Astaroth inspected the angry Russian’s face, as he mad dashed towards him. He could guess by his posture alone, that this charge was a reckless one.
The man had already lost all semblance of logical thinking and calm.
This played right into Astaroth’s plans. He could loop this raging bull around for days, he was certain of that.
As Anton finally made it to him, Astaroth only shifted his body ever so slightly, to evade the great axe coming in from overhead. He then spun on himself, equipping his longsword and wielding it in two hands, slashing at the man’s back.
A cut to the back was a warrior’s greatest shame, and Astaroth could guess this simpleton adhered to this mentality. And as proof, the Russian Demonoid bellowed in rage, as he turned around.
“Stop running around, coward! You said you fight me like a man!” He shouted.
“I am. I’m just not a stupid animal like you are.” Astaroth snickered, adding oil to the fire.
“RRAAGGHH!!” Anton howled.
Anton ran back at Astaroth again, his feet stomping the ground heavily. Astaroth knew this was unnatural, so he swapped out the longsword for a shield and his shortsword.
Anton bulldozed forward, his axe’s shaft before him, colliding into Astaroth violently. This was a charge skill, and it pushed Astaroth back with much force from it.
But before Anton could use the momentum to shove him away, or attack, Astaroth pivoted his foot to the left, pushing off of it and sending Anton to the side too.
As Anton passed his side, Astaroth pulled out his daggers and slashed quickly at the former’s ribs. He then quickly stored them and swapped them out to his bow.
He fired four arrows in quick succession, taking leaps back as he did, gaining some distance. This angered the Demonoid more, making him feel like Astaroth was toying with him.
He finally stopped his charge and spun around. Blood was leaking from his mouth, where he had probably bitten his lip in anger.
“Stop jumping around!” Anton yelled.
He went back to running toward Astaroth, trying to get a good hit in, but was deflected and dodged time and time again. It was like he was chasing a fly, buzzing around his head unceasingly.
After a minute and a half of fighting, Anton was already at a wit’s end, and his health was dangerously low. He didn’t want to go down in this fight, even if he could still get more points in the next ones.
So he did what any logical player would do. He pulled out a health potion and drank it.
The move took Astaroth aback, being a smart one, one that he thought Anton was incapable of doing. Anton’s health went up by half again, meaning he had fifteen seconds to take that much health.
This would be a tough battle. But Astaroth was not one to give up.
He bit the bullet and became reckless too, this time dashing at his opponent, his polearm pointed forward. He was using this fight to get used to switching weapons depending on the situation.
This was good training for him, but he had to stop this and get serious. If not, he wouldn’t win his wager.
An intense brawl out then happened between the Ash Elf and the Demonoid, both swinging at each other with abandon, chipping at each other’s health bar.
When the timer reached fifteen seconds, Anton stopped attacking, to laugh out like a madman.
“Hahahaha! You failed to kill me in the time you said. That just proves how weak you are!” He barked out.
His health bar was practically empty again, but he knew he has won. Astaroth had respected his word of not using skills all along, so when the latter put down his weapon, Anton knew it was over.
ƥαṇdα-ηθνε|·ƈθm
Then something changed. His viewpoint was shifting.
He started seeing the sky, then the floor, and the sky again, before his head hit something. What was really weird was what he saw before him.
His body was still standing in place, with Astaroth behind it, a great axe in his hands. The axe’s blade was bloodied and dripping.
That’s when he understood what had happened. Astaroth has used a skill.
It was the same skill he had used to chop off another player’s arm in the second phase! He had lied to him.
“You…” Anton muttered, his head on the ground.
“Did you really think I would adhere to my word after you cowardly drank a potion?” Astaroth spat, leaning before the head.
“You wanted a fair fight. I gave you one.” He added, before standing back up.
The timer ran out at that moment, signifying the end of the first bouts.
Anton and Astaroth both disappeared from the platform, reappearing in different ones. Anton looked at his hands as they shook in rage and disbelief.
He was winning. He had won.
Now he couldn’t even get back at this cheater for lying to him. The next fight was about to start in a few seconds.
He bellowed out in an animalistic fashion, spit flying out of his mouth, mixed in with blood, from his hoarse throat. His eyes had gone completely mad as he looked at his next opponent.
The elvish player before him shook in terror from the enraged gaze, and almost peed himself from sheer horror. Anton vowed in his head to get back at Astaroth, even if it was the last thing he would do.
Astaroth, in the meantime, appeared on another platform, facing a familiar player again. Before him stood a small gnome, armed with a rifle.
“We meet again, number three player, Azamus.” Astaroth greeted him, with a curt bow.
“You!” Azamus spat out.
“I’m going to enjoy riddling you full of holes and lead!” He added, aiming preemptively.
Astaroth smiled at the action. He knew the gnome was mad at him for throwing him away, but he didn’t think he would be that mad.
It mattered not, though, as he would not do that again. This time, he was going for the kill.
Astaroth grinned, as the timer for round two ticked its last seconds, before the gong resounded again.
*Gong!*
*Bang!*
