Lancelot's eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
Just because he had disarmed his enemy, and gained a strong weapon, did not mean he could win.
The simple reality of the situation was the difference in Od and combat ability. Sancho was many times faster, and hundreds of times stronger. Also, her Soul Dam was more than forty times bigger than his.
Every Stage increase allowed for the Soul Dam to expand. At first, four times, and every following time, it squared the previous number.
Stage Two had 4x a Stage One's Od, Stage Three had 16x a Stage Two's Od, and so on.
This meant that in a battle of attrition, Sancho would definitely come out on top.
Lancelot had no choice- If he wanted to live, and save Sarah, he had to strike now!
With a grunt, he retracted the Iron Blood Longsword, shifting his stance as he thrust the blade at her chest.
His muscles and tendons were coated in Od, and if one looked under Lancelot's skin, they would see strands of white, glowing tissue.
Sancho, who had been shocked for a second, regained her bearings and simply swiped the sword away, leaping backwards and making some distance between them.
"Wow, you're a crafty one." She grinned, casually running a hand through her dirty-blonde, shoulder length hair.
"Now I'm even more interested in you. That Emblem of yours, and your unfazed reaction at taking a life.." She licked her lips, taking a step forward.
"Are you sure you don't want to join me? I told you, I'll spare you and your sister."
"Oh? And what'll stop you from killing me, or using your Emblem to control me?" Lancelot snorted, longsword still pointed at her.
"Damn, you catch on fast." She sighed, her shoulders slumping.
"Smart cookies like you are always the most fun to see when they crumble.."
Screetch!
Lancelot could barely react in time, using his reinforced muscles and reflexes to hastily parry the attack from the black blur that lunged on him.
"It'll almost be a shame to kill you." She chuckled, stepping back whilst casually dodging the slashes that Lancelot retaliated with.
Lancelot slashed relentlessly, forehead slick with sweat as he didn't falter for even a second.
In this situation, hesitation meant death!
Pivoting, he delivered slashes to the carotid arteries, thrusts to the chest, swings upwards from the thigh, sweeps across the abdomen.
Each of these strikes were either blocked or dodged by Sancho, who had a bemused expression.
"You can't kill me, dummy. You're Stage One garbage. Maybe, if you had a few more decades to train, you'd actually pose a challenge" Sancho taunted, dodging a cut to her brain stem.
"Damn, aiming for vital points, eh? Ruthless." She snorted, wiping a fake tear off her crimson eye mid dodge.
"Lancelot, I have an idea." Ddraig announced, pausing for a moment.
"I'll release some of my aura, it might shock her enough to allow you to get a blow off."
Lancelot nodded indescribably, but Ddraig caught it, preparing for the right moment.
After a few more seconds of dodging, Sancho suddenly frowned.
"You're boring me, I'll just kill you, loot your body, and find the other necklace myself."
Blood seeped out of her veins and onto her skin, forming a clawed hand composed of a thick layer of blood.
"Last chance~" She warned, her casual tone taking on a dangerous edge.
"Go to hell!" Lancelot punctuated this sentence with a vertical slash.
"Too slow!" Sancho snarled, her hand winding back.
In a split second, her hand descended on Lancelot, a loud 'boom' shaking the entire town.
Her attack had broken the sound barrier!
In a few milliseconds, her blood claw was only a centimeter away from Lancelot's throat, a cruel grin on her face.
Then, she felt it.
Behind him was a dragon. A gigantic creature, hundred of meters big. Its body was covered in silver scales, each one as reflective as a mirror and shinier than a diamond. Its belly had a snow-white skin, whiter than milk as its tail, longer than a building, pointed defiantly towards the heavens.
Its presence bore down on her, its slightly ajar mouth releasing a hot, steaming gust of wind.
Sancho's body shivered, her eyes wide with the primal fear of a predator as her lower lip quivered.
"..What..the..fuck-"
Blood Crescent Slash!
Her instincts screamed at her, and the image of the dragon was gone, replaced by a blood red sword rushing down at her!
It was coated in vermillion blood, which swirled around the blade as it descended upon her.
Sancho's eyes shrunk into the size of pin needles as she used all her strength, all her willpower, and a great deal of Od, to reinforce her legs as she dived backwards.
The sword missed her head, and instead of cleaving her in two, left a deep gash across her torso.
But that wasn't all.
The blood that surrounded the blade of the sword remained in a crimson slash where the wound was, continuing to drive into her!
"Fucking… Cur!" Sancho screamed, catching Lancelot's follow-up strike and crushing the sword with her bare hands.
Lancelot's eyes widened, quickly letting go of the remaining pieces of the Iron Blood Longsword and retreating a good distance away, towards a few bushes.
Sancho tore her eyes off Lancelot, grasping the slash of blood that was currently drilling into her.
With a grunt of effort, she shattered the Blood Crescent Slash with her claw, letting the pieces of hardened blood fall onto the floor.
"This little shit actually managed to wound me this badly, and what was up with that dragon..? A trick his father left him? An illusion..?" She thought hazily, stumbling forward.
Quickly, her eyes narrowed into slits, hatred filling her heart.
"This little fuck's only Stage One! How could I let him do so much damage to me, a Stage Four prodigy?" She fumed internally, her eyes red with anger as she prepared to rush in for the kill.
"Not a step closer." Lancelot smiled devilishly, twirling a steel spear in his hands.
"I could pin you dead from here, or maybe you could kill me before that, or we could even kill each other at the same time?" He mused out loud, drawing the spear back as if he was preparing to throw a javelin.
"What's your call? You're too wounded to get away unscathed at this point." Lancelot convinced, eyes locked upon her.
"Do you want to live, or do you want to kill me? What do you value more, your life or revenge?" He asked with a smirk.
"You.. You little fuck! I'll kill you, I'll rip out your entrails and hang them on a tree!" Sancho screeched, a hand covering her wound which, oddly enough, had already begun to start healing, her skin itself knitting back together slowly but surely.
"Blood Manipulation.." Lancelot had already suspected this, but by her rate of recovery, it had been confirmed.
That meant that controlling people via flesh worms was likely a Sub Ability of her Emblem, or an advanced technique that she had managed to perform with her flesh and blood powers.
Scowling, she turned around.
"I'll be back to kill you." She snarled, her pretty face twisted in hatred.
The shards of the Iron Blood Sword, and her own blood which had fallen, flew to her, liquidising before forming two bat-wings on her back.
"Mhm, can't wait." Lancelot waved his hand, watching as she flew away with a sigh.
He could try to throw the spear at her from here and knock her out the sky, but he was already lucky enough to get here to retreat. If she survived, he would have used up his best weapon, and would then have a very angry and desperate Stage Four in his garden.
Not ideal, at the very least.
"First things first, I have to find Sarah.." Worry filled his heart.
Was she hurt? Did she see anything related to the thaumaturgical world, the magus world? What to do now?
Several questions filled his mind, but he dismissed them all.
The most important thing to do was to check if she was okay.
"Not in here.." Lancelot opened yet another door, regretting the fact that they remained in such a big house increasingly with every empty room. Luckily, the other maid, the third one, hadn't come today, which meant there were no witnesses.
If she had seen all the events that transpired, there was little that Lancelot could do besides 'silence' her.
After all, if word got out about him being a magus, and the mystical fight that just took place, he would have a LOT on his plate.
"The only place left is.." Lancelot crouched down, pushing aside a rug and revealing a trapdoor.
"...Is the basement."