Chapter 98 - Thunderbolt-and-F*ck-You!

His fists slam the ground, throwing up several pieces of hard rock and slate. "It's Azello, you skinny fuck!"

I smirk as I land on my feet a few feet away, crouching low. "That's what I said, Acapello."

"You're just making shit up now!" He cries as he rushes forward again. I throw my sword in the air, which turns back into a handle, but it works as his attention is pulled upwards. He reaches up and actually manages to catch it, but not before I slam my fist into his gut full-speed. I stomp on his foot and leap away, grabbing the dropped handle once more as he keels over. The blade starts to reform as I set my feet in an overly low, balanced stance, resting the blade up against my hip.

I take a sharp breath in, lowering my head as the black blade finally forms into the long, curved shape of a katana. "Storming Moon Style, First Form: Thunderbolt-and-Fuck-You!"

I sprint forward, not quite as fast as a certain other kid struck by lightning, but still, I streak by the others fighting as I close the distance, smacking A-willow in the face with the flat part of the sword.

"Rraarg— agh!"

He stumbles back, my feet already hitting the ground a few feet behind him, my legs bending to absorb the force and leaving me in an almost delinquent-level hunch, with the evil grin over my shoulder to match. My sword sits on my knees, back in its normal shape. The Healer, noticing his struggles, tries to rush over, but our own giant blocks her path.

"What are you going to do, hit me?" She asks snarkily. Lynsel seems shocked at her question, and firmly shakes his head. "Of course not! I'm not a monster. But, I can't let ya go over there. I'm sorry."

I sigh at Lynsel's over-politeness, turning my full attention back to the Brawler, who is just standing on his feet again. "Y'know, A-swallow, I've been seeing a lot of Brawlers about. Is that the Class to be nowadays or something?"

"Hah… Are you living under a rock? Brawler is the top chosen Class ever since Roderrick Plaineti chose it for his Class at his 16th birthday. And it's Azello, you stupid fuck!"

"Yeah, yeah. Next you're going to tell me your middle name is A-Aron or something stupid like that. But Ro Derrick… Where have I heard Ro Derrick before?"

"It's Roderrick, not Ro Derrick! Stupid ass idiot…"

Ignoring him, I point one finger in the air. "Ah! It was my first opponent out in the 25 and Under Tournament! That's right, he was a pretty strong Brawler, so it makes sense. Shame you're nowhere near his level, and I've almost out-Leveled the max for that tourney. Oh well, A-mellow."

"My… Name… Is… Azello!!" He yells at the top of his lungs, charging me like a bull seeing red. 'Heh. Too easy.'

I lift my blade to a thrusting position, sliding my foot forward.

[Skill Critical Sight+ has been activated.]

[Skill Critical Sight+ has been activated.]

[Skill Mana Blade has been activated.]

"Brawler's Might! Frost's Bite!"

[Azello Paulderain has activated Skill Frost's Bite.]

"Are you making a song or something, dumbass? Reverse Crescent Slash."

Ice forms on the top of his gauntlets, but both ends of the nearly-black purple crescent slash hit the insides of them.

[Critical Mark has been hit(x2). Dmg was adjusted to 500%.]

Apollo watches in dismay as his weapons crumble, and the parts covered in ice shatter from the force. As the pieces pile on the ground, he falls to his knees. "You were as underwhelming as I thought, A-yellow."

"It's—"

I whip the blade to almost touch his nose, cutting only his words off — unfortunately. I glare at him, Mana streaming from my right eye. "Anello, A-well-o, A-silo, A-high-low, A-zest-o A-bitch-o, A-loser-o."

He turns his eyes away submissively, as I suspected he would. "Those ones weren't even close," he says quietly, but doesn't raise his head. I smile innocently and pat the top of his head with my blade. "Sorry, I would use my hand, but the vileness of your idiocy might spread to me."

LEFT.

"Yeah, yeah," I sigh, holding the handle up over the left side of my head, facing the blade down. The blade extends and expands, turning into a greatsword large enough to fit my body behind as sharp spirals of tree roots and branches slam into the flat solidified Mana. Returning the weapon to normal once the onslaught is over, I glance over to the druid-like person, wand extended.

I can tell they're some type of druid by the crown of branches weaved around their forehead. They have a long flowing dress of leaves that hide all but their thin arms. Their face has the perfect kinds of features so that it's completely impossible to guess their gender, their thin green brows furrowed into a glare.

'That should be Eniyala's job, so what…'

In the corner of my eye, a flash of motion turns my head slightly. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Lynsel is holding the poor Healer by the waist in the air, clearly panicking as she fights angrily against the large man holding her. Eniyala is trying to calm both parties, to little avail. I sigh. "What the he—"

My brain has been firing on all cylinders, and with my high Agility, I managed to take all of that in in a matter of two to three seconds. So why was I dodging another attack already?

I sidestep to my left, away from Azello, who has clearly lost his will to fight, as a spiraling Water arrow flies past where I just was. I look over to see their mage next to the druid. Her makeup looks clownish, although she has traditional blue robes and a witch hat on. "—eeeeeelll? Oh, come on."

As I watch, the druid completes another wood sigil, and more sharp branches fly at me from it. I duck to the side, deflecting two away from my shoulder, and dash forward to close the distance. "Crazy wizards. Helluva strategy to overcome the cooldown of creating another Spell."

Seeing my advance, the Water Mage changes the formation of her current Spell, raising it up to point in the air. "Overpour Waterfalls!" She cries loudly, and a twisting beam of water explodes from the end of her wand, splitting into four streams as it begins to fall. "Shit, wait!"

As I frantically dodge the falling water as it slams into the ground, I glimpse the druid almost done with their Spell. I kick my right foot off the ground, executing a barrel roll midair to avoid the last stream, and as I land on my left foot, the druid shoves a large branch, probably a wand-equivalent, forward.

"Cursed Arbor Magic! Morning Wood!"

The ground rumbles, and sharp dark roots begin sprouting at an angle, trying to reach me. As the ground in front of me begins to crack, I leap forward, jumping off the backs of the bent branches. "Hey, you should really find a better name for that! It's a little… Well, context!"

They clearly are ignoring me, as the Water Mage already has her next Spell ready. "Stampeding Typhoon!"

A huge wave of water crashes over the branches in front of me. 'Shitshitshit what do I do?!'

"Eniyala, Termi! Protect all of the others! Even A-muckabout!"

I hear a quiet "oh, come on!" behind me, but brush it off as I land in a space between the stretching, and excitable, roots.

"The hell am I supposed to do, though?" I think as I stare down the crashing water sweeping through the wood to crush everything in between. For some reason, an image from my past life pops into my head, and my eyes close to focus on it.

In my past life, I had done many sports to try and find something I was actually not clumsy at. One of these in particular was, of course, baseball. I was great at bat, but anytime I was in the field I'd trip and fall. I eventually quit because it was obviously boring to only play 4 out of nine innings — when I went out to bat — but that wasn't what I was thinking about.

A teammate of mine had been an absolute baseball fanboy, and had shown me a baseball card he had collected of a Designated Hitter in the MLB. Knowing there were people who only came out to bat gave me hope in the sport for a while, for one reason. The form of the batter in that card was what I could only describe as near-perfect. I had always had a good eye, and with little experience I could see the flaws in forms, movements, and the like. It obviously didn't work on myself unless I could somehow practice in a mirror, but…

Unconsciously, my body took the form of the batter, tweaking the slight openings in the stance in order to be better responsive with my body. When I'm ready, I slide my foot forward and swing with all my strength.

Ding!

[Skill Swing for the Fences! has been created.]

"… Oh."