Mistrunner 2 a cyberpunk.., p.35
Mistrunner 2: A Cyberpunk LitRPG, page 35
Like [Infiltration], my growth in [Mistrunner] had lagged a little behind [Combat]. However, I was still happy with the growth of each branch. Particularly, I found that having a stronger Mistwall gave me peace of mind. Finally, I looked at the skill tree for [Fieldcraft]:
The only branch of [Fieldcraft] that had progressed to Tier 2 was Utility, granting me increased Combat Focus and Regeneration, but I was more excited about the Universal Language ability. Few places would be like the Bazaar, where languages were automatically translated. Having that ability would mean that, once I’d finished with Nova City, I wouldn’t be limited by an inability to communicate, which was a comforting thought.
Eventually, I couldn’t distract myself any longer, and I started to think about what was coming. I didn’t think I’d fail in my current endeavor. None of the other gladiatorial fights in the Emporium had pushed me to the limit of my abilities. However, I knew that Asheligh was a very different breed of opponent than the warriors I’d faced over the past few weeks. Not only was she strong and fast, but she was also an expert melee combatant.
So was I.
But was I good enough to beat her without resorting to my other options? I’d do so if it was the difference between living and dying, but if my plan was going to bear fruit, I needed to not only beat her, but also humiliate her by exposing her ineptitude. The moment I did, it would shine the spotlight on the Specters. Hopefully that would be enough to highlight the weaknesses of the entire tribe and invite the sorts of challenges they weren’t equipped to deal with.
After all, with Jeremiah gone, much of their reputation hinged on the personal combat prowess of people like Asheligh and Nora. If they were exposed as weaklings, then it wouldn’t take long before the city’s other tribes decided to take their territory. Sure, the organization was likely strong enough to defend themselves, but doing so wouldn’t come without significant cost.
It was just one more way I was chipping away at them. By the time I was done, it would only take a little push to bring the entire thing crashing down. I couldn’t wait to see that happen.
But before that, I needed to beat Asheligh, which was why I was sitting alone in the bowels of the Emporium, waiting as the weaker combatants got the crowd riled up for the main event. Even though I was deep underground, I could still hear their muffled roars as they clamored for more blood. More gruesome deaths. More violence to distract them from the state of their own lives.
I sighed, shaking my head in disgust as I stared at the room’s tiled floor. Fortunately, because of how high I’d climbed, I didn’t have to use the communal locker room anymore. Now, I had my own dressing area—not that I used it. I always fought in the same white outfit I’d worn upon my arrival.
Others weren’t so nonchalant about it, instead choosing to cultivate entire personas based around elaborate costumes. I’d fought against one man who’d been wearing a broad-brimmed hat, jeans so tight I wondered how he could move, and a plaid shirt. He’d fought with his bare hands—a mistake even though they were cybernetic. I severed them at the elbow, then killed him via brutal decapitation.
The next fight had been against a crowd favorite wearing a few strings that were supposed to be lingerie of some sort. She’d flipped around like a gymnast, displaying truly incredible balance. But she also moved in patterns, which made it easy to bisect her at the waist. She didn’t look so sexy with her guts decorating the concrete floor of the arena.
My third and fourth opponents had both been far more difficult, though for different reasons. One had been a hulking man who seemed to have just as many mechanical parts as Gunther’s cyborg guards. It was high-quality stuff, too, judging by how ineffective my sword was. Of course, everything has weaknesses, and it only took me a few minutes to find the seams. After that, it was child’s play to take him apart. When I was done, he was little more than a disembodied head and a pile of scrap metal.
The fourth was probably my most challenging opponent, mostly because he was so hard to pin down. Not because he was fast. He was, but not as fast as me. Instead, he had some sort of skill that made it difficult to focus on him. One second, I was watching him, and the next, he was burying a dagger in my back. Thankfully, once I saw his little trick, I could account for it, but that first strike had been almost enough to do me in.
After that, I hit my stride and acclimated to the sort of combat I could expect in an arena. Once I was in the right mindset, I didn’t have any more close calls, and I cut all my opponents down in record time.
And that was how I’d earned the right to challenge Asheligh, the Emporium’s champion. She’d fought hundreds of battles in the arena, and she’d never been pushed to her limits. But then again, she’d never fought anyone like me, either. I was looking forward to ripping her apart.
After all, while she might not have been complicit in the actions that had gotten my uncle killed, I found it difficult to believe that she hadn’t at least known it was coming. On top of that, she’d fallen into line right behind the woman truly responsible for Jeremiah’s death. That was enough to condemn her, at least in my mind.
So, I was going to enjoy killing her.
For the next hour and a half, I sat in that room, awaiting my turn. Then, finally, a woman appeared to escort me to the arena. I didn’t say a word, instead choosing to follow her through the twisting maze of tunnels that eventually made their way up to the gate that would lead to the floor of the arena. I was just in time to see a pair of workers dragging a partially dismembered body away. I ignored it, focusing on the task at hand.
Or more importantly, on the gate positioned directly across the arena from where I stood. Behind it was my opponent—a woman I desperately needed to kill. I summoned my nano-bladed sword from my arsenal implant, briefly startling the woman who’d escorted me topside.
At last, once the arena was clear, the announcer’s voice echoed through the Emporium, silencing the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer thundered. “Tonight, we have a special treat. The Sword Saint has challenged the Red Terror!”
Red Terror. Such an unimaginative name, but the crowd didn’t seem to care. They loved her, as much because of her brutality as because she fought completely naked. Originally, she’d claimed that it was a tribute to ancient gladiators who’d done the same, but I knew it was meant to increase her popularity. Like everyone else, she knew that in Nova City, sex was on everyone’s minds. I found it disgustingly manipulative, but it was the least of my issues with the woman. Besides, I already hated and intended to kill her. Adding a little more fuel to the fire wasn’t going to make much of a difference.
The announcer went on, describing our attributes. He crowed about Asheligh’s record of brutality and commitment to her so-called code of honor. As far as I knew, it was all completely made-up. She had no honor, else she wouldn’t have let Nora sentence my uncle to death. But the crowd ate it up.
When the announcer described me, he talked about my lack of frills and cold demeanor. He claimed that I was there to punish the debauched, implying some sort of idiotic religious bent. It was nonsense, but I didn’t care. The crowd clearly loved it, though. Or at least some of them. Others made their displeasure known by calling out curses and throwing boos in my direction. Clearly, I was not the crowd favorite Asheligh was.
Of course, I considered that a good thing. Attaining the approval of the bloodthirsty masses would have given me pause. That I hadn’t was something of a badge of honor. Or perhaps I was merely making excuses to assuage my ego. Either way, the announcer soon finished his introductions, and the gate slid open.
I walked out, barely noticing the holographic display hanging above the arena. It would give the crowd an unimpeded view of the fight, even for those with the cheapest seats.
My attention was on Asheligh, who was striding into the arena, waving at her adoring fans as if she’d already won. When we were only fifteen feet apart, Asheligh grinned at me, saying, “Get on your knees right now, little girl. Do that, beg me to spare you, and maybe I’ll just take you into my harem. You’re a bit too ugly—even my boys are prettier than you—but I’ll make an exception.”
I remained silent, staring her in the eyes, focusing on the war paint she’d donned. If I looked anywhere else, I’d have to see her naked body—or what was left of it. Her arms and legs were cybernetic, but her torso, groin, and head remained largely unmarred by the red-enameled mechanical parts.
She rolled her metallic shoulders, then said, “Suit yourself, then.”
After that, she hefted the massive hammer that was her weapon and adopted a fighting stance. I raised my sword, angling my body so as to present a slimmer profile. Then, the announcer roared, “Begin!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAMPIONSHIP FIGHT
The entire world is open to me now. My future is brighter than it’s ever been. So, why can’t I stop thinking of the past?
—Nora Lancaster
The hammer whistled through the air, barely missing me by an inch. The so-called Red Terror’s swing was so violent that its momentum sent her spinning around. I could have ended the fight right there; in only an instant, I saw a dozen vulnerable spots. But I restrained myself, dancing backward.
“Is that it?” I taunted. “All that talk, and that’s the best you can come up with?”
As Ashleigh recovered from the miss, she roared, then bounded in my direction. Her steps rattled the floor, and I was a little surprised that she didn’t leave cracked concrete in her wake. Her muscles bunched, and her cybernetic parts hissed with mechanical strength before she aimed a much more controlled strike at my torso. I leaped over it, then twisted in midair to dodge the follow-up attack, landing a few more feet away.
“Too slow, lady,” I said, smirking at her. “Maybe I should offer to let you join my harem, huh? We could get you some new, more appropriate parts. Something sleek and sexy, maybe.”
Her face turned red—not in embarrassment, but rather in unrestrained fury—telling me that I was pushing all the right buttons. She attacked again, this time with a short jab, before following up with a more powerful swing that should have crushed my shoulder. The crowd gasped as I dismissed my sword, dodging the attack by only a hair’s breadth.
Dancing backward, I said, “You know what? I don’t even need my sword to beat you. For a little girl like you? I might not even need to make a fist. A good openhanded slap might be enough to put you down.”
Of course, I knew precisely how to needle her to the greatest effect because I could remember when she’d joined my uncle’s organization. Back then, she’d been a prostitute fresh off of murdering her pimp. I wasn’t sure how she’d gotten to the Specters, but back then, she had been nothing more than a slip of a girl. Since, she’d managed to completely remake herself into a fearsome warrior, but she’d never forgotten her past.
Neither had I.
It wasn’t enough just to beat Asheligh. That would hurt Nora and the Specters, sure. But I didn’t only want to hurt them. I needed to humiliate them. And there was no better way to do that than to toy with their top thug before putting her down. Doing so wouldn’t just deprive Nora of an asset; it would go a long way toward ruining the tribe’s reputation. It was difficult to fear a group whose most powerful Operator was just embarrassed and beaten to death in the arena for everyone to see.
In theory, that was easy enough. But in practice, Asheligh was still a dangerous fighter who could beat me if I didn’t take her seriously. Fortunately, she was notoriously hot-tempered and easily enraged; it would have gotten her killed sooner, but she truly was a talented combatant—even when she wasn’t in her right mind.
Luckily, I was better.
Barely. I could probably dodge her attacks for hours, which would eventually wear her out. But if I made one mistake, the power behind her hammer would pound me into paste. However, I didn’t want to drag the fight out and turn it into a battle of attrition. Instead, I intended to make a statement.
So, the first thing I did after dodging her initial barrage was to use Mark Target. Often, I forgot the ability even existed, mostly because, to date, it hadn’t really been necessary. Rare was the occasion when a few well-placed shots from my powerful weapons proved insufficient to kill my enemies. And when that had been the case in the past—like with the wildling alpha that had nearly killed me—I’d been so panicked that I’d completely forgotten about the ability.
But I’d been working on adding it to my repertoire, and while it hadn’t quite reached the point where it was second nature, I was well on my way to reaching that mark.
The ability itself wasn’t complicated:
Mark Target (F)—Wreathe a target in Mist, preventing the activation of obfuscation abilities and increasing all damage done to the target by 15%.
A straight fifteen percent increase to all damage was an incredible modifier, which only proved how much of an idiot I’d been to ignore the ability. But the past was the past, and if I continuously dwelled on my mistakes, I’d lose sight of the present. Or the future. And I couldn’t allow that. Instead, I could only correct what I could correct and keep pushing forward. Any other strategy was doomed to failure.
When I used Mark Target, a cloud of blue Mist enveloped Asheligh’s form, making her appear as if she was glowing. However, after testing it a few times, I knew that the Mist was only visible to me; almost assuredly, it was the antistealth portion of the ability. A useful utility, but not the one I cared most about at that moment.
I kicked off the ground, using Engage at the same time; the combined effect was almost as effective as true teleportation, and I covered the distance to Ashleigh so quickly that she couldn’t hope to react in time to stop me. Then, I used Combination Punch. One punch. Two. Then, a third and a fourth strike—all in rapid succession. Each punch doubled the damage of the previous, so by the fourth attack, it hit with exponentially more force than the first.
I was sorely tempted to activate the ability again, but there were two problems with that. First, I knew that standing still for any longer would almost assuredly get me killed. The woman’s skill with that hammer was nothing to underestimate, and if she managed to connect, it would almost certainly spell my doom, my various defenses be damned.
Second, she staggered out of range, coughing up blood.
And that presented a perfect opportunity to taunt her again.
“Such weak defenses,” I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet as she struggled to straighten to her full height. The fans of the barbaric blood sport loved the banter between combatants, so my words were broadcast to the entire arena. “So disappointing for someone of your reputation. Perhaps you earned it in other ways. Like on your back.”
I hated the words even as they came out of my mouth. I knew Asheligh hadn’t chosen her past. And even if she had, who was I to judge her choices? Still, it was a means to an end. Sowing the seeds of doubt and making everyone question whether or not her strength was real was as important as killing her.
I went on. “How much did it cost to fix your previous matches? Surely, that’s the only way you could hope to win. I don’t—”
With an enraged and wordless scream, she charged, her mechanical legs pumping. I leaped over her, spinning as I sailed a foot over her head. She tried to grab me, but her agility left a lot to be desired, so she came up empty-handed, stumbling as we crossed paths. I landed lightly, then pivoted to face her. I could have attacked again. I knew it. The crowd knew it. And when Asheligh turned back in my direction, I could see that she knew it, as well.
Tears of anger streamed down her face. Blood coated her chin. And her side bulged in all the wrong places, evidence of her shattered ribs. Judging by her wheezing breaths, her lung was punctured, as well. With an obviously high Constitution attribute, it probably wasn’t fatal, but it would definitely slow her down.
In any case, I had no intention of dragging it out any longer. I’d proven my point. Anyone who’d watched the fight so far had to know that I’d been toying with the once-fearsome woman. Now, it was time to end it with a flourish.
I took a deep, steadying breath, but I kept my expression placid. Then, I erupted into an Engage, and I was on her in an instant. My sword reappeared in my hand, and I sliced out, aiming for the joint where the metal of her mechanical leg ended and her flesh began. My first attack bit deep, stopping only when it reached her bone. Then, as I rushed past, I aimed a backhanded strike at the opposite side. The two wounds met, and though my impossibly sharp blade cut into her pelvic bone, it didn’t slice completely through.
However, as I stopped and turned, she tried to follow. But when she put weight on that leg, it collapsed under her. As she fell, I repeated the strike on her other leg, this time severing it completely.
She went to the ground, collapsing in a legless heap.
I wasn’t finished, though.
My nano-bladed sword dripping blood, I stepped toward her. Without her legs, she was mostly immobile, but Asheligh wasn’t one to give up without a fight. She scratched and clawed, trying to swing at me, but her efforts were ineffectual. I kicked her in the face, splattering more blood across the concrete. Then, stamping down on her arm, I raised my sword high into the air. It fell with inevitable speed, severing her arm at the shoulder.
She cried out, but I ignored it, kicking her again.
The crowd went silent as I stepped over her. Again, my sword fell. Again, her mechanical arm flopped to the ground, a lifeless hunk of metal.
Without arms and legs, Asheligh was just a pitiful, naked torso. For a long second, I stood over her, looking down at the pitiable sight. Such a proud, powerful warrior, reduced to nothing. It was a brutal world, and her easy defeat just proved that no matter how strong you thought you were, there was always someone more powerful.
