Chương 24: Battle of Hobbiton(3)
A resounding crack of air pressure echoed through the area as our fists collided, propelling both of us backward with a skidding grace. In that fleeting moment, a surge of relief coursed through me, discerning that Marx was forced a bit farther in retreat—a subtle nod to my apparent edge in physical prowess. His response was a mere smile, a subtle acknowledgment before he effortlessly blinked out of my line of sight.
My head jerked in every direction, attempting to locate him, but before I could react, a force collided with my left cheek, sending me hurtling backward. With unstoppable momentum, I plowed through a nearby smial wall, the horrified screams of an occupying family piercing the air as I continued my unimpeded trajectory. The smial's walls offered little resistance as I burst through the other side, only coming to a stop when my momentum finally waned, allowing me to regain my bearings.
Coughing out a trace of blood, I swiftly accessed my inventory, donning a pair of glasses with practiced efficiency. This time, I would see it coming. As Marx's figure materialized in my vision, hurtling toward me with lethal intent, I braced myself for impact. Crossing my arms and invoking a protective mana skin, I withstood the blow, skidding a few feet backward. Marx executed a backflip, creating a brief distance between us as I regained my footing in the aftermath of the clash.
Mid-air, as Marx executed a nimble backflip, I understood the urgency of keeping him off balance. Instantaneously, multiple fireballs condensed around me, crackling with formidable energy. With precision, I unleashed them toward Marx, mentally designating the attack as 'Prison Kill Buckshot.' The fireballs homed in on him, but to my bewilderment, he met them with an unexpected display of control. His visage shifted as he manipulated his features, his pupils transforming into a pair of F's, causing the fiery projectiles to disperse into nothingness.
"The hell?!" I exclaimed aloud, grappling with the unforeseen turn of events. Marx, landing gracefully on his feet, swiftly oriented himself to face me. Without hesitation, he lunged at me once more. Reacting swiftly, I configured my left and right hands like imaginary guns, conjuring condensed fireballs on the tips of my index fingers. I shot them at Marx with the precision of a marksman, only to witness them inexplicably turn invisible and vanish into thin air.
Unfazed, Marx's pupils morphed into a pair of T's as he deftly sidestepped the unseen threat. The invisible fireballs erupted behind him, creating disastrous explosions, but he pressed on, closing the distance with a pair of hand daggers in hand.
'Damn it, what's that spell?! Light!' I mentally commanded my companion, prompting my feet to blaze with fiery propulsion. The sudden burst of speed narrowly spared me from Marx's cutting thrusts.
Amid the intense exchange, the familiar sound of my partner's warning echoed in my mind. DING! "Warning host, the enemy's ability is foreign to me; host must wait as I analyze it." Frustration surged through me. "Fuck! I can do that too!" I retorted mentally, executing a swift backflip to evade another impending attack.
Contemplating the unfolding battle with Marx, I delved into a mental analysis. His 'F' ability seemed capable of dismantling spells, yet the mystery lingered as to why my mana skin remained intact. Could it be a nuanced limitation, akin to Isshiki dojutsu, selectively shrinking certain jutsu while sparing others like Naruto's chakra mode? Determined to test this hypothesis, I retrieved the meticulously crafted wand from my inventory, a creation of Gamgee, and infused it with mana for a counterattack.
As the clash intensified, Marx and I engaged in a physical bout, parrying each other's strikes. Despite my efforts, he gained the upper hand, inflicting shallow cuts that drew blood. Observing his eyes, still in the 'T' formation, it became apparent that his ability only affected spells when they manifested as 'F's.
Deciding to shift tactics, I transmuted my wand with a mental chant: 'Magic Convert: Wand -> Katana.' A perfectly sized katana materialized in my grasp, and I used it to knock Marx backward. Executing a downward strike aimed to cleave him in two, my hypothesis was verified as his eyes shifted back to 'F's.' An unseen force dispelled the katana, reverting it to a wand with a limited physical range, while multiple invisible cuts assailed my body. Grunting in pain, I acknowledged that without Vetto's resilient physique, I'd be in pieces.
Taking a breather, we distanced ourselves, both preparing for the next round. Reflecting on the intricacies of Marx's abilities, I sought to decipher the nature of 'T.' Did it grant him the ability to see magic, allowing him to evade attacks like my 'Vanishing: Fireballs'? Or did it offer a predictive insight, enabling him to outmaneuver me in our physical confrontation? A sudden revelation struck me—'Truth.' Perhaps 'F' denoted 'False,' allowing him to dispel magic and abilities as falsehoods, while 'T' represented 'Truth,' granting him insight into the reality of situations, be it anticipating my magic attacks or predicting my actions.
Frustration gnawed at me as I considered the potential synergy of 'T' and 'F,' creating an unbeatable combination. Yet, if Marx could employ both simultaneously, he would have done so already. Despite his apparent restraint, there was an undeniable sense of danger. His attacks, quick and precise, lacked the overwhelming presence of Tempest, making it easy for the unwary to underestimate him. Concealed beneath his unassuming facade was a lethality that could easily dispatch adversaries, casting a shadow over my chances in this formidable confrontation.
As I pondered my next strategic move, my partner's alert rang out, punctuating the charged atmosphere with a resounding DING! The culmination of the analysis unfolded according to my earlier directive. "Analysis completed as per the host's orders," my partner began. "The adversary in question, Marx Benoit, wields an ability known as the Binary Eye. As anticipated by the host, the pupil alternates between two states—T and F, symbolizing truth and falsehood, respectively. T provides the wielder with the capability to perceive the truth in any phenomenon, enabling feats such as detecting invisible attacks. Conversely, F empowers them to negate anything not inherently natural, categorizing it as false. While theoretically, simultaneous use of T and F is plausible, it appears the enemy has not attained that level of mastery as of yet."
Armed with this newfound knowledge, a strategic approach crystallized in my mind. My arsenal could be tailored to exploit the limitations of Marx's Binary Eye. It became evident that reinforcement magic and spells permanently connected to the body, like Magna's knuckle dusters or my flaming shoes, should be effective—essentially rendering the 'F' aspect of his ability null and void. This realization narrowed down the viable options for my offensive maneuvers.
Now, the final frontier to explore lay in probing the extent of Marx's 'Truth-seeing' ability, particularly its predictive facet. If this ability were akin to the standard observation haki or the Vongola's Hyper Intuition, I stood a chance. However, if it extended to the ominous realm of future sight, my prospects shifted to dire straits.
Armed with this refined understanding of my adversary's capabilities, I steeled myself for the impending test—a delicate dance between exploiting the weaknesses of the Binary Eye and unraveling the enigma of Marx's predictive prowess. Victory hinged on a precise balance of strategy and adaptability in this high-stakes confrontation.
Once more, I gracefully stowed my wand in my inventory, igniting my feet with flames as I surged towards Marx. Knucklebraces of fire formed around my fists as I aimed a right hook at my opponent. Yet, with the precision of his 'Truth' eyes, Marx effortlessly evaded my strike, seamlessly dancing around my ensuing flurry of blows. Adjusting my strategy, I lifted my right foot to deliver a powerful kick to his jaw. However, he responded with a split-second decision, gracefully taking to the ground and swiping my left leg from beneath me, launching me into the air. As I descended, he capitalized on the opportunity, delivering a well-placed punch to my chest that elicited a cough from the impact, propelling me backward. Rolling on the ground, I rose to my feet, not with frustration but a sense of satisfaction.
Analyzing the brief skirmish, I discerned a crucial pattern—Marx's actions were reactive, responding to my every move. If he possessed the foresight of future sight, such preemptive maneuvers wouldn't be necessary. A confident smirk played on my lips as I observed his puzzled frown. Without providing a verbal answer, I reveled in the realization that I had indeed figured out a significant aspect of his combat style.
As Marx questioned my newfound understanding, I acknowledged the truth silently. The next phase of my plan unfolded in my mind. While confident in my ability to secure victory using my summon and temporary bond heroic tickets, a different resolve took root within me. The battles with Adonis and Tempest had exposed my overreliance on the system. What if, in the future, I found myself in a similar predicament without the safety net of Light to bail me out? The completion of main quests, no matter how monumental, wouldn't grant me true freedom if I remained tethered to external assistance. Today, I chose a seemingly reckless path—literally a 'Do or Die' mentality, a commitment to face this challenge relying solely on my intrinsic strength. It was a bold decision, an assertion of my autonomy in the face of uncertainty.
Marx's perplexed expression deepened as I unleashed another torrent of exploding fireballs in his direction. Swiftly, his pupils shifted to 'F's, an instinctual response to dismantle my fiery onslaught. Each fireball, under the scrutiny of his focused gaze, dispersed into nothingness in rapid succession. Yet, to his astonishment, a twist unfolded in the sequence. Several of the fireballs seamlessly transitioned into invisible projectiles before he could enact his ability to erase them. A momentary shift of his eyes to 'T's came too late, and the concealed projectiles closed in on him.
Leveraging his superior athletic prowess, Marx managed to dodge the initial onslaught, but the final fireball struck him squarely on his side. An involuntary grunt of pain escaped him as he redirected his focus to clutch his injured side, leaving him vulnerable to my next move. Seizing the opportunity, I closed the distance rapidly, his widened eyes betraying his surprise as I unleashed a devastating punch.
"Fire x Beast Magic: Blazing Bear Claw," I declared, my right arm enveloped in a flaming orange aura that mirrored the form of a bear claw. Marx, off balance and unprepared, hastily raised his arms, coating them with magic in a bid to shield his face. Seizing the split-second advantage, I altered the trajectory of my fist, redirecting it to strike him square in the chest. A visceral howl of pain erupted from Marx as he was sent hurtling backward with explosive force, his trajectory leading him toward the Fangorn Forest.
Amidst a symphony of breaking bushes and a swirl of dust, Marx's impact was softened by the verdant surroundings. As he lay there, clutching his chest, his torn and scorched clothes revealed a vivid scar—a testament to the ferocity of the Blazing Bear Claw. The mix of shredded and burnt tissue, accompanied by a bleeding mark, laid bare the potency of the fiery assault, leaving Marx in a state of evident pain and vulnerability.
Without affording him a moment to react, I surged forward with an accelerated pace, propelled not only by the relentless flames beneath my "Base run Gamble's" shoes but also augmented further by the swift burst of 'Beast Magic: Cheetah Charge.' The combination of these enhancements propelled me at an unprecedented speed as I closed the distance to Marx.
Leaping over him with the agility granted by the Cheetah Charge, I harnessed the momentum of my descent to intensify the force behind my impending strike. In my outstretched arms, a colossal mallet manifested, its fiery form radiating an ominous glow as I brought it down with tremendous force toward Marx. Reacting with swiftness honed by combat experience, he raised his head just in time to grasp the imminent danger, prompting an instinctual need to evade.
In the nick of time, he executed a well-timed roll, narrowly escaping the full brunt of my fiery onslaught. However, the residual impact proved cataclysmic, shattering the ground beneath us like a seismic crater. The explosive force propelled Marx sideways, hurling him deeper into the forest and away from the village. As he careened through the dense woodland, the towering trees succumbed to the force of his trajectory, snapping like twigs in his wake, painting a vivid image of destruction. The resounding echoes of the collateral damage resonated through the forest, underscoring the intensity of our clash and the relentless pursuit of victory.
As Marx struggled to stand, pain etched across his features, I resisted the urge to exploit his vulnerable state. With a calculated restraint, I refrained from launching an immediate offensive, keeping my focus sharp and analytical. His eyes remained locked in their 'Truth' form, revealing a perplexed curiosity at my unexpected inaction. I smirked inwardly, refusing to fall into the trap he might be subtly setting.
"I'm not foolish," I muttered to myself, acknowledging the glaring gaps in our respective strengths. The likelihood of Marx harboring a trump card superior to Adonis was high, nearing the realm of certainty. I sensed the subtle baiting in his defensive stance, urging me to exploit his pain. But I was wary, conscious of the strategic dance unfolding between us.
Instead of falling into the anticipated pattern, I opted for a different move. Raising my right index finger, I pointed directly at him. He cocked a brow, clearly puzzled, as I broke the silence with a calculated revelation. "Your eyes have three main weaknesses," I declared confidently. "Firstly, you can't simultaneously use 'T' and 'F', unless you're a masochist you would've already. Secondly, the transition between the two states takes a brief amount of time—a crucial interval in our league. And lastly, your focus on the target is necessary for your ability to function. With these glasses, I can exploit the minuscule gaps in your seemingly seamless ability. In essence, your power is sequential."
A subtle scrunch of his brow confirmed my assertions, a telltale sign that my analysis hit its mark.
Now, one might question the wisdom of revealing such critical information about an opponent's weaknesses. Was I descending into the cliché of an anime protagonist divulging their abilities to the enemy? Far from it. Instead, I was adopting a page from Aizen's playbook, playing the intricate game of psychological warfare. By making Marx aware that I knew his vulnerabilities, I effectively controlled the narrative. Aware of the risks, he would be reluctant to shift his eyes into their 'False' state, thus restoring the viability of my long-distance spells.
It wasn't a mere confession; it was a calculated manipulation, a chess move on the mental battlefield. With the knowledge of his sequential weaknesses laid bare, I sought to manipulate his choices, pushing him towards actions that suited my strategic agenda. And with the impending activation of his trump card looming, I knew I would need every advantage, both psychological and magical, to emerge victorious in the battle that lay ahead.
"Heh heh heh," a sinister chuckle escaped his lips, a reflexive response as Marx's words hung in the air. It was now my turn to furrow my brow, suspicion clouding my expression as he continued to speak with an air of nonchalance. "You truly are magnificent, Rex Gardner. I'll admit it, you have me beat."
My internal alarms blared with skepticism. What kind of twisted mind game was he playing? This couldn't be as straightforward as he made it seem. I refused to be lured into a trap, my eyes widening in defiance as Marx's form started to flicker, gradually becoming transparent like a ghostly apparition. Sensing my confusion, he addressed my doubts with an unsettling calmness.
"Sorry, Rex, but I'm afraid I can't do anything to you in this state. I'll need the main body for that."
"Main body?" I questioned incredulously, my distrust intensifying.
"Yes, I'm just an avatar, even inferior to a clone like Siegrain. You could say I only have 1/10 of my true strength. The main body is still back in the tower. I have a lot of things to get done and couldn't afford to waste time coming here in person, so I sent an avatar. I suppose I should apologize for underestimating you, but I doubt you'd find it sincere."
1/10th of his true strength? My mind reeled at the revelation. He was a senior transmigrator, but the power exhibited by a mere avatar placed him on par with one of Ishgar's 4 Emperors. The implications left me staggered. How overwhelmingly potent must his true self be?
Annoyance crept into my voice as I demanded, "Who the hell is Siegrain?"
Marx, this time, raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You know, Siegrain? Well, Siegrain."
"The hell's that supposed to mean?" I retorted, frustration brewing within me. His dismissive attitude grated on my nerves.
His expression grew more puzzled, and he spoke with an air of pity, "Ohhhhhhh... you lost your memory, didn't you?"
My thoughts raced, and the absurdity of the situation must have manifested on my face, prompting him to sigh before continuing. "It's a pity. Tell you what, I'll be waiting for you in the tower. If you manage to beat me—the real me—I'll fill in any gaps in that head of yours. Till next time, Rex Gardner. You'll come, won't you?"
In a fleeting moment, he began to vanish into motes of light, and my desperation manifested as I lunged to grab him. However, my hands only sliced through the dissipating specter. "Wait, you bastard! At least tell me where the tower is!" I yelled, frustration consuming me.
But he merely smiled as he disappeared into nothingness. "Damn it!" I roared, my frustration channeled into a powerful punch that obliterated a nearby boulder, its shattered remnants echoing my unresolved questions and the anticipation of the inevitable confrontation that awaited in the looming tower.
"What kind of bullshit ending is this!" I bellowed in frustration, my discontent echoing through the air. Who in the hell would be satisfied with such a cliché resolution? An avatar? That trope had been overplayed in practically 99% of all wuxia novels. I felt a surge of annoyance, anticipating the next revelation to be some trite twist where we were former acquaintances uniting through the power of friendship. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms, drawing blood. The next sounds, however, did little to assuage my building tension.
DING! "Congratulations on completing the Assigned Mission: 'A Hobbit's Spirit'. Rewards: Bond Ticket (Rare) x1 and Charmy's Booster Juice (Rare) x2."
DING! "Bonus reward for choosing to rely on your strength and break away from the system. Coverless Grimoire (Legendary) x1."
DING! "Bonus reward for facing a fellow transmigrator. Early Completion Mission (Legendary) x1."
".....This is acceptable," I muttered aloud, my voice devoid of enthusiasm. My attention shifted to my surroundings as I sensed my mana, allowing me to perceive the flame leopard rapidly approaching with Kagura on its back. "Well, at least what I said to Kagura wasn't a total lie. The fighting is over, but still, this ending is pretty fucking lame." Sighing, I turned towards the village and shouted with my mana-enhanced voice, "Everyone! You can come out now! The battle's over!"
Examining my bleeding visage in the reflection of a nearby puddle, I reached into my inventory and retrieved several items. First and foremost, my grandfather, and a pair of Charmy's booster juices to tend to our injuries and replenish our depleted magic. Gazing up at the sky, I declared with unwavering determination, "It doesn't matter how strong you are, Marx. Nothing will stop me from rescuing those slaves and keeping my manhood!"
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