Creation System: Reborn As A Fantasy Worldsmith

Chapter 167  Battles Rage Forward

Kedward spoke those nasty words with a wretched smile on his face. Alten, let go of his bow and grabbed onto the hand that choked his neck. Even though he was struggling to breathe, he looked at Ked with enraged eyes.

"You... won't pass anyways."

He managed to speak in short pauses, struggling to breathe more and more as Ked strengthed his grip. Soon, Alten began began to turn slightly blue. Large veins popped out of his forehead, almost protruding through his skin.

Ked raised an eyebrow.

"Huh? Of course, I'll pass. Look around, fool."

He said, signifying that the entire battleground was currently controlled by his group. Alten, however, forced his eyes to remain locked onto Ked.

They were trying to bulge out of their socket's at this point, bloodshot, with red rips going through them like a spider web.

***

Having taken out his blade, Spade dragged his tongue across it before dashing forward. He catapulted himself forward at break-neck speeds, dust left at the area where he just was, as he appeared mere feet in front of Lyrian.

"I've been wanting to fight you since the beginning... Black Sheep."

Spade said, thrusting his blade forward with a powerful push.

"Me too..."

Lyrian's movements were swift and precise as he sidestepped Spade's thrust, his obsidian blade glinting in the sunlight. As Spade's blade sailed past him, Lyrian spun on his heel, using the momentum to deliver a powerful diagonal slash toward Spade's exposed side. But Spade was quick to react, effortlessly swaying his body and evading the strike by a hair's breadth.

They began exchanging strikes. The clash of their blades created a symphony of steel, each strike resonating with the intensity of their rivalry. Spade's grin widened, and his eyes sparkled with exhilaration.

Lyrian pressed forward, controlling his breathing as he used the art of smithing to coordinate his strikes into a flurry of calculated movements. He aimed to exploit any opening, his blade dancing with deadly elegance. Spade met each attack with a blend of fluidity and disciplined techniques, proving to have well-balanced fundamentals and experience. Their blades clashed and separated in a mesmerizing dance, the ground beneath them marked by their steps and parries.

Spade lunged forward, his speed so quick that his body turned into a sort of blur. Lyrian met the assault head-on, their blades locking in a contest of strength. With a burst of Enhance, Lyrian pushed back, breaking the deadlock and creating distance between them.

As they circled each other, the tension in the air was palpable. Syanr and Silvus' battle was still raging on, but both of them recognized the aura of both Lyrian and Spade.

Spade's eyes glinted with a mix of excitement and confidence. "You aren't as strong as I expected, Black Sheep... are you nervous?"

With that remark, Spade lunged forward once more, his strikes becoming a relentless barrage. Lyrian responded with a focused calmness, his movements a perfect blend of defense and counterattack.

***

Leon's gaze turned steely as he considered Linc's words. He already knew the gravity of the situation. The trial he and his team were facing was nothing more than a mere battle. Their true test of strength and strategy would only come when fighting Yang.—

the heart of it all.

A looming threat of the final beast, a challenge that demanded their utmost power.

Linc's grin widened as he saw the calm but stern expression on Leon's. "That's the spirit! You've got to go all in for this. Forget about the golden-tiered creature... first, climb the mountain that's in front of you."

Leon gripped the hilt of his blade, his determination solidifying. Although he knew Linc was talking nonsense, he knew that he couldn't afford to lose this fight either. Not with the remaining Deck group members and the final beast still alive.

"Right," Leon said firmly. "I won't underestimate any of my opponents, but you are not worthy of my full power."

He readied himself, his stance reflecting both confidence and ability as he unsheathed an inch of his sword.

With a swift motion, Linc withdrew a handful of slender, purple needles from his long black hair. His grin had a predatory edge, his confidence bolstered by his knowledge of the potent toxins he wielded.

Leon's grip on his sword tightened as he assessed his opponent. Linc's choice of weapon meant he was adept at striking from a distance, exploiting any openings and vulnerabilities. It was clear that this fight would be a test of both physical prowess and tactical acumen.

"Poison needles, huh? I've dealt with worse," Leon stated, his voice carrying a mixture of confidence and caution.

Linc chuckled, twirling one of the needles between his fingers before positioning them within his hand for a quick draw. "Oh, I'm sure you have. But have you dealt with them and me at the same time?"

Without another word, Linc moved. His form blurred as he threw a barrage of poisoned needles towards Leon, their trajectory aimed to keep him on the defensive. Leon's instincts kicked in, as he unsheathed his sword, his eyes burning brightly with a white aura. He sidestepped, ducked, and parried, deflecting the needles with calculated sword strikes.

As the needles struck the ground and nearby obstacles, small plumes of corrosive smoke rose, evidence of the toxins they carried.

In response to Linc's ranged assault, Leon charged forward with a burst of speed, his sword held firmly in front of him. He closed the distance to engage Linc in close combat, where the poison needles would be less effective.

Linc, however, wasn't about to be cornered easily. He darted to the side, narrowly avoiding Leon's initial strike, and retaliated by flinging a handful of needles in a spread pattern. The projectiles arced toward Leon, aiming to limit his options and force him to retreat.

Leon twisted his body, his muscles coiling like a predator preparing to pounce. He deflected some of the needles with his sword, but a couple managed to graze his arms and shoulders, leaving stinging wounds. Ignoring the pain, he lunged forward once more, his movements a blend of power and agility.