I Woke Up 120 Years After The Apocalypse-Chapter 24: Armless

Akram raised his arm by reflex. The blades struck straight into his prosthetic.

Koard tore his blades free from the metal, destroying the Vulkan’s portable crossbow in the process.

He jumped backward, licking the flat of his blades like a madman.

"You’re the one who took down Kravash? I don’t believe it for a second, that’s impossible!" he mocked.

"Or maybe he wasn’t that strong after all... I don’t know. Either way, I’ll start by bleeding you out." he said, pointing his blade at Akram.

The Vulkan, meanwhile, was desperately reconnecting the severed wires and broken screws in his arm. He needed all of his capabilities if he wanted to defeat his opponent.

No Yashyn. No Elliot. No Baron. No help this time. He couldn’t count on a last-second rescue like he had against Kravash.

He stared intensely at his opponent, gripping the hilt of his sword with all his strength.

His survival instinct screamed at him to run, and he genuinely hesitated to listen to it. But what held him back was not trivial.

He had shed it when he first arrived in this new world, but his new role as Vulkania’s leader, along with his recent victories, had brought it back.

Ego.

His ego, his pride, simply would not let him flee and hide behind Yashyn.

What would the Vulkans think if their leader ran from a fight?! he thought, resolute.

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, draining the stress from his body.

"Go on, throw your exploding toys already, what are you waiting for?!" Koard taunted.

Akram didn’t react to the provocation. He simply stepped toward him, blade extended, gaze steady.

Koard clicked his tongue.

"That was your only chance, you piece of shit." he spat.

He lunged at his opponent with the same blistering speed that had surprised Akram moments earlier.

This time, however, the young man wasn’t caught off guard. He parried the bandit leader’s vain attempts with precision.

Koard was clearly growing impatient. He unleashed a barrage of varied strikes on Akram. Still, Akram held. He held remarkably well against an opponent of this caliber.

I see them. I see these attacks. I see everything... he thought, blocking the successive assaults.

A keen observer, his recent battles had forged his vision, his style, in a way. And in that moment, Akram understood.

He had never really thought about it before, yet the answer was obvious.

He was good at fighting.

Koard kept making mistakes. He was underestimating the Vulkan far too much.

Akram took advantage of it. During yet another parry, he slipped in a quick strike toward his opponent’s face. Koard barely dodged, leaping backward once more.

He brought his hand to his face. Blood stained his palm, continuing to flow from the wound.

A long diagonal gash cut across the bandit’s face.

Koard didn’t react immediately, but after a few seconds, he erupted into an even more violent rage.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!! YOU’RE DEAD!!!" he roared, abandoning all strategy as he charged recklessly at Akram.

Akram used that lapse to scatter several explosive chestnuts across the ground. They detonated seconds later, right as the assault began.

Koard was thrown off balance and blinded. His opponent vanished from his field of vision.

That was when Akram emerged behind him, sword raised, eyes locked on his enemy’s neck, ready to decapitate him.

However, Koard the Vicious had not stolen his title.

After Akram’s surprise attack, he understood that his opponent could no longer be underestimated and had to be treated at his true value. He feigned blindness, waiting for Akram head-on.

When Akram’s blade reached his neck, Koard turned with the weapon’s trajectory, narrowly evading it, before driving his knife straight into the Vulkan’s shoulder.

Akram groaned in pain, stumbling back a few steps.

"What exactly were you trying to do there?!" Koard sneered, twirling his knives in his hands.

The Vulkan grimaced, clutching his bleeding shoulder with one hand.

Fuck... my left arm is done for. I’ll have to outsmart him if I don’t want him to kill me, Akram thought, still fighting.

"I think it’s time to die, Akram The Cursed Shit." Koard growled, a smile on his lips.

Once again, he charged the Vulkan, this time aiming to finish it.

Akram raised his guard. Even though he knew he was nearly done for, his ego moved his body for him.

An object the size of a bowling ball suddenly flew toward Koard, who stopped dead in his tracks.

Both the Vulkan and the bandit turned their gaze toward the unidentified flying object, stunned.

Vipin. Or rather, his head.

Completely crushed on the ground, tongue hanging out, eyes staring in opposite directions.

"Alright, alright, playtime’s over, kids. We’re heading home!" Yashyn shouted as he approached them, hands and blade drenched in blood.

The vein on Koard’s forehead bulged. Once again, he had been humiliated.

"You fucking bastard... You took out Vipin, didn’t you?!" he snarled at Yashyn. "Good! That asshole was about as smart as a Maws fresh out of his mother’s cunt."

"It won’t be that easy with me!" he yelled, pointing his dagger at the Mirage.

Before his sentence even finished, Yashyn had almost teleported behind him.

"Huh?"

A few seconds later, the bandit’s forearm slowly detached from its socket, irrevocably leaving its former owner’s body and crashing into the ground in a pool of blood.

Koord the Vicious screamed, clutching his severed arm, torn apart by pain.

"AAAAH YOU FUCKER!! FUCK!! MY ARM!!" he howled.

Yashyn continued on his way, heading toward his protégé.

"Well damn, you’re tough, lil’ bud!" he chuckled, helping Akram back up.

Akram was completely speechless at the bounty hunter’s feat.

"Uh... what about the other bandits?" he asked innocently.

"Huh? Oh, the grunts? Took care of them while you were taking your time..." Yashyn replied, shrugging.

"Well, I’ll finish this one before—" he started, then stopped short.

Koard had fled. The trail of blood betrayed the path he took as he escaped, leaving his arm behind.

"Want me to chase him?" Yashyn asked, still completely relaxed.

"No, no need... And given the state Baron and I are in, we wouldn’t be able to defend ourselves if you left." Akram replied, leaning on his comrade to stay upright.

They then regrouped with Elliot and Baron, who were standing by.

"Fuck, Akram!" Elliot shouted when he saw his leader. "You’re hurt too?!"

"You should see the other guy..." Akram downplayed it. "And Baron, how are you?"

"I’m fine... So, did you take out both bastards?" Baron asked, a slight smirk on his lips.

"One got away, but Yashyn signed the other one for me." Akram joked.

"Anyway, we need to head back fast given our condition. We’re not far anymore."

Following those wise words, Akram and the others resumed their journey.

Because of their injuries, the trip was far longer than expected, but they reached Vulkania by the end of the day, the sun setting on the horizon.

Despite what they had just been through, nothing could have prepared them for what awaited them.

"...What the hell?" Elliot asked quietly.

In front of them stood Lerius, sitting on a corpse, itself lying atop another.

Around him, countless bodies covered the land surrounding Vulkania. Sand bandit corpses, it seemed.

Beside him was a man in terrible condition, brutally beaten and bound.

"Lerius, what the hell happened?" Akram asked, confused.

"M-M-Master, glad to see you again. These individuals attempted a raid shortly before your arrival. A-A-A-As per your orders, I protected this site from all threats." Lerius replied, his metallic voice cutting through the air.

"Yeah, I can see that, thanks... And who’s that?" Akram asked, nodding toward the badly beaten man.

"That’s Simeon the Heart-Eater... the leader of the northern bandits." Baron said.

"C-C-Correct. He appeared to be their leader. I judged it a-a-a-appropriate to capture him." Lerius added.

The Vulkans now held a powerful new bargaining chip against Zarod.

A long smile slowly spread across Akram’s face as he already imagined what this hostage could offer them.