A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 874: Reaching - Part 5
"Use the horse," Ingolsol tempted him. "You'll ruin him in an instant if you do."
Oliver flinched by the rightness of those tempting words. He could envisage it, even before he did it, but still, he was held back from carrying the act out.
"Tsch – then at least make him dance around the beast. He'll be more careful, not to defile his companion," Ingolsol spat, making his disgust evident.
That was, at least, something that Oliver could do as a compromise. Quite pointedly, he dashed in the direction of the horse's corpse, setting it between himself and Talon.
"You've no shame…" Talon said, incredulous. "Are you that desperate to win?"
"Are you so desperate to lose?" Oliver asked.
The General snorted in irritation, and came to close the gap, but Oliver's style still hadn't changed. The second the man came close, Oliver's kick flew, flicking up through the already wide circle of horse's blood, and casting it all over the General.
Even the strongest of men would have frozen there for an instant, just as the General did. Ingolsol was snorting in amusement, but Oliver was in the awkward position of having to build from that attack. It was only a single step of advantage, but Oliver was forced to fly in anyway, in an attempt to make use of it.
He threw an attack to Talon's side, putting as much power into it as he could – or at least into its appearance. Talon reacted as he would to a normal strike thrown at full strength, but this attack too was a feint. Oliver stopped it short, and caught the moment with the elasticity of his legs, driving forward again, in the same instant, with an attack in the opposite direction.
Two steps now, he knew. The flow was entirely in his favour, but with how strong Talon was, even two steps didn't seem likely to be enough. Once more though, he put on a show, as though he thought it was. He tensed his face, making his act of throwing his strongest strike appear even more convincing.
Talon reacted even more strongly this time. After all, no one would dare to throw two feints in a row on the battlefield. It was a thoroughly juvenile thing to do. That was the very sort of juvenile trickery that Ingolsol thrived on. Oliver's strike stopped just short once again, and he used his extra momentum to flow straight into Talon's blind spot.
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Four steps now. Talon's back was shown to him fully, and his weapon was cast aside, having reacted so strongly to the previous strike. There would be no stopping the blow to come. Oliver's attack came without any sort of wind-up. He did not attempt to put all his strength in the strike, for that would eat up time. He merely wanted for his blow to reach Talon's, as Talon's blow had reached him.
Dominus' curved blade bit deep into Talon's armour. Even without Oliver using his full strength, there was a tremendous amount of force in the blow. It swam straight through the plate, and into the chain mail, running itself across Talon's skin.
"Gaghh!" Talon cried out from the pain of it, as he felt Oliver's sword blade glance lightly across his bone. A worse sensation it was hard to imagine. Talon would have always preferred his wounds to be done to the flesh.
Oliver had marked him. For the first time in nearly a decade, he'd been properly marked. The pain blinded him to that fact, and his will to keep alive sent him turning to confront his foe, before he could follow up with any more attacks, and do any more damage.
But it was not a sword attack that Oliver followed up with.
"BEHOLD HOW A MIGHTY GENERAL BLEEDS!" Oliver shouted, raising his sword, hoping against all hopes that they could see the blood, despite the fact that he could not see them.
The reply back was thunderous. Even more mighty than before.
""OLIVER! OLIVER! OLIVER!""
It was as though an extra hundred men were shouting with them. Their shouting seemed liable to shake the walls. It felt as though the air was trembling. The Macalister men, forced to endure such shouting, could not do so without a wince. Those shouts were like poison to their ears. It sapped their strength, and weakened their blades.
Nila's arrow from her blindspot had succeeded in finally reaching Oomly, but it wasn't yet enough to bring the man down. Urgently, she sought to perfect it. It felt as though she was juggling fire in her hands. Never had she walked so close to the edge before. She felt a plethora of emotions at once, but more potent than them all was her hunter's feeling of anticipation.
That feeling that came whenever she was staring down prized prey.
The fervour did not only reach Nila either. The whole army, by that second shout, seemed to be blossoming with life.
"My Lord…" Verdant said, his voice choked, and a tear falling down his cheek. "I did not think it would be me that your words would need to reach. Please, grant me strength…"
His body was riddled with wounds. Gadar had found his weakness, and he was tearing it to pieces. The mismatch between them was quickly made evident. It was all Verdant could do to stay on his feet. He had a single blow that could blow apart any enemy, including Gadar, but that blow meant nothing, if it could never land.
'Curse my clumsiness…' Verdant murmured. 'I only need to catch him for a second… By what measure can I? Strategy seems useless when the combat is so close and so quick, but what other choice do I have..?'
A flash of inspiration came to him unbidden. He'd seen it many times over, as he watched Blackthorn and Oliver train, yet he'd never tried it himself. The sort of athleticism that counterattacking demanded was not something a man like Verdant could summon. It required an awareness of the body that he doubted he would ever have.
