(A.N: try reading this chapter while listening to "No Good" from The Prodigy)
ραndαsnοvεl.cοm Erik found himself amid the chaos, right in front of the grand building, at the epicenter of the simulated revolt. His gaze was fixed on the figure hidden beneath the cloak and hood, the only genuine human in this robotic tableau.
Was he aware of Erik's presence? Did his gaze light up in recognition, or did he pretend not to notice him because of his role? Erik pondered the question as he stood amid the chaos, a metallic guard amid a sea of rebellious robots.
The man in question acted as an agitator, his energy fueling the robotic revolt. While he did so, Erik's convincing performance kept him concealed. However, Erik knew better than to underestimate his opponent.
The young man moved in the sun's harsh light amidst the whirl of colors and the hum of rebellion. He inched through the chaos, cloaked in his stolen disguise, his gaze fixed on the man hidden beneath the cloak and hood. Unbeknownst to him, he had become the focal point of Erik's mission.
The metallic guards launched their assault on the agitators as the fake revolt escalated into a more violent altercation. Erik spotted an opportunity among the din. He hurtled himself towards the cloaked man like a falcon, taking advantage of the chaos around him.
The battle was a choreographed dance of chaos and rebellion. Robots disguised as city guards moved with mechanical precision in an attempt to put down the phony uprising.
Their hard, metallic bodies collided with the agitated swarm of robot agitators. The air quickly filled with a constant hum of artificial voices, punctuated by the sharp crack of plastic on metal as the guards lashed out.
The protestors, a swarm of robots dressed in commoner garb, met the onslaught with the zeal of human defiance. Their robotic screams echoed in the stone arena's streets, adding to the mounting tension.
Robotic guards moved forward in unison as if guided by a single mind. They wielded batons and shields, the latter reflecting a harsh glare from the sunlight. Protesters stood firm against them, forming a ragged line that wavered but never broke.
The location had been transformed into a battleground, a stage for this fabricated civil unrest. Erik maneuvered, a single player in this orchestrated commotion, ready to carry out his rescue mission.
The young man was composed and focused. He didn't use his brain crystal power because he knew the man, his target, was significantly weaker because of how the test was thought to function. So far, he'd relied on his physical prowess and quick thinking, and he was confident it would be enough.
The distance between them rapidly diminished, and soon, Erik was within striking distance. The man remained engrossed in his role, stirring the crowd and seemingly unaware of the impending threat. Erik prepared to strike at that critical moment and fight against the man.
The hooded man was steeped in the throes of agitation, his arms whipping the air as he roused the robotic mob. It wasn't until the last second, the sliver of a heartbeat before impact, that he sensed Erik's approach. His eyes widened beneath the hood's shadow, and he handled his axe, which was sharp enough to cleave bones. He swung it, but Erik easily avoided it. The man was too slow for him; there was no need to analyze him because he was most likely at the o level.
<Noob,> Erik thought about the opponent.
Erik stood before the man, his posture relaxed, as if he was a bystander rather than a participant in this tense scene. The man's grip on the handle of his axe tightened as he growled low in his throat. His arm muscles tightened as he swung his weapon with all his might.
As the blade arced through the air, glinting ominously in the light, the world seemed to slow down. The razor-sharp edge sped towards Erik, threatening to rip flesh and shatter bone. On the other hand, he remained unfazed, his calm demeanor a disturbing contrast to the impending violence.
Erik moved as the axe whistled through the air, a whisper of death. His agility and reflexes outmatched the speed of the descending opponent's weapon, and he avoided the lethal strike with a simple sidestep. His movements were smooth, fluid, and precise, almost like a ballet dancer in a rehearsal.
The axe bit into the empty air where Erik had been standing just a moment before, its promise of carnage unfulfilled. The hooded man's swing continued on its path, guided by momentum, but encountered no resistance or impact. However, the man maintained his balance and pursued Erik to attack.
<I need to be careful not to give away the fact I'm much stronger than him,> Erik thought.
His movements were fluid, punctuated by his natural sense of timing and the grace of a seasoned warrior. With an almost detached sense of calm, he observed the man's feeble attempts to strike him; his gaze laser-focused on the trajectory of each attack.
He danced away from a vicious arc aimed at his midsection, his footwork precise and agile. Still, he tried not to overdo it because he didn't want to draw even more attention to himself. He was stronger than the man, but he still had to make it seem like he was not THAT MUCH strong.
In frustration, the hooded man swung again, a horizontal strike aimed at Erik's neck. The young man ducked beneath the blade with deceptive ease, his movements fluid and unhurried as he regained his full height.
The man, who appeared to be a desperate predator, unleashed another barrage of wild attacks, each one more chaotic and uncontrollable than the last.
Erik weaved through them all, his body moving rhythmically to the fight's dance, every step calculated. The entire scene unfolded like an intricate dance, with Erik as the assured leader guiding his hesitant partner.
<Is this guy really at the ο level?> Erik wondered. He was trying not to brag, but even the robots outperformed him. It was probably because they didn't feel emotions or hesitated. All this made fighting him a piece of cake but made it much harder not to show a too big gap with the man.
Erik allowed the man to slowly bring him in front of a wall, faking being trapped between the man and the wall, all to give the impression he still had much to learn. Then, the man lunged, his axe aimed at Erik's chest, with a savage grin. Erik, however, dodged at the last second, the sharp blade grazing his clothes and scraping the wall instead. His hooded opponent stumbled forward, dazed by his missed attack.
<I'm showing off too much…>
Erik then circled his opponent, staying just out of reach. The man pursued him, his movements becoming more desperate and frantic by the second. Erik, however, was always one step ahead, no matter how fast or aggressive he became.
<How should I deal with him, knocking him unconscious? Disarming him?>
In the meantime, frustration flashed across the man's face as he failed to land yet another blow on Erik. His attacks became more erratic and uncontrollable.
On the other hand, Erik avoided them all, moving through the chaos with a dancer's grace and a warrior's precision. Each swing, each lunge was met with a quick sidestep, a duck, or a subtle shift in stance that kept him safe.
The fight raged on, with the man unleashing a barrage of attacks while Erik moved like water around them. And all the while, the audience watched, their excitement growing with each avoided blow, each narrowly averted strike.
They watched as Erik effortlessly navigated the fight, a calm in the storm of the man's desperation. They saw him as a predator teasing its prey, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. Erik's agility and prowess were fully displayed, reminding everyone why he was the Mercenary Guild's new sensation, an enigma called Erik Kay.
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