The Legendary Fool : A Deckbuilding LITRPG

116:

Tom blurred forward with a burst of momentum. He was far from the limits of his new capabilities, but even then, he found himself before Daven in what would’ve been an instant for his spectators.

His mimicked blade shot forward, aiming to test Daven’s defenses.

Tom’s eyes narrowed as the wisps of gold roiling off Daven’s armor coiled before his blow. The momentum with which he had thrust his blade rapidly ebbed, before it finally struck him on the right side of his chest.

A surprised groan sounded out as Daven was forced back two steps, before Tom’s blade bounced off his armor. There was not even a scratch on the golden armor, let alone any chance that he’d done damage to Daven.

“Do you see now?” Daven asked, as he forced himself back into the present. He took a step forward and his lance shot after him in pursuit.

Tom retreated, his eyes narrowing as he began to take the fight a little more seriously.

Daven’s left arm flared as flames burst to life. He thrust forward and a beam of fire roared forth.

Tom easily dodged, feeling the heat as it streaked past his visage.

He blinked.

‘That’s way too weak. It’s too weak to even be considered an uncommon card,’ He thought, evaluating the flames that Daven had thrust towards him.

Tom’s guard rose.

He noticed that a small patch of grass behind him had caught fire.

There was something more to it, he was sure.

Daven roared before he threw himself into a charge, his ashen lance rocketing forth.

Tom dodged and parried, allowing himself to be pushed back as Daren caught him in a lance style of some sort, the momentum of his blows flowing and ebbing like the cycles of waves lapping and receding at a shore.

He continued peppering him with weak bouts of flame, setting the carefully managed grass and flowers of the Nezaria estate aflame.

Just as Tom decided he’d had enough, Daren thrust straight for his chest, intending for a killing blow.

The lance never arrived.

Only it’s hilt remained in Daren’s hand, the rest of it simply… gone.

If it were not for the massive stat difference between him and Daren, Tom wasn’t sure if he would’ve noticed the ash that had dissipated and then reformed behind him, into a sharp blade.

Tom lashed out with his blade as a mirror sprang into existence behind him, swallowing the ashen blade in it’s entirety.

A bead of sweat trickled down Tom’s forehead as he realized just how well Daren had tricked him. His ashen lance had never been a lance, no— it was his soul card, most likely.

Daren allowed Tom’s blade to strike him, as it caught him on the great helm. Once again, the golden wisps of smoke coiled and forced a lethal strike to a mere annoyance.

As Daren was pushed back from the impact, he leaned into it and used it to retreat.

Another ashen lance reformed and before Tom could do anything else, he threw the lance forward with viciousness concealed in his gaze.

Tom moved to dodge the lance as he considered Daren’s abilities. He had used the lance in conjunction with the flames, but Tom had noticed that Daren had most definitely not used the flames when he’d reformed the ashen lance into a sword that had meant to be his end.

If his ability was anything like Blood Scion, that would mean that the act of forming the weapons was considered as an active use, but once the weapon had been formed, it consumed no Soul Power.

But why?

Why would Daren throw it when he knew he could dodge it easily?

The answer came with a flick of Daren’s fingers.

Tom was waiting for a big change, so he failed to notice the ember of flame that leapt forward from a patch of burning grass.

It was so weak, so pathetic, Tom still wouldn’t place it as anything but a common card. He could manipulate flames a little after he set things on fire.

Alone, it was worth nothing.

But as the ember of flame jumped onto the approaching ashen lance, Tom’s eyes widened.

A loud explosion caused the earth to crack and the air to shudder.

Black clouds of ash within which flames raged was all that could be seen.

A laugh echoed from within Daren’s great helm as he pumped his fist in the air, another ashen lance reforming.

Then, the laugh froze as a figure flitting forward through the smoke.

A corner of Tom’s shirt was singed, along with patches of his hair and his visage was blackened with soot.

Otherwise, he was unharmed.

And now, he was angry.

Tom did not hold back his speed as he blurred forth before Daven. His armor would protect him from Tom’s blows, so he simply had to not attack.

A punch was an attack. A thrust of a blade was an attack. A magical power was an attack.

But, was grabbing on to Daren’s arm, an attack?

Tom wanted to find out as both his hands latched onto Daren’s arm.

The wisps of gold did not slow him. But even if they did, he wasn’t sure if it would’ve mattered.

A surprised cry escaped Daren’s lips as Tom yanked him into the air and then slammed him into the ground.

Again. And again.

His armor might still be flawless, but Tom wasn’t so sure about the man inside.

“Do you yield?” Tom asked.

Even as he was being slammed, Daren snarled in response, “You… have done no damage to me. I will not.”

Tom’s lips thinned into a line.

He slammed Daren a final time and then used his flame rune to set the grass near him aflame.

Then, Tom ran.

Mirror world rained down an ashen sword near Daren’s feet just as he was beginning to stand.

Another explosion rumbled, though one less powerful as the last.

“Sir Daren!” A few Royal Knights screamed, the shock and confusion in their tone audible.

The head of Royal Knights could not be bested by a child.

Such a thought was impossible.

Tom watched with his arms crossed as the smoke cleared.

Daren was still standing, but his pristine armor was chipped, cracked and covered in suit.

His arm twitched, signaling that the man was still alive.

Then, he fell forward with a loud rumble, no longer able to fight.

“The fight was surprisingly enlightening,” Tom declared as he walked towards Daren, already sensing the man’s slow breathing.

He was alive, but unconscious.

‘Using a common card to amplify his uncommon to such a degree is quite fascinating. If he’d fought me before I challenged the final sector, there’s a decent chance he might’ve won,’ Tom thought, his expression ponderous. ‘He did try to kill me but if I spill blood on Nezaria territory, that might cause problems.’

Tom shrugged, walking over to the unconscious Devan, lifting him over his head and tossing him outside the estate.

Two Royal Knights working in unison caught him, putting him on the ground before letting a healing potion fall on him through the great helm’s eyeholes.

“Well, as delightful as it was,” Tom acknowledged, “It’s time we get going.”

Aleph and Zirel blurred forward to his side.

“You think you can run?” A Royal Knight roared in challenge. “Just you try it. The moment you step out of the estate, you’re done,” He snarled, the venom in his tone deadly.

“What an idiot,” Aleph rolled her eyes as she pulled out a card from her pocket.

Zirel and Tom did the same.

A frail looking paper card that was blank on one side was held in each of their hands.

“No!” A Royal Knight called out. “Kill them, now!” He screamed out to his colleagues.

“Why? What is it?” Another asked.

“It’s a—”

The knight in question tried to explain, but Aleph, Zirel and Tom wasted no time in ripping the cards in half.

Milky white light enveloped them.

The Knight that had raised the alarm fired a blade of wind right at them.

But the light flickered away faster that that.

Tom, Zirel and Aleph were gone.

However, the wind blade continued until it hit the pillars holding up the awning to the Nezaria estate.

It crashed and crumbled forward.

A furious curse from the Nezaria Estate followed.