talking: "talking"
thoughts: 'thoughts'
As we cut through the thick forest of Remenant. Our perspective shifts on our protagonist.
"Come then..."
Were the words he calmly spat out, towering over three decapitated corpses. Not breaking from his fierce glare and intensity.
Observing the rest thirteen of the group. His nose filled with the smell of blood, feeling excited and agitated. He clenched his sword even more.
The sheer intensity that was displayed halted everyone in their tracks.
Widened in horror. The group of perpetrators, initially filled with bravado and confidence, now found themselves paralyzed by a wave of fear.
Faces paled, and their hands, once gripping weapons with confidence, now trembled.
The sheer preasure and efficiency of Hank's attack shattered their previous arrogance, replacing it with deep, gnawing dread.
"Wh-what the hell is he?" one of them stammered, his voice quivering with terror.
"Three of us... just like that..." another whispered, eyes darting between the decapitated bodies and the imposing figure of their comrades murderer.
"He... what, huh?" another one tried to muster something out but ended up backing away and hurling his guts out.
Their leader, who had previously barked orders with authority, now struggled to maintain his composure. The confidence in his eyes was replaced with uncertainty, as he took a hesitant step back, his makeshift mace no longer held with the same firm grip.
He darted his eyes intensely at Hank. Shaking and sweating with confusion on what just transpired.
Breathing heavily with hesitation.
"I'll-we will kill you for what you did to our comrades, you psychopath. I promise you, I will put your head on a pike, you son of a bitch!" He reassured his grip on the mace. Getting back his battle ready composure. Practically yelling at the top of his lungs.
"What kind of Huntsman?" muttered out a voice in the group.
"He's not a Huntsman. They keep a moral code they swear and abide by. Thi-this man is just some nutjob running about in the woods. I coul-I couldn't detect any form of semblance when he moved like that," a woman from the group whispered, hoping to get some confirmation.
"Are you sure about this, Cedar?" one of them looked and asked their leader, seeking reassurance on what to do.
Cedar, the so-named leader of the group, swallowed a lump in his throat and slowly nodded, "Pump this bastard full with lead...drop him dead. Avenge our friends in arms. Attack!" Cedar shouted with restored confidence and bravery.
Foolish bravery.
Before Hank could get into a proper fighting stance, he was sprayed again with another round of bullets and arrows. This time laced with inescapable purpose.
Effortlessly dodging wherever his instinct guided him. Dashing and darting all over the battlefield, he closed in on one member wielding a sword, their blades clashing together with a sharp ring of metal.
Hank somersaulted forward, avoiding stray arrows while parrying a downward strike from another sword wielder. In that moment, he charged the force of his leg, back and kicked the attacker in the side of the knee, hoping to break it. The attacker however was only repelled by the strike but soon quickly regaining his stance.
'Weird, that kick should have blown his knee out,' Hank reassuring himself.
'Felt like kicking some type of armor. Flexible, but solid... and that glow. Maybe some type of forcefield coating the entire body?' taking a mental note of that, making sense on how his attack didn't have any effect.
As he pondered, more melee attackers closed in on him.
Backflipping out of the way of a trident attack, he came into the range of a man who tried swing him over the head with a sharpened shovel.
But Hank, with no effort, shoot his fist, denting and punching through the shovel's blade, connecting his fist right with the mans face, sending him flying.
Again, he felt that glowing forcefield blocking the full force of his punch.
One bandit rushed him with a spear, but Hank caught it under his armpit and, with a high axe kick, snapped the spear in half, along with breaking the assailant's arm that was tightly gripping on it.
In that very moment, he could catch sight of the forcefield breaking. And with the new found knowledge and opportunity, Hank swiftly sliced the now handicapped assailants neck wide open. Gushing crimson red all over his torso, before he could even let out a wail.
Grabbing hold of the other half of the spear that had the blade attached, Hank tried to stab one of the knife wielders closing in on him, but he was quickly intercepted by more ranged attacks.
With a relaxed sigh, he deflected a rifle round that was headed straight for his neck with the snapped spear.
He backflipped a couple of times and vaulted toward a tree. With one swift motion, he scaled the foliage and leaped over the battlefield, leaving a trail of leaves blowing across the battleground. His movements fluid and precise.
His eyes darted over, scanning the battleground, taking in all the information.
Twelve left.
Three bows, two assault rifles, one hunting rifle, one mace, four swords and one trident.
Easy.
Hank twisted and jolted in the air, supberbly avoiding everything that was shot at him.
While airborne, he intensely reeled the acquired spear back and like a sniper round, threw it at a man, piercing him through the shoulder area and pinning the poor victim to a nearby tree.
Landing with a barrel roll, he did an upward kick to a woman's jaw. Snatching her hunter's rifle in the process.
With a focused stance and aim, he shot at the two assault rifle users, effectively making them drop their firearms, while simultaneously avoiding a trident stab and a vertical sword slashes.
While fending off the two melee attackers that got within his range, Hank, with his alert instincts, booted one bandit away and quickly raised the rifle to his head, successfully blocking two arrows that pierced through the stock of the rifle. Stoping inches away from his forehead.
'Right, the archers.'
While the two opponents were momentarily stunned by the absurd reflexes of their target, Hank seized this advantage to knee the one sword user in the face. He then leaped over him, successfully breaking his nose in the process. With that out of the way, he took aim again and rapidly emptied the rifle's magazine on the two bow users within his shooting range.
The first couple of shots successfully penetrated their barriers, and the last two shots made direct hits, sealing the deal. Leaving bullet holes through their heads.
With the bow users eliminated, Hank turned his attention to the nearest bandit. He, again, swiftly kicked at the same bandit's knee, finally and successfully breaking it this time.
The bandit collapsed with a pained cry, incapacitated by the powerful blow, that shattered his aura and his knee.
With the bandit crying and clenching his broken leg, Hank dashed towards the woman that was just now getting up, the same one he had previously knocked out with a kick.
He positioned the stolen rifle with both hands and smashed the rifle's butt into her throat with brutal force, breaking her neck instantly. She crumpled and twitched on the ground, lifeless.
With that finished horrifying dissplay , Hank took a glance at his remaining targets.
"Three dead, one crippled, one broken nose. Seven more to kill. And then theres the final boss."
Seeing their comrades fall one by one, the remaining bandits realized that taking Hank on separately was a huge and dear mistake.
Now understanding the demented danger he posed, they decided to change tactics.
With silent nods and lip syncing among them, they coordinated their movements.
Brewing up a plan to charge at Hank all at once, hoping to overwhelm him with their combined force and supperior numbers.
All their eyes reassuringly stopped on their leader, waiting for a conformation and command.
Cedar clenched his teeth and slowly nodded.
All the remaining bandits gathering all their strenght and anger for their enemy. Without a second thought they charged at Hank.
Only Cedar standing behind, calculatedly observing the situation.
Hank braced himself for their changed formation, charging at him in unison, their combined force a formidable threat. His eyes narrowing between them with focus.
As they closed in, he reacted and moved with umatched speed and precision.
With a swift pivot, he sidestepped the first attacker, stabbing him through the ribs with his Dragon sword and dragging it out of the poor bastards side. He then quickly changed targets and swung his sword horizontally, slicing one attackers frontal lobe clean off. Brain goop spilling onto the forest floor.
Before his two victims could collapse on the floor, Hank blocked an unexpected trident thrust with his sword. At the same time, he stopped a downward slash by grabbing the wielder's wrist and twisting it, causing the warrior to drop his sword.
'What a lousy attempt,' Hank thought, almost feeling bad for his upcoming victims.
That assortment of skill left the trident user in awe.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Hank sidestepped, causing the pitchfork bandit to stumble and fall over on his dissarmed partner.
'Dumbasses.'
Continuing to block and parry the knife and sword attacks with ease, then secured an oppertunity to decapitate the one assailant with the shattered knee.
Hank was skillfully avoiding, parrying and redirecting blades. However, as he focused on the attackers at the front, a gnawing sensation prickled at the back of his skin. Tensing up.
With a swift motion, he spun backward and swung his sword with precision, seemingly slashing at the air for no apparent reason.
After the seemingly absurd act, he witnessed blood pouring out of thin air, revealing his ambush attacker. It was one of the bandits, seemingly reappearing in front of him. With a glance at her neck wound, she spewed blood and dropped dead.
'Invisibility, huh?'
With that revelation put aside for now, Hank swiftly slapped aside the trident wielder's weapon, disrupting his intended attack. Hank then dashed towards and skewered the man's stomach area with his blade. Leaving the bandit to bleed out on the cold grassy floor.
Then, with a monotone, unbothered voice spoke up, "My offer still stands. I'm positive the four of you left can still give me satisfying results. It would have been too much of a hassle if I had to interact with the other twelve anyways. You kno-"
But before Hank could finish his remark, he performed a split, evading the trejectory of large metal ball with thick needles sticking out. The whole sphere attached to a chain, lodged itself into the side of a tree.
That was close.
As his eyes followed the chain that was connected to the sorce, it was revealed that the one aiming that monsterous attack at him was none other than Cedar.
Seems like his makeshift mace can shoot out of its handle, same speed as a bullet too.
'Time to wrap this up.'
Hank skillfully avoided a knife thrown at him and a charging sword. Rolling out of the way of another sword swing, he deftly caught a thrown knife. With intuition, he hurled it seemingly into a random direction, only for it to find its mark, lodging itself into the skull of the knife thrower, who had attempted the aim in the first place.
With only two bandits remaining, one wielding a longsword and the other brandishing an empty assault rifle with a bayonet, Hank remained undaunted, feeling as if this was just a normal morning stroll.
Engaging the person with the longsword first, Hank expertly parried the blows and as the bandit lunged forward with a powerful thrust, Hank flipped over him, grabbing ahold of his head and twisting mid-air, snapping the attacker's neck.
However, just as he was abaut to turn sight to the other bandit, he sensed danger looming from behind.
Before he could react, a deafening crunching and ripping of wood filled the air as a massive tree was torn from it's stump and hurtled toward him with unimaginable speed. Caught off guard, Hank barely had time to evade the deadly projectile, rolling to the side as the tree crashed with tremendous force behind him. Causing destruction the the sorrounding environment.
While it only grazed his side, it still hurt like a bitch. Guess his body wasn't all that recovered.
As he speculated, it was Cedar who performed that too-close-for-comfort assault with his chained mace. Just ripping the timber at him without breaking a sweat.
Looks like the towering brute has insane strength to back his words and leadership up.
To think this guy was a sencond-grade pushover, while he easily tore a tree and was able to swing it with his unique weapon araund without a problem.
'Looks like I'm dealing with MAG agent-level strength with this guy,' Hank thought grimly.
'The tougher they are, the longer they bleed!' He psychotically muttered to himself, steeling his resolve for the impending confrontation. With a crimson shine in his eyes, he was all too excited.
Hank dashed toward Cedar, avoiding the last low bandit who tried to gun him down with his freshly reloaded assault rifle. Only for the poor guy to get his face kneed so hard it dented his skull in.
This time it was Ceder continuing the attack. Resolve and anger in his face. Again he activated his personal weapon.
Yet our protagonist avoided another shoot from the high pressurised mace. And again evaded another tree that was pulled towards him full force, by jumping over it.
Only the boss left, Hank was so close to getting his satisfying kill count. After all, while the 16 vs 1 battle was an absolute joke, it had still been a nice fix for him ever since he arrived here.
Dementedly grinning behind his black mask, the metallic gleam of his jaw added an eerie touch to his expression. Just by closing in closer and closer on Cedar. His senses honed, ready to end this confrontation once and for all.
Cedar realised that Hank was going for a full on charge, he was going for the final confrontation.
He shoot his mace again, hurling another tree log at Hank.
This time our protagonist with unobthered motion jumped forward and cut the tree in half like a chainsaw.
Again the stich faced leader of the bandits was getting desperate, he knew it will be a problem if the bug eyed psycho gets too close to him.
He had to keep going, finish him, do this for his fallen comrades.
He repeated the tree throw once again, swinging the large torn tree all around the forest battlefield, desperate to hit his target.
"There, I've got you!" Cedar anticipated triumphantly to himself. Grinning and all.
He reeled his chain back, with the thick tree trunk stuck to it, back towards himself.
Finally, his action proved successful when it landed a direct hit on Hank.
But all that glee turned into confusion and shock when he saw Hank propell himself using the sturdy chain and weave over the attack. Landing on it with a crouch, he dashed forward on the still airborne tree.
Leaping off it while holding his katana like you would a throwing spear.
Hank launched his Dragon sword at Cedar.
"Wha is he?!"
The bandit leader cursing to himself, rolled out of the way, narrowly dodging the launched katana that was directly aimed for his throat.
'Shit! Shit! The pressure of that throw was monstrous. He might as well have hit me. I feel my whole throat hurting,' Cedar screamed in his mind, breaking into a sweat.
Despite that, he still pressed on. He would make sure to skin this mentally deprived patient alive. He was sure this guy might have escaped from some ward, there's no way this person was human. By chance a Faunus.
This bastard didn't even use his aura at any point, and he never torn his eyes off him. No one did, he's sure of it.
Cedar retraced the spheere and engaged another mace shot directly at Hank.
But our protagonist just deflected it with his forearm, ignoring the sheer pressure of the metal spiked ball that was launched at him.
Hank shoot himself at Cedar, while the bandit leader, desperate as hell, started swinging his makeshift mace in all directions, just to end him.
Hank dodged and backed away from every swing, avoiding them without any effort at all. Cedars movement and attacks getting predictable.
"You bastard! You're messing with me aren't you? You're so demented you can't even use your aura properly. Stop fucking with me!" Cedar yelled with all his might.
Hank staying quiet with the engagement.
"If you think you're so confident, why even ask for help in the first place? You trying to fuck with us? Think you can snag a quick buck?"
Then Cedar retracted his next words.
"You know... w- we- we are in cahoots with the Branwen tribe. We are one of thier biggest contractors to get information from the kingdom. So if you fuck with us, it's basically like ticking off one of their extended familial branches."
Cedar heavily took a breath, "Your ass is lights out once they find out what you did. What you did to us! Pissed on them."
Cedar was shakingly grinning and smiling, although it was a coping mechanism. He was sure the Branwen tribe would hunt this guy down like a dog. It was low, but he hoped his gangs murderer would reconsider once he heard that he is partnered with the infamous violent tribe in all of Remnant.
He knew leeching off the fear of another tribe of bandits was dishonorable, especially this one, where he will definitely pay dearly for being weak.
But he only cared about survival at this point, to avenge his god forsaken companions.
Besides any tough guy and psycho would think twice before ticking off that particular family of bandits, and this red-goggled wretch should be no exception.
But Hank seemed to ignore the desperate, low-blow looter. He blocked the force of another mace strike with his bare forearms and even kicked away another one with a high kick.
However, Hank did not anticipate that the bandit leader would swiftly pull out a small combat knife, swinging it at him with his aura charged strenght. His arm glowing and all.
Although Cedar missed, it threw Hank off guard enough for Cedar to secure an unprecedented perfect blow that would pummel Hank's whole body to the ground.
Cedar executed a downward swing attack with his mace. His arm shined with the mystical and mysterious energy, holding enough force to level a small house.
"There! die you motherfuck-"
Not even finishing his profanity, the bandit's advanced aura shattered completely with the feeling of a sharp and painful sensation across his back, as if burning, molten metal were being poured over it.
Cedar yelled his lungs out, turning his bulking body around in pain and despair.
His eyes bowling out.
There he was. Hank. Just standing there, with his recovered Dragon sword drenched in the brute's blood.
'What kind of speed? Did he teleport? I swear he should have been pummeled into paste. I'm sure of it!' Cedar reassuring to himself, full of fear and confusion.
'Like a god damn blur!' He was racing his thoughts, practically screaming on the inside.
But then he heard a raspy and metallic voice, pouring with malevolent intent and power. His whole body raised up at the sound.
"Aura. That's what you call it. That's that force, that all of you were using. The layer of coat that protected your bodies from lethal strikes." Hank muttered, either to himself or the terrified bandit, it didn't matter.
"Well, it tried to prevent them atleast... and semblance. Some type of ability, I guess? That's how you use that unparalleled strength of yours, and that's how that woman could turn invisible. Maybe you folk are mutants?" He was swinging his sword back and forth, trying to get the blood off it in the process.
Unbothered, he continued, "Aura and semblance... those are two terminologies, two words that I never heard of before... guess that's almost enough for this"
Hank's crimson-tinted goggles were practically glowing at that point. Burning themselves into Cedar.
Cedar, all confused, engaged with him. "Wha- the fu- you, what are you rambling about, motherfucker?!"
"Guess you weren't lying when you said you hit your head, huh?" Cedar said with a long face, his stitches almost popping out. Sweat pouring down his face.
Cedar prepared another swing, this time sure it would hit, his eyes glowing in the process as he charged all his aura reserves into his striking arm.
Hank, with a click of his tongue, said, "Your name. Cedar, was it? Kind of stupid but ironic..."
"Oh, you mocking shit stain!"
Cedar struck, shooting his advanced mace at Hank once more.
The attack caught him off guard this time. This strike had insane strength behind it. Hank did not anticipate the sheer preasure of the blow. It could have done some serious damage to him if he hadn't quickly blocked it with his Dragon sword, even needing to support his guard with his other hand.
'Shit, my shoulder's gonna pop.'
What insane force...
But this was enough. This was getting on his nerves.
As much as he hated to close his eyes and sleep, he had to admit he needed some rest, some place to repose ever since he arrived here.
This weird and peculiar place.
He inhaled, tensing up his muscles.
Starting of, he broke his guard using his own force and launched the giant spiked ball into the sky, cutting the connected chain in the process.
Desperate and terrified, Cedar, with no options left, shot both his hands at Hank's neck, achieving to break it.
But Hank, kicked him in the gut and delivered a precise seven piece combo to Cedars gut and torso, pushing him back.
At that very moment, Hank reached towards the end of the chain he had cut off. Using the momentum and his own raw strength, he swung Cedars mace back at him, slamming the morning star-like weapon into his head and decimating the lone bandit's face.
Teeth, skull fragments, and brain matter all poured and scattered over the already bloodied and corpse-filled battlefield.
Leaving the grass an even sicker red than it already was.
Hank sheathed his sword.
But not before getting all that filthy marauder blood off his precious belonging.
With a few puffs of his breath, he lingered his eyes over the battleground, then shifted his now dull black eyes toward Cedar.
His body was collapsed over. The only thing left of his head was the lower jaw with some teeth still attached and his tongue sticking out, alongside his esophagus gouged out.
'So much for playing it nicely,' Hank thought to himself, his eyes scanning every individual that was now a lifeless body on the forest floor.
*sigh*
As much as he craved a battle to relieve himself of the frustrating circumstances he was stuck in, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was kind off dissapointed.
The fight did not even last five minutes max.
'At least this confirms one of my theories,' More likely this than the stupid time travel bs he thought of.
With the battle over and all his opponents maimed, he could finally catch a little breather.
But the only thing that was ringing through his mind right now was absurd.
"What a boring fight..."
TO BE CONTINUED...