Chapter 80: Without a Sword
The two men stepped out from between the trees.
Kyle tightened his grip on his sword. His eyes moved between them, calculating. The tall one had a sword. The stocky one had no visible weapon.
`No weapons on the second one... That doesn’t mean he’s unarmed.`
He remembered what Lilian had taught him. Some classes didn’t need weapons. Some classes were weapons.
He took a half-step back, positioning himself between the strangers and the children.
Virgo had stopped pulling the rope. Her hands were frozen on the handle of the bucket. Her yellow eyes were wide, but she didn’t scream.
Leo was behind Kyle. He couldn’t see the boy’s face, but he heard his breathing. Fast. Scared.
"Kids," Kyle said quietly. "Don’t move."
The tall man looked at Kyle, then at the children behind him. His eyes were calm. Too calm.
"Who are you?" he asked. "Are you helping that traitor?"
Kyle didn’t answer.
"Step aside," the tall man continued. "We’re not here for you."
"And the children?" Kyle asked.
The tall one tilted his head. "They will come with us."
"Like hell they will."
The stocky one cracked his neck. "I have always told you that words are of no use."
"Worth a try."
Kyle felt Virgo shift behind him. Her small hand touched his back.
"Kyle," she whispered. "I can run. I can get Mother—"
"No."
His voice was sharp. Final.
"But if I’m fast—"
"Stay behind me. Both of you."
Virgo’s breath hitched. She didn’t understand.
Kyle’s mind was already racing ahead.
`If she runs now, what if someone’s hiding in the trees? They would grab her before she got ten feet.`
He narrowed his eyes.
`Or what if one of these two is faster than me? I turn around to cover her, and he’s already on top of her before I can do anything... And that’s if they’re alone.`
He looked at the two men ahead.
`What if there are more? What if they’ve already circled around to the mansion? What if she runs straight into them?`
He didn’t know how many enemies had entered the Realm. Could be five. Could be ten. Could be twenty.
There was no sign of that. But Kyle had always assumed the worst.
And now, for him, the mansion was already surrounded.
"Just stay behind me," he said, quieter now. "Don’t move. Don’t make a sound."
Virgo didn’t argue again. She pulled Leo closer. They stayed right behind him, near a large tree.
Kyle raised his sword.
But then he lowered it.
He glanced at the children, then at the tree behind them.
"Virgo," he said. "Take Leo and hide behind that tree. Don’t come out no matter what."
She nodded quickly and pulled Leo behind the thick trunk.
Kyle turned back to the men.
Then he focused on the mark on his hand.
"Nightmare," he said quietly.
Golden sparks burst from the tattoo. They swirled in the air, forming the massive shape of the bird.
Nightmare materialized beside the tree where the children were hiding. Its four wings are folded. Its three golden eyes blinked slowly. The dozens of smaller eyes along its wing roots stared at the strangers.
The tall man’s eyes widened.
"What in the—"
The stocky man took a step back.
Even from a distance, Kyle could see the shock on their faces.
They didn’t know what Nightmare was. But its appearance—the four wings, the golden eyes, the smaller eyes scattered along its feathers—was enough to make them hesitate.
"Protect them," Kyle commanded.
Nightmare tilted its head. Then it positioned itself in front of the tree, blocking the children from view.
Kyle smirked. `Finally. No more distractions.`
He turned back to the two men and raised his sword again.
`Two against one... This is going to be hard.`
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat.
His system was still down, so he couldn’t see their status screen. But his instincts told him they were around his level.
`Which means this could go either way.`
He opened his eyes, which were now glowing crimson.
`Remove fear,` he commanded himself. `Remove hesitation. Remove doubt.`
The tension in his chest faded. His thoughts became clear. Cold.
"Don’t feel pain."
His body still registered the injuries—the cuts, the bruises, the strain. But the signal stopped in his mind. He felt nothing more than the barrier of the normal touch.
`Split my awareness. One half watches the swordsman. One half watches the other. Don’t miss anything.`
The world sharpened. He could see both enemies now—not just their positions, but the subtle shifts in their weight, the tension in their muscles, the direction of their breathing.
Then, he flooded his body with the internal mana. Maximize his strength and speed.
The flame inside him roared. Energy surged through his veins, into his muscles, into his fingertips. His grip on the sword tightened. His legs felt lighter.
He was ready.
All these preparations that Kyle made took just a second. And the two men had already regained their composure from seeing Nightmare.
The swordman’s eyes moved from Nightmare back to Kyle.
"That thing won’t save you."
"We’ll see."
They exchanged sharp glances, then both took off, fast.
The swordsman came first.
His blade cut through the air in a quick, precise arc aimed at Kyle’s shoulder. But Kyle parried forcefully.
The stocky man circled around the side.
Kyle’s split mind tracked him. But something was wrong with him.
The man’s body had changed—slightly, but noticeably. His shoulders were broader. His arms looked thicker. His whole frame seemed denser, heavier.
He wasn’t holding a weapon, but his hands were clenched into fists that looked like they could break bones.
Kyle’s eyes narrowed.
`He has become much stronger than before... Does he have a physical combat class?`
The stocky man threw a punch.
Kyle ducked under it and stepped back, putting distance between himself and both enemies.
The swordsman pressed forward. Slash. Thrust. Slash.
Kyle blocked each strike, but the impact rattled his arms. The man was fast. Precise. Every attack was aimed at a vulnerable spot—his wrist, his elbow, his neck.
`He knows where to cut...`
The stocky man came in again.
Kyle dodged a punch, then another. The fists were heavy. If one landed solidly, it would maybe break bones.
He needed to slow them down.
His eyes flared crimson again.
`Stumble,` he commanded.
The stocky man’s foot caught on nothing. His body lurched forward a little, stumbling two steps.
Kyle lunged.
Not at the stocky man—at the swordsman.
His blade cut across the man’s shoulder. Not deep. But enough to draw blood.
The swordsman hissed and jumped back.
Kyle pressed the advantage. He swung twice, three times. The man parried, but his movements were slower now. The cut on his arm was affecting his grip.
Kyle did not target the stocky man because of the danger of the Swordman. Any chance he took against one of them, the other would cover the gap.
But with the big man stumbling and the swordman surprised by this, Kyle was able to cut his shoulder.
The stocky man recovered quickly. Then he charged.
Kyle spun away, but not fast enough. A heavy fist clipped his shoulder. The impact spun him halfway around.
He caught himself and raised his sword just in time to block another strike from the swordsman.
The blade hit him at an awkward angle. The force sent a shock through his arms. His fingers almost lost their grip.
`They’re coordinating. One attacks, the other waits for me to focus, then strikes.`
He needed to break their rhythm.
Kyle retreated toward a cluster of trees, using the trunks as cover. The swordsman followed. The stocky man circled around the other side.
Kyle’s split mind tracked both.
He feinted toward the swordsman—then spun and threw his sword.
Not at anyone. The blade spun through the air and clattered into the bushes on the other side of the clearing.
The swordsman’s eyes followed the sword for a fraction of a second.
`That’s it.`
Kyle tackled him through the mist.
They crashed to the ground. Kyle’s knee drove into the man’s stomach. The man gasped, air rushing out of his lungs. Kyle’s fist slammed into his face—once, twice. Blood sprayed from his nose.
The swordsman tried to raise his blade. But Kyle pinned his arm with his knee.
He reached for his dagger—Fear Blade. It was still strapped to his belt.
His fingers found the hilt. But, suddenly, something heavy slammed into his side.
The stocky man.
Kyle flew through the air and crashed into a tree. The impact knocked the wind out of him. His vision blurred. His ribs screamed.
He slid down the trunk, gasping.
`Even with the pain suppressed... I can feel it... a rib, maybe two.`
He looked up.
The swordsman was getting to his feet, wiping blood from his face. His expression was no longer calm. His eyes were cold.
The stocky man cracked his knuckles. His body was still larger than before, muscles tensed.
"Where’s your sword?" the stocky man said, grinning. "You are unarmed now!"
