!" another team member chimed in, annoyance bubbling to the surface.
Michael's brow furrowed, but he chose silence. In a dungeon where danger lurked at every corner, his team had built up frustrations over the past few days, and it was easier to vent on Philips than to confront their fears.
With a resigned sigh, Michael felt a twinge of sympathy for Philips but knew the priority lay with the group.
"I'm sorry! I'm coming, I promise!" Philips scrambled to his feet, gathering the scattered luggage and dusting it off hurriedly.
"Bah! Useless," Teresa muttered disdainfully, turning away.
"Alright, enough!" Michael interjected before tensions could rise further. "We're close to the camp. Let's move."
The group, begrudgingly obeying, followed Michael's lead. Philips, still lingering on the battlefield, wiped the last of the dust from their bags and finally turned to follow. He glanced back at the fight, excitement sparking in his eyes as he whispered to himself, "That must be the straw creature that trailed us before. How did it become a powerful undead? Things are getting interesting…"