Chapter 14 – Duel of Blood and Spells
The clash of steel and spell shook the forest road. Guards roared, bandits screamed, frogs croaked spells into the chaos—but all of it blurred at the edges as Glic fixed his gaze on the half-orc bearing down on him.
Dika's crimson blade descended like a falling star.
Clang!
Glic's Blade Ward shimmered at the last instant, deflecting the lethal arc. Still, the sheer force of the strike sent him skidding back, boots gouging deep furrows into the cobblestones. His arms shook with the reverberation, his body reminded that he was still only a 0-ring apprentice.
But his mind? His mind was sharper than ever.
> [Warning: Host's physical stats insufficient to meet opponent's strength head-on.]
[Recommendation: Layered spell tactics and beast convergence advised.]
"Already on it," Glic muttered.
"Pathetic trickster!" Dika bellowed, swinging his blade in wide arcs, each strike leaving crimson trails in the air. His movements were terrifying in their simplicity—no wasted effort, no hesitation, only raw speed and barbaric might.
Another frog leapt forward, releasing Frostbite. Icy mist clung to the half-orc's arms, slowing his swing for a heartbeat.
In that gap, Glic whispered, "Firebolt."
From his palm, flame roared. The bolt seared across the battlefield, slamming into Dika's chest and scorching through the fur-lined armor.
The half-orc snarled, smoke rising from the burn. Then he laughed—a deep, rumbling growl. "Yes! Burn me more!"
He charged, shrugging off the flames, his crimson blade cutting in a vicious upward sweep.
Glic barely twisted aside, the blade grazing his ribs. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but he gritted his teeth. If he lands a clean hit, I'm done.
His mind raced. Direct blasts won't stop him. I need to use control—disrupt his rhythm.
"Merge: Lightning Lure, Frog No. 7."
The System pulsed.
> [Spell Fusion Active.]
The chosen frog croaked, its throat sparking. A tendril of lightning lashed out, wrapping around Dika's arm. Electricity sizzled, muscles spasmed, and his grip faltered for the first time.
Now.
Glic thrust his hand forward. "Thorn Whip!"
Green vines burst from his palm, lashing out and wrapping around Dika's legs. The half-orc roared as the vines tightened, spikes digging into his flesh.
"Fall."
With a savage yank, Glic dragged him off-balance. The giant stumbled, crashing to one knee.
The opportunity was fleeting, but Glic seized it. "Chill Touch!"
A skeletal hand burst from the earth, clawing at Dika's chest. Necrotic energy surged, blackening veins, draining vitality. The half-orc's grin faltered for the first time, replaced by a snarl of rage.
"You dare!"
With a bestial roar, he ripped the vines apart, his blade cleaving through the spectral hand. Blood dripped from his wounds, frost clung to his skin, and sparks still danced along his arm.
But his eyes burned brighter than ever.
"I'll split you in half, wizard!"
He lunged with terrifying speed, his crimson blade arcing straight for Glic's throat.
Time slowed.
Glic saw the blade's edge glint, felt the System's urgent pulse, smelled the iron tang of his own blood.
> [Warning: Fatal strike incoming.]
[Host survival chance: 7%.]
His mind screamed. Think! Now!
Mana surged as he shouted, "Frogs—merge barrage! Fire, frost, lightning—NOW!"
The battlefield seemed to explode.
A storm of elements crashed down as half a dozen frogs unleashed their spells at once. Firebolt and Frostbite collided, lightning snapped, necrotic mist spread. The converging torrent slammed into Dika's body mid-strike, staggering him just enough—just enough—for Glic to duck under the crimson blade.
The weapon tore through his shoulder instead of his neck. Agony flared white-hot, but he lived.
He rolled across the ground, clutching his wound, teeth gritted. Blood poured down his arm, but his eyes blazed with determination.
"Not yet," he hissed. "I won't die here."
Dika rose from the storm, smoke rising from his battered body. His armor hung in tatters, his skin blistered with burns, veins still blackened from necrotic touch.
Yet he still stood. Still grinning, tusks glistening with blood.
"You fight well, viscount," he growled, lifting his crimson blade once more. "But tricks won't save you forever. You'll run out of mana. I'll never run out of strength."
Glic forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly, his blood dripping onto the stones.
His lips curled into a thin smile. "You're wrong. I don't need to outlast you. I only need to outthink you."
The System pulsed at his words, as if in agreement.
The duel was far from over.