Academy's Drunk Fighter-Chapter 36: First Crisis (8)

As I smiled at him, the old man finally lost his patience.

“Die.”

“Wow, that’s such a cliché line, don’t you thi—”

“Silence...!”

CRAAAAACK!!!

A red blade ripped through the air and came crashing down.

My body reacted before my eyes could even process it.

Tap!

Yeah, no way someone like him got to be a bishop just by living a long life.

They always say to beware of old folks, women, and kids.

Surviving this long means you’re strong.

“...Shit.”

KRRRRRAAAACK!!!

I twisted my body sideways, and the spot where I had been just a second ago erupted with a massive shockwave, splitting the ground open.

I dodged the attack without any assist—purely by my own will.

If I had relied on the evasion assist and just let my body react, Noah and the guard behind me might’ve taken the hit.

In situations where you can block an attack, sometimes you have to—no matter how painful.

Maybe Professor Philia’s warning about not relying too much on instinct... maybe that’s finally starting to make sense.

“How...”

“?”

“...How are you moving like you know everything I’m about to do?”

“Hmm? Maybe it’s just ‘cause you’re that predictable?”

“...”

Yeah. A perfectly reasonable question from his perspective.

He seemed genuinely confused about how I was dodging everything so easily. But explaining isn’t really my thing.

This isn’t some anime or comic. The only reason I know the bishop’s patterns is because I’ve played through this fight way too many times.

It’s not some dumb future-seeing power, and I’m definitely not about to casually ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) reveal some world-shattering secret. I’m not that much of an idiot.

Besides, I might look calm now thanks to the booze, but the moment this guy switches back to ranged attacks, I’m screwed.

So yeah—I have zero intention of explaining anything.

“Fucking gnat...!”

“I should be the one asking. Why do you guys even worship some creepy-ass cult like that?”

“C-creepy-ass cult?!”

I mean, I’ve played through this game a bunch, but I never really got to talk to these bastards directly.

All I knew was that they were the freaks trying to bring about [The End].

“Ha... hahaha! You... called Him a ‘creepy-ass cult’? Him?!”

He burst into hysterical laughter, like my words broke something in him.

Or maybe that wasn’t laughter. Maybe he was crying.

While the old man’s brain short-circuited, I hurled the stone in my hand straight at his head.

CRACK!

“Nice shot!”

“Gahk!”

“What, did you think I’d just stand there and let you laugh like a moron?”

“You... you have no shred of decency!”

“I’d rather die than show manners to some cult freak.”

Not like we’re ever seeing each other again. What’s the point of being polite?

“I’m getting tired of this.”

Finally, the bishop looked genuinely fed up.

[Phase 3]

KRRRRRCK!!!

The old man plunged his blade into his own body—and scattered it into the air in the form of dozens, maybe hundreds of crimson shards.

A red rain.

Except every single drop was a lethal instant-death move.

If you’re someone like Professor Philia with a tanky body or decent defensive magic, maybe you’d have a chance.

But me? No way.

And yet, this is exactly what I wanted.

‘He’s coming.’

Originally, I would've done everything to force the bishop to stay in close range.

The pattern is simpler, and despite the power, it’s easier to dodge.

Perfect for stalling until the professors arrive.

But the moment I remembered Noah and the guard behind me—

All those strategies went straight to hell.

Even if I dodged a charging close-range attack, they'd be the ones who ended up hurt—or dead.

But blocking it myself isn’t an option either.

He completely outclasses me in both durability and strength.

This isn’t just environmental destruction anymore.

This phase is designed for pure, targeted killing.

On the flip side, unlike those crushing close-range blows, this attack is something I can deflect.

The danger’s way higher now—but paradoxically, my chances of protecting them have also gone up.

“Heh.”

[Current Intoxication: 8%]

“It’s over.”

SHIIIIIIING!!

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Front, back, left, right, below.

Within the limits of my perception—

Red spikes surged in from every direction, aiming to turn my whole body into Swiss cheese.

RATATATATAT!!!

Every last aggro line was locked onto me, and naturally, Drunken Fist kicked in—smashing aside dozens of the incoming spikes.

But then came the next wave.

Hundreds more.

‘Yeah, this won’t work.’

The one I need to target—

Is the source.

He can’t shoot those damn spikes forever.

If my info’s correct, those crimson spikes were made from the blood he extracted from his devoured victims.

I don’t know how many people that is, but there’s no way it’s infinite.

Problem is, I’ll probably collapse before he runs out.

Click.

So what I need—

Is a single opening.

I slammed spikes out of the way, struck upward, smashed downward—just to carve out a narrow path I could squeeze through.

[Drunken Fist comprehension has increased.]

[Drunken Fist comprehension has increased.]

[Drunken Fist comprehension has increased.]

Bit by bit, I was starting to feel it. How to use my technique properly. How to move with purpose.

Tap.

I grabbed a few flying spikes midair, launched myself along the wall—and flung them straight at the old man’s chest.

“You really think... that’ll work on me? You’re underestimating me—”

“Ah~ I figured it probably wouldn’t.”

As expected, the spikes curved around and returned to orbit him—nullifying the attack.

Yeah, that didn’t work in the game either.

Anything inside his range gets recycled.

Still... I’m not done.

“Borrowing this.”

The guard’s spear landed in my hands.

“Hah. You think picking up a weapon will change anything?”

“It changes everything.”

Even with my boosted stats, the spear felt heavy.

Maybe it’s just ‘cause I’m small now.

Still, I aimed it at the old man and threw it with everything I had.

“That pathetic thing—!”

I never learned how to use a spear. Right now, it’s more of a hindrance than a weapon.

But nothing clears a path like a spear.

BOOOM!

The bishop reacted instantly, drawing surrounding spikes to form a barrier.

The spear clashed with it and failed to break through—

But for that one instant—

He blocked his own vision.

And in that instant, I was already in front of him.

0.01 seconds on the battlefield can decide life or death.

KRAAAAAAAAM!!!!

A perfect hit.

A clean blow to the face—

And the old man staggered backward without even reacting.

“...”

Even in that moment, when he should’ve been writhing in pain—

Not a single groan escaped him.

Click.

The bishop was completely defenseless.

The muzzle of my pistol aimed squarely inside his open mouth.

[Current Intoxication: 9%]

But just as I pulled the trigger—something pierced through my body.

Squelch.

Stomach? No. More accurately—one hand and a leg.

“Guh.”

KRAAAANG!!!

Debris exploded outward, smoke billowing up.

My body was hurled toward the wall, slamming into it and pinning me like a stuffed animal nailed to a board.

Then, the bishop rose, muttering with an edge of amusement.

“I’ll admit it. That last move... was fairly creative.

But... looks like I let you play too long. You’ve forgotten your place.”

“...”

He stood up—tinged with faint anger, but mostly curiosity.

Smirking like he’d finally wrung all the fun out of this, he stepped toward me where I was nailed against the wall, unable to move.

Click.

And when he removed his mask—

What lay beneath was a horribly burned, grotesque face.

“You are more than qualified to walk with us.

So allow me the honor... of enlightening you personally.”

“You really think I’d go along with that crap?”

“You will. Consider it an honor—I don’t grant this to just anyone.”

Grinning like it was inevitable, he pressed the goat mask to my face.

The higher a character’s stats, the stronger their mental resistance stat usually was too—and an item capable of keeping someone like that brainwashed had to be monstrously powerful.

It might’ve looked like I was putting up a clever fight using game knowledge and traits, but to him...

That was just him humoring me.

That’s the gap between me and the old man.

“The world races toward death. Isn’t it better, then, for everyone to surrender to the apocalypse before it arrives?”

“Yeah, yeah. Humans ruined the planet so humans should die. If that’s your logic, why don’t you cult freaks go first?”

“Don’t worry. This time, there won’t be any failures. You’ll understand it properly this time.”

He clearly had no interest in a real conversation.

“...”

Click.

And the mask was placed fully on my face.

Everything had gone exactly as planned—every movement, every word, a setup.

Now... it was time to leave it to luck.

****

[External interference detected.]

[<??? ???? ?> is observing you.]

[WARNING]

[Mind is being corroded.]

[Resist.]

[Resist.]

[Resist.]

...

...

...

...

[Your Mental Strength is above the threshold.]

[Presence of a higher-tier curse within the same classification detected.]

[Similar grade curse identified.]

[Measuring priority level.]

...

...

...

...

[Existing curse classified as superior; new curse has been nullified.]

[<??? ???? ?> is aghast.]

[<??? ???? ?> is curious about you.]

[Access denied.]

[<??? ???? ?> falls silent.]

[Curse nullification complete.]

[<??? ???? ?> withdraws.]

****

A sensation like something overwhelming tearing through my brain.

That sickening pressure—

I clenched my teeth through it.

I wasn’t about to let myself be used by that damn old bastard.

That’s all it was.

I wasn’t about to go out in some cultist suicide bombing.

And when I opened my eyes again, a single system window hovered in front of me.

[A new item has been identified.]

[You have resisted the curse!]

[A random stat will increase.]

And when I read the final line—

I smiled.

[Mental Strength stat has increased.]

I won the gamble.