A/N:
Hello everyone! I'm still new at writing, so your patience and support mean a lot. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and any comment or feedback is always welcome.
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It was a tangible thing, a physical weight that descended upon the cavernous jungle of the 15th floor. The chittering of unseen creatures ceased, smothered by the sheer, suffocating presence of the man who stood before him.
Ottar, the Boar. The King. Level 7.
"Cortana," the Spartan's voice was a flat line in their private comm channel. "Full combat analysis. Record everything."
"Already on it, Chief," her voice was tight, stripped of its usual wit. "His raw physical output is a massive variable. Be careful. This isn't a monster. This is a champion."
Ottar took a single step, the ground groaning under his weight. He didn't charge. He simply swung his sword. It was a movement that defied physics, a blur of motion that ended in a sound like a thunderclap as the colossal blade bisected the ten-ton carcass of the Infant Dragon. A shockwave of pure kinetic energy erupted from the impact, a visible wave of distortion that tore the ground open as it raced towards the Spartan.
[WARNING: INCOMING KINETIC FORCE DETECTED].
The Spartan didn't brace. He acted. Firing his rear thrusters for a microsecond, he slid backward, mitigating the worst of the impact. The shockwave slammed into his Mjolnir armor, and his energy shields flared violently, whining in protest as they dropped to 40% in a single hit. The sheer force was staggering, but he held his ground, his magnetic boots anchoring him to the stone.
Ottar's stoic expression was unchanged. This was his opening statement.
The Spartan's reply was to un-sling his MA40 and squeeze the trigger. The roar of the rifle filled the cavern as a stream of armor-piercing rounds hammered into Ottar's chest. They sparked, flattened, and fell uselessly to the floor.
"Ineffective," Cortana stated.
With a motion of contemptuous dismissal, the Spartan dropped the now-useless rifle, letting it fall to the ground. He drew his MK50 Sidekick with his right hand and his high-carbon steel combat knife with his left. If projectile weapons were insufficient, he would have to close the distance. This was his declaration: I accept your challenge.
A flicker of interest appeared in Ottar's eyes. He began to walk forward, each step a heavy, deliberate thud. The Spartan met him, not with a direct charge, but by angling into the jungle of petrified trees.
Ottar followed, not bothering to weave through the obstacles. He crashed through them, shattering the ancient, stone-like wood into splinters with the force of his passage. The Spartan used this predictability to his advantage. As Ottar smashed through a particularly thick tree, the Spartan was already there on the other side.
He didn't fire his pistol. He struck. His Mjolnir-powered fist, a half-ton of force moving at blurring speed, slammed into Ottar's jaw. The sound was a thunderclap, a brutal CRACK of bone on metal. For any other being in existence, it would have been a decapitating blow.
Ottar was driven back a single, staggering step. He raised a hand to his jaw, his eyes wide with genuine shock. He had felt that. He had actually felt that. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He retaliated with a swing of his greatsword, a horizontal arc meant to cleave the Spartan in two. But the Spartan was already gone, his thrusters firing as he launched himself backward, putting distance between them. He landed, raised his Sidekick, and fired.
CRACK. CRACK.
Two 12.7x40mm rounds slammed into Ottar's chest, turning the minor welts from before into bleeding wounds. Enraged, the Boar let out his first sound: a guttural, bestial roar. He charged, his speed now a terrifying blur, a mountain of flesh moving with the velocity of a freight train.
The Spartan didn't retreat. He stood his ground, and with a grunt of titanic effort that set the servos in his armor screaming, he ripped a massive, pillar-like petrified tree clean from the ground. It was a weapon weighing several tons, a makeshift club that no mortal could ever hope to lift.
He swung it to meet Ottar's charge.
The impact was cataclysmic. Wood, stone, and steel met in an explosion of force. The petrified tree, a weapon that could have pulverized a small building, shattered into a million pieces against Ottar's blade. The force of the impact, however, was enough to halt the King's charge, sending him skidding back several feet.
The Spartan was blown backward by the backlash, his armor groaning, but he used his thrusters to land gracefully. The air was now filled with dust and the electric tang of ozone. The test of strength was clear: Ottar's power was absolute, but the Spartan's strength was enough to meet it, to force a confrontation.
"You've made him mad, Chief," Cortana murmured as Ottar rose to his full height, his eyes now burning with a warrior's fury.
The Spartan primed a plasma grenade. As Ottar charged again, he threw the glowing blue orb. Ottar, having seen what it did to the Infant Dragon, recognized the threat and tried to swat it away with the flat of his blade. But the grenade's tracking system was relentless. It curved in mid-air and stuck fast to his chest plate with a sizzle.
The detonation was a blinding flash of blue-white light and a wave of incinerating heat. Ottar roared in agony, a sound of pure pain and rage, as the superheated plasma melted through his armor and ate into his flesh, leaving a grievous, glowing wound on his chest.
This was the true game-changer. Ottar was seriously wounded, his stoicism shattered and replaced by a mask of pure, primal fury. The pressure he exuded intensified tenfold. He was no longer testing him. He was trying to kill him.
"Beast Rush!" he bellowed, his voice a tidal wave of sound.
He lowered his stance, and his entire body began to glow with a faint, oppressive red aura. He shot forward, no longer a running man but a living missile, his greatsword held forward like a giant's lance. The ground cracked in his wake.
[WARNING: ENERGY SIGNATURE DETECTED. POWER OUTPUT IS OFF THE SCALE. EVASION IS NOT POSSIBLE.]
The Spartan's mind processed the data. This was an ultimate attack, a convergence of all of Ottar's Level 7 power into a single, unstoppable strike. He couldn't dodge it. His armor couldn't withstand it. A tactical withdrawal was no longer an option. There was only one response.
Meet force with force.
As Ottar closed the distance, a new notification flashed, unbidden, across the Spartan's HUD. It was a color he had never seen before: a brilliant, shimmering gold.
[COMBAT VIRTUE REWARD: Unyielding Resolve]
[You have faced an opponent of absolute power and refused to retreat.]
[SYSTEM OVERRIDE: Activating Emergency Protocol.]
[SCHEMATIC [Energy Shielding (Overshield)] TEMPORARILY GRANTED. EXECUTING...]
A wave of golden, hexagonal light washed over the Spartan's Mjolnir armor. It was a second skin of pure, concentrated energy, humming with unimaginable power. His own strength, his very resolve, had been recognized and amplified by the system.
He dropped his pistol, planted his feet, and met the charge.
Ottar's glowing red sword, the unstoppable force of this world, crashed into the Spartan's golden Overshield, its immovable object.
The impact was silent for a single, infinite moment.
Then, the world ended.
A hemispherical explosion of red and gold energy erupted outwards from the point of impact, vaporizing everything in a fifty-meter radius. The remaining petrified trees turned to dust. The ground melted. The very air was ionized in a deafening, reality-tearing roar.
The two figures at the center of the blast were thrown violently apart.
The Spartan was hurled backward, tumbling through the air before crashing into the cavern wall with enough force to shatter it. His Overshield was gone, shattered into a billion particles of light. His primary shields were offline. His armor was battered, glowing red-hot in places, but it was intact. He was not broken.
Ottar was thrown back with equal force, his charge completely neutralized. He landed on his feet, carving deep furrows in the stone, the red aura around him extinguished. The plasma wound on his chest, aggravated by the sheer exertion, hissed and steamed. He was breathing heavily, his knuckles white on the hilt of his sword.
They stood in the center of a smoking, newly-formed crater, fifty meters apart. Both were wounded. Both had expended their ultimate trump card. Neither could press the advantage.
The silence returned, heavier than before.
Ottar stared at the Spartan, his rage now replaced with a look of disbelief and something else… a profound, undeniable respect. He had unleashed the full might of his Falna, the power that made him King, and this strange, colorless warrior had met it head-on and was still standing. The test was over. He had his answer.
He gave a single, curt nod. A gesture between warriors. Then, without another sound, he turned and vanished back into the oppressive gloom of the Dungeon, leaving only the sound of his fading footsteps.
[NEW MISSION COMPLETE]
[MISSION: Survive an encounter with an Alpha-Level opponent]
[DESCRIPTION: You were tested by the pinnacle of this world's power and forced a stalemate.]
[REWARD: +50,000 System Points, System Function [Armory/Store] Unlocked, New Schematic available for unlock: [Energy Shielding (Overshield)].]
Spartan-001 stood alone in the devastation, his armor venting steam. He was battered, his systems were in the red, but he was victorious.
It was a draw. A perfect, brutal stalemate. And in the silent, broken cavern, a new balance of power had just been violently established.
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A/N:
Thank you for reaching the end of this chapter — your support really motivates me to continue.
I'm still an inexperienced writer, and English is not my native language, so any feedback or corrections are always welcome (as long as it's respectful).
If you liked the chapter, please consider leaving a comment, review, or Power Stone. Every bit of support helps this story grow.