Evolving Classes In The Apocalypse-Chapter 42: A Dissatisfying Win

Marcel had moved faster than a blink. I hadn’t blinked and yet I didn’t see him coming. All I felt was a tingling sensation screaming from behind me, so strong that it wouldn’t stop telling me to duck, duck, duck.

I belatedly obeyed and as I did, Marcel’s spear swung over my head, cleaving a thin swathe of my red hair. Strands floated down past my eyes. I stood there for a moment, lowered and shocked at what just happened.

But I didn’t stay for long. I lunged up, twisting my entire body to backpedal away from Marcel. He was fast, too fast. Already closer to me, spinning his spear from behind with blinding speed. He drove it forward awkwardly, the same way he had tried the last time.

It should have been impossible to make that work. But Marcel had changed something.

The spear was heading straight for my ribs. Then it was driven off trajectory, knocked sideways as if a stronger force of wind had shoved it off course. It did not even so much as graze me. Marcel stared at me with a bit of confusion, then his eyes settled and a knowing smile appeared on his face.

"You finally decide to start using your ability, huh."

’No! I’ve been using them all the while!’

The spear being knocked off course left it extended and exposed. I clamped my arm down over the shaft, trapping it against my side, and pulled Marcel closer while driving my knee toward his chest. Marcel caught the knee with one palm and shoved it back down. We grabbed each other and pulled each other around, trying to overpower each other in the rawest manner possible. He lunged his head forward again for another headbutt but my skill nudged it off its path, and my own forehead smashed into his cheek instead, sending blood out of his mouth.

My sling hand swung from behind for a follow-up, but as it arrived it suddenly reversed. My hand wrenched backward as if yanked by an invisible rope, my balance scattering with it. Marcel buried a forceful kick into my stomach in the same breath, sending me flying backward.

I landed and rolled across the blackened grass of the plain and was already standing because I was very well aware that he was on his way. But I didn’t just stand up. As I rose I released the cord I had pulled taut while I was down. The metal ball tore through the air toward him, but Marcel swung his hand forward and drove it off course. Another was already flying toward him. Then another. And another.

But Marcel simply walked toward me, flicking the balls aside with a finger or two like they were insects. I kept summoning and shooting them with the same intense speed I had used from the beginning.

He had adapted to it and didn’t flinch anymore. He was closer to me now, and no matter how many metal balls I fired at him, Marcel simply drove them away, affecting their flow before they could reach him.

And finally, I tried to summon another ball but nothing came.

Marcel stopped where he was and smiled.

"Are you out of ammo? Want us to pick these ones up so you can continue to shoot at me?"

He folded his arms and stood on one leg.

I was tempted to twist my face with anger for a moment, but I chuckled and tightened my grip on the sling frame and smiled at him.

"Sure. You can fetch them for me. You’ve been doing such a good job playing catch."

I leaped off where I was and lunged toward him. The moment I decided to turn the sling frame itself into a weapon, several lines stretched out before me of all possible angles that I could drive a devastating blow against Marcel. My muscles were already shifting. They had adapted so well to the sling that I had been summoning and shooting those balls without even having to confirm if I was setting them correctly.

That kind of mastery should have been impossible in minutes of use. And yet here I was. And now, it felt like my muscles were about to start adjusting yet again.

I lunged the sling frame toward Marcel, but my hand halted as it drove forward.

’Ah... what an awful deja vu!’

Now I was getting really tempted to use Tyrant’s Gaze. Marcel’s talent was overkill! I had to compensate for this somehow.

My gaze tightened. Marcel was about to move. My eyes glowed, a cold blue light emanating from them, and Marcel suddenly frowned and looked at his spear arm, which he had been about to swing.

That fragment of a moment was all I needed. Immediately I held the sling frame and activated my awakened ability again. The Weapon Novice kicked the Tyrant’s Gaze out of the sub-class section. I lunged toward him and struck him across the face with the sling frame.

Marcel staggered, disoriented, too slow to react. I traced every red line and doubled down on him without rest.

Speed alone was not enough to beat Marcel anymore. So every blow was destructive. I targeted the points in his body that caused critical damage.

The first hit broke his nose. Blood sprayed before he could even flinch. The next blow buried into his gut, folding him forward. But I had not even finished landing that one when another cracked against his ear.

He staggered sideways, losing his balance completely. I swiped my leg across the ground, sweeping him off his feet, and then my legs flew up and smashed him into the ground. The black grass rippled outward with a shockwave of wind.

I followed down with another strike. The red line had already traced through with a deep blood red path toward his neck that trembled slightly.

But before I could finish it, Marcel quickly raised his hand. I halted midway and slowly retreated my hand and straightened.

’I cheated...’

I won, but it wasn’t satisfying. Marcel had forced my hand and I had had to use three Classes against him to win. Marcel certainly was either an Adept rank or a Master rank Defined.

’He’s strong... and smart.’

His adaptability rate was almost frightening.

I stared down at him and extended my hand.

Marcel looked at the hand for a moment and then looked at me. He smiled and took it, letting me draw him up.

He said as I pulled him up.

"We really should pick up those balls."

"Shut up."