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The Apocalypse Grinder - Chapter 64
🕑 Added 2025-06-24 21:21:31 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 63 | Index | Chapter 65 >>
“You presume correctly. At the very least, you had the good manners to use my title, unlike your cowardly friend down there,” Lord Rockmore said, waving dismissively at Keith’s headless corpse.
Ronan clenched his teeth. His jaw protested at the force being applied, but it was all he could do to stop himself giving in to the rage.
“Is this revenge for those lackeys of yours we killed yesterday?” he asked instead, maintaining a safe distance but not lowering his spear.
He knew the answer already, but he needed to buy time to assess the threat. Unfortunately, the system was little help when he needed it—as usual.
[??? - Human ??? Lv.??]
Even the level is hidden this time? Is that a skill, an item, or something completely different? he inwardly cursed. He fell back on his old skills. Ronan was great at analysing data, so all he needed was time.
The most obvious was the man’s lack of a weapon. He’d killed Keith with his bare hands. Dress shoe covered foot, to be precise. High strength, possibly stamina based skills?
Ronan hadn’t been watching the moment of Keith’s death. He’d missed how it was done. The hidden level made him highly cautious. There was a chance it was hidden because of an excessive difference.
Vulparis’ level showed, and the fox was level fifty-one. I doubt this guy is much higher than that, considering how recently the tutorial ended. Even if he was faster than us. Ronan tried and failed to consider all the possibilities at hand.
Lord Rockmore watched him do this, piercing eyes containing a faint sparkle of amusement. He took a step towards Ronan, unbothered by the barbed spear levelled at his chest.
“To tell the truth, I didn’t come here for revenge. Those idiots got themselves killed by being unable to properly assess a threat. I made sure to finish the job when that fool Jimmy returned.” The callous disregard for his own allies startled Ronan.
“I wanted to see the man who was strong enough to take them all out. To take his measure. Clearly that pathetic sack of flesh didn’t do much, so that just leaves you, Ronan Steele.” He had taken another three steps forward during his speech, his cold gaze never leaving Ronan’s face.
He reminded Ronan of some sort of feline ambush predator. Rockmore was utterly confident in the outcome of whatever scuffle was about to ensue. Or gave that impression, at the very least.
The fact the man knew his name threw Ronan off guard, but he quickly recovered. He’d seen other people’s names via the floating tags, so it wasn’t that unusual for Lord Rockmore to know his own.
Straightening his posture and reaffirming his grip on the spear, Ronan pushed it slowly towards the approaching invader. “Take another step and it will be your last,” he warned.
Lord Rockmore’s lips peeled back into a predatory grin. He obeyed the command, but there was nothing in his body language that said he did so because he truly feared Ronan.
Ronan felt as if he was once more in the tutorial, facing Magriz’al the Crazed for the first time. Lord Rockmore was a completely different sort of foe, but the sense of being utterly dwarfed in power was the same. His grip trembled slightly.
Why the hell am I so afraid of this pompous twat? he suddenly cursed himself. What happened from the end of the tutorial to now to make me afraid of a little violence?
His grip tightened and he pushed the tip of the spear right up against Lord Rockmore’s waistcoat. What’s the worst outcome of this battle, death? As if that matters. If I die, it just means the next time I face this bastard I’ll know what he can do. Bring it on, you fake aristocrat. With his mind set, a wide grin appeared on Ronan’s face.
For the first time, Lord Rockmore seemed surprised. The raising of his eyebrows was brief, barely noticeable, but Ronan saw it.
“You certainly have more backbone than most of the fools around here. It was disappointing to learn how many of those who passed the tutorial were so… unworthy. None of them even defeated that disfigured beast. Pathetic. I only learnt you could complete the tutorial through survival rather than victory when I ran into the first group of stragglers,” he said, not moving an inch despite the spear resting over his heart.
“Please tell me you aren’t about to start some cliche villain monologue. I don’t have the patience for that,” Ronan said, taking a step back while beginning to channel his stamina and mana. I also didn’t know about that completion condition, but no way am I going to tell this prick anything.
Lord Rockmore didn’t react when Ronan stepped back. The moment he started channeling his resources, however, the well dressed bastard leapt to one side as a rapier appeared in his left hand.
“You have some skill. Good. This would be… unsatisfying if you couldn’t struggle a little. Who knows, if you impress me I might even take you under my wing.” His gaze pissed Ronan off.
He’d never liked being looked down on or treated as… less. Plenty of assholes had done it back when he was still an office worker in the old world and it seemed some things never changed.
“You’re pretty arrogant for a guy who needs to fake an accent to make himself sound important,” Ronan sneered as he activated vital surge.
Strength filled his body as the skill took hold. He felt a lurch as the stamina left his body. Lord Rockmore’s smirk shifted into a frown, but only for a moment. Hit you where it hurts, huh? Ronan chuckled at his own quip right before breaking charge activated.
He shot forwards at breakneck speed. The tip of his spear rocketed towards Lord Rockmore’s chest, the full force of Ronan’s bulk behind it.
The spear never struck its intended target. Ronan heard the clang of steel, followed by a shrieking whine. He was knocked backwards, mind and body reeling.
His arms tingled with mana, an unpleasant sting that faded after a few seconds. He regained his footing, raising the spear and searching for his enemy.
“How crude. When I sensed the mana moving within you, I thought I’d found a kindred spirit. It seems you are just a brute like the rest of them. I will make your death swift,” Lord Rockmore said, the faint traces of enjoyment now gone from his cold, piercing eyes.
Ronan was shocked. Other than a few strands of his slicked back hair which had been knocked out of place, Rockmore was entirely unharmed by the full combination of Ronan’s skills.
Vital surge, breaking charge, double strike, and even magic strike. Yet all Ronan had to show for his missing stamina and mana was something a trainee hair stylist could have done with a fraction of the effort.
Nonetheless, his failed opening attack hadn’t been completely useless. Despite the disorientation that followed the clash, Ronan had learned a little about Lord Rockmore’s fighting style.
The man wielded a rapier in his left hand, his grip light yet firm. Ronan had barely seen his arm move, but the blade seemed to dance through the air with deadly elegance.
He replayed the moment in his mind. He knew what he’d felt. The after effects made that clear. Lord Rockmore hadn’t used a drop of stamina to parry Ronan’s combo.
It had been a deft parry fueled entirely by mana and technical talent. Whatever pretence the man made about his identity, his skill with the blade was real. And Ronan knew he would struggle to win this fight.
Even so, that wouldn’t stop him trying. It never had. He was a tenacious bastard and his heritage had only revealed that to its greatest extent.
Now that he knew what to expect, his next strike wasn’t a mindless stacking of skills. He slowly circled the room, using a large concrete pillar to briefly obscure him from Rockmore’s vision.
As soon as he saw the slicked hair and cold eyes appear around the concrete, he activated breaking charge once more. This time, he forwent double strike. Instead, he pushed magic strike to its limit.
He had a little over a hundred mana left after the last attack. His mind screamed in protest, as did his body, as Ronan poured most of it into a single blow.
You have gained insight!
+1 [Mana I] Mastery
Red creeped into the edge of his vision. He’d hurt himself. It was worth it. He traced the movement of Rockmore’s rapier as the man moved to guard.
The tip traced a sweeping arc in the air. Mana thrummed along the blade as if it were one with Rockmore’s body. The world around the two men blurred, irrelevant and indifferent to their clash.
Ronan felt a faint pang of wrongness in the back of his mind. He ignored it, assuming his brain was rejecting his overuse of mana.
Barbed spear met system-forged steel and the magical force of two men clashed with blinding brilliance. Ronan was dazed once more. He felt himself being thrown backwards, spear flailing.
He heard Rockmore grunt, but then a sharp burning pain erupted from his chest. His breath caught in his throat. The world went dark.
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