Blood Berserker - [ A Litrpg Apocalypse]

San Francisco, California.

That was the destination they'd picked, mostly because he assumed Washington would be filled to the brim with wannabe politicians, and he'd rather not have to deal with people trying to bring back the old ways of ruling.

At the very least, he'd prefer that nobody try to control or throw a now redundant system at him. He shoved the thoughts into the back of his mind as he got ready to cross blades with his opponent — Pirlo.

It was nothing more than a spar, at least that had been the initial agreement. No skills, and Nathan was required to limit himself to fifty percent power while the rogue could hit him with everything he got, which by Nathan's estimate wasn't much, judging by how little damage the rogue had managed to do over fifteen minutes.

Of course, if it was a real battle, the rogue would've probably gone for his eyes, but at the same time, Nathan wasn't just going to stand still and let him do that, so it didn't really matter, he supposed. The pair of fighters contrasted because Nathan hadn't broken a sweat since the start of the battle, but the rogue was a different matter altogether.

The wiry teen was huffing and puffing, his t-shirt that had barely survived the apocalypse was soaked in the teen's sweat, the daggers in the boy's hands held in a death-like grip. The intense focus, which was the trademark of the rogue, was still the expression on the boy's face.

Although Nathan could sense the frustration that had started to creep into the rogue's face, still he held back, refusing to strike and basically relegating himself to a human punching bag. Even with that, the rogue still struggled to do damage, much to the Berserker's amusement.

"Come on, Pirlo, you got this!" Daniel cheered from the sideline.

Nathan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the ranger's words. As it was, in the absence of Ruben, the ranger had stepped up, taking the crown of the most annoying person in the group. Of course, they'd only discovered it after three days of sailing. They'd all taken the chance to briefly explore the ship, they'd picked beds and whatnot, and altogether chosen to stay on their own.

In his own private moment alone, Nathan reflected on his own path. A punch from Pirlo caused him to remember another annoying bugger he'd left behind — the rabbit. He still hadn't named the bunny, and he highly doubted that he would. The human and alien animal hadn't been that close, but they'd had sort of a truce, just like he had with the rogue who was still doing his best to critically injure Nathan.

At the moment, the rogue had only managed to open up paper-thin cuts on Nathan's skin. It wasn't painful, but a couple of those slashes had him feeling irritable. Very, very irritable; in fact, he'd already started contemplating breaking the rogue's arm just for show, but he decided to hold himself back.

For one, the rogue was the strongest in the group after him, and it wouldn't do him any good to utterly crush the teen in front of everyone. At the very least, he would hold back and do his best not to badly injure the clearly frustrated teen, but before he actually cleared doubts, he might as well work on his blade work.

That was the fun part about fighting with Pirlo: the intense prick was competent with his daggers, whereas Nathan was nothing but a barbarian with his sword — although the Berserker didn't think it mattered as long as he managed to fight every battle and win.

Like an old dusty robot coming to life, Nathan moved for the first time in minutes, his speed and strength halved as he tried to give the rogue a shot at survival. Crimson light reflected off the blade of his sword as he swung it at the exposed neck of the rogue, who hadn't expected Nathan to move.

Clang!

For someone who had obviously been caught off guard, the block by the rogue using both daggers was solid but not an obstacle for a Berserker who far outstripped him in the strength stat. Nathan leaned in on the strike, pressing down his entire upper body strength on the blade of his sword, causing Pirlo to grit his teeth as he was currently losing ground even in their deadlock.

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Nathan grinned, the expression on his face a stark contrast to the look of frustration on the face of the rogue who was being pushed back, the teen having to give up ground in the face of Nathan's overwhelming strength — even tamped down as it was.

The status quo didn't last long as the rogue, who was someone that was quick on his feet, gave up the contest for strength and rolled out of the way, leaving Nathan unbalanced. The berserker was unable to balance himself in time, causing his sword to sink a good five inches into the deck before he drew it out.

Just like King Arthur did with the sword in the stone.

Nathan shook his head; this wasn't time to be thinking about bedtime stories — he had a rogue to humble. Unfortunately for the berserker, Pirlo wasn't like his other opponents who preferred to give him time to recuperate. The rogue was relentless, already charging at Nathan before he could reset his stance.

Clang!

Their blades met again — sword to daggers — this time Pirlo didn't stay back to figure out if anything was going to come from crossing blades with him; the teen simply hopped back, prepping for another attack. The tactic caused Nathan to chuckle; it was nothing more than a probing attack, meaning that Pirlo was trying to figure out how Nathan would respond to certain strikes.

Well, two can play that game.

He knew that he didn't need to probe, didn't need to go on the whole cat and mouse game, but at the moment, he was enjoying the chase. The shift from the monotonous time on deck was starting to fry his brain, and it was nice to exercise his muscles, especially when there was nothing to lose, as was the case now.

Without letting the rogue settle into a rhythm, Nathan lunged at the wiry teen, his blade arcing from the side, promising nothing but violence. The Berserker himself sported a wide grin which added much flair to the scene, but Pirlo was unfazed, the rogue preferring to stand his ground against Nathan's lunge, a decision that turned out to be a big, big mistake.

CLANG!

BOOM!

THUD!

The wiry teen stood no chance against the bulky berserker. Nathan barreled into the rogue like a behemoth, and compared to the rogue, he might as well have been one. He could hear the breath get knocked out of the smaller teen's voice, but to the Rogue's credit, he'd managed to deflect Nathan's swing.

The deflection wasn't enough though, evident by the way the rogue hit the deck of the ship. The teen bounced off the deck, rolling to a stop a few feet away from the Captain golem. The rogue took the hit like a champ, pushing up on his feet and setting up what seemed like a defensive stance, which wasn't surprising considering the fact that Nathan was already dashing towards him.

Not one to pass up a chance of getting an opponent off guard, Nathan had a spring in his step. His entire being thrumming with unbridled energy as it sought to exert dominance on the field — or deck as it was. The Berserker swung his sword, aiming for the Rogue's neck but was disappointed when his blade met nothing but air; the crafty rogue seemed to have come to the conclusion that crossing blades with Nathan was foolish.

The wiry teen hopped back, allowing Nathan's blade to whistle past him harmlessly. The move wasn't without reason from the rogue; the missed swing by Nathan would leave him unbalanced and, most importantly, vulnerable, and was something he planned on taking advantage of.

"Grahhhhhhhhh!" Pirlo screamed.

Shit.

Nathan internally winced as he spied the rogue's daggers heading for his exposed throat; his badly timed attack had left him vulnerable to the attack by the rogue. The Berserker didn't doubt that the attack by the wiry teen wouldn't break his skin due to his constitution, but it'd sure hurt like crazy.

Time to bring out the big guns.

The monks believed that all weapons were unreliable and in life only one weapon was reliable — the body. Nathan didn't think the same; he believed in having as many weapons as possible, and his body was one of those. Why only have fists when you could fight with swords and maces? Nathan couldn't understand the reasoning, but at the moment, he was sure glad he had a free hand he could form as a fist and intercept Pirlo's strike.

His fist went through the space between the rogue's daggers, heading straight for the boy's face in full force. The reality of the situation must've clicked in the wiry teen's eyes as he seemed to just give up; Nathan could see the exact moment the urge to battle left the eyes of the rogue.

Clang!

"I yield!" Pirlo yelled.

Nathan managed to stop his fist from breaking Pirlo's nose and quite possibly his face, barely. The rogue sported a grimace at the sight of Nathan's clenched fist so close to his face, but the Berserker was already pulling back his fist. The rogue had made the right choice as Nathan's fist would've definitely done a lot of damage even with a pulled punch.

"Yo Pirlo, I had a lot of coin riding on you," Daniel whined.

"I still can't believe you made that bet," Tasha said, the ranger taking a pouch from the outstretched palm of Daniel.

Nathan simply grinned at the disappointed ranger who'd just lost money, before bending to pick up Pirlo's daggers and then offering them to the frustrated rogue.