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Chapter 166: Jack vs. Bocor
🕑 Added 2023-04-15 17:36:01 +0000 UTCJack’s world sharpened to a point: the minotaur. Everything else fell away. He entered combat. A battle he couldn’t afford to lose.
Bocor closed the distance in less than a blink. His hooved legs carved the sand under them, parting it like air. He was fast, too.
But Jack was also fast.
The sharp butt of a tower shield crashed where Jack used to stand. He’d jumped away, turning in mid-air and smashing a Meteor Punch into the minotaur’s side. The ensuing explosion could fell a hill. Sand flew away in all directions, whipping the bodies and eyes of those watching.
When it settled, Jack was cradling his hand. A sharp pain ran from his middle knuckle to his shoulder, the result of the hard impact. The minotaur’s plate armor was slightly dented but had easily withstood the strike. “Fool,” Bocor said. “Someone like you could never break this armor.”
Jack grimaced. Technically, blunt weapons—like his fist—were the best weapons against heavily armored opponents. But this was plate armor, and his hand was made of flesh. Until he broke the armor—which was nigh-impossible—it would distribute a good amount of his impacts across the minotaur’s body, reducing the power of his strikes.
There was no way around it. He had to either strike the minotaur’s face through his open helmet, or keep pounding away at the armor. His hurt knuckle was already recovering, his Indomitable Body’s magnificent healing properties set to work. While Jack’s will remained whole, so would his body.
“I don’t need to break the armor,” he retorted. “I need to break you.”
He charged.
Bocor was strong, hard, but not too fast. Moreover, he wielded a large tower shield. Jack had to fight in close quarters.
As he charged, Bocor brought the shield before his body. He bashed Jack, who sidestepped the attack, then swung the shield’s sharp bottom. Jack rolled under the strike, finding himself before the minotaur, and punched out. He didn’t use Meteor Punch, this time—it hurt him more than the opponent.
His regular punches weren’t anything to scoff at, either. They came densely, one punch following the other in a dance of violence. Jack smashed a straight into the minotaur’s chest, a hook to his ribs, an uppercut into his jaw. Bocor’s hands tried to clap Jack’s ears, but he ducked, letting them clap each other, and charged up a fierce strike into his opponent’s armpit.
Bocor grunted. It was the first sign of damage.
The shield came crashing down from above, forcing Jack to ghost step behind the minotaur and keep pummeling. His strikes bled into each other, but their effect was limited. It felt like punching a boulder. No matter how long you kept at it, all you achieved was to injure your own hands.
However, he’d made a great observation. He had the stats to face the minotaur. He wouldn’t be steamrolled.
Suddenly, the air hardened around Jack. It became thick and slimy, like water, limiting his speed and strength. Every movement was now a battle against the pressure.
Bocor turned to face him, his glare ugly. “Welcome to the swamp, kid.” He then let go of his shield with one hand and slapped Jack, sending him flying to the edge of the circle. The lightning wizard there grabbed Jack—the grip sent a jolt of pain into him—and threw him back inside.
“There is no escape,” Bocor said again, taking slow, purposeful steps at Jack. “You cannot harm me. You can run, but you are going down.”
Jack raised his eyes. His teeth was gritted. His body tense. This guy was so frustrating to fight against. His entire being was designed to endure damage.
I have to strike his face, he realized. It was the only place where the plate armor wouldn’t get in the way—though, undoubtedly, the minotaur had more skills to protect himself. But the face was a difficult target to hit.
What are my advantages?
The minotaur was a cultivator. A scion of a B-Grade faction, like Rufus Emberheart. He had trained throughout his life, but how many real, life-or-death battles could he have experienced? Not many. And how many of them were against skilled, humanoid opponents? Probably very few.
Jack, on the other hand, had a wealth of experience. The Dao Soul by itself had made him adept in combat.
Brute strength wouldn’t triumph here. He had to use skill. His hand closed around a handful of sand.
Jack felt the Iron Fist Style rev up inside him. The relevant knowledge came to the forefront. He was a fistfighter, an expert. All his other skills were just tools.
With a roar, he stood and charged.
Bocor laughed and stood his ground. The air liquified around him again, making every move a struggle. Jack dived into it anyway. His ranged Meteor Punches could be easily blocked by the shield.
He dived, dodged, sidestepped, and rolled. It was harder now. The thick, slimy air inhibited him, but he pushed through. One punch under the elbow, another behind the thigh. He dodged a shield swipe, followed Bocor’s backstep, and feigned an uppercut. In reality, he just opened his hand, shooting the sand he’d gathered into the minotaur’s face.
Bocor released a cry of surprise. Jack had already jumped, dodging a blind strike to screw his fist directly into the minotaur’s face from above. He felt bone groan under his knuckle, the collision of his fist against the ridge of his opponent’s wide nose.
At the same time, it was like he’d punched granite. His knuckle ruptured. The minotaur’s skin was even harder than his plate armor. At least it couldn’t spread the damage everywhere.
Jack let the impact take him high, then twisted his body in mid-air and punched down again, a Meteor Punch with his entire weight behind it. Bocor had already raised his shield to block. Jack’s hand met it with a crack. The shield was completely unmoved as he flew back, quickly shooting a Meteor Punch into the air to accelerate his landing.
In this fight, mobility was his weapon. He couldn’t afford to be stranded mid-air.
The minotaur had recovered. His eyes were red now, steaming with rage, and blood trickled down his nose. “YOU!” he shouted, unable to muster more coherent words, and barreled forward like a loose train. Jack welcomed the charge. He feigned to the left, letting the shield sail there without a target, then sidestepped to the right and planted a fierce punch right into Bocor’s face.
Despite all the hardness and endurance his knuckles possessed, they were still fractured. The minotaur staggered back, seeing stars for a moment, as Jack pressed the attack. The Iron Fist Style flowed in his veins. He was one with it. His movements were fluid, smooth, clean, even in the minotaur’s aura skill. He dodged strikes and hammered away.
His attacks weren’t many now, but they were persistent. Each went after the minotaur’s face, pursuing odd angles and timing. He mixed things up, adding feints, body slams, ghost steps. He was a machine of violence, a dance of mayhem, tuned to the very edges of his skill.
Bocor avoided most of the attacks. His face was a difficult target to hit, but thanks to Jack’s persistence, a couple of strikes got through. To Bocor, it was like a nightmare, like fighting a bee that was intent on stinging your eyes. His nose had gone from dripping to flowing blood, his lips were split, and his cheekbones were steadily getting caved in.
This was like fighting the rock bear all over again.
Bocor was rage personified. He was getting publicly beaten up. In front of his lord. The attacks didn’t hurt him too much, but they wounded his pride. Yet, the more he gave in to rage, the more predictable he became. Jack was using all sorts of tricks, like a wild animal instead of a principled fighter. His moves weren’t necessarily optimal, but they were unpredictable. Bocor wasn’t trained to handle this.
As a result, his movements weren’t practiced. They had clear patterns. Every time something worked, he tried it again, only to find himself brutally countered. Jack had practiced against Copy-Jack a lot. He knew how to read patterns and adapt on the fly.
Of course, throughout the battle, Jack was regularly receiving hits. An armored gauntlet dug into his guts. A backfist met his face, the side of the shield crashed into his ribs, a headbutt broke his nose, a sharp horn slashed his shoulder.
Every time, Jack would fly back, slow down for a while. But his Indomitable Body would quickly heal him. Moreover, every time Jack landed a hit on the minotaur’s face, his knuckles cracked. The pain was sharp, but Jack was beyond caring. His Indomitable Body only needed seconds to recover the damage.
Bocor may have been a tank, but so was Jack!
Nobody had expected this. They saw Jack’s attacking power and assumed he focused on Strength and Dexterity, that he was a strong but frail fighter. The first time he was struck hard, everyone thought it was over, only for Jack to stand up and keep fighting. The same thing occurred the next three times, until they got used to it.
The look of growing horror on Bocor’s face fueled Jack, made him forget his aching stomach, his burning muscles, his leaden limbs. He was exhausted, but he was indomitable. His body would give up before his mind did.
Lord Longsword’s expression hardened as the fight went on.
Stat-wise, Bocor was slightly superior. The same went for training and resources. Their Daos were comparable in power.
The deciding factor in this battle was skill. In this realm, Jack was clearly superior. Everyone could see it. It wasn’t just the tiers of his Dao skills, either. Dao skills were mere guidelines. Jack was inventive. Experienced. He went above and beyond the skill’s limitations, improvising constantly.
Strikes came and went, punches flashed everywhere, roars, bellows, rising sand, and the dull thud of skin on bone. Jack’s skill in battle gave him the advantage, and his incredible tenacity helped him capitalize.
No matter how hardy he was, Bocor couldn’t take a beating forever. He began to slow. His eyes were blurry, his mouth drawn into a permanent, enraged scowl, his moves subconsciously more defensive than before.
Of course, Jack also couldn’t keep going forever. He was exhausted. At some point, his body would just give out on him. The trick was, falling after Bocor. He had to land a good strike.
Throughout the fight, he couldn’t use Meteor Punch on Bocor’s face. Using the skill slowed down his strike, and the openings he had weren’t wide enough for that. He needed to find a better one.
So he stalked. Waiting.
The scales of battle tipped in his favor. He went from the underdog to an enigma. Nobody knew how long he could keep going, but they could all see his strength, his speed, his tenacity, his experience, his excellent use of skills. Even Longsword’s eyes held new light inside them now.
Until, at a certain point, Bocor crossed an invisible threshold. In the deepest recesses of his soul, he started believing he would lose. Jack sensed that change with his entire body. He saw it in the minotaur’s eyes, his posture, his movements.
And, in that precise moment of hesitation, he finally used Brutalizing Aura.
It escaped his body with force. It shimmered into the air around him and slammed into Bocor. The minotaur’s eyes widened. The effect was immediate.
Brutalizing Aura worked by projecting the certainty of death into the target’s mind. The feeling it invoked was like facing a natural disaster. Jack would kill them. There was no rage there, nothing to negotiate with; it was a natural disaster that could only end in one way. It invoked a primal fear inside the target, something deep, ancestral, and uncontrollable.
Normally, it wouldn’t work on someone as strong as Bocor. It was intended for use against crowds of weaker opponents.
However, throughout the fight, Jack had acted like a machine of death. He came for Bocor, fighting with overwhelming, inevitable skill. He persistently aimed for the face, a difficult target, and kept hitting it. No matter how many times he was struck, he always got back up and returned to the fight, like he would never stop. He hid his exhaustion.
Bocor knew he was fighting a person, another cultivator, but Jack acted like a machine. Slowly but surely, he had cast a shadow on Bocor’s mind. A shadow of terror, of inevitability, of powerlessness, like he was trying to stop the sea waves.
Brutalizing Aura stepped precisely on that shadow, magnifying its effects. Everything Jack had done in the fight before culminated now. For a single moment, Bocor was stunned.
A purple meteor flared around Jack’s fist, imbued with all the resolve he could pour into it. He couldn’t afford to lose. This was the only good opening he would get.
A ding rang into his ears.
Congratulations! Iron Fist Style I → Iron Fist Style II
Jack smiled. “This is for Brock,” he whispered, just low enough for Bocor to hear.
Color and light was sucked into his fist. The world went mute and dark, leaving only a purple meteor shining in the darkness, beautiful in its deadliness. Jack swung it with surgical accuracy. It went under Bocor’s shield, between his outstretched arms, and right into the gap of his helmet, landing square against his face. The entire force of the strike focused on Jack’s middle knuckle, which shattered on collision.
So did Bocor’s face. It had already taken a thorough beating. This meteor was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
A blaring explosion was followed by a sickening crunch. Sand flew everywhere, obstructing the stars above. The dune under their feet was leveled. A strong wind flapped the clothes of everyone watching, making them cover their eyes as Bocor’s entire body flew back head-first, passing right by Longsword to skid on the sand behind him.
Jack waited, arm outstretched. His shattered knuckles sent waves of pain into his body, but he ignored them—after the Life Drop’s torture, this was nothing. He watched, eyes glued on Bocor’s fallen body. His brain was still in combat mode. He was prepared to keep fighting until he collapsed. He didn’t dare believe in victory. He couldn’t afford to lose.
But Bocor didn’t stand up. He remained on his back, hands sprawled to the sides, shield on the ground next to Jack—where it had fallen—face bleeding into the ground. He wasn’t dead, but he was unconscious.
For a few moments, there was silence. Everyone was digesting the impossibility they had just watched. Someone had crossed a thirty-one-level gap to fight, and won. Moreover, against an opponent that could also jump ranks to defeat those stronger than himself.
Everyone knew Bocor’s strength. He was highly capable. How could he be defeated by someone at level 84?
The spectating cultivators all had their own thoughts. Suddenly, in perfect unison, everyone turned to Lord Longsword, including Jack and his captured friends.
Longsword hesitated for a moment. His eyes were glued on Jack, shining with fervor. There was desire there, like an enthusiast watching the newest sports car. It made Jack’s skin crawl.
“Very impressive,” Longsword finally said. “Even I didn’t imagine you hid such strength. My interest in you is rekindled. What do you say, Jack Rust? Would you like to join my team? If you say yes, I’m willing to kick out Bocor. And, if you survive Trial Planet, I guarantee that I will ask my master to save you from the Animal Kingdom. I can even spare your friends here.”
Jack took a moment to gather himself. He had just escaped fierce combat. He was exhausted and tense. How long had that lasted?
He snuck a glance at Gan Salin, Nauja, and Brock, finding them standing in a corner. The ice lines around them had already retreated.
“I appreciate your offer, Lord Longsword,” he said. “Since I defeated the minotaur, I believe it is time to honor our agreement?”
“Of course! A bet is a bet,” Longsword replied, seemingly unbothered by Jack’s refusal. His eyes still glinted with excitement. “You and your team are free to go. Starting from the next ring, we’ll be enemies again. You have until the morning before my team climbs down. However… I will be watching your progress with great interest. If you ever change your mind, just find me. I will make sure to save you something good from the Garden Ring.”
“Thank you, Lord Longsword,” Jack replied. He had already released all his frustration in the battle. He didn’t feel like being rude.
He also had zero intentions of ever joining this Lord Longsword. Not only had his offer been shitty before Jack revealed his strength, but the way he treated his subordinates was terrible. He had publicly offered to kick out Bocor. Clearly, people were just pawns to him.
Jack wanted nothing to do with that sort of person.
“As a token of my appreciation, let me give you some tips before you go,” Longsword said, his smile casual. “Your understanding of tactics is decent, but your movements are a tad unrefined. I would suggest working on your fighting style Dao Skill. Moreover, you might want to do something about that movement skill. It’s good for now, but it doesn’t mesh with the rest of your skills. I suspect it isn’t even a Dao Skill yet. If you don’t find a way to evolve it soon, it will bottleneck your growth.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. What Longsword said made sense…but they were enemies. Kind of. Even if he couldn’t fight the other man right now, he refused to believe he still couldn’t fight once he reached the peak E-Grade himself.
He couldn’t just let Longsword lecture him.
“Thank you for your tips, Lord Longsword,” he replied. “Allow me to reciprocate with a tip of my own. You might want to watch that wrist.”
Longsword’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “My wrist?”
“You move your entire sword with a flick of the wrist. If someone were to block the strike accurately, your wrist might snap. So watch it.”
“My sword is too fast for a perfect block. In any case, I know what I’m doing. You are in no position to lecture me.” Longsword’s eyes held a storm for a moment before calming, his casual smile returning. “I look forward to someone trying to snap this wrist of mine. Now, perhaps you’ve dallied long enough, Jack Rust. The Space Ring awaits you.”
“Right. Come on, guys. Let’s go,” Jack told his friends. “We’ll be heading to the next ring immediately. And we’ll be keeping the food and water we got from the tavern. I don’t suppose anyone disagrees?”
His eyes scanned the crowd, but nobody stepped up. Even the kovan tavern-keeper, whose food and water Jack was now publicly taking after destroying the tavern, stayed quiet. He didn’t dare meet Jack’s gaze.
“Oh, and Jack,” Lord Longsword said, almost as an afterthought. “If you decide to join the forces of any other lord after receiving my offer, I will be terribly offended. Okay?”
There was steel in those words. Jack kept them in the back of his mind but didn’t pay too much attention right now. He didn’t even know what it meant to be a lord. Was it a nobility title? A euphemism for very strong delvers? A moniker for people with long swords?
In any case, if the other lords were as rotten as this one, he didn’t plan to ally with anybody.
“Thank you, Lord Longsword,” he said again, turning towards the village.
With nobody stopping them, and nothing left to settle on this ring, reaching the center of the little lake and walking down to the next ring was as good as done.
Next stop… Space Ring!
Comments
Monadologist
well, now we know how their next serious fight will probably go
Jumping Flounder
so looking forward to jack snapping longlords wrist at the start of their fight
