The Hated Hero: Sigil-Powered Warrior-Chapter 23: Immanuel Versus Mercurius

Immanuel refused to draw a weapon, in contrast with The Boy King, who, even while still positioned far from Immanuel, had already drawn his longsword and positioned it to his left side in preparation for a swing. We are evenly matched, it seems. Better take a cautious approach to this fight.

Aside from his slightly curved greatsword, Immanuel had throwing daggers and nonlethal explosives on his person. And with the addition of the Reach Sigil, a multi-scenario weapon. Possibly. He had yet to test the theory.

But not at that moment. Perhaps later, as a surprise attack. The Boy King had the Plagiarism Sigil, which lets him copy any powers he sees. If he were to put a bladed end to the Reach Sigil, then it should be done in such a way that The Boy King would be forced to yield because of it. That, or I find the Plagiarism Sigil’s weakness.

Although Immanuel refused to draw a weapon, he had assumed a fighting stance. Since the moment The Boy King made known his task of testing Immanuel, the latter kept his arms hanging to his sides. His stance made him not seem much of a threat, while allowing him to reach and draw any of the weapons strapped to him, not just his greatsword.

For some time, both men kept their distance, gauging each other’s possible skill level with just their eyes.

"You’re not the only one here approaching this fight with caution, Maier," The Boy King said, his furrowed eyebrows reflecting the truth of what he had just said. "I am certain, that with the many things that had been written about me, and with that arsenal strapped to your person, you have the upper hand in this fight."

"I am not so sure about the upper hand, Your Majesty. No written record mentioned how you were defeated in duels and skirmishes, as you won all of them for your father." The Boy King took a few small steps forward. Immanuel continued, " In fact, your only defeat was against a well-prepared assassin, and he struck when you were asleep, when you were most vulnerable."

And you have armor. I do not.

"So nothing was written about my fighting techniques, then, Maier? I remember, when I was young, those combat manuals written by masters who have long been dead by that time." The Boy King took another number of steps forward. "Being masters, they developed their own styles, yet also studied kings and others who excelled in combat. They even studied their rivals in the craft."

"In the present era, we only remember techniques, not the people who created them. And among our ranks, there is only one fighting manual with every technique we need to learn written and drawn in it. A lot of people have copies of it. Even I had one."

"Then we are equally matched." The Boy King took one step forward as Immanuel took a step to his right. Silence took over both men. Immanuel still hadn’t drawn a weapon.

Immanuel took additional steps to his right, moving in an arc, as The Boy King continued to press towards him. Once they were within striking range of each other, they both moved in a circle, each watching for the best time to strike the other while preparing to parry or dodge an incoming attack.

Impatient, The Boy King flicked his wrists, almost swinging his longsword. Immanuel responded by turning his back on The Boy King, feigning cowardice. He would have drawn his greatsword if he hadn’t recognized the feint.

"Ah, so that’s the weapon you are most inclined to use," The Boy King commented. Damn, he caught me like that!

Disappointed, Immanuel sighed. Looks like I should approach this fight a different way.

Without facing The Boy King, Immanuel removed sword and scabbard from his waist. But instead of drawing the sword and ditching the scabbard as he did during the fight with The Hunter, he twirled the sword in the scabbard with both hands as though a staff.

He turned to The Boy King while still twirling the greatsword around. "I appreciate your patience, Your Majesty."

Then Immanuel assumed a fighting stance suitable for fighting with a staff.

"Let us proceed, Your Majesty," said Immanuel. This elicited a smile from The Boy King.

"Very well, soldier."

Both men rushed forward. The blade of the longsword collided with the wood of the scabbard, resulting in a loud clap instead of the ringing commonly heard in a clash of metal on metal.

While Immanuel’s unconventional choice of a fighting style put him at a slight disadvantage in terms of reach, it made him unpredictable. Either end, the grip and the end of the sword covered by the scabbard, could be used to strike enemies and parry attacks.

And then there was the possibility of drawing the sword after parrying an attack as a lethal counter. It must have only been luck that The Boy King not only dodged that counter, but also countered it with a slash at Immanuel’s right arm that not only drew blood, but also weakened it.

Immanuel backed away, grunting as he swung the scabbard in turn to prevent a follow-up attack which never came anyway.

Both men moved in a circle once again, measuring the other’s capability and will to fight based on the previous clash. This time, besides having proper armor, the long slash wound on Immanuel’s shaking sword arm and the blood he was losing every heartbeat were elements in the fight that gave The Boy King the upper hand.

With his grip on his greatsword unsteady, Immanuel had to ditch the scabbard. He could have just tossed it aside, but he used his problem as an opportunity to create an opening instead.

With his non-dominant hand, he shifted his grip on the scabbard and tossed it at The Boy King in one fluid motion. The Boy King parried the improvised attack, as Immanuel predicted.

This was the opening he needed.

With the same hand, he pulled three throwing daggers out of his pouch and tossed it forward even while The Boy King had yet to bring the blade of his sword back up in front of him. By the time the blade was again in front of him, the throwing daggers hit The Boy King—one grazed his cheek, while the other two bounced off the metal plate on his chest. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Immanuel had disappeared from in front of him, reappearing as a towering figure to one side, his greatsword ready to swing. The Boy King spun and blocked the attack...

Only to see, up close, another trick Immanuel had prepared, smoking and hissing in front of them—a handful of small, yellow-striped grenade sticks. With their short fuses, they popped before they could hit the ground and emitted thick gray smoke that choked them and forced them apart.

But Immanuel did not stop there. With the thick smoke between them spreading fast in every direction, he threw more daggers forward, through the smoke, hoping to hit The Boy King even without seeing him.

No reaction from beyond the smoke. He dashed to one side, intending to circle around and hopefully catch even a glimpse of his opponent.

It took Immanuel longer than expected, but in time, he caught a glimpse of his opponent’s arm. He thought there was no way The Boy King would want to stay hidden behind the growing cloud of smoke for a long time. At some point, he has to make a move if his goal is to defeat me.

Then, knowing he no longer needed to touch any of his sigils to acknowledge them, he rushed forward and brought to mind his intent to assume shadow form. It worked, and Immanuel rushed, on all fours, towards the thick smoke and melded with one of its shadows deep within its mass. From there, he branched his dark essence to other shadows within the cloud, turning himself into an eldritch tree.

The Boy King just stood and watched the smoke, He held the longsword with both hands, ready to strike at Immanuel if he saw him emerge from it.

Something’s off about the king, thought Immanuel, who remembered, at that moment, the effect of the Explosive Clone sigil.

The Boy King took steps back and turned his head left and right. Smoke continued to spread. No, that’s no Explosive Clone. If it were, then he’d just be standing still with a lifeless expression.

While still in the form of an eldritch tree hiding within the thick cloud of smoke, Immanuel brought to mind the Reach Sigil, and his cold mana shot outwards from the depths of his person, startling him.

Does this mean I can use the Reach Sigil now? Immanuel was unfamiliar with the sensation he just felt. The answer came a moment later, when the tendrils of his eldritch tree form lengthened, almost to the point of peeking out of the smoke cloud. These tendrils also waved around on their own as though wind were blowing them.

Immanuel shot the tendrils out of the smoke cloud, terrifying The Boy King to the point of paralyzing him where he stood. Most tendrils caught different parts of The Boy King’s body, while others planted themselves on the floor, making sure he’d never escape. Those tendrils which caught his wrists pulled them apart and forced his hands off his sword. It fell down the white floor with a loud, satisfying KLANG.

The rest of Immanuel—a chaotic mess of tendrils pulled forward by the Reach Sigil’s power—darted out of the thick smoke cloud and enveloped random parts of The Boy King’s body. A long tendril that wasn’t holding anything pulled back, revealing the blade of Immanuel’s greatsword. This Immanuel pressed against The Boy King’s neck.

"Yield, Your Majesty?" came Immanuel’s unearthly voice from within the depths of his being.

But there came no response—The Boy King had frozen in terror.

"I ask again, Your Majesty. Do you yield?"

A distant clapping broke the place’s silence, followed by the familiar voice of The Boy King, also from the direction where the clapping came from.

"What a marvelous display of fighting skill, Immanuel Maier! Well done! Well done!"

How did he get there?

Is that even him?

The figure wrapped in tendrils remained expressionless. Shit!

BOOM!

A hole appeared next to the smoking soot that was the aftermath of the explosion. The hole was a perfect circle and was pitch black all throughout, even with the light sources in the room.

He almost killed me with the Explosive Clone! Immanuel looked up. He set the pointed end of his sword down, using the weapon to steady his footing. Blood continued to flow out of the slash wound on his sword arm, and the color on his face was fading because of it.

"Before we clashed, I thought you would become too intimidated to fight me." Distant footsteps seemed to be approaching Immanuel’s position. "I was surprised that you held nothing back. What changed in you, Maier, if anything? Or was it that I made numerous assumptions about you?"

I’m not answering that.

The Boy King peered down the summoned manhole. "You don’t have to answer that now, Maier."

He disappeared from the rim of the hole...

And reappeared next to Immanuel Maier in the hole.