Chapter: 502
As I watched Luka advancing, shrouded in darkness to the point his skin tone was unrecognizable, a sly grin crept onto my face. It turned out just as I wanted.
Luka, now under the grip of Agra’s power, had completely lost his sanity.
Now there are two main issues.
First, can I withstand his power?
Second, will his tactics be the same as the ones I know?
“Die, you pathetic loser!”
I passively observed the attack of someone who had even lost their human voice.
There were three major signs: powerful footsteps that shook the ground, an exaggerated buildup of strength that seemed like it might snap his waist, and the charged energy at the tip of his axe.
I remembered the timing—0.3 seconds after the axe began its swing.
If I’m on point with that timing, I should be able to endure Luka’s assault.
Luka’s strike comes hurtling toward me.
Veins etched in his arms bulge as they throb with tension.
His anger-red eyes bore down on me.
The mighty axe, charged with the Evil God’s power, soared into my direction.
KABOOM!
The fierce impact reverberated through my shield. My hand gripping the shield trembled, and my body screamed from enduring the shock.
A metallic taste filled my mouth.
I failed to parry.
Not entirely, though.
While I couldn’t reduce the impact to zero, I managed to lessen it significantly.
However, even with that reduction, Luka’s strength, bolstered by the Evil God, was hard to withstand.
Ignoring the pain coursing through my body, I assess Luka’s next move.
His slightly lowered chin, the axe drawn back, and his shifting center of gravity, all hinting at a shoulder charge.
I have the timing memorized: 0.5 seconds after he plants his foot. I have it memorized in my head and my body.
But can I trust that timing?
I just messed up by fully relying on my memory!
I need to think clearly. There’s no way I can take Luka’s attack with a sloppy parry.
No matter how tightly I clench my teeth, I only have about three to four opportunities to find a solution.
I need to find the answer within those chances.
I widen my eyes.
I focus all my senses on my vision.
I absorb every movement Luka displays.
Then I compare.
The Luka I saw through the monitor and the Luka in front of me now.
“Die, you pathetic fool!”
The moment I catch Luka’s charge, my body flies into the air.
In the zero-gravity space, my legs flail, and beyond them, Luka’s axe swings.
The axe reaches me faster than I fly away.
I don’t even let myself ponder what to do.
I follow my instincts.
I infuse my shield with divine energy.
I paint a miracle.
As the intricately drawn magic circle materializes on the shield, the axe connects.
The shield made of light and the axe clash. Not long after, the light shatters and disperses into the air.
And at that moment, I was already preparing myself again.
Seeing Luka’s narrowed eyes, I ponder.
I gained a degree of certainty through that last exchange.
About why I failed to parry.
Luka’s physical capabilities now surpass any comparisons with the game version of him.
Even his body type is tailored for that halberd.
Therefore, my known timing can’t be the same as the timing it takes for Luka to swing his weapon.
So what should I do?
How can I act when my knowledge becomes useless?
What should I do?
I need to find a new timing.
Grinning, I got my shield ready again.
Luka’s patterns are not vastly different from what I know.
A Luka twisted by negativity won’t change his patterns.
So adjusting just the timing should do the trick.
Assuming the opponent’s attacks are faster than before.
“Die!”
With the axe raised above him, his legs firmly planted, and the energy pooling at the axe’s tip.
I know exactly what kind of attack is coming. I also know how to respond.
But I won’t do it.
I just watch. I just observe the weapon he swings.
The signs of his attack.
The axe plunging downward.
The gathered energy exploding at that spot.
The explosion flies toward me.
And as I think it might be a close call, I raise my shield.
Not choosing to parry means the full force of the attack gets transmitted to me.
Is this a bit too reckless?
After setting up that half-baked miracle only to take another attack, it must be madness.
As my arm gives way under the shock of Luka’s attack, the force bursts forth from the axe’s tip and crashes into me.
Ah, crud.
…
For a moment, the fleeting thoughts return, and a ringing fills my ears.
Normally, at this point, fear would rise along my spine.
A premonition of defeat would swallow me whole, rendering me into a weak, helpless brat.
The Mesugaki skill provides immense helplessness when it means losing.
But not this time. Not today.
Absolutely not now.
I’m not scared in the slightest.
I’m not frightened at all.
I don’t even think about the word ‘fear.’
What forms on my lips is pure laughter.
What spills out of my mouth is laughter too.
“Ha! Ha! Aah!”
Ow, dang it. That hurts like hell.
When I see protagonists in works of fiction lamenting about broken bones or damaged organs, how on earth do they distinguish it?
How can you tell what hurts when your whole body is in pain?
Oh. I guess broken bones are distinguishable.
I can’t move my arm at all, so it feels like I must’ve broken something.
Pushing through the reality of pain, I used the blessing bestowed by Armadi.
Armadi’s touch—the skill that heals countless status ailments and physical wounds. As his apostle, I can perform miracles on par with the gods.
“Ahh!”
The pain felt when all the wounds heal instantly is something one can never get used to.
Even after enduring this kind of terrible condition multiple times, I can never be numb to pain.
But I can endure it. I can turn a blind eye to it.
I can brush it aside in exchange for the joy that awaits me.
Stumbling, I stand back up and face forward.
I see Luka waiting for me to get up.
Amidst losing his sanity, he faces me without straying from his objective of a trial.
And I smile.
So Luka will charge at me once more.
“Ah! You pathetic loser!”
His movements are the same as the first time I saw him.
Great. It allows me to verify whether my newly devised timing is correct.
In the past—when I was merely viewing through a monitor—I was a weakling.
I was a person too busy getting crushed by reality to even think about exercising.
How splendid would it have been if that weakling had decent reflexes?
At that time, what I chose to do was invest countless hours to perfect my timing.
Even just a sign of an attack had to be countered perfectly.
If it were the me back then, adjusting timing would take me an entire day.
Or perhaps I’d have had to be glued to the monitor for days on end.
But now?
Now that I have fallen into this world?
Now that I possess Lucy’s body?
All the effort I’ve put in till now—talent that can’t be denied by anyone?
I don’t need it.
The axe comes flying at me.
The colossal force that once nearly crushed me approaches.
Descending without a shred of hesitation, like an executioner’s blade declaring my death. Yet, there’s no monstrous sound.
A clear ring echoed down the darkened corridor.
The axe rebounds off my shield without breaking it.
Luka’s sanity, slightly regained in shock.
And beyond the shield, my laughter leaks out.
“Weren’t you claiming to be a trial?♡ At this rate, you won’t even be a child’s toy!♡”
Luka cannot become my trial.
He cannot make me any stronger than this.
What influence could an old, defeated boss from long ago possibly have on me?
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