Chapter 20: The Champion III

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Juzo took the brief reprieve he carved out for himself by fully unloading his volcanite axe's stored power to think. The volcanite axe's once fiery black body started to dim, the fire blazing from using [sheathe] to coat it in his qi now gone.

The volcanite now had to enter a cooldown period. It would take some time before the axe was ready to take in more qi again.

He breathed in deep, the qi expenditure leaving him increasingly tired.

Think, Juzo, think.

Without using [sense], how would he deal with this monster? This paragon of physical power and armor and claws and tusks and teeth?

He did not have time to think more before the monstrosity made another move, rushing in with blitzing speed, its six spider legs curled down around its sides to provide extra armored protection.

With a growling grunt, Juzo got into battle stance again, driving his bare, clawed feet shoulder-width apart and holding his axe in front of him, the thick handle of beast blood tempered steel set diagonally across his chest to protect his heart.

The ensuing clash started off even.

Juzo pumped his qi all throughout his body with [flow], empowering himself enough to match the beast. His martial prowess shone as he used his footwork to dodge about, evading first a thrusting strike from tusks and then, when he was behind the monster, ducked under a swerving tail whip.

His breaths became heavier, his vision becoming blurry at the edges. Though it seemed like he was doing well, he was burning through his qi at a massive rate to keep up physically with this monster and its many tools specialized for war.

Juzo had honed his martial skills for years and years. He had gone on entire pilgrimages to test his strength against all manner of enemies.

He did not consider himself at all the strongest out there, his journeys made him too worldly to be that arrogant, but as a warrior, he did not expect to get outclassed to this degree.

He had faced monsters stronger and faster than himself before. He could deal with that. But this was different.

He backed away from a leaping stomp and gripped his axe, eyeing for a counter. He only saw arachnid legs curled around the beast's exposed side that would counter his every move.

This monster was an adept at fighting in a way that transcended the ferocity of mere bestial and monster instinct.

It did not utilize martial arts, but Juzo felt overwhelmingly so that he was not fighting a monster, but instead a trained adept of the martial path.

Martial arts were ultimately made to bridge the gap between the weak and monsterkind, but if there ever was a "monster style" martial arts, then this creature would have been its sole grandmaster.

The monster understood footwork, pacing, reading the opponent, checking blows, everything.

Juzo stepped back again as the monster took a step forward, but this was a feint. The monster suddenly swerved its body around, extending the carapace clubbed tail out in a whipping arc, maximizing its range to strike him.

The speed of the tail was blindingly fast, whistling as it cut through the air like a knife.

A crack resounded through the camp as Juzo stumbled backwards, rolling once on the ground before righting himself and gritting his teeth, ignoring the pain welling up in his right shoulder. He did not even bother checking it.

It was entirely numb from the shoulder down. The heavy blow had probably shattered every important bone and then some there. He gripped his axe in his still working left hand and realized something.

Throughout this entire fight, he had feared the monster's claws, specifically the ones that sprouted from the white-plated spider legs on its back.

His instincts had told him that they were dangerous, supremely so, and that understanding had severely compromised his movements, eliminating many chances for him to counter attack or defend himself.

But the monster did not use actively use those claws to attack now. Instead, it kept them down, curling them along its flanks more for defense than to strike.

Perhaps a weakness? Did the claws deteriorate in strength over time? Or was this a lure?

Juzo could not know, but he could not play this game of chase either, for he would lose sooner rather than later. His pointed ears perked up as he heard the rest of the hobgoblins in the camp starting to circle around the battle.

All of them were now armed, the Frostskull tribesmen holding their everfrost weapons. His own tribe of oni were here too, armed with their swords and spears.

"We here! For the champion! Kill monster!" A shout resonated among the Frostskulls, and they cheered.

One of their few bowmen loosed an arrow that shattered on the monster's armored side.

The monster stopped and emitted a low, rumbling growl, its four compound eyes gleaming with intense yellow in the dim light of the forest. The growl immediately sent a wave of fear outwards, stopping the hobgoblins, though they numbered well into the twenties, to freeze in their tracks.

"Are you okay, my dear?"

Juzo nodded stiffly as his two concubines neared him.

"When you left the tent, we gathered everyone," said one of them.

"You are hurt, dear, you should let your men deal with this...thing for you."

Juzo thrust out his muscular arm, bidding his wives back. "No. Everyone here is useless. They will only slow me down. My loves, take the other women and children of this camp to the inner stronghold."

"All of you!" shouted Juzo, his thick neck muscles bulging as he projected his voice in a booming blast. "Get out of here! None of you will take this fight from me, nor are any of you worthy of it! Go! Back to the stronghold! Tell Hrunt and Zoll to come with haste to witness my victory!"

"Are you sure, my dear?" said one of his concubines as she reached out to touch his back with her hand.

Juzo shook it off. "Of course. Now go. I will not repeat myself."

===

The Collector clicked its mandibles as it saw the horde of hobgoblins and lesser goblins leave, funneling out of the camp.

Within a minute, they were gone, this champion's authority evidently enough to compel them to move with considerable haste.

This left the Collector and the champion alone once more.

"A foolish decision, primitive," said the Collector. "As a social species, you forsake one of the greatest strengths you undeveloped bipeds possess - your numbers."

"I know," said the champion. He wielded his axe in his one remaining arm. "I know I could have used them. Even if they could not harm you, they could distract you. I could have found an opening to strike.

But you would have killed many of them, perhaps all of them.

I cannot do that. Half of them are my own tribesmen. And the other half do not deserve to die for my sake either.

So come, let us continue."

"Curious." The Collector began to circle the champion specimen again, but this time, at a more leisurely pace, giving the specimen some breathing time. "You forsake advantage to value their lives, and yet, you are a special variant in possession of a title of authority.

Your life by all metrics should be worth drastically more than theirs.

Perhaps you are lacking in calculative ability.

And victory? Does your mind truly believe you have sufficient capacity to grasp it in this compromised state? Major fractures bordering on absolute destruction litter your right scapula, humerus, acromion, clavicle-,"

"I know I will lose." The champion smiled, an expression of happiness, and yet there was no joy to be derived from this, this inevitable demise and soon, the demise of his brethren. "I spoke of victory for I did not want to dampen their hearts knowing my death is to come.

And though I may fall here, I know the others will stop you."

The champion paused and took in a breath before staring at the Collector with resolute eyes.

"One strike," said the champion as he pointed at the Collector with his axe. "I will inflict upon you one strike. And I will make sure you remember it."

"A fanciful proposition. One unfounded by rationale or quantification." The Collector clicked its mandibles and began to pace around the champion for real, finding an angle to end its life. "Yet, your kind does confound such principles.

We shall see."

===

Juzo saw the monster pick up its pace, its posture immediately becoming focused entirely on killing him, and he gripped his axe tight and poured the final dregs of his qi into it.

With the arrival of his people and this talk, he had stalled enough time to let the volcanite axe to cooldown, allowing him to store qi in it again.

Using [sheathe], he engulfed the black axe in an aura of flickering fire once more, just as strong as it had been the first time for he was not holding back anything, willing to burn through qi until he dropped dead. The teeth of the volcanite axe began to whiten as it gathered intense heat, distorting the air around it in waves.

His volcanite armor, too, even though its purity was low, responded to the sudden outpouring of qi, taking it in, red lines of magical heat lining their breadth.

Juzo narrowed his eyes in focus, saving the last pieces of his qi to empower himself with [flow] for an attack.

Before his people had intervened, he had thought that maybe the monster could not use its claws to their max strength anymore.

He had also thought that the monster might have been luring him in.

In the end, it did not matter. He had to bank on the hope that the monster's claws did not work because either way, he was going to die.

The only difference being whether he left any lasting damage or not.

The monster struck again, and it came forwards faster than it ever had, obviously with the intent to end this fight now.

Juzo roared as he met the charge with his own, blasting his whole body with qi, reaching far past his reserves and breaking his limits. He could feel his muscles tearing and his bones groaning as power surged within him, intense heat and pain rising from within.

Emotion blurred together and hit his mind in a whirling hurricane.

The despair of seeing his mother bleeding out on the grass, the love he felt for his teacher, how her wings and arms and legs moved so gracefully, so elegantly, heartbreak that his love could never reach her, the thrill of his first victory, the humiliation of his first near-death battle, the determination to journey and grow strong, the sheer wonder of seeing the endless forests and sky-reaching trees of Faorese, the solemnity of becoming a champion for the first time, of feeling lives depend upon him

All the strongest feelings he had ever felt coursed through him as he drew on every last bit of qi within him.

Now the monster was near, almost right in front of him. He raised his axe up and side stepped the tusks, getting the creature's flank. He did not worry about the spider legs and the claws anymore, for he had made up his mind - he would take any blow to land a strike.

Even if the claws were as sharp as adamantite, he knew his armor, reinforced with so much qi as it was now, could still let him get in one hit.

One hit.

That was all he wanted.

With a final, guttural scream, he slammed his axe down into the beast's side.