“I. Should.” Arthur leaned back, letting the attack bypass him, the creature’s claws just missing his face before he pushed off with his back leg, pivoting from the hips as he thrust one-handed with his spear. He watched the weapon sink through dense fur into flesh and he twisted his hand on exit, leaving a gaping wound that bled freely. “Have done. This.
“Earrrrrr-lier!”
Crashing into the ground, Arthur winced as his shirt gained another rent. He rolled with the momentum, came up and set his weapon moments later, watching as the harimau hitam stopped before it crashed into his weapon.
Fourteen feet from head to tail, at least four if not five times his weight. Stronger than Arthur by far with the instincts of a predator and the speed of a Tower monster, the black tiger was an apex predator that was highly confused, one paw shaking itself out.
“Not easy, is it?” Arthur taunted, rising to his feet and stalking around the creature too. Interesting to note his skin looked the same, even if he was utilizing Steel Skin, the enhancement entirely hidden beneath his flesh. More importantly, that full body swipe had only left minor cuts along his side, ones that had stopped bleeding already.
On the other hand, the poor tiger had numerous wounds, the bright red blood staining its dark fur and creating muddy and sticky puddles on the ground where it wasn't covered by fallen and drying leaves. Arthur slid his feet along the floor, shifting over unseent roots, adjusting footwork as he circled the creature.
Funny, how footwork and training changed, over and ove again as people put theory into practise, and arguments slowly faded. 'Lift your feet' to give you speed and not ensure you didn't get caught on minor changes in landscape, to allow for lunges and explosive charges.
'Slide your feet' to handle significant variation in terrain, to ensure you didn't land on rocks or dips in the ground or slip on muddy patches when you came down. When the ground could give way at any moment, or pull your footing off course.
'Don't leap', because you never knew what was above you and you couldn't change direction.
'Practise jumps and aerial combat', because monkey's and birds and hornets and other creatures existed up there, and if you waited below, you were at their mercy.
"Study multiple weapons and numerous martial arts to adapt', because you never knew what circumstances you might face.
'Specialise', because a fool who spreads themselves too thin can never beat a specialist.
Everyone had their own ideas, their demands, their closely held opinions. The sport martial artists, the MMA fighters, the reenactors and even the soldiers. Then, the Tower came and everyone had a chance to test it out, to see who was right in the greatest and deadliest testing ground ever.
Those who stumbled out years later were broken, haggard and beaten. Hard-bitten and merciless, and perhaps most of all, adaptable. Specialist or generalist, single weapon user or nothing at all; they had learnt and studied and took what the Tower gave them. And made it their own.
Just like Arthur, who had wanted to be a dodge specialist, who had never intended to tank shots or heal them like a Petaling Street knockoff Wolverine. But he'd learnt to heal himself, learnt to use different skills, to lean on what he had and adapt, to change fighting styles and techniques to make best use of it all.
To get better and change, no matter what. So that even a mini-boss like this damn creature, so much larger and faster was wearing down. Blood was pouring out of it, Yin aura seeping poison into its body and leeching away strength. The monster knew too, for it came at Arthur immediately after, intent on finishing the fight.
Once more, Arthur went on the defensive, blocking again cutting with the edge of his spear when he could, leaving long lines. Back and back till he was against a tree and unable to move away, a thorned bush down one side and a steeper drop and a tighter squeeze between more tree on the other. Forced to hold, he managed to keep the tiger off, for a few seconds.
Before it chose to accept a deep cut as it lunged upwards and then came down, ignoring Arthur’s spear as it dug into its side and guts, large mouth clamping down on his shoulder. It bypassed the shoulder guards he had on, piercing the bare skin beneath. Even reinforced, Steel Skin could do nothing to stop the monster as it bit down, cracking bones.
Unfortunately for the creature, putting its body next to Arthur was already a recipe for disaster. No attack from the face, but plunging his hand into an open wound, he directed the dart into the cavity, yanking his arm back moments after it shot outwards.
The explosion cracked bones and dislocated fingers anyway, but what it did to the insides of the creature was even worse. Thrashing around, tearing up his arm and chest as he was thrown aside, mouth forced open in a roar, Arthur crashed and rolled.
Spear ripped out of the body as it turned, more blood falling. Waterfalls of it, as the creature staggered, open wounds infiltrated by the Yin aura, poison seeping in and combining with blood loss to drive the monster to its knees.
It still crawled forward, such that Arthur had to give it a few kicks to get his feet away from questing mouth, but eventually, it stopped moving.
Leaving the Climber to flop on the ground, panting as he waited for his body to heal.
***
“So that’s why they still wear armour,” Arthur groaned, patting at the open wounds that had scabbed over, new skin closing around and closing the wounds. They were still raw, a touch red and seeping blood and other clear fluids, enough to make him grimace in disgust. Just as importantly, his clothing was shredded, a complete mess that made him regret not picking up the underarmour.
“I could…” Arthur trailed off, debating. He could go back. The Tinker might still be there. But truth be told, there wasn’t enough time. In the end, he left it, content to leave the new clothing he had stored away. Later on, he’d dress in something nicer; but for now, he might even end up going bare-chested. At least until tonight, when he could start patching the rips.
Who said sewing was a woman’s job?
He sighed, shifted himself around and picked up his backpack. He'd strapped the backside of his breastplate to him,, working it together but the front was a complete mess after the fight with the Hermit. Even after smashing it around and adjusting it, there was still a massive hole and weakness in the front that duct tape could not fix. Nevermind how uncomfortable it was to wear, with the edges and center chest bowed in, constricting his breathing.
Add in the destroyed straps on the side that he could replace, but only badly, and it just hadn't been worth wearing anymore. At least he still had protection for his back, but it did little for where most attacks came from.
Still, with his Steel Skin ability, he was as guarded as before, and he still had large portions of his armour left. He would just have to be more careful, and consider maybe purchasing fewer single piece armours in the future.
For now, though, he knew how effective his new technique was. And he had the rest of the climb to finish.