Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead-Chapter 733 - Operation Arid Soil Part Forty-Four
733: Operation Arid Soil : Part Forty-Four
733: Operation Arid Soil : Part Forty-Four
Lithe and graceful, the sanguine follower was completely different from Meritites’s savage and brutal fighting style, and definitely far above the sword skills of Cheops, it felt more like a dance than a fighting style, especially with all of the seemingly superfluous movements that appeared easily exploitable as windows to strike at the living, but Ir’Houwl knew better.
Every odd movement and spins that exposed the back were feints aimed to draw her in, the only problem was that the minor lord could not quite see where the trap laid, she supposed that it related to the vapour, which she had yet to fully grasp, not knowing how to sense it.
Thankfully, her instincts were sharpened enough to not fall for it, and she instead only engaged with sickle strikes, the main the masked living was trying to go for was naturally to hook, be it limbs or the scimitars, the shape of their weapons naturally favoured this sort of attacks.
Grunting and groaning in a soft tone beneath the mask with every swing, the heretic eventually managed to get a good only on one of the stone blades, trying to wrench it out of Ir’Houwl grasp with a sudden burst of power, indicating that they had been reserving a large extent of their body augmentation’s capabilities until now, however, a scimitar might not be nearly as curved as this sickle, but it still was far from straight, and the minor lord easily escaped the hold, driving her foot into the worshipper’s stomach, pushing them away as they emitted a low shriek, stumbling back from the force but not losing balance.
Instead planting their heel into the sand to stop before pushing forth again with a more aggressive set of attacks, swinging both sickles in an unison that prevented any obvious opportunity for counter attack, Ir’Houwl met the living head-on, swinging both blades as well.
The follower ducked underneath the swings, using the fact that they were shorter than the undead to their advantage and swiftly entrapping both of the scimitars against one another locking them in place using both sickles, then following by repeatedly kicking at Ir’Houwl stomach and thighs, to no effect as it just felt like striking sand and sometimes hitting something so unbelievably hard to it was more hurtful to the attacked than it was to the target.
‘Mmh… I do wonder where that martial art of theirs came from, those are some pretty nice kicks’ thought the undead despite the fact that none of those were dealing any damage or even budging her at all. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
Swiftly reversing her grips on both of the stone blades, using a moderate amount of strength that was simply wielded more efficiently to part the sickles as well as the living’s arm, prying open the lock before retrieving one scimitar the instant it was possible, swinging down at the worshippers, who threw themself to the side without any momentum, rolling onto the ground, to their knees in one swift manoeuvre before throwing one sickle right at Ir”Houwl.
The weapon spun through the air before dissipating after missing its mark, as another was manifested in the follower’s hand, who did not even bother rising up to their feet, and instead crawled like some beast toward the undead, swinging the very tip of their sickles at her feet.
She backed off, making the attacks miss by a mere few centimeters every time, before kicking up sand, and shoving her foot in the living’s face by the same occasion, knocking them back as they stood up, the mask had absorbed some of the damage, but an iron plate directly against one’s face could do little do actually stop concussive force, and blood flowed down on their neck.
A curse was muttered.
Both the undead soldiers and other sanguine worshippers just stood around without saying anything at this point, the former were just in their usual state, whilst the latter were praying to their patron sun for help to their leader, who was obviously not faring very well.
The living sighed, and channelled the pale red vapour to the best of their abilities, the sickles taking on a more chaotic appearance, like the vapour making them up was so tightly packed that it was trying to burst out, meanwhile, vapour became clearly visible all over the masked one’s body as they took up a peculiar stance, grinding the inner portion of the two weapons together, before grasping on with a reverse grip.
The first swing sent forth a flying slash through the air, which Ir’Houwl side stepped before hitting a second one, right as the living arrived before her, turning into a flurry of blows, somehow constantly spinning around with consecutive kicks that now bore blades of red vapour upon them, and sickles, all the while managing to still move around with agility.
Although that living was certainly not the strongest vapour wielder, they were definitely the most skilled at combat than she had gotten to meet yet.
Ir’Houwl was pleased to have not ended this fight prematurely, she had plenty of brute force and experience to win at any time, but like last time, she had wished to see the vapour in action when actively used against her, and also, she had been curious about the battle style of another dual wielder, those weren’t exactly common after all.
The minor lord wasn’t disappointed in the least, weaving past attacks and blocking others, even without the vapour enhancing it, this style would be deadly, although clearly created with specifically sickles of this shape in mind.
As the living went low to the ground in attempt to cleave at their opponent’s ankles, Ir’Houwl stomped on their arm and broke it, twisting the limb in a completely wrong direction, howling in pain but refusing to stop attacking, the follower didn’t even let go of their grasp on the sickle and using Sanguine Undeviginti favourite trick, put the bones back in place by having tendrils of red vapour take up the roll of muscles.
The arm was still noticeably slower than the other however, unable to properly follow its owner’s thoughts and orders, allowing the undead to land a devastating kick to the side of their ribs, knocking them on to the sand, before the two scimitars stabbed down on both sides of their neck.
There was a moment of silence during which nothing happened, the living turning their head just enough to catch a glance of Ir’Houwl looming over them.
“…I yield” spoke the masked arm-bearer, realising that the enemy wasn’t planning on ending their life, at least, not just yet.
The red vapour faded away and a piece of paper fell right in front of them just as the twin scimitars were taken back and sheathed.
“Sorry… But I have nothing to sign…”
“You can just use your blood”
“How ironic…”
