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76.92% The God of No Tactics / Chapter 6: Enjoy this scraped Combat

Chapter 6: Enjoy this scraped Combat

On the edge of the jungle like forest there was a army camp which looked like some one went to happy with the base surrounded by blobs of green there stood two figures a petite little girl with skin like glazed marble and honey like blond hair what that girl was Biggs then the soldier beside her with teal hair is no other than Shun Hyun our Mc oh no

Just as they arrived back at the camp shun decided to find the little lolis business out her and the possibility of a connection

to the demon family

He smiled mirthlessly, shrugging.

"Doesn't everyone these days?"

The second the last word left his lips he rushed forward, closing the gap between him and the leader with lightning speed. Startled, he drew up his arms to block the oncoming attack.

Sloppy defense.

The hook landed square on his jaw, devastating in its momentum. There was a sickening crunch of bone against metal- a garbled grunt followed as the punk dropped to the ground, mouth awkwardly agape. Peyton had performed his civic duty.

There was no time to falter. The other two recovered from the shock and threw themselves upon him, incensed by their fallen ally. The closest one meant to grab him by the arms and hold him still for the other to apprehend. Peyton pivoted back, making the punk fall short. As he fell, he grabbed him by the back of his neck, striking him in the face with his knee.Crushed cartilage was a much more unpleasant sound.

The last punk had closed in already- no time to dodge the jab from the left. Peyton countered with a downwards tap, redirecting the blow to a graze off his arm. The punk, encouraged by the contact, followed up with a straight punch. Predictable, but impactful if landed.

It didn't, of course. Peyton spun backwards, sliding past his fist and into a seamless elbow strike to the side of his face. Crimson spurted from a vicious cut above his eyebrow, and he howled in pain, stumbling back. All reason was thrown out the window. Blinded by his own blood, the furious punk charged forward carelessly, throwing all his weight into his tackle- just what Peyton had hoped for. Dropping stance, he caught the other, manipulating his momentum into a throw. In a blink of an eye, the goon was on his back, breathless and stunned.

"*Fuck,* are you made out of bricks? Nearly pulled my fucking spine. Shit."

Peyton griped as he hovered over him, rolling his shoulders. It had been a *minute* since he'd thrown someone like that; even with the assisted force, it was still a bitch; he knew he'd be aching later.

Still, he'd gotten the job done. He didn't think any of them were getting up soon- the lackey that had broken his nose was still curled up in agony, and the leader was out cold.

Sighing heavily, he took off the bloody knuckles and smoothed back his hair, looking over at the woman. In the chaos, she had been completely forgotten, left to be a spectator.

"Sorry 'bout uh...all of that." He said in a significantly softer tone, an apologetic look on his face.

"You're...okay? They didn't hurt you?"


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