ME Cuartas
patreon
Chapter 143 - Pangea (XXII)
🕑 Added 2024-12-12 07:05:54 +0000 UTCAs my words hang in the air, I see one of them launch forward, his eyes burning with fury. Oh, the kid from back then.
I stay calm, sliding my sword back into its sheath with a casual motion.
“Long time no see,” I say, deflecting a projectile with a smooth flick of my arm. The gauntlet absorbs the impact as if it were nothing, the force dissipating harmlessly.
Another dagger follows. I lean back, letting it slice past my throat by mere inches. The kid’s aiming to kill. Nice!
I grin, pulling Overdrive higher. My muscles tense and release as I crouch low, then explode upward, delivering a sharp jab to his stomach. He doubles over before the momentum sends him rolling across the jagged ground.
I catch movement from my left—a blade flashes, aimed at my back. So the other guy got up already?
I twist my torso, my right wrist rising just in time to intercept the strike. The bracer on my gauntlet clashes against the blade, the impact vibrating through my arm.
I pivot sharply as another dagger arcs toward my ribs. I shift my weight, letting it graze past me while I turn and drive my knee upward into his abdomen. He stumbles back, gasping.
Instead of finishing him, I dart forward, stepping into his guard. My sword flashes out from its sheath, the blunt side slamming into his blade and knocking it from his grip again. Before he can react, I duck under his arm, sweep my leg across his footing, and send him sprawling to the ground.
Meanwhile, the kid recovered already. Good! He’s back on me, swinging wildly, his movements aggressive but readable. I raise my gauntlet to block the first strike, then weave left to avoid the second. His patterns are quick but sloppy—anger fueling him instead of precision.
I pivot behind him, tapping his leg with my foot to disrupt his stance. He spins to recover, but I’m already above him, magnetizing my gauntlets to propel me upward. I land behind him, the back of my gauntlet connecting with his shoulder blade and sending him forward.
I wait, deliberately giving him time to stand.
He snarls, lunging again, and I sidestep, watching his blade slice empty air. I let him overextend and step into his space, driving my elbow into his side. He groans, staggering, but I don’t follow up. Not yet.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a third figure edging closer, moving with precision and intent. The Chinese guy? Interesting.
I feint left, baiting the first into another wild swing. Ducking under it, I launch my gauntlet forward, catching the second fighter in the chest before he can close in. He stumbles back, clutching at the impact, while I spin sharply on my heel. My hand snaps out, grabbing the first fighter’s wrist. A quick twist sends his weapon clattering to the ground.
I shove him backward with measured force, sending him sprawling but keeping my focus on the one approaching.
This one moves differently. His stance is balanced, his grip steady. His strikes, when they come, are sharp and deliberate. No wasted effort, no wild flailing. I raise an eyebrow, a flicker of respect forming.
So, you’ve got some skill.
I test him, sidestepping just enough to let his blade pass close, close enough that I can feel the air shift. His movements flow smoothly, each attack designed to probe my defenses. I block a downward strike with my gauntlet and counter with a faint jab, not enough to hurt, but enough to gauge his reaction. He deflects it cleanly, resetting his stance almost instantly.
Not too shabby. Let’s see more.
I push forward, applying just enough pressure to make him adjust. He responds well, turning my momentum aside with a calculated parry and stepping back into a defensive posture.
I toy with him, raising my speed slightly, forcing him to reveal more of his technique. His precision holds, each motion efficient, calculated. There’s no anger in his attacks, just focus.
Still, the gap between us is vast. My speed and strength mean I could end this at any moment. But I don’t. Instead, I circle him, feinting and prodding, letting him think he’s keeping up.
With a smirk, I deliberately let his blade graze my gauntlet, drawing him into a counter. The moment he overextends, I shift forward, tapping the back of his knee with my foot and sending him off-balance. He recovers quickly, but I’ve already stepped out of reach.
“Not bad,” I say, almost casually, as he readjusts. My smile widens.
He holds his ground, steadying his breathing, his eyes sharp as they study me with caution. The other two are back on their feet, their bodies battered but not broken. I’ve been careful not to put them out of the fight entirely—yet.
But what about the rest? This is a golden opportunity for Phase 2, and I’m buying it with six red orbs. Where’s my money’s worth?
Let’s step this up.
I glance at the others, scattered around, watching but doing nothing. “Well, since you don’t want them, I might as well take them away,” I say, turning my back to the orbs. I grab the half-torn bag I use for sling projectiles and begin picking them up, one at a time, deliberately slow. Still nothing?
As I finish picking up the orbs, I sense a wave from Chiara.
“If you don’t need the orbs—”
I ignore the rest, sending one back.
“Chiara, be a fucking leader. Are you seriously going to let your group look like clowns in front of me? Fight me—everything you’ve got. You want the orbs? Then come and take them. This isn’t some picnic by the coast. I put my life on the line for these, and I don’t even need them. But I want to see if any of you have the guts to earn them. What happened to all those big words back then? Show me something, anything. I’m standing here, right in front of you all, and this… this pathetic display is what I get?”
I see the stunned expression on her face as my message hits. Good. Let it sink in.
The shift is immediate. The rest narrow their eyes, gripping their weapons tighter, determination flickering across their faces. Finally. I really had to spell it out for you, didn’t I?
I’ve finished my boss battle. Now it’s time for yours.
I grin.
Chiara released a deep breath. If that’s what you want…
“Prepare for battle,” she sent the mental order through the network. “No holding back.”
She felt the shift in the atmosphere immediately, the silent acknowledgment rippling through the group. Weapons raised. Movements sharpened. Even the air seemed to tense.
Chiara gripped her sword tighter. Her heart pounded, but her resolve held firm.
Seconds passed in silence.
And then… it started.
The first strike came from Ayu, a sharp whistle as her sword cut through the air toward Alonso’s head. He deflected it with a fluid motion, his gauntlet gleaming as it absorbed the impact. Ayu twisted her wrist, immediately following up with a shield bash aimed at his ribs. Alonso sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow, but it forced him to shift position—right into Imani’s swing.
The heavy warhammer, crafted from the dense shell of the giant crab’s pincers, came down with brutal precision. Alonso ducked just in time, the crushing head missing his skull by inches and slamming into the ground with a loud crash.
Rakesh and Lukas opened fire. Projectiles zipped through the air, perfectly coordinated, their trajectories crisscrossing to box Alonso in. He twisted, his gauntlets a blur as he batted away the incoming shots. Sparks flew as one deflected off his left gauntlet, and another barely missed his mask, grazing the edge of an antenna.
“Good,” Chiara thought as she circled wide, her EM waves humming with subtle interference. “Keep him pinned.”
Wang darted in next, his sword movements precise and calculated. Alonso parried the first strike with a sharp upward motion of his gauntlet. Wang shifted seamlessly, his blade cutting low toward Alonso’s legs. Alonso leaped back, narrowly avoiding the slice, but Wang was relentless, following him with a flurry of strikes that left no room for error.
Alonso smiled faintly. He wasn’t just countering—he was studying. His movements slowed, deliberate, as if he were mapping every attack, every rhythm. Chiara clenched her teeth.
He’s toying with us.
Ishaam lunged in from the left, his dagger flashing in the dim light. Alonso shifted just enough to avoid the blade, spinning on his heel to face him. He caught Ishaam’s wrist mid-strike, twisting it sharply before shoving him back. Ishaam stumbled but recovered quickly, firing a sling shot directly at Alonso’s chest as he retreated.
Alonso leaned back, the projectile sailing past him, and laughed. “Not bad. But you’ll need more than that.”
Chiara gritted her teeth. “Focus on his mask! Target the antennae!” she sent through the network, her tone cutting.
She had been trying to disrupt his senses, to exploit any opening, but his mental defenses were too solid. They had to weaken his protection, create even the smallest gap. It was their only chance.
Ayu moved to Alonso’s right, forcing him to shift his guard. Lukas and Rakesh peppered him with rapid shots aimed high. Imani swung wide, his massive warhammer keeping Alonso’s movements confined. Wang darted in again, his blade striking low this time, coordinated with Ayu’s overhead swing.
For a moment, Alonso’s movements slowed. His gauntlets rose to shield his head from the relentless assault. A glint of annoyance crossed his face as he dodged Ayu’s strike, countered Wang’s thrust, and spun to avoid Imani’s wide swing.
Chiara seized the opening. Her waves surged forward, targeting Alonso’s senses. For a brief second, his movements faltered. His head tilted slightly, his balance wavering.
Ayu’s sword cut in again, aimed straight at his shoulder.
But Alonso’s smile returned. He tricked them.
He shifted abruptly, using the momentum of Ayu’s strike to spin her around, forcing her shield arm into Wang’s path. The collision threw both of them off balance. Alonso leaped back, his gauntlets raised defensively as a volley of projectiles from Rakesh and Lukas rained down around him.
Chiara’s pulse quickened. He was forcing mistakes, breaking their rhythm.
But they weren’t done yet.
“Stay focused!” she sent. “Don’t let him dictate the pace! Focus on the antennae!”
Her command hit the network like a jolt of electricity, and everyone adjusted.
Rakesh and Lukas recalibrated their shots, aiming higher. Ayu maneuvered to Alonso’s flank, her shield raised, ready to press any opening. Wang darted low, his blade angling toward Alonso’s legs, while Imani took a wide swing with his hammer, confining Alonso’s movements.
The battlefield blurred into chaos. Projectiles zipped through the air, strikes flew from every direction, and Alonso’s sword and gauntlets moved with maddening precision, deflecting and parrying each attack.
Still, they pressed harder.
Ayu’s shield slammed into Alonso’s side, forcing him to twist. Wang’s sword came in fast, aiming for his exposed back, but Alonso spun mid-movement, catching the blade with his gauntlet. His counter came instantly, a sharp kick that sent Wang stumbling back.
But as Alonso moved to dodge another projectile, Lukas’s sling shot connected. It ricocheted off Ayu’s shield, the angle perfect, striking the base of Alonso’s mask.
The snap was audible.
One of the antennae fell, clattering to the ground.
Alonso froze for a fraction of a second, his hand brushing the broken mask. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Damn it,” he muttered.
Chiara’s heart surged. “This is it! Press harder! Don’t let up!” she sent through the network.
And then… something shifted.
Alonso’s stance tightened, his movements suddenly sharper, faster—far beyond what Chiara believed possible. He became a blur, a force that seemed to transcend their coordination.
“The boss went berserk!” he called out, his grin widening.
Shit. Chiara clenched her teeth. He was holding back before… this fucking monster.
She had to enter the melee.
She surged forward, her sword angling toward the bag near Alonso’s waist. Her mind worked furiously, analyzing his movements, calculating his rhythm. If she could just exploit an opening—
Her blade neared its target, but then, she felt it. A force. It tugged her sword off course, pulling it toward Alonso’s wristguards as if they were magnetized. The moment her sword connected with the gauntlet, the pull intensified, locking her weapon in place.
What?!
Alonso’s wrist flicked, the motion seamless, sending her blade off balance. Chiara staggered back, shocked.
It wasn’t just reflexes. It wasn’t just combat awareness. He had timed the pull perfectly, syncing it with his defense as if he had planned for this exact moment.
This was on a whole other level.
Her grip tightened on her sword, her jaw clenching as Alonso smoothly stepped back into position, his gaze briefly flicking to her with a faint smile. She’d miscalculated. Attacking him like this wouldn’t work.
He greatly surpasses us in stage progress and skill, she thought bitterly. And those gauntlets... there’s something off with them.
She stepped back, letting the others take over the assault as her mind raced.
I can’t match him in close combat. I’ll have to strike with EM waves from afar. But I need the right timing. Just one chance.
“Target the bag holding the orbs!” she sent urgently. “Scratch it, and we win! I need time—buy it for me!”
The network pulsed with acknowledgment. Ayu darted back in, her shield raised, her expression set with determination. Imani swung wide, forcing Alonso to pivot as Lukas and Rakesh sent another volley of projectiles his way.
Chiara closed her eyes, shutting out the chaos surrounding her. She drew in a deep breath, centering herself, her mind honing in on a single task. Her waves surged, gathering with meticulous precision, each calibrated with care. She would force a backdoor into Alonso’s senses—a brief override. That was all she needed.
Now that the mask was gone and he was distracted, there had to be an opening. No... she wouldn’t wait for one. She would create the opening.
Chiara focused deeply, her mind honing every pulse of her waves into a singular purpose. Around her, the battle raged on. Alonso, now a blur of speed and power, dominated the field. He countered with precision, weaving through attacks with a calm that bordered on arrogance.
Ayu lunged again, her shield slamming toward Alonso’s side. He parried it with his gauntlet and pivoted, delivering a strike that sent her reeling backward. Lukas and Rakesh unleashed a relentless barrage of projectiles, but Alonso deflected them with almost disdainful ease.
Imani charged, his warhammer swinging with unyielding force. Alonso sidestepped, the heavy head of the weapon brushing past him, and countered with a powerful kick to Imani’s midsection. Imani stumbled but didn’t fall, gritting his teeth and pressing on.
Wang closed in, his sword slicing through the air in precise, relentless arcs. Alonso met each strike head-on with his own blade..
“Not bad,” Alonso said, his voice low.
Suddenly, Alonso feinted left, drawing Wang’s guard, and struck with a sharp jab to his shoulder. The impact sent Wang stumbling back, his balance momentarily broken.
Chiara’s heart pounded as she calibrated her waves, the frequency narrowing into alignment with Alonso’s. This was her chance.
Ayu, her expression fierce, rushed back in, her shield raised high. Alonso met her strike head-on, the clash reverberating through the air. Imani came in from the side, his heavy hammer sweeping toward Alonso’s legs. He vaulted over the attack, landing gracefully before launching a spinning kick that forced them back.
Chiara’s focus deepened. Her waves pulsed out, subtle and precise, weaving through the cacophony of EM fields. She found it—the faintest vulnerability in Alonso’s defenses.
“Now!” she sent through the network.
The team responded instantly. Ayu surged forward, her shield aiming for Alonso’s midsection. Lukas and Rakesh fired in perfect unison, their projectiles converging on Alonso’s flanks. Imani charged with a wide swing, forcing Alonso to twist and deflect.
For a brief moment, Alonso’s guard slipped. Chiara’s waves surged forward, infiltrating his senses with a carefully crafted pulse. His movements faltered—an almost imperceptible hesitation, but enough.
Ayu seized the opportunity. She pivoted, her shield striking toward the bag on Alonso’s back. He was already moving to evade, his reflexes razor-sharp, but the disruption caused him to freeze for a fraction of a second.
That was all they needed.
The buckler connected, hitting the already loosened bag. The straps gave way, and the orbs tumbled to the ground, scattering across the sand.
Alonso backed away, shaking his head. Not in annoyance, but in quiet acknowledgment. His grin widened.
“Well played,” Alonso said, his voice steady, his posture relaxed.
He sheathed his sword with a fluid motion, his gaze sweeping over the group. Even now, he didn’t look agitated. Not even tired.
Chiara exhaled, a brief sigh of relief escaping her lips. Was this really worth calling a victory? Eight against one, and they had barely managed to scratch a loose bag around his waist. And that only because he had obviously held back, restraining himself from inflicting any serious injuries.
As her pulse began to settle, she noticed Alonso’s eyes pass over her. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging her efforts. Then his gaze stopped—on Ayu.
Chiara followed his line of sight and saw it—the way his expression shifted ever so slightly, the faint flicker of something in his eyes. Conflict? Regret? Affection? She wasn’t sure. Ayu, standing there with her shield still raised, breathing heavily, hesitated for just a fraction of a second before meeting his gaze. Her lips pressed into a firm line, but her eyes betrayed a storm of emotions she couldn’t quite hide.
And then, Alonso smiled. It was faint, barely there, but it lingered for a moment before he turned away. He walked off, leaving them standing in the dust, the orbs scattered at their feet.
Chiara’s grip tightened on her sword as she watched him go. Around her, the others remained silent, their gazes fixed on the ground. The air felt heavy, weighted with the unspoken truth that gnawed at all of them.
