Evolving Classes In The Apocalypse-Chapter 41: Battle of the Black Grass

I froze as I watched Marcel and the crazy expression on his face.

’Is he mad?’

I doubted that, staring at him.

’No, no, he is mad.’

He took the ball and looked at it in his hands with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Then he tossed it back to me and locked in, a cold ghostly glow settling into his green eyes.

"Let’s go again, okay? Don’t go easy on me... I’d like to see my capabilities. I have never had an opportunity like this."

Marcel was looking at me smiling, but he was also trying not to smile somehow.

I was silent for a moment, recovering from this weird and crazy situation. I exhaled after catching the ball and retorted.

"Alright. I’m sorry I held back before... you shouldn’t either."

He was right. There was no need for both of us to hold back. The whole point of this battle was to see what we were capable of, so what good was it if I kept restraining myself out of fear that I severly would hurt him?

I got back into position. Marcel did the same, testing a few stances before settling with his spear angled downward. Watching him was almost funny, I could tell the weapon was still awkward for him, that he wasn’t quite sure how to place it or where to.

But he figured that out quickly and locked his gaze on me.

I swung the slingshot in a lazy spin while standing casually, and studying Marcel with the only eye I had. Then I pulled the pouch suddenly and released in a single fluid motion, no stance or warning, just mounting on raw speed.

Marcel was focused. He stood there for a slow, still moment, watching the ball as it screamed toward him at that same intense speed and slammed into the ground behind him, punching a hole into the dirt with a dull, heavy thud.

Then his head tilted sideways. The ball flew past his shoulder without clipping a single thread of his clothing.

My eyes widened.

’No freaking...’

Marcel was already pushing forward with terrifying speed. Less than ten meters between us and closing fast. I could hear the ground cracking beneath his stride. Instead of backing down, I saw his spear coming in a downward swing and lunged my foot upward, stomping the shaft to the ground before he could complete the arc. In that same beat, I whipped the cords of the slingshot across his face.

His head snapped back. Blood flew from his nose into the air.

But Marcel did not let his head fly back fully.

It halted. Eerily, impossibly, it just stopped mid-motion. Even the blood streaming from his nostrils froze, then reversed, crawling back into his nose as if time itself had changed its mind.

His head swung forward with unbelievable speed and he smashed his forehead into my face before I could even flinch. A severe string of pain rolled across my skull, my vision blurring white for an instant. A high pitched ringing flooded my ears and I tasted copper on my tongue.

I shivered but did not buckle. I grabbed his hair with my free hand even as my head launched backward, using him as an anchor, and pulled the same move he had, lunging forward to slam my forehead into his.

But that bastard Marcel.

He tilted his head to the side sharply, dodging the blow, and in the same motion crushed his fist into my stomach. My entire body jumped from the impact, my feet leaving the ground for a moment before I stumbled back down. My diaphragm seized and for a horrible second I couldn’t pull air.

He was packed with strength, very much comparable to Galahad’s... no. Even more terrifying than that.

’Crap, engaging in close combat with this guy is a stupid decision.’

I mean, I had gotten a slingshot for a reason.

I tore myself away from him. Or at least tried to. Marcel, grinning wide, grabbed my shirt and refused to let go. The fabric stretched and pulled tight across my chest as I fought against his grip.

"Huh? That’s going to be so unfair."

I frowned at him with shock.

’Who is this bastard?’

He lunged his spear toward me with his free hand. Of course, thrusting a spear one-handed at this range, everything about it was off balance and ugly to any seasoned combatant.

And that misplaced balance was a sweet spot for me to exploit.

I summoned several balls into my grip. With a quick flick of my wrist and force applied where it mattered, I targeted the joint in his weapon hand. The ball cracked against his wrist and his spear jerked wide off its path.

I took that opening and sent a series of blows forward, slamming them into his chest in quick succession.

My hands blurred forward quickly, slamming against his chest, each one landed with a satisfying crack that surprised even me, my own strength registering through the shock traveling back up my arms. Marcel’s body danced to the rhythm of my strikes and staggered back while I finally leaped away from him and drew the cord of my sling.

"This is where it ends... this was certainly a short and amazing battle."

Marcel stood silent for a moment. He staggered, then recovered, straightening up. Blood still smeared beneath his nose, but he wiped it away with the back of his hand like it was nothing.

Then grinned again.

"End? Let me tell you something, Axel. I hate losing... because losing is a sign of weakness, and weakness, you see... ah, I abhor it so much."

A short laugh escaped my lips.

"Ha ha... well, you’ll get used to losing pretty soon."

Marcel’s gaze darkened at that very moment, as if I had said something I shouldn’t have. My gaze tightened in response. I fixed my eyes on him with intense focus. My eyes were on him.

And yet...

I was unaware when he had moved.