Azhar casted [Bowman"s Stand] to have even just a chance at harming Old Thane before he darted around, his eagle tattoos granting him speed. With his naturally quick build and trained movements, he darted around Old Thane with a speed that would have left an ordinary men unable to even track him.Old Thane stood still; his fists relaxed at his side. After all, he had no pressure to do anything. If Azhar did not attack, then he would just tire himself out with these movements.
Sure enough, Azhar did attack, striking from the old man"s back, right where his blindspot was.
Old Thane swiveled around at the last second and grabbed Azhar"s fist in his hand. The action was simple, but Li recognized the significance of it. With his eagle tattoos boosting his already formidable agility, Azhar moved at nearly the pinnacle of human speed to the point where Launcelot, a trained fighter of merit, could not at all react, winning only through prediction.
But Old Thane had reacted. He did not predict Azhar"s moves like Launcelot did, he just used his own senses and physical prowess.
"Surprised?" said Old Thane as he tightened his grip on Azhar"s fist, crus.h.i.+ng it into a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp in his bear"s paw of a hand. He landed a colossal blow on Azhar"s chest, careful not to knock the man out, with his other fist, sending the hinterlander flying backwards with a shattered sternum.
"We of the Northwastes are of far superior breed than you sun-soaked southern pups." Old Thane nodded to Li for more healing. "We spend nary a year as a waddling babe before we stand. We fight when we can walk, wading through blizzards and storms to beat our next meal to death."
Li healed Azhar and checked Old Thane"s status again as he had not expected the old man to be able to move this quickly. Certainly, he knew his stats had improved with his newfound youth, but nothing to this level. He was also sure the old man had not used any sort of skill or ability.
===========
[Thane Bloodfist]
Level: 55
Race: Human
Cla.s.s: Warrior
Specialties:
-Brawler
-Berserker
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Stats:
STR- 150
AGI- 130
INT- 30
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Racial Pa.s.sives
-Human Neutral: Humans are unique in that they possess more stat and skill points than other races in exchange for having zero racial bonuses. At the same time, they have no racial weaknesses either. They take normal damage and are effected normally by everything.
-Awakened Jotunsblood: Humans of the Northwastes are naturally stronger, faster, and tougher. They heal from wounds quicker and possess st.u.r.dier wills resistant to mental interference. They possess a powerful spirit capable of keeping themselves alive even through lethal wounds. This pa.s.sive seals away without consistent exposure to bloodshed.
_____
Items/Equipment:
-Linen s.h.i.+rt (Upper)
-Leather Trousers (Legs)
-Common Boots (Feet)
=============
As expected, the old man was different.
He had a hidden racial pa.s.sive that made him flat out superior to other humans in terms of sheer physicals.
Li quickly calculated that though Old Thane was level 55, his stats were fitting for those slightly over level 60, and considering 60 seemed to be the absolute pinnacle that humanity could reach in this world, it was no exaggeration to rank the old man among the physically strongest humans in the world even without considering his skills and abilities.
Strong and fast enough to match Azhar even while the ranger boosted his own stats. This whole time, Old Thane had simply been playing with the hinterlander, even letting him gouge out an eye to teach a lesson.
Azhar got up again, leaping onto his feet with determination. "You were holdin" back?"
"I have a bad habit of playing with my prey" said Old Thane. He called out to Li. "Li, my friend! Do you have spells to restore mana?"
Li nodded.
Old Thane grinned. "Then prepare them for this weakling, for elsewise his mind will give out before his body does."
A solid impact echoed through the forest as Azhar crashed a kick onto Old Thane"s head while he talked to Li.
Old Thane lashed out, swiping at Azhar, but the hinterlander had adjusted to the old man"s speed and flipped back, escaping his deadly grip.
"Suns above, you"re tough as a brick," said Azhar as he grimaced.
Old Thane was unharmed. The kick, empowered with enough speed to probably punt a regular man"s head off his neck, had bounced off the old man"s skull without inflicting any real damage.
Old Thane tapped his head. "The skull is the strongest armor we humans have. A foolhardy target. The groin would have been better."
Azhar exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing as he tried to find another way to harm Old Thane now that the old man"s guard was up.
"Boy, here are my terms," said Old Thane as he neared Azhar. "You give me one more good wound. Something that will let me taste blood. Something more than a tickle. Then this ends."
"Easy enough," said Azhar as he surged forwards with his enhanced charge.
Old Thane spied Azhar"s extended fist. "Again?" he said mockingly.
Azhar sailed out his punch, aiming it at Old Thane"s jaw. The old man stepped backwards, dodging the blow. Azhar roared as he pressed forwards, loosing a flurry of determined blows that, even with one arm, shot out with all the speed and intensity of gunfire.
Old Thane, even with his large frame, dodged every single blow.
"Enough!" Old Thane took a particularly large step back, gaining enough distance to shoot out his own punch.
Li expected Azhar to dodge, but instead, the ranger punched right at Old Thane"s fist in a contest of strength. A stupid decision.
The outcome was obvious.
Azhar scrambled backwards with his thoroughly mangled hand, several of the fingers dangling from thin strips of bone and flesh like ribbons. Blood spurted from several ruptured blood vessels. He doubled over in pain, kneeling in the gra.s.s while looking down, holding his destroyed hand close to his face.
Old Thane stepped forwards. Slow, steady steps bereft of mercy. "And I thought you had learned. But worry not. I will end your misery."
Old Thane drew upon Azhar, his fist upraised as the hinterlander knelt in the gra.s.s, his head bowed down. It almost looked like Old Thane was an executioner, a living guillotine ready to sever with cold-cut efficiency the groveling weakling beneath him.
"I see," said Li to himself. He had not expected this.
Azhar, in a quick flash, looked up, and upon his face was not defeat, but a smile. He spat out a spray of blood at Old Thane"s face, splattering the old man"s nose with the iron-reeking liquid. Azhar had pretended to be doubled over to conceal the fact that he had been sucking up blood from his destroyed hand.
Old Thane slammed his fist down, but his accuracy was shot, missing Azhar as he stumbled backwards. The old man was blind, but he "saw" through his other senses. The main one was hearing, of course, but Azhar had figured out that he could not have possibly reacted as quickly as he did if he relied on hearing alone. Hearing was far too broad a sense and sound inevitably came after movement.
Sound was far slower than the light that carried the images of movements that let fighters with sight react to them.
No, Old Thane used smell to first track Azhar"s general location and then focused his hearing to that specific area. By covering up his sense of smell, Azhar delayed Old Thane"s reactions by just an instant.
An instant enough to abuse.
Azhar circled to Old Thane"s side as the old man wasted time wiping blood from his nose.
Li was even further surprised as he noticed that Azhar held between his two remaining fingers – his index finger and thumb – his severed pinky. Before, the pinky had been holding on his hand by a bare thread of torn muscle and bone, and when Azhar had sucked up his blood, he must have also bitten that pinky off and hidden it in his mouth.
Azhar gripped that pinky between his two remaining fingers like a dart and extended his arm back, gathering magical energy to cast [Snipe], and from the angle, it looked like he was trying to aim it straight at Old Thane"s ear.
Li realized Azhar had planned this quite a bit ahead. He had intentionally taken the seemingly stupid move of cras.h.i.+ng fists with Old Thane and angled the impact such that it preserved his index finger and thumb, making all this possible in the first place.
Having faced death several times by now, Azhar had become used to the pain, to the very idea of dying, and now knew to use every single resource available to him – no matter how desperate or self-destructive the measure – to win.
Azhar threw his arm out, sending the pinky spiralling outwards like an arrow. A shockwave of magical energy painted visibly red with blood exploded from his hand.