A Weakling (II)

Alarmed by what he'd witnessed, Victor willed the monster to retreat a few paces back without even uttering so much as a word. He watched as the giant beast thrashed about, clutching the arm that had been freshly coated in a thick layer of frost.

If this were to continue, the beast would undoubtedly be frozen down to the bone and reduced to nothing more than an icy sculpture. Fortunately for it, the white flames subsided a moment later and prevented the cold shroud from freezing its way past the elbow joint.

"I see you've learned some new tricks over the last year. Perhaps you're not as incapable as I'd thought." Victor spoke brusquely, directing the words at the bearer of white flames.

"Incapable huh? I wonder what gave you that idea." The dust cleared almost instantly, as though it had been blown away by the sheer pressure in Cyril's voice. He rose slowly from the impact crater carved out by the giant monster's fist. Scattered across the arid ground, twinkling white embers flared like burning confetti tossed into the wind.

As expected, Cyril was their source. His entire body shimmered with a thin white glow, releasing the occasional spark—tiny motes crackling into existence like cinders from a forge.

With his gaze level, he glared at Victor adamantly. His eyes carried no traces of confusion or indifference, only pure conviction.

"I don't remember losing to you the last time we fought."

"Miracles happen, boy. This time will be different." Victor responded bitterly. The sardonic smile from earlier had long since faded from his expression and a deep scowl emerged in its place.

He glanced around at the other five men he'd brought along. They had temporarily ceased their preparations after witnessing the minotaur's plight, but a simple glance from their leader was all it took to snap the men back into action.

Victor's wordless glance conveyed a single command: "Take aim"

And so, the men prepared for another magical assault. Even the giant monster by his side was raring to join the fray, as soon as it registered Cyril as the user of the white flames, the minotaur's agony was usurped by the only impulse capable of dulling its sense of pain—rage.

With a thunderous roar, the minotaur smashed its forearms into the ground, shattering it on impact. Before the plumes of dust could even begin to rise, it took an offensive stance akin to a wild bull about to charge. Anchoring its weight on its back legs, the monster lowered its center of gravity and poised its body for a charge.

Watching the buildup of hostility about to come his way made Cyril feel a tinge of uncertainty. There were simply too many targets to account for. He leapt back a few paces as he fell into an offensive stance. White flames erupted from the aura coating his body, and in response, the temperature steadily began to drop in his immediate vicinity. Even the ground wasn't spared; frost and rime spread outward from him in a thin sheet of ice, marking the boundaries of his small domain.

This might get a bit tricky...

The thought naturally flowed into Cyril's mind as he glanced around. At his current level, one-on-one combat with any of them wouldn't pose much of an issue but the chances of his opponents being that accommodating were slim.

An oppressive silence hug in the air. Sensing the buildup of mana gathering around the growling beast, Cyril narrowed his eyes and gulped hard. In response to the creature's animosity, Victor casually leapt off the minotaur's shoulder and narrowed his eyes before giving the cruel order.

"Go", he whispered softly.

The air shook violently from the minotaur's roar—a cry so powerful it seemed to span miles. With a puff, the creature kicked off the ground and initiated a furious charge for the flaming boy. For a creature of that size—one weighing well over a ton—it was far nimbler than Cyril initially anticipated.

The bullish footsteps quickly brought the beast within range, with only ten or so more meters to go, it lunged for Cyril without warning. The minotaur clasped both hands and sent the brutal attack crashing down on Cyril.

The attack was fast, but still predictable. Cyril didn't even need [Mobius] to see it coming. He darted away seconds before the powerful blow smashed into the ground like a cannonball. Bits of rubble and chunks of stone pelted his skin as the wind pressure flung him aside like a ragdoll.

Cyril's body rolled a few meters, and by the time he regained his footing he could already sense the second wave of devastation coming his way. Something slammed into his torso at an incredible speed; forcing a dry gasp from his throat. Had he not shifted his stance at the last second the object would have probably pierced through his body.

Flames?

Cyril's eyes caught the drifting sparks left behind by the flaming lance that slammed into him. He ducked away, hoping to find cover, but instead of finding respite, the ground reacted with even more hostility.

Thick stone spikes erupted from several different angles at once, aiming to skewer him on landing.

"Damn it!" Cyril cursed, swiping his foot to evade the deathtrap with an arc of fire. The flames propelled him backwards and cleared the range of the earth spell but things were far from over. As he retreated, the stone spikes doubled in length before erupting with a low whoosh, shattering into a storm of needle-like blades that scattered in every direction.

Total evasion was almost impossible, but Cyril sought to try nonetheless. He thrust both hands forward, conjuring a wall of fire to ward off the incoming projectiles—but it proved only half-effective. Several of the needle-like earthen spears tore through the flames and buried themselves in his flesh.

"Gck!" Gritting his teeth, the young hunter forced his eyes open and endured the agony as the blazing wall carried him out of range. He hit the ground hard, tumbling across the dirt until his battered body finally came to rest at the base of a massive oak tree.

His vision was swimming.

A series of laborious breaths escaped Cyril's mouth, with his vision being the way it was he could barely even make out the huffing of his own chest. Eventually, the images swimming in his vision overlapped, but the stinging pain caused by the stone spikes sticking out of his skin wouldn't allow him to rest.

"These bastards are so unfair..." Cyril groaned, pulling a stone spike from his shoulder as he pushed himself upright. "...every time we fight you people always gang up on me."

[Suggestion. Cyril, your proficiency with the Niflheim skill is too low to be used effectively under the current circumstances. My calculations indicate that your chances of victory will significantly improve if you deploy the [Juggernaut] skill as your main offensive ability.]

Working on it Aria. I was trying to be careful about which abilities I use, but since I'm on my own here there's no point in holding back.

[Affirmative. You may proceed as you wish.]

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Once the telepathic conversation ended, Cyril returned his focus to the battlefield. Wiping away the blood gliding down his face, he spat the red liquid spilling from his lips and prepared himself for another assault.

Dust clouds swirled about the vicinity, but he could still make out a few shadows dancing through the haze.

Before the minotaur tracks my scent....

Cyril lightly kicked the ground with the bottom of his foot, a piece of rubble lying beside him gently flicked into the air as if it had spontaneously jolted to life. The young deviant clenched his fist and pulled back his right leg, locking his eyes on the shadows leaping in the dust.

...I'll take at least one of them out!

Cyril timed it perfectly, as the object fell, he raised his leg and sent it flying with herculean might.

Augmented by the effects of [Juggernaut], the piece of debris was launched like a missile, cutting through the dust and marking its target with perfect aim. Cyril heard a loud groan and watched as the shadow fell to the ground—rendered unconscious in a single shot.

The man was completely unaware that he had been taken out by a simple piece of debris, accelerated to supersonic speeds. A troubling wave spread through the air, deciphering its magical meaning, Cyril hastily twisted his body and leaped into the air, just in time to avoid the flaming lance that came shooting straight through the base of the tree he was standing by.

Tracing the afterglow, Cyril marked the shooter with his eyes.

Now that he was airborne, it was fairly easy to spot the aggressor from above. One of Victor's lackeys—the flame magician — stood in a clear spot with his grimoire ready. Not even ten seconds had passed since he'd fired the last spear, but a new wave of hellfire was already coalescing above the man's palm.

The flames crackled and sputtered, taking shape as he molded it to fit the image of a flaming dragon. Mouthing off a final chant, the magician gave a roar and sent the flaming creature mercilessly hurtling towards Cyril.

However, the young hunter remained composed.

Gritting his teeth, Cyril quickly changed tactics and set his body alight with a mantle of white flames once more. He quickly compressed the storm of fire erupting from his body down to a swirl hovering above his palm and retaliated with his own wave of fiery devastation.

The attack coiled into a conical spiral, descending like a fiery maelstrom until, at last, the two infernos collided. Sparks flew on impact as the blue and orange colors vied for dominance, however the magician quickly realize that something was off.

The Nectar he had consumed had amplified his abilities severalfold, and the attack he had just unleashed was the result of pouring his entire magical output into a single spell.

Yet, inexplicably, he was still being pushed back. No matter how much mana he poured into the flaming dragon, the white flames refused to waver. In fact, they did the opposite—Cyril's flames seemed to feed on the dragon itself, siphoning its heat and growing stronger with every passing moment.

Within seconds, the magician's trump card was utterly overwhelmed. The white flames engulfed the flaming dragon entirely, tracing its form all the way back to its source.

"Impossible!" The magician could only groan helplessly as the white blaze washed over him.

"That's two." Cyril landed near the pyre of white flames. He heard a groan coming from within the giant pyre of flames, which could only mean that the flame magician from earlier was still alive for the time being. He hurriedly returned to scanning the area, but the ferocious roar bellowing from within the dust abruptly demanded his attention.

The ground rattled beneath him from the bullish footsteps closing in. Cyril quickly spun his body to see the minotaur charging in from behind, he tightened his fist and waited for his chance to counter, when suddenly, he felt his entire body shift spontaneously, as though the earth itself had moved beneath him.

Quickly looking down, Cyril noticed that the ground beneath him had lost much of its firmness. It immediately gave way under the influence of his weight and swallowed everything up to his knees like a dark swamp.

Crap, its that magician again. He screamed internally. I couldn't sense him at all.

[Answer. Cyril, your opponent has deployed a spell that targeted the area around you, rather than you yourself. If you are not pinned as the initial target of a spell, your [Mobius] skill will have a harder time processing the manite data.]

He didn't even have time to acknowledge Aria's report, the minotaur was already well within range by the time her report had concluded. Charging in with its massive fist already wound, the monster channeled its built-up momentum into a furious right hook.

Cyril reacted instinctively, executing a cross block and activating [Juggernaut] on command.

Augment density! He screamed the words inwardly, seconds before taking the full brunt of the monstrous blow.

The minotaur's fist crashed into him with a thunderous bang, shattering his aura and driving the impact deep into his core. His vision wavered as the monster pressed forward, each push forcing him to endure the grotesque sensation of his bones bending under the strain.

Then, with a surge of power from its legs, the minotaur hurled him skyward like a comet. The next few seconds blurred together—trees whipped past in streaks of grey, their trunks snapping in succession as his body tore through them.

[Alert: Cyril, you were unconscious for approximately thirty seconds following the minotaur's last strike. Prepare yourself immediately—another frontal assault is imminent.]

The robotic words barely registered in his mind.

Easier said than done Aria, that last attack really hurt you know.

By the time his vision properly adjusted itself, Cyril could only gaze at the scene in front of him in awe. After being repelled at such a high speed, his body carved a path of sheer destruction through the forest, toppling the giant oak trees like dominoes.

His rough estimation concluded that he'd been launched a good twenty meters into the forest after taking that punch. He was at the base of another giant oak tree yet again, resting his back against its shattered trunk.

The conspicuous white outfit he'd been given by Ginny was almost completely shredded. The upper half was nothing more than a dirty rag at this point, and the white T-shirt he'd worn underneath had dark red stains all over it.

Cyril exhaled a strained breath and wiped the blood gliding down his forehead. "This isn't as easy as I thought it'd be." he admitted bitterly, clutching his right arm and pushing himself upright once again.

By the time he took two steps forward the minotaur's silhouette was already becoming visible to him. Towering like a titan, the giant of a monster advanced wordlessly, puffing a whiff of balmy vapors through its snout.

As soon as it spotted Cyril, the monsters expression twisted into a vengeful grimace. It leaned forward again, adopting the perfect form for a standing start.

[Alert: Cyril, your unique skill Life Surge has been activated. Damaged bones and tissues are undergoing repair, but your opponent is accumulating magical energy for another direct assault. Evasive action is recommended. Full recovery will require additional time.]

Perfect. It's good to hear at least a bit of good news for once.

[Cyril.]

I know, Aria. I'm trying, but I can't exactly move my right arm properly yet.

His condition must have been a lot more serious under the surface. Taking a head on blow like that from a minotaur was bound to come with some negative side effects. He'd been fervently trying to regain control over his right arm for the past few minutes, but his efforts had yet to bear fruit.

With a grunt, the minotaur began its sprint once again, charging for the battered young hunter like a madman. Each step sent heavy thuds akin to seismic waves through the ground. As the tremors grew nearer, Cyril clutched his right arm, frantically cycling through every option in his arsenal.

The minotaur lunged again, its colossal punch carrying even more force than the last. Cyril grit his teeth and steadied his breath, readying himself to respond with his only usable hand.

Just as the giant fist closed in, he heard a voice

"Looks like you're in a bind, Cyril."

A petite figure appeared before him, her hands resting on the hilt of a sublime rapier. Without a word, she dropped into a low stance and drew the blade in one fluid motion. The weapon flared yellow as she swung, unleashing a vortex of hellfire that cleaved through the creature's massive fist and sent it spiraling across the field.

Cyril felt his eyes going wide.

Even after everything he'd endured, the scene before him felt surreal. How could such a small girl effortlessly send that massive creature flying—the very same one that had been moments from reducing him to dust?

"...Angelica?"

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