OP Absorption
Chapter 97: More Learning

Chapter 97: More Learning

Fin gritted his teeth, spitting blood again. Fragile? Maybe. But it’s his domain. He needed to stop this onslaught, needed to find a weakness. The sword worked. Maybe the armor...?

He lunged again, not aiming for a knockout blow, but trying to get his hands on the armor itself. Just like the sword, maybe he could drain it, starve the power source. His fingers reached out, silver-green energy crackling—

Contact.

Pain. Not impact pain. Searing, electric agony shot up his arm, like grabbing a high-voltage fence made of pure rage. His own energy recoiled, sputtering, chaotic feedback jamming his senses.

Nope! Bad idea! Very bad idea!

He ripped his hand back instinctively, stumbling away, clutching his arm. The aura around him flickered violently, disrupted. That crimson energy... it wasn’t like the sword’s refined power or that shadow power. It was volatile, almost alive, and it rejected his absorption attempt completely.

Dan laughed, a harsh, booming sound. "Fool! You think the blessed armor of my King yields to parlor tricks?"

He charged again. Fin, still reeling from the feedback shock, reacted purely on instinct. He twisted, ducked under a wild haymaker, felt the wind of the passage stir his hair. He tried to counter, driving an elbow towards Dan’s exposed ribs—

Dan simply powered through it. The elbow landed with a dull thud against the crimson-glowing plate, barely making him flinch. He grabbed Fin’s attacking arm with blinding speed, his gauntlet crushing down. Bones groaned under the pressure.

Fin yelled, channeling energy into a point-blank blast against the gauntlet. His aura light flared, forcing Dan’s grip to loosen just enough for him to wrench his arm free. He scrambled back again, heart pounding, arm throbbing.

This isn’t working. His usual tactics—absorption, overwhelming power—were failing. The green core was too weak, the silver/green mix couldn’t drain the armor, and trying to match Dan’s raw crimson output felt like trying to punch a volcano.

’Dammit, should I use the mana cell? No.’ He hit his own chest, over and over again, his eyes opening widely. ’Fight like you really mean it, don’t give in to pain.’

Plan A (Punch really hard), Plan B (Absorb the scary energy), both = massive fail. That crimson juice pulsing off the armor wasn’t just strong, it actively bit back. Felt like sticking his hand in a blender full of angry wasps. ’Definitely not doing that again.’

He scrambled back, nursing his throbbing arm, the silver-green aura flickering unsteadily. Dan stalked forward, radiating smug superiority. This wasn’t working. Brute force wasn’t enough, tricks weren’t enough.

’Dammit, should I use the mana cell?’ The thought surfaced, tempting. That raw, chaotic power could probably crack this golden tin can. But... no. That felt like cheating. Like falling back on something he didn’t understand, didn’t control. He needed to beat this guy, not just survive him with power he does not understand.

He smacked his own chest, hard. Once. Twice. The impacts jarred through his already aching ribs. ’Fight like you mean it, idiot. Stop whining about the pain.’ He focused, dragging his scattered thoughts back into line. Forget the flashy stuff. Basics. Movement. Precision. Find the gap.

The flickering silver-green aura around him didn’t explode outwards, but condensed, solidifying around his hands.

Not smooth, refined constructs, but jagged, almost crystalline edges formed over his knuckles, shimmering with unstable energy.

Knuckle dusters? Close enough. Weird. He’d never managed weapon constructs without the Mana Cell before. ’Guess getting beaten senseless really jumpstarts the learning process.’ Huh.

He started circling Dan slowly, breathing steadily, ignoring the throbbing symphony of pain from various body parts. Eyes scanning. Head. Neck joint. Armpits. Knees. All heavily armored. But the face... the helmet was off.

Just that weathered, angry face, dripping contempt. Obvious target, maybe, but the only one available.

He moved. A feint low, then a sudden burst forward, angling towards Dan’s left.

Dan reacted instantly, predictably, throwing a massive right hook aimed to intercept, wreathed in that furious crimson energy. ’

Too slow, Goldilocks.’

Instead of dodging back or trying to block the mountain-sized fist, Fin twisted mid-air. He didn’t evade the arm; he used it. His left foot planted on Dan’s charging bicep, his body scrambling upwards like a squirrel scaling a tree. He flowed over the armored shoulder in a dizzying arc.

For a split second, he was airborne, looking down at Dan’s surprised, upturned face.

He dropped, putting all his weight, all his focused energy, into a single, driving right cross.

CRACK.

His knuckles connected squarely with Dan’s jaw. Not a glancing blow. A solid, satisfying impact that echoed slightly in the sudden stillness.

Dan staggered back, hand flying instinctively to his face. His eyes were wide with shock, disbelief warring with sudden, intense pain. When he pulled his gauntlet away, bright red blood smeared across the golden metal. More dripped from his split lip, staining his weathered chin.

Fin landed lightly, the jagged energy around his knuckles flickering. He watched Dan touch the blood, watched the flicker of stunned realization in those burning eyes.

A slow smirk spread across his face.

"Bingo."

Dan touched the blood on his lip, staring at it. Red. His own. Splattered across his King’s sacred armor. Unthinkable. The smirk on Fin’s face solidified the insult.

"You... you hit me." Dan’s voice was flat, disbelieving.

Fin shrugged, flexing the hand that still pulsed with the strange energy constructs. They felt right now. Solid, responsive. Like they were always supposed to be there.

"Yeah," he said simply. "Turns out the face isn’t quite as tough as the tin can."

Dan touched the stinging blood on his lip, the crimson smear on his golden gauntlet a stark contrast, an insult he hadn’t suffered in decades. His eyes, burning embers moments ago, now flared with pure, unrestrained fury.

The smug look on the boy’s face... unacceptable. Utterly unacceptable.

"You..." He growled, the sound low and guttural, vibrating with barely contained power. "You insolent little—"

He didn’t finish the sentence. Fin was already moving.

’No time for villain monologues, Goldie,’ Fin thought, pushing off the ground. The silver-green energy coiled around him, no longer just an aura, but almost seeming to integrate with his movements, propelling him faster, making his steps lighter.

Those weird energy constructs flickered over his knuckles, jagged edges shimmering. ’Let’s see how you like a taste of your own medicine.’

He didn’t charge straight in this time. He circled, feinting left, then darting right, forcing Dan to turn, keeping the massive Commander constantly adjusting. The guy was built like a fortress, but fortresses weren’t known for their pirouettes.

Dan swiped angrily with a gauntleted fist, the crimson energy trailing behind it like angry comets. Fin ducked under the blow easily, the wind rustling his hair. He popped back up, jabbing twice at Dan’s exposed face before dancing back out of range.

Quick, stinging blows. Annoying. Like a persistent mosquito Dan couldn’t quite swat.

THWACK! THWACK!

The impacts weren’t bone-shattering like the first hit, but the energy constructs seemed to bite through the crimson aura momentarily, leaving brief, stinging trails of disrupted energy on Dan’s skin.

"Stand still and FIGHT!" Dan roared, swinging his other fist in a wide, furious arc.

’Yeah, no thanks. Standing still seems like a bad life choice right now.’ He slid under the attack, almost brushing against Dan’s armored leg. He saw an opening – the back of Dan’s knee joint. He drove the heel of his boot into it, pouring energy into the strike.

Dan stumbled, roaring more in frustration than pain, the armor protecting the joint from serious damage. But it broke his stance. Threw off his balance.

Fin seized the moment. He pivoted, bringing his fist around in a tight hook, aiming again for that already-bloodied jaw.

This time, Dan was ready. He twisted, bringing his forearm up, the crimson aura flaring defensively. Fin’s constructed knuckles slammed into the armored forearm.

CRACKLE-BOOM!

Not a clean impact. The energies clashed violently. Fin felt a jolt run up his arm, less painful than grabbing the armor directly, but still unpleasant, like punching static electricity that punched back. Dan grunted, staggering back a step from the force.

’So the constructs help, but they don’t negate that angry red stuff completely. Good to know.’ He flexed his slightly numb fingers.

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