The jug flies to Gin’s face while Jinma rushes in for the attack first. Gin crashes the glass container to pieces with his kick before dodging Jinma’s first punch. They then quickly exchange blows, blocking and canceling each other’s punches and kicks at once.
Gin unleashes many hits with his cup holding-formed fists that come as fast as bullets. He then punches Jinma hard enough to knock him back. Gin follows up with a flying crescent kick that sends his own body facing the ground while in the air. Jinma quickly slides back just before the monk’s foot sends him to the ground and falls flat. Jinma makes a large stomp that Gin rolls away from right before it hits.
When Gin rolled to his back, he pulls one of his feet to do a kick to Jinma’s gut from the ground. The force knocks him off balance a little while Gin takes the opening to get back up to his staggering fighting stance.
Hmm … my attacks are landing, but something doesn’t seem right here … Gin thinks as Jinma gets back to the ‘Drunken Style’s’ default fighting stance. Gin then reaches into his robe and pulls out four small bottles. “I hate to resort to this, but you leave me with no other choices, boy.”
Gin pops the corks off of all the bottles and downs their contents at once. Jinma and his team are not sure what he drank, but it looks like they tasted so bad that he’s about to puke it out. He toughs it and swallows his upchuck, though.
Suddenly, red, green, and purplish-black auras envelop the monk’s contracted body. His muscles flare up, the hairs of his balding head stand on end, and even his eyes are getting bloodshot.
“Mr. Kotori! Be careful!” Erizora warns while fending off the other cultists. “I don’t know what he just drank, but he suddenly got a boost in AGI, ATK, and Curse Magic that he’s apparently capable of!”
Jinma counts out the number of buffs and compares it to the bottles he consumed. “Hey, that’s three bottles. What about the last one?” he asks.
“Guh … strong vodka to hide the potions’ terrible tastes,” Gin answers with shallow breaths before standing straight. “You still want to learn my moves, boy?! Then take a good look, as they’re the last things you’ll ever see! Decomposing Defense! Sluggish Speed! Baneful Poison!”
With each of Gin’s spells cast, a purplish-white magic circle appears below Jinma’s feet, one after another.
“This is insane! A human of the Monk class stacking that many Curse Spells one after another?!” Kalline exclaims as Gin smacks his hands together. From that, a purplish-black aura around him envelops his hands and feet.
“There it is! Mr. Gin’s Darkness Manipulation!” one of the cultists exclaim.
“That’s what one gets when their mastery in Curse Magic is high enough, right?!”
“I heard he won it after clearing a dungeon once! He’s able to use Curse Magic because of that!”
Powered up with this ominous magic on top of the status buffs, Gin charges in with his increased speed.
“Blowback Punch! Multi-Hit! Multi-Punch! Thrusting Kick! Elbow Drop!”
Gin knocks Jinma back again with a Blowback Punch, followed by a rapid fire of solidified, purplish-black mana balls of the Multi-Hit skill from his blackened fists. Gin zips behind Jinma and uses Multi-Punch to hit his exposed back before doing a Thrusting Kick to send him falling forward face first. Once Jinma hit the ground, Gin uses Elbow Drop to hit right onto the nape of the neck.
“Oh, yeah, that guy’s done for now.”
“I heard he used this same technique with these status buffs on someone who challenged him to an arena battle a while ago … he didn’t walk away alive after that.”
“To have Mr. Gin be pushed this far to resort to this drastic technique, he’s tougher than we thought.”
The cultists who Jinma’s teammates were holding off earlier were now watching his battle with their second-in-command while talking amongst themselves.
“Mr. Jinma, no …” Ren whispers as her eyes well up from the sight. Erizora and Kalline continue to watch on while gripping their fists. The other civilians also witness in horror of the overwhelming power that Jinma’s taking. Even Lili who could see the fight from the rooftops gets worried not because she’d lose her reward turning in the Champion to the Demon King, but she has yet to properly thank him for saving her mother. The mysterious girl with navy blue scales of a lizard is the only one who isn’t showing a hint of emotion like the others are. She only watches in from a distance and evaluating what’s taking place in the square. Also, off to the side alone is a small, purple snake curling around one of the buildings’ gutter pipes, observing the square from above.
“This should finally finish you off! King’s Palm!” Gin exclaims as he forms a stiff palm and brings it down to the back of Jinma’s head.
The impact creates a crater that’s about one and a half basketballs of the radius underneath them, creating a dust cloud that covers the area. The center square falls to silence. The crackling flames of the burning buildings and shallow breathing from the Monk only fill the air.
“It’s … over,” Gin says between breaths as the auras from his status buffs fade away, as well as the dark magic around his hands and feet. He gets off of Jinma’s body still lying on the ground, his face buried in the small crater. The monk sighs a breath of relief as he steps out of the dust cloud. “Sheesh, that kid was sturdy, but I got him. All right, boys, back to work! And would somebody get me another ale?! God, the ringing in my ears is getting annoying … ringing, but not the usual sounds?” When Gin realizes something was missing, he stops, and his drunken expression becomes perplexed. “Hold on, was he really that weak, or—”
“Ahh, this is so disappointing … and getting quickly boring.”
Gin’s heart skips a beat when he heard that voice, and for a moment, he feels a kind of clarity he hadn’t received in his head for who knows how long; the moment of soberness and the realization frightens him as he looks back at the fading dust cloud to see a shadow standing inside it.
“M-Mr. Jinma?” I hear Ren ask as I step out of the dust cloud and pop the stiffness out of my joints.
“Really, I thought I’d let the first few skills from the beginning slide, but to use fuckin’ items, potions with a swig of alcohol to get some sort of power boost, and magic of all things just to kill me as quickly as possible … it’s just tragic. I wanted to see and experience some sweet drunken boxing, or at least some form of kung-fu or martial art from a dignified master in person, someone who has trained their body and mind for years. I just wanted to see what their trained techniques would do to me, a guy who has never been properly trained and practically got this far by raw power alone. To not experience and receive a blow from someone like that, I think that’s one of the few regrets I had before coming here. I thought I’d hold back a little so I could see what you got, receive the blows safely in sync with yours—which wasn’t really so hard to do with how slow you were—so I could watch and experience every second of it. I guess I shouldn’t expect much in this world of swords and magic, and I got to see some interesting skills and spells out of this, but for you to have the balls to call yourself a master of drunken boxing … not only am I disappointed, but I am furious that you would call something like that a ‘martial art.’”
“H-How … how in the world did you—”
“Shut up! I’m not done talking here!” I yell, making Gin and a couple others around us jump back a little. “Your Monk class doesn’t do you justice, it’s no wonder your ‘Drunken Style’ was only something for Brawlers to possibly learn from. It’s just fuckin’ sloppy and defective for battle the way it is, especially if you’re drunk when you actually shouldn’t be, to begin with. Now … it’s time for me to get more serious, beat the drunk out of you enough to get back into reality, and have you face the music.”
Gin trembles with rage as I get into the ‘Drunken Style’s’ default, staggering fighting stance. “How dare you speak that way when you’re just a brat! Boys! Don’t just stand there! Get him!”
Gin then makes the first move by rushing in with his cup holding-formed fists at the ready while his cultist subordinates charge in at me as well, ignoring my teammates who tried to hold them off before.
With my ailments Gin cast earlier now worn off, I can move more comfortably, really up my speed, and show these bastards what the ‘Drunken Style,’ or drunken boxing as it was called back home, is really all about (at least from what I’ve observed on Earth, anyway).
It might be because of our differences of AGI, but everyone’s movements were slow enough for me to know where they were going and how to react, and so with Gin moving in first, I not only block his right hook, but counterattack with an elbow to his ribs, then swerve and move under the arm to a little behind him to lock that appendage in place.
I break his locked arm after forcing him forward, then pull him backward, sweep his feet, and make him fall hard on his back.
The next guy that comes in has a sword that he swings down. I step to the side, grab his arm, and effortlessly throw him right at another cultist behind me. With another cultist coming from behind, I do another elbow to the chest, followed by a back fist to the face, and then a flying buck kick with both feet that blows him away before I fall flat on the ground. Another enemy approaches in front of me, and so from the ground, I leap like a frog and unleash a flying, spiral headbutt to his sternum. I think I heard it breaking before he goes unconscious and I fall on my back now. I leap back up to my feet and to my staggering fighting stance before handling the next opponent.
“Just to see if I can do it, Sluggish Speed, Debilitating Defense, Baneful Poison.”
Like what Gin did to me earlier, I cast one ailment-inducing spell after another to the next few guys coming after me. The spells activated and affected them in succession, drastically dropping their stats and afflicting them with poison in the process, I could see it in their faces.
“All right, looks like I can do Curse Magic, too. Now to focus on the new fighting style for the time being …”
While Jinma’s teammates were holding off the other cultists before, they as well as the other civilians couldn’t help but marvel at how he’s handling the enemies by himself.
“Amazing … he is not even using skills to knock them out,” Kalline says. “He looks like he is drunk, but there is a sense of grace and balance to his movements, compared to the second-in-command’s. To move like that and delivering such blows to his opponents, he must have higher strength than he looks, as well as fast speed to read and react to the incoming attacks accordingly. Has he seen this fighting style from someone else before, or … could this be how a Brawler really fights, relying on the stats one has and make the most out of them in these battles?”
“Not only that, he’s only using the Monk’s Brawling Style against him and his subordinates,” the mysterious reptile girl intervenes as she stands and observes with crossed arms next to the Centaur Mercenary. “If he’s able to do this much with someone else’s Brawling Style, what can he do with his own while using the ‘raw power’ he proclaimed to help him get this far? What other surprises are this Brawler hiding from us?”
“H-Hey, thou should not be so close if thou do not want to get hurt—”
“Screw that monster! I’m taking you freaks down—”
A beefier cultist was quickly approaching the two of them when the reptile girl zips in front of him. Before he could register what was going on, he was sent flying and crashing into one of the burning buildings, knocking him out instantly.
This is all from one punch to the gut that the reptile girl delivered.
“As you can see, I’m capable of looking after myself, so there’s no need for concern. I’ll continue to watch the human’s fight,” she says as more of an order than a request.
“Y-Yes … as thou were.” What is up with these people coming into Dondegarm today? Kalline thinks as the reptile girl assumes her previous position next to her. Ren and Erizora were the only ones out of the ‘audience’ watching the fight with excitement and eagerness.
After taking out numerous cultists that are now scattered about on the ground, I take a moment to relieve myself. “Ahh~, I’m feeling a little better after putting more effort into it, but I still have some work to do on that ‘Drunken Style.’”
“You bastard … you can’t surpass me in the fighting style of my own creation!” Gin exclaims as he charges in at me.
I sigh a breath. “All right, old drunkard, let me just show you a few of my own moves to make up for this.”
Just as Gin gets close enough to attack, I weave and deliver a powerful punch to his gut.
My own skill of a powerful punt right to his groin was apparently strong enough to make him cough blood upon impact.
“And last, but not least, my deadliest skill: Demon’s Palm.”
I deliver a powerful palm strike right to the old man’s sternum. I could practically feel it and his rib cages fracturing all across their frames. One more punch would be enough to shatter them all into pieces and kill him. I’m not sure how this is different than his ‘King’s Palm’ from earlier, but I imagine the principles are the same. The impact shoots through his back and leaves an imprint of a malicious smile—like the one I’m making right now—in the crater on one of the buildings’ walls behind him.
“Buagh!” Gin practically vomits the blood on me from the attack. His breath is shallow while trying to utter his last words. “Impossible … can’t be the end. Not when I still need to show Big Brother … the fruits of my training …”
With the last of his energy spent, his body falls limp to the ground below me, drooling a puddle of the blood he puked earlier.
The level-up track plays in my head, signifying the end of this battle.
“N-No … this can’t be, Mr. Gin is down!”
“For that guy to take them all on his own … he isn’t human!”
The cultist spectators exclaim before they drop their weapons and make a run for it. Those defending the city chase after them for capture. At least, that’s what I think’s going on, I’m busy skimming through the numerous notices that pop up one after another in front of me.
[Congratulations! Because you defeated the original creator of the ‘Drunken Style,’ you have reached his level of mastery, LV 5!
[You have now learned Sway*!
[‘Poison Resistance’ LV 1’s mastery is integrated to ‘Poison Resistance’ LV 7.
[You have now learned ‘Alcohol Constitution’ LV 1!
[You have now learned ‘Intoxicated*’!
[You have achieved the ‘Impregnable’ title!
[You have now learned ‘Sturdy Shell*’!
[Conditions met. The skill, ‘Focus’ LV 8 is now visible.
[You have now learned ‘Curse Magic’ LV 3!
[You have achieved the ‘Hexmancer’ title!
[You have now learned ‘Debilitating Defense’ LV 3!
[You have now learned ‘Sluggish Speed’ LV 3!
[You have now learned ‘Baneful Poison’ LV 3!
[You have achieved the ‘Ultimate Underdog’ title!
[You have now learned ‘Underdog’s Second Class*’!
[Second Class has been automatically set to ‘Mage.’ Remaining accumulated EXP has been integrated into the registered class.
[You have now learned ‘Size Up ‘LV 1!]
Whoa whoa wait, what? What were the last few ones again? Just as I’m about to pull up my status to see what was going on, I hear a blood-curdling scream.
“Everyone, make a run for it!”
“That weapon! The cursed weapon has been released!”
“The White Rapture’s leader is on a rampage!”
The civilians and defenders of the city run the opposite direction of where they were chasing the infiltrators. The cultists, who were also running back in fear, get stabbed, cut, and beheaded one after another by a man in bloodied white garbs with a hood up. It seems some of the unlucky civilians and defenders were also in his path as they lie behind him in a bloody mess, indicating this foe is an indiscriminate killer. The weapon he’s holding emanates an ominous aura.
This … does not bode well, does it?
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Hello and welcome. You may call me Orange Rain, and I looooove orange soda.
I not only like to read novels of many kinds, but I also like to write them. The stories published here will be in webnovel.com as well, so if you can, I'd appreciate it if you could support me on both platforms. I also like to read any professional critiques people may have on my works in order for me to become a better writer.
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