Chapter 97: The Sacred Energy
From the darkness he will not be able to see me, but he will be able to sense my movements. My greatest advantage has already been revealed and he still remains with all his secrets.
He held his breath, gripping the daggers. His eyes slowly followed every light movement of his opponent, even if it was the lightest.
Many pure brute-force fights could change their fortunes through ingenuity.
His legs suddenly exploded in speed. He moved like a slippery snake, traveling through each of his blind spots.
His rival remained with an immovable composure. Like a sacred mountain. The thirst for blood was beginning to wreak havoc on his composure slowly.
Like a great puppeteer, death guided every invisible thread over the forest covered by the grayish mist.
"Don’t hide, dirty rat!" the young man shouted. His breathing was deep, prepared to explode at any instant.
The wind was cut for an instant.
A piercing sound of dry leaves being broken was heard behind him.
Unsheathing his sword with a precision built through years of hard work, he turned with the purpose of ending his prey.
But to his shock, it had only been a cheap trick. He had thrown a stone, which had caused the noise.
He had fallen for the deception.
A shadow stretched at his back. The cold reflection of the dagger almost reached him.
Even so he reacted, performing a feint at the last second. He turned halfway on his axis and managed to avoid the dagger’s cut, interposing his sword in between.
Only one second was enough for a deep cut to extend from his cheek to his left eye. At no point had he prevented the use of a second dagger.
He retreated without closing his eyes, holding back the moans of pain.
He is talented, but he still does not have enough sense of real experience.
It was the image Gabriel obtained after the brief encounter. Another weaker man, but with greater experience, could have defended himself better.
Instead, the young man bled deeply. His face had been practically stained by the crimson color, darkening his vision.
The battle had been practically decided through deception. But his proud expression had not vanished.
He had lost any trace of a smile.
"Bastard, cutting with that fierceness. You should have aimed for the neck," he said with clenched teeth. Animosity covered his only healthy eye.
Gabriel tilted his head, directing a cold gaze at him.
"If it were by skill alone, you would already be dead. But you should have some kind of protection."
There existed a great variety of records within the video game, which were constantly published on the forums. It was public knowledge the descriptions of certain skills and objects.
Especially the very rare life-saving objects. With a price far too high to be common currency.
With such a bright armor, he had deduced the possibility. For that reason he decided to wound him severely, without rushing.
"I greatly underestimated you. I still do; it is a common error. But I cannot die," he finally murmured adopting a swordsman’s stance.
His hair began to wave mystically, with his eye turning golden. He was undergoing a complete transformation in the blink of an eye.
Gabriel did not lag behind, advancing to prevent it. But an extremely violent energy rejected him, sending him backward. It was extremely warm and harmful like the sun.
From the depths of his entrails he felt repulsion for that energy.
"Outsiders usually call me Proud Heart. Today I will not allow you to rise above me." He said losing any indication of amusement.
He transmitted a dense and powerful energy, like that of a small walking sun. His muscles had bulked up, gaining confidence in the process.
He had already heard about similar individuals in the past. They were the extraordinary ones, who stood out from the beginning. Inheriting classes, skills, or rare lineages within the game.
He was supposed to be one as well.
Men who dominated the upper and most select part of any list.
Violently he launched himself at him, carrying the force of a warhorse. His sword was as fast as a lightning bolt descending to the earth.
But Gabriel did not lag behind, avoiding with mastery every thrust and horizontal movement. His body synchronized perfectly with his mind, concentrating on dodging the destructive attacks.
Each of those skills had a limit.
No one could manage to activate them infinitely without rest or they would be invincible. He only needed to take advantage of that bottleneck.
However he seemed fueled by the very source of madness, abandoning all kind of restraint. Each of his attacks was destined for the rawest and most violent murder possible.
With a soft and delicate fencing, which turned into a tornado when combined with his inexhaustible strength. Even so he hid the deep gravity in his eyes.
His transformation was not unlimited and half of his vision was darkened by his own blood. He needed to finish the agile assassin in the least time possible.
Gabriel was agile as a snake, avoiding his sword as if it were part of his instincts. In his sockets only coldness existed. The repulsion grew inside him every time he understood more of that energy.
It contained the vitality of a nascent god, violent and sacred, but at the same time it hid an indescribable stench. Inside him he sensed more than he understood.
There was something extremely wrong.
But his thoughts were constantly interrupted by the maddened attacks, which worsened with time. The terrain became too small at that moment, limiting his movements. His skill would probably disappear at any moment, exhausting its fuse.
He had to survive to observe that result. Stopping his attacks with his own strength was a dangerous bet. He could have other secrets that he still guarded jealously.
"You must not be from above," he said suddenly with comprehending eyes.
Apparently he had understood that his efforts were destined to be ineffective. Uselessly wasting his energy in the process; stopping his unrestrained fighting style.
Gabriel also stopped, with his chest agitated. He directed no kind of word toward the defeated Proud Heart.
Nor did he understand his words exactly; they were ambiguous and without context.
"Our fight has ended. My skills are limited by the environment and I have no chance," he said with a tired smile, but continued, "it is a surprise to meet someone like you. These ruins gather outstanding people. I am not the only one."
When he was finally about to start marching like an executioner, to put an end to the battle, three enormous balls of fire shone in the sky. Their positions had been revealed like a gigantic and bright star.
They had been attracted by the glow of the energy.
Like hungry hyenas that had spotted an old and wounded prey. Their mouths trembled with emotion, with the drooling desire exciting their entrails.
The fight had only lasted dozens of seconds, without varying from its high intensity, enough time to alert the witches who acted without any kind of shame.
He disappeared among the shadows, eliminating his presence to its minimums. He had abandoned the idea of taking the life of his opponent, because it would become extremely risky.
Wisely he hid again.
He still remembered the sensation that the energy covering Proud Heart’s body granted him. Sacred and slightly transcendental, but his instincts alerted him of a dark feeling.
Could this be related to the gods? he thought in silence.
He conserved in his memory the speech of Amazías Von Tepes. According to his words, he should sin in the name of the Gods every time he had the opportunity.
Blaspheme against the Gods.
Words of common origin, that contained a depth difficult to see. What were the gods?
Why had they died?
A blinding flash arose from the horizon. At first it was weak, until it became an enormous explosion.
With difficulty he opened his eyes, with itching and burning. He had been totally blinded for a few instants.
"Did he die...?" he murmured.
After surviving in front of him, he had probably died before the siege of the three witches. They coveted the blood and the energy the young man contained, so they would not let him escape.
But to his surprise, in front of him approached the battered Proud Heart—an extremely eloquent title. He had lost part of his armor and his golden hair was covered in blood.
"You are an assassin... You will not hide far," he murmured without strength.
Suddenly a tall shadow loomed over him.
It was the dark figure of Gabriel, who observed him with confusion.
"You... There you are... I will not allow three witches to claim my head," he said with a smile covered in blood.
"Decapitate me."
His head rolled a few meters in an instant, spraying blood and closing his eyes in peace.
He had had no mercy.
He had used his two daggers in a cruel action that caused no prolonged pain.
Leviathan’s Gluttony surged with renewed energies, voraciously devouring the remains of the blood of the extremely talented young man.
His blood seemed to contain unknown principles that his skill desired with fervor.
Instinctively absorbing the essence that composed the player.
It is the first time I absorb someone from outside.
Near him, a witch with bare feet approached stealthily.