My Parasite Skill System

And he kept laughing like a madman.

"I mean, are you okay?... that's some good mischievous and malicious laughter you got there, heh … it's even worse than mine. … You okay, sir?"

But he kept going at it, ugh. Maybe I should just give him his time, eh? I could make out much happiness and surprise on his unsettling face … but that as much as grim and dark vibes … well.

"–Pardon me, pardon me. … Hah, hah, hah, hah … hah~" both half-laughing and half-sighing, he ended it. There really was much to know in that person. "Pardon me, pardon me, ahem."

His stern and glacial expression took back over in no time.

"You really are 'it,' then," he mumbled to himself. "Hah, well, she wouldn't have just … ahem."

"'It'?"

"…"

"You must mean … that 'special' disciple you talked about with that food-lady?"

"…"

"Why special disciple anyway?"

"… You said you wanted to kill me, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir. … So then, special disciple because I wanna kill you, sir?"

"Just come at me, fighter," he murmured. "Let us dance."

And, "Heh," I scoffed.

Maybe he wanted to talk with swords. From this point onward, both he and I didn't speak anymore. He'd called me a fighter, and he was right.

I recognized he was a fighter, too.

Both fighters were here, filling up the better part of the place with their aura only. The bigger fighter was taking up much more of the room by solely his, though.

The bigger fighter's two hands gripped onto a wooden sword. The other fighter's two hands gripped onto a lethal one.

And despite the difference between these two swords, it was indeed the wooden sword that had the proudest look and presence.

The room was now totally engulfed in the two's aura.

The bigger fighter felt too big. Every clue pointed out to that. And while the other fighter understood that all right along with all the dangers that could ensue of this, he–actually, I–still readied his senses, dashed with my head tilted forward.

I will kill him.

Just as per the plan.

Do you actually think I'm afraid?

I'm not. I can't. I'm never afraid. I can never be afraid.

I will win!... or so I thought.

The two swords faced each other … and when my sword of steel filled with my magical power hit the wooden one–instead of cutting through it like butter before finally cutting through the man's guts, killing him–it only bounced like it hit the sturdiest of obstacles.

The backlash issued from that single stroke was enormous.

So much so, that I had to dart backward in order to take some time off–but no!–immediately after I hit the ground, my legs burst out again when I sent flying to him again.

My sword was to be swung at him.

Clang!

And once again, with a single well-directed blow of his wooden stick, I had to step back.

I wouldn't give up, though. Right after my feet landed on the smooth wooden tiles once more, just as that high-pitched sound burst forward, another clanging sound was to be emitted.

This time about, no more flying around recklessly directly to him. I had time to think. Instead of rushing it like a fool, I'd better only do it like this:

<Quick Pace>!

Tap, tap, tap, tap!

My feet brought me right in front of the target before I stopped–and jumped up!

While in the air, slightly above the man's height, in two quick moves, I swung my sword twice at his face–the two blows were blocked.

I didn't have wings–next thing I knew, my feet were back up on the ground.

And upon landing on it, I slithered my way to the man's right side–my arm targeted his right leg–it got blocked off, too.

It was fine, though. I just had to jump again with enough haste–but swinging my sword at his face again, from above, it got blocked off, too.

As I hit the ground yet again, I decided my way to victory was through some more feinting.

With <Quick Pace>, I moved back and forth real quickly, and with <Chain Attack>, "Hah!–clang!–Hyah!–clang!–Kah!–clang!–Tsk!"

And I still had no wings, so I naturally got back to the ground, in an even more restless body.

I was ready to keep up to it again, but the swordsman switched from defensive to the offensive in no time.

I believe I didn't even have time to land on the ground so much he attacked quickly.

A huge wave of cold and chilliness invaded me. I might have gotten paralyzed for a second. The wooden sword that initially looked so weak and meager to me was unleashed.

Next thing I knew, going against my sword–not against my neck, not against an arm, not against anything that would kill me as if he could go easy on me–that same bokken tore through the air and hit my sword so hard.

Following my sword, filled with shock, I followed.

The backlash was terrific. I darted back in a hurry. I was actually sent flying away. But I didn't fight the flow of power and just followed it.

When I landed back on the ground, on my own, further away from the strong opponent–one of my knees dropped down to the ground as I grunted.

The vibrations coming from the clash of swords practically rendered my right arm unusable so much they were strong.

Heavily frowning, my eyes darted back onto my target: he hadn't moved at all from his place and only had time to strengthen his combat posture, lowering his guard and bringing his bokken forward.

I clicked my tongue realizing what just happened.

Shaking my head and tempering my condition once more, I got all readied again.

The swordsman smirked.

Which forced me to smirk, too, even though I was furious about it.

The gap that separated the two of us only got known to be at this point. But I didn't want to admit it–I didn't want to be weak–so I got back to it.

My arm was no longer numb. Or maybe it still was a bit numbed. I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I just wanted to kill that human. He irked me. I wanted to see the end of him.

–This time about, no more recklessly rushing around: let's just deal with that situation the right way.

I wasn't panting at all. From experience, that meant I was good in terms of mana.

Forcing my knee up, I brought back my battle stance and carefully got back to 'it.' To my win. Not to my loss.

From standing away, I slowly got to close in on him.

With each passing second, an additional careful step was to be taken.

Now, though, there were two outcomes–two questions.

The first one being, with each passing second–was each step taken bringing me closer to victory? The second one being–was each step rather bringing me closer to defeat?