Rogue Fighter

Buck drew a dagger from the fishskin sheath on his back. When he was about ten paces from Arthur, he suddenly sprang into action.

The dagger stabbed toward Arthur's lower back, aiming to cripple him.

Arthur drew the Whale Herder Sword and parried the dagger with a backhanded stroke.

Fighter Buck was slightly startled. He swung his dagger again, stabbing toward the blind spot behind Arthur's extended arm.

A person's arm had only a limited range of motion when bent backward, making it difficult to use a long sword effectively. Even a simple block took considerable effort.

For his second attack, Buck aimed for the other side of Arthur's lower back.

Arthur stepped forward and swept his sword in an arc, the tip stabbing toward Buck's throat.

The instant Buck lunged, his legs folded like springs, and he sprang backward.

His gaze fixed on Arthur's arm. The joints bent at an unusual angle, making the arm just as nimble backward as it was forward.

"You really can't be underestimated. I love hunting prey like you. Your screams will be even sweeter than most!"

"That's an unusual form of Martial Arts. Where did you learn it?"

Arthur didn't answer. He kept his back to Buck, maintaining an air of mystery.

"You shouldn't have come!"

A whisper sounded in Buck's mind, like the Moth's Hum, droning without pause.

Buck took a step back and raised both fists in front of his head, cautiously on guard.

The hum in his mind shook him. His opponent possessed such an ability—a supernatural power that struck directly at the soul.

He was sure his target was supernatural, but couldn't tell which path the power belonged to.

Arthur took the Fear Musket from his waist and pulled the trigger at Buck.

Bang!

At such close range, Buck had no room to dodge. The bullet struck his arm.

Huh?

The pain in his arm was bearable. The impact wasn't as strong as he'd imagined; he'd thought his arm would be crippled.

The whisper rose in his mind again. "I'll give you a chance. Make sure you cherish it."

Buck looked up at Arthur's back. His target was turning around, and a sudden premonition rose in Buck's heart.

He might die here! The moment his opponent turned around would be the moment of his death!

Arthur opened [Rite], took out the "Dread" he had stored inside, and tossed it behind him toward Buck.

He would break his opponent's mental defenses. How much fighting strength could someone retain when their heart was filled with fear?

The Dread welling up inside Buck gathered endlessly, condensing into a bullet in the Despair Musket.

"Hahaha!"

Buck trembled all over, tears streaming down his cheeks as he grinned and let out a chilling laugh.

"Fear! This kind of fear! I haven't felt it in so long!"

He stretched his body, thoroughly warming up as he spoke:

"Lord Arthur, you might not know why I joined the Black Devil."

"No, I'm not interested."

Arthur watched his movements, his heart sinking slightly. The Fear Musket had backfired.

Had overwhelming fear only stirred his opponent's fighting spirit?

He turned to face Buck, gripping the Whale Herder Sword and standing ready.

"I seek fear! I'm chasing the thrill of fear!"

"As a gladiator in the Holy Empire, I fought bloody battles in the arena, living on the edge of death every day."

Buck's bearing changed abruptly. The Rogue's careless, laid-back air vanished, replaced by unwavering resolve.

The resolve of "it's either you or me"!

"I didn't know what the point of a gladiator's life was. Then the Black Devil found me.

"They told me they could fulfill my desires. They told me what I was seeking.

"When I signed a contract with the devil and walked out of that sinful arena, I finally realized what I craved was—"

Drool trickled from the corner of Buck's mouth as he stared fixedly at Arthur.

"The thrill of fear! The excitement of teetering on the brink of life and death!"

"The joy of my heart pounding as I fought lions and sharks!"

Arthur raised the Whale Herder Sword and took up a Swordsmanship stance. "Then why not go to the Church of Light? That would be thrilling, for sure."

Buck's mouth twitched. He craved the thrill of fear; he wasn't insane enough to go looking for death.

"Enough talk! Prepare to die!"

In Arthur's perception, his opponent had changed from a hulking Rogue into a bloodthirsty shark.

Waltz of Despair!

He took the initiative and closed the distance, thrusting the Whale Herder Sword toward Buck as a cha-cha rhythm rang beneath his feet.

Buck easily pressed in close to Arthur, locking his left arm around Arthur's throat from beneath his ribs while stabbing toward his heart with his right hand.

But Arthur was as slippery as an eel. He easily slipped free of the chokehold, and his blade swept up from beneath his ribs, aiming to sever Buck's arm.

Buck grinned triumphantly. He deliberately let the blade strike his arm while stabbing toward Arthur's head with his dagger.

Losing an arm was an acceptable price to him.

Arthur's body suddenly went limp, like a boneless sea snake, and circled around Buck.

Slice—

An arm flew into the air, blood splattering onto the lower-left hem of Arthur's linen shirt.

Moving with graceful steps to the rhythm of a waltz, the dagger slashed across the linen in front of his chest.

After dodging the blow, Arthur pulled out his real musket and fired directly at Buck.

The instant he pulled the trigger, he tossed the musket aside and thrust the Whale Herder Sword toward Buck's chest.

In the blink of an eye, Buck hurled his dagger and raised a hand to block the bullet.

His face twisted in pain. He curled his tongue around the dagger and, gritting his teeth, raised his hand to meet the oncoming sword.

Rogue—

The Whale Herder Sword pierced Buck's arm, slicing through from the back of his hand to the back of his upper arm. But a wild grin spread across his lips.

His yellowed teeth clamped down on the dagger. He surged forward, and the blade slid toward Arthur's throat.

In that instant, Arthur leaned backward and released the hilt of the Whale Herder Sword.

He rolled across the ground, using the momentum to put distance between himself and Buck.

Buck lay on the ground, his grin frozen on his face. His vaunted Martial Arts, his pain-defying Martial Arts—

They hadn't worked as he'd imagined.

"Is this your Martial Arts? You're so nimble it's despairing."

Buck staggered to his feet, his eyes burning with passionate fire. He gripped the hilt of the Whale Herder Sword in his teeth.

Blood ran from beneath his arms and down his ribs, but his fighting spirit still blazed.

Arthur touched his chest. Beneath the torn linen lay a bright streak of blood. His reactions had been quick enough, but Buck had still managed to graze him.

Seeing Buck bite down on the Whale Herder Sword, still trying to continue the fight,

Arthur raised the Fear Musket in his hand. "As your opponent, I have to admire your fighting spirit!"

"I hereby declare this fight over!"

A roar rose from Buck's throat. He dashed forward at a furious pace, his figure shifting constantly as he tried to confuse Arthur.

Arthur waited in place, then suddenly took a large step back and pulled the trigger.

The Fear Bullet struck Buck in the forehead.

"Three doses of fear have become your final Despair. You lose!"