Chapter 102: Chapter 101 : Debut Match (Part 2)

‘Impressive, monstrous actually. You can definitely walk the walk,’ Garret thought as he continued directing his forces.

Over the last few seconds, his opinion of Ralf had skyrocketed. The image he held of Ralf, that of an arrogant youth was shattered and replaced by one of a highly skilled expert. Where once anger, admiration now swirled in his gaze. Still, emotional change aside, the middle-aged soldier kept his mind focused on victory. And at this moment, he treated it as an inevitability.

‘You’ve made it far further than I thought was possible…but it’s only a matter of time.’

Garrett was confident. And his confidence wasn’t without reason. He and his fellow soldiers had come prepared. After studying the qualifying footage, they formulated several tactics and strategies. They had two ‘surefire’ strategies.

Ralf was a Rank 3. This fact was something that one could easily forget while watching him blitz and knock around those higher ranked them him. But while one could forget, this was still a fact.

Ralf’s abnormal power and speed were products of him allocating nearly all his Psi into each action he took. The incredible speed his Psi moved at allowed him to perform them one after the other in such quick succession that his actions seemed seamless.

Still, while it appeared seamless, there were still minute gaps. And it was these gaps that Garret wanted to exploit. While his active defence was good, Ralf’s passive defence was very weak. At the point of attack or when in motion, he was practically naked as far as defence went. It was due to this fact that the group went with their current formation, among other considerations.

If Ralf was the fish they wanted to catch, the five fighters making up the pentagon would be the bait, the ten fighters making up the decagon would be the fishermen, and the three fighters making up the triangle would be the spearfishermen.

The five fighters’ job wasn’t to deliver the match-winning blow but rather to open up opportunities for their fellow fighters to strike. The fishermen cast out lines in the form of projectiles. These projectiles weren’t powerful. Their speed and power were calibrated to be at a level where they didn’t bother the armoured five that would be constantly peppered by them, but lethal enough that they’d draw blood from Ralf if hit. The spearfishermen took a more lethal and direct approach. Their presence was also meant to instil psychological pressure on Ralf.

Garrett and the others knew Ralf was holding back, but to them, his evasive stance had actually worked in his favour. They were sure that once Ralf began attacking in earnest, he’d quickly be defeated.

Watching the footage, it was clear, that as powerful as his blows were, it would take several concentrated hits to break through anyone’s Psi defences. While this was easy in a one-on-one match, they believed that it was impossible in this situation.

This notion gave rise to the second surefire strategy, simply draining him. With eighteen people present, outlasting him seemed like a no-brainer.

Though…

‘It won’t come to that,’ Garrett thought, not a shadow of doubt in his heart. ‘It’s impossible to juggle so many things for much longer. Eventually, he’ll slip up. Any time now.’

A similar train of thought was circulating in the audience’s minds. They watched in a mesmerised trance. Save for the sounds of battle, the venue was dead quiet. The crowd sat on the edge of their seats, waiting for the moment when the tower of cards toppled down. They too believed that Ralf’s performance was unsustainable. However, as time passed, this notion faded and the opposite replaced it.

The fighters had a similar reckoning, however, unlike the crowd which turned jubilant at it, their hearts plunged into the waters of despair. Each passing second and failed tactic only saw it sink further down. By now, they were fully drenched.

‘This is just…absurd,’ a pale-faced Garrett commented internally as he grappled with the reality of the last forty seconds.

Changing formations, switching out fighters, using the recently prepared tactics as well as those learned from the White Hawk; no matter what they threw at him, Ralf remained no closer to defeat. In fact, compared to the start, he was even further.

As time passed, he seemed to get even more comfortable in the ring, as if shaking off some rust. And as he did, this rust seemed to latch onto the surrounding fighters.

The confidence they went in with was eaten away at, and their repeated failures unbalanced their minds. Frustration and impatience had surged, leading to more and more errors being made, which only made Ralf’s job easier, which then looped back around to form a destructive spiral.

‘Damn it!’

Garrett grit his teeth. ‘He hasn’t even begun attacking and things are already falling apart.’

His enhanced eyes followed the blur that was Ralf. In the air, he was once again doing some flipping motion. A Psi palm closed in, and with a loud bang, his figure was slapped down.

Seeing this, Garrett showed no reaction as, as he expected, Ralf recovered in but a moment.

With so many attacks thrown his way, Ralf didn’t have the luxury of just dodging and redirecting. Even with all his unorthodox twists and flips, there were some blows he had to take.

Thankfully, he was very good at it. Not only could he precisely calculate the force behind other’s attacks, but he also used said force for his own ends. Getting knocked around wasn’t aesthetically pleasing, but Ralf’s sublime manipulation of both his and his opponents’ force was a treat to watch. At least, this was the case for the audience.

For his opponents, it was a different story.

‘What a monster.’

Thinking this, Garrett’s mind and barrel began to wander. ‘Ah!’ Catching himself in the act, the soldier’s jaw clenched. ‘Damn it! I’m no different. We have to focus up. This match is far from over.’

Garret’s Psi went wild as he unleashed signal after signal; his eyes shone in a renewed determination.

Ralf was beset with tactic after tactic. The fighters didn’t hold back, throwing everything they had at him. But just like before, Ralf always remained a few steps ahead.

‘That didn’t work, then how about this!’

Receiving Garrett’s signal, the soldiers moved in compliance.

Sandy Bullet.

While the eight at the centre kept Ralf busy, those in the second layer (the rest of the fighters) carried out their assigned task. Lessening their rate of fire, they dug into the nearby dirt with their telekinesis. Then, grabbing hold of a large portion of it, they then collectively flung it towards the centre, resulting in a dirt cloud that smothered Ralf and the other fighters.

Following this creation, the gunslingers resumed their firing, but unlike other times, they also used real guns. In preparation, those at the centre thickened their defences.

Bang! Swish! Bang! Swish!…

Seeing the cloud being torn through by projectiles, Garret grew optimistic, but seconds later, this feeling would vanish completely.

‘But how? There’s no way…’

Once the cloud scattered, Ralf was as unscathed as before. Garret was baffled by the outcome.

The dirt cloud was meant to obscure his vision and disrupt his Psi Scan. As unbelievable as it was, Ralf was clearly keeping track of everything around him. Since it was all Psi based, Garret believed that the non-Psi projectile would be able to slip under his radar, especially when his Psi Scan was hindered. However, reality proved different. Ralf’s abilities were more monstrous than he expected.

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On the receiving end, Ralf had it easy. While he wasn’t affected much, the other soldiers inside the cloud were. Their combat prowess fell drastically, making the tactic of using them as shields even easier than usual.

‘Even that didn’t work….shit, then let’s go for it.’

With the timer ticking away and nothing to lose, Garret initiated the last of their arranged tactics.

Swoosh!

The close-ranged fighters suddenly darted back before joining up with the others to form a large circle. Then, in unison, all eighteen unleashed a barrage of projectiles towards the centre.

*Bang* *Swish* Bang* *Swish*...

Racing Ralf’s way, they formed an inescapable net. There was simply no room to dodge. Ralf remained cool faced. Kicking off the ground, he leapt skyward with a wicked rotation. Immediately after, he scrunched up his body until he was in a foetal position. As he did, a Psi sphere with a hard and bumpy exterior formed around his figure.

*Crack* *Crack* *Crack*…

Dozens of projectiles crashed into Turtle’s Sphere on its way up, however, the rotation, toughness and design managed to weather the shower.

*Shatter*

Before the sphere could complete another rotation, Ralf, like a newborn hatchling came bursting out.

*Tap*

With a splash of Psi, Ralf’s momentum was shaved off enough for his legs to tank the landing.

‘An interesting perspective,’ Ralf couldn’t help but think as he was upside down, standing on the stone ceiling.

Telekinesis holding him in place while preventing a Super Saiyan transformation, he looked towards his mom’s booth and sent a wink. Ralf smiled as he received a wink in return then cast his gaze up - or rather down and met the incredulous faces of the fighters.

‘I thought that would be the first tactic they’d use, better late than never I suppose. Turtle’s Sphere worked out well. Now,’ Ralf’s eyes narrowed, ‘a minute has passed.’

Observing Ralf’s aura shift, those below had their hearts quake, for they knew what time it was. His next action confirmed it as he pulled out his pistol. ‘Oooo’s and ‘aah’s sounded from the crowd at the sight as excitement began bubbling anew.

Ralf’s unnerving gaze swept over the sandy ring and quickly arrived at the gate he entered through.

‘In all that chaos, none of them managed to be triggered, how lucky.’ Ralf reactivated his sense of smell. Sniffing, he doubled checked which barrel needed to be targeted. ‘Like all things, let’s start this with a bang.’ Following the thought, Ralf took aim and squeezed.

Bang! Bang!…

His sharp motion startled the fighters who inadvertently raised their defences. But upon realising that the pistol wasn’t aimed at any of them, confusion set in, but a moment later, understanding visited the fighters and brought with it a great panic.

*BOOM*

Hitting the hidden mechanism on his third shot, a flame was lit and the liquid ignited explosively. The first barrel’s fiery blaze triggered the rest, resulting in an even greater explosion.

Dirt, flames, wooden shards and most noteworthy, Ralf’s swords, were expelled out at devastating speeds. Those closest to it, who hadn’t managed to react in time were caught up in the blast and two unfortunate souls ended up instantly losing their ‘lives’ to it.

Rocked by the explosion, the fighters’ blanked. Ralf didn’t let this go by without punishment.

Spotting a sword in flight, he angled himself accordingly before kicking off the ceiling.

Swoosh!

Darting down, he grabbed the sword with his right hand. Then, with a spin, he descended feet-first like a meteor.

‘Ah-’

Trafalga, who had just rushed to safety from the explosion, had his heart sink as he registered Ralf up above. With no time to dodge, he desperately shored up his defences.

Boom!

Sand exploded out at the two’s collision. Ralf, standing on Trafalga’s back, showed a glimmer of admiration at the other’s speedy reaction. The transmigrator didn’t overstay his welcome - nor could he.

His attack hadn’t gone unnoticed after all; the rest of the fighters snapped themselves into action. Not wanting him to get off another attack, they moved with desperate speed.

Ralf moved at once. Lingering for but a moment, he used his opponent’s back as a jumping platform and leapt up, avoiding the barrage of projectiles while further damaging Trafalga’s Psi armour.

Relief visited the fighters as they prevented a second strike, but this relief was short-lived as…

Swoosh!

Wound up and thrown, the sword descended like a lightning bolt, striking the downed fighter in a flash. With his armour in shambles, the blade’s tip punctured through with ease.

Seeing the fighter become red in his vision, Ralf’s lips curled up. Left hand plucking another sword from the air, his eyes flashed with a playful but dangerous light.

‘Aha, three down, fifteen more to go.’

With this intention in mind, he moved.

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