Chapter 42 Broken

And he caught it. Not deflected. Not dodged. Plucked from the air like a frisbee. All of my dexterity, all the strength of my bow, my proficiency and he fucking caught it.

Then threw it back. With surprising force, not enough to clip me, but enough to make me roll aside. I thought he would follow up with an attack then, but he simply walked towards me. Calmly. He wanted to make this hurt. Make an example of the avatar who dared think himself as great as Ironclad. Fine. Give me more time. I’ll figure this out. I always did.

I activated keen eye and-

“Nope.” The huge warrior erupted with unprecedented speed, grabbing me by the throat. I could only dangle helplessly, as keen eye faded away before he threw me back. He towered over me. Still not attacking. My features darkened.

Activate shadowstep. Umbral tendrils rose up and-

“You think you can pass a stealth check against the white snow?” The club came crashing down, slamming into my arm. Didn’t feel like it was made of bone. This thing felt like lead. My eyes watered, my hit points dropping by a third. “You fucking amateur. Come on!” He screamed. “Show me the Reaver that climbed to level five! Show me the warrior I know you are!!”

I threw down the bow, equipping my spear. I feinted, driving it hard into his chest, targeting the weak point.

Ironclad glanced down. Not even a wince. He took his club against my refined horn spear, painstakingly farmed from materials and crafted, and broke it clean in half.

“My turn.”

It wasn’t a fight. This was a beat down. He didn’t even bother using his club. No perks. No abilities. Just his raw fists. Pummelling me. He wasn’t just stronger than me. He was faster. Even as I activated beast fury as a last-ditch effort, he simply held back. Waited for the timer to count down. It probably would have been more tactical for him to attack then, all of his attacks would have been automatic crits. But he didn’t care. That wasn’t the point.

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He kicked me hard. My vision filled with red. I gasped. I was wheezing, blood in my mouth. I tried to apply a shaman’s poultice, but it was too soon after the last.

“This is your champion?!” screamed Ironclad. He was ignoring me completely now, his attention turned to the Warlord. “What makes him so special? He is nothing but weakness!”

“Stop. Think. Breathe, Norman.” Kaleo’s words, calm as though he were speaking to a child with a tantrum and not a full-grown beast of a warrior.

“All you care about. Thinking.” Ironclad kicked me hard again. “Have you forgotten how you became Warlord? How many people we killed? How many avatars we slaughtered? You used to enjoy it.”