CHAPTER 79: THREE STRIKES!

"He’s here,"

The others froze. "Who?"

"The Bruce guy, his dot is right next to us!" Average Joe said...

At once, his gaze darted around, scanning the treeline. His eyes, sharp and hawk-like, narrowed on a nearby shrub.

"There!" Joe barked, pointing forward.

Before the others could react, Bruce stepped calmly out of the foliage, brushing a few stray leaves off his body. He had no clothes on his upper part of his body exposing his muscles and abs. His expression was unreadable, neither tense nor excited, just composed. But the trio didn’t care.

Joe’s pulse spiked. "You know the plan!"

All three recruits moved instantly, spreading out in a practiced triangle formation.

Within seconds, Bruce was surrounded.

The lean one crouched low, claws gleaming wickedly. The halberd wielder took a defensive stance, ready to counter or block. The spearman leveled his weapon forward, his aim locked on Bruce’s chest.

But Bruce only smiled.

That same quiet, infuriatingly calm smile.

He glanced between them lazily, eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed.

"Do you really think," he said, his voice soft but cutting through the air like a blade, "that this is enough to bring me down?"

Their expressions hardened, anger flashing across their faces.

"Now!" Joe shouted.

All three lunged simultaneously, the claw flashing toward his throat, the halberd swinging for his ribs, and the spear thrusting straight for his heart.

Three strikes. Three kill angles.

All aimed at one man.

Bruce didn’t flinch.

He didn’t even move.

Not yet.

....

In the vast stretch of the sun-lit savannah, Bruce stood in silence, twin daggers held loosely at his sides, his posture relaxed, almost casual. But his eyes were sharp, calculating, unblinking.

Around him, three recruits closed in, forming a loose triangle. Their faces were tense, their breathing controlled, each one certain that with the right timing, they could take him down.

The first was Joe, the lean one, the fastest of the three, claws strapped to his hands like curved fangs. He prowled like a predator ready to pounce, eyes fixed on Bruce’s throat and heart.

To Bruce’s left, the halberd user, broad, muscular, relying on brute strength and reach. His weapon gleamed in the sunlight, the steel blade wide enough to cleave through bone with a single swing.

To the right, the spearman, focused, disciplined, composed. His stance was firm, spear pointed toward Bruce like a silver arrow prepared to pierce straight through flesh and spine.

"Now!" Joe shouted.

They moved at once, three weapons, three angles, three killing strikes.

But Bruce didn’t panic. He didn’t even blink.

The moment their attacks closed in, Bruce stepped back, not with desperation but with elegance. His body flowed, turning, shifting, almost like water slipping through cracks. The claw sliced past his cheek, the halberd cut through empty air, the spear thrusted forward only to stab nothing but wind.

They weren’t slow, Bruce was simply faster.

He moved between their strikes, not away from them, his footwork clean, precise, almost lazy, as if he had already seen every motion long before it happened.

Joe gritted his teeth. "Tch, don’t let him breathe, attack again!"

They rushed in with a second wave of assaults.

The claw slashed for his eyes, Bruce tilted his head. The spear aimed for his ribs, He twisted his torso. The halberd came down in a heavy cleave, He calmly stepped off-line, letting the wind of the strike brush past him

Not a single motion wasted. Not a single drop of sweat shed. Everything was just so easy that Bruce didn’t see the fun in experimenting on these weaklings.

He just killed a Thorne, and they’re still treating him like a normal recruit. Are their respective classes just for show? They should use it. They should use their class skills.

But sadly, this time around, unlike Ozai, the enemies were just too dumb.

Bruce’s daggers never needed to defend. His movement did that for him.

Then he spoke, voice calm, almost bored.

"Your formation has too many openings."

Before Joe could process the words, Bruce vanished, just a blur of motion,

SHFF!

His dagger sliced cleanly through the claws on Joe’s hand, shattering them into fragments of broken metal.

Joe froze, only now realizing that he hadn’t even seen Bruce move.

His eyes widened, mouth opening to speak,

PSHH!

A dagger was already buried in his chest. His breath hitched, blood filling his throat as he staggered backward and collapsed into the grass.

One down.

The halberd wielder roared, fury replacing fear. "You bastard!"

He swung with all his strength, his weapon screaming through the air in a lethal arc,

Bruce met him head-on.

Not by blocking, but by stepping inside the attack.

The halberd sliced through the air just inches behind Bruce’s back. By the time the wielder realized he’d missed,

SHING!

Bruce’s dagger carved upward, slicing through the wooden shaft of the halberd as if it were paper.

The weapon snapped in two.

The recruit’s eyes widened in disbelief, Then Bruce’s second dagger slid across his throat in a smooth, silent line.

The halberd wielder fell to his knees, eyes still frozen in shock, before toppling face-first into the dirt.

Two down.

That left the spearman, visibly trembling, but refusing to flee.

He leveled his spear, voice shaking. "I–I can still win... as long as I keep my distance..."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, amused. "You really think distance will save you?"

The spearman lunged, thrusting forward with every ounce of strength. He was fast. Precise. Trained.

But Bruce was already gone from his line of sight.

A shadow appeared behind him.

Cold steel touched the back of his neck.

"Too slow," Bruce whispered.

~SWOOSH~

~STAB~

The spear dropped from numb fingers. The body followed.

Three down.

Three attacks. Three deaths. Zero wasted effort!

Bruce exhaled slowly, wiping a faint drop of blood off his blade with his thumb. His expression never changed, not joy, not pity, not anger.

Just calm. Unmoved. As if this was nothing more than routine. Maybe it was that he had seen too much blood in his past life, as a top surgeon seeing blood everyday was an everyday thing. Or maybe it was just the influence of Death Glance but killing even though this was just Vr was actually having no effect on him... He couldn’t feel a thing!

He glanced once at the bodies, then at the map, more dots were still coming.

***

A/N:

I noticed a few mistakes in the Chapters released yesterday, including misplaced backgrounds and some grammatical errors. I’m a reader myself, so I know how painful it is to come across those kinds of mistakes while reading. I’m really sorry to everyone who had to deal with that. I posted it in a hurry without proofreading, but I’ll try to be more careful in the future.