Chapter 80: Head Toss.exe
As the battle continued, both Leo and Rook rapidly adapted to the Dullahan’s fighting style and behavior. They moved as one, a seamless and terrifying blur of coordinated strikes. Leo constantly targeted the Dullahan’s blind spots. Instead of fully committing to an attack, he would throw feints that made it look like he wasn’t holding back, forcing the Dullahan to turn and address him each time. This gave Rook the opportunity to test different angles of attack.
Though the Dullahan overpowered them in sheer strength, their synchronized speed and terrifying adaptability allowed them to meticulously study and analyze the knight commander. Their movements were a dance of death, each a counterpoint to the other. Leo’s agile, disruptive maneuvers created openings, and Rook’s precise, direct assaults exploited them.
They were no longer two separate fighters, but a single, thinking entity, anticipating the Dullahan’s every parry and step, exploiting every micro-second of hesitation and every shift of its weight. The air crackled with the silent language of their combat, a brutal yet elegant dialogue between two masters of a new, unforeseen style of battle.
The Dullahan gritted its teeth, feeling the relentless pressure. It had fought against legions, dragons, and legendary warriors, but never had it faced such a peculiar, symbiotic style. These two opponents were constantly exploiting its weaknesses, their attacks flowing like water around a stone. Its mind raced, a chilling question forming: Are they playing with me? It began to catch on to their strategy, but it was too late. Leo and Rook were dissecting his every move, their terrifying analytical skills absorbing his fighting techniques. He had been so focused on teaching them a lesson that he had become the lesson himself, a textbook of vulnerability for them to study.
The Dullahan executed a wide, horizontal slash, a classic feint and counter-move it had perfected over a lifetime of combat. Rook crouched and dodged with the instinct of a seasoned warrior, already preparing his sword for an upward thrust. At the same time, Leo leaned back and met the blade with an upward kick to its flat side, not with enough force to damage the sword, but with enough to disrupt its trajectory and timing. The impact sent the Dullahan’s arm flying upwards, a flicker of its internal mechanisms exposed for a fraction of a second. Rook, anticipating this precise opening, didn’t wait. His sword shot forward at a terrifying speed, aiming directly for the Dullahan’s core.
The Dullahan didn’t panic. He flung his floating skull into Rook’s path. The head spun like a thrown mace. It struck Rook’s side and spun him off balance. The head now heading towards Leo, but Leo had timed it. He slammed a roundhouse into the skull’s path and knocked it wide. The head clattered across the ground and skidded away.
Rook recovered, lunged, and slashed hard. The blade nicked the Dullahan’s breastplate and sent sparks skittering. For a second, the knight staggered. He then threw a brutal counter, a downward chop of dark mana so thick it smoked the air. Rook parried at an angle, the black energy burning across the edge of his blade. He grunted, enduring the pressure and shock that shivered up his arms.
The knight’s tactics changed. He began to use the floating head as a second weapon—ricocheting it from one impact to another, like a pinball machine, angling it so the skull forced them into defensive postures. The head exploded against the Dullahan’s sword, bounced, and screamed towards Leo. But Leo, already anticipating this exact move, performed a swift roundhouse kick, targeting the head’s predicted path with accuracy.
The Dullahan was genuinely surprised, a flash of astonishment in its empty eyes. How did they... It realized its mistake.
He had been showing off, trying to impress them with his advanced and unique sword style. In reality, they had been learning from him, absorbing every motion, every parry, every subtle shift of weight. I see, it thought with a grim smile. They were learning and adapting to my fighting style. They are a student’s nightmare and a teacher’s pride.
His mind reeled back to a time when he had been the Great Knight Commander, a revered figure at the Scallia Knight Academy. He remembered teaching clumsy squires how to hold a sword, watching them graduate as proud, if unrefined, knights. How many years has it been since I taught squires at the academy? A sigh, a dry, rattling sound, escaped from its chest. These two aren’t my students, but they are monsters in their own rights. They don’t follow the rules; they write new ones on the battlefield, forging a new, terrifying martial art out of my own techniques.
With Rook’s sword inches from his chest and Leo’s kick connecting with his head, as his head sent flying away. The Dullahan simply leaped away. Leo however was already anticipating the retreat, the very same one it used to escape a locked battle. He then sprinted towards the Dullahan and used Rook’s back as a stepping stone.
He launched himself into the air and performed a jumping back kick. The Dullahan, who had not expected this final act of defiance, was caught completely off guard, the ghostly image of a white-suited butler sailing through the air. Leo’s kick hit the Dullahan’s chest, a jarring impact that reverberated through its armored body, sending it flying backward, tumbling across the ground.
Rook stood up on his feet and complained calmly. "We almost had him there."
"The next one, wouldn’t be called an almost." Leo replied calmly, his posture already straight and ready for the next move. "I’ve been tracking his head, studying how it behaves with every attack. I figured out it would speed up each time our attacks locked him down."
"So why don’t we just grab his head and throw it toward the Corpse King?" Rook asked.
Leo scoffed. "Not a bad idea. It would eliminate the head’s variable from our attacks."
The Dullahan, recovering and rising to its feet, said to them, "Not a bad move. But I feel like if I continue with the same tactic, I’ll eventually lose. How about this?" he asked, taking a deep, rattling breath. His dark mana, now even thicker, swirled around him like a raging storm. "Consider this a graduation ceremony. Not a single opponent has ever forced the Sword Master of Scallia to use this technique."
He raised his sword, and all the dark mana around him compressed into the blade, illuminating it with a menacing pinkish hue. The air grew heavy and charged with a suffocating power, and the ground around the Dullahan began to crack under the immense pressure.
Rook and Leo’s senses screamed in alarm. "Don’t get hit by that," Rook warned.
"I know, I know," Leo replied, both of them taking a wide stance like dodgeball players.
The Dullahan’s head returned to his shoulders. "I’m quite surprised," he said, the voice now fuller, more resonant. "Not everyone is as brave as you two. Usually, opponents run away at the sight of a condensed sword aura."
Rook whispered to Leo, "Notice how his head returned to his main body?"
"Yeah," Leo replied, "the energy consumption must be so great it would drain him dry, eliminating the use of his head. Be absolutely careful not to get hit."
"I already know that," Rook said. "Prepare for a counter-attack as soon as his attack misses. That’s our window." Leo nodded.
The Dullahan smiled, a look of profound respect in its eyes. "I really wish you were my students, but no one gets to tell the tale after this."
He screamed, "Moon Tide!" and slashed his sword upwards. The energy left his sword in a massive, pink crescent, a swirling vortex of destructive force that tore through the ground, scorching the earth and vaporizing any stray bones in its path. The massive energy wave hurtled toward Leo and Rook, its force so great it made the air around it shimmer.
Their eyes widened. Who could dodge that? they thought. Dodging was hopeless. They understood now why the technique drained the Dullahan of so much dark mana; it was an absolute attack, a final, unblockable testament to his skill. As they awaited the inevitable, both of them thought their last words.
"I’m sorry we failed, my lord," they both muttered.
Just then, a saving grace appeared in front of them. A throne, radiating with pure, absolute dark mana, materialized out of thin air. It was a masterpiece of necrotic artistry, black obsidian fused with pulsating purple liquid that dripped. As the energy met the throne, the energy wave split apart as it hit the throne, harmlessly dissipating on either side, as if it had hit an invisible, impenetrable shield. Both Leo and Rook’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
Even the Dullahan, who was now kneeling on one knee, utterly drained by the attack, was utterly stunned. Why? he asked himself in confusion. Why is Lord Thanatos’s throne here? How... how is this possible? The Dullahan’s head snapped up as a realization dawned on him. He had made a mistake. These undead weren’t the enemies; maybe they were the personal army of my lord, Thanatos.
"Please forgive me, Lord Thanatos," he muttered, despair etched on his face. Leo and Rook were still reeling from the fact that they survived and trying to comprehend what the throne was for. Suddenly, a hand appeared on their shoulders from behind them.