Blood Berserker - [ A Litrpg Apocalypse]

The wind whistled as it moved Nathan out of the way of the attack, the berserker groaning as his body seemed to contort in an unnatural way to enforce his technique, the execution narrowly avoiding what would have been a fatal blow courtesy of Sparrow. The old berserker undeterred judging by the malicious grin set on his face.

"Impressive, but otherwise futile," Sparrow said in a dry tone.

A thunderous boom echoed in the mini barracks as the lord launched himself at Nathan's prone form, the berserker still immobile due to the skill that had been cast on him by Sparrow. His technique had acted as a sort of loophole, allowing him to change positions but not necessarily move his limbs. Meaning Nathan was still sitting duck till whatever had been done to him wore off, and he didn't have high hopes that Sparrow was going to let him survive past the duration of the skill.

A punch to his injured gut caused Nathan to wince internally, his entire body protesting against the physical abuse he was on the receiving end of, but at the moment there was nothing he could do except hope that he'd be able to handle the ferocious onslaught of Sparrow — the lord relentlessly punching at his exposed midsection like a maniac.

[Critical warning: health below 25%]

Blood rebellion triggered]

Nathan wasn't even relieved by the latest notification that had popped up; in fact, he barely regarded it. Blood rebellion had saved him a lot of times, but he highly doubted that his ace skill would be up to the task when it came to standing up to Sparrow's attacks. At most, it might buy him a moment or two, but then again, a moment or two was the difference between life and death, so it might do him some good to put a little bit of faith in his skill, especially in his current circumstances. A sword cut to his thigh caused him to dispel his thoughts as he gritted his teeth, staring right at Sparrow's face, the glee now wiped off the face of the lord.

"It is so often the prayer of every father to see his son outstrip him in everything, and it just irks my soul that I am stuck looking at you." Sparrow spat. "Yes, you easily crushed my underlings, decimated them to bloody pulps that we now battle upon, their lives snuffed out at your whims, but when it really came down to it, you couldn't hold your own against me, an old and aging man. How exactly were you planning to survive in this world? Did you hope to hide out the rest of your days ?"

Sparrow sighed as Nathan remained tight-lipped at the question, but undeterred, he continued on. "No, that can't be it. While you may not be my biological son, even a dog raised by a lion would always try to roar; it would also seek to fight as it had seen the lion do, but in the end, the dog will always be a dog, and the lion will always be a lion." Sparrow said, his eyes flitting over Nathan's badly beaten and bruised form. "That's the difference between us, my boy. I am a lion, and you're a dog. No matter how hard I've tried, nothing can make you like me. After all, a lion does not sire a dog, and do you know what happens to animals who wish to challenge the king of the jungle?

"They die," Sparrow growled. "Now die!!!"

[Dissipate]

Nathan's activation of his technique was seamless, his position changing within a fraction of a second as he once again narrowly escaped Sparrow's killing blow, much to the annoyance of the old berserker, as reflected in the frustration that was evident in his face. Nathan, on the other hand, was trying to keep his heart from pounding so hard; he hadn't been in a situation like this in a long time.

A situation that fully brought back his mortality to the fore of his mind: he'd gotten so used to casually crushing his previous opponents with ease, it felt like a lifetime ago when he'd been struggling against level one imps. His body was aching all over, a reminder that he might have come far in the last few weeks, but there were still many people and things that could kill him just as easily as he'd killed Sparrow's minions, a testament to the fact that the food chain was constantly changing, and at the moment he wasn't anywhere close to the top.

"Why won't you stay STILL?" Sparrow roared, charging towards Nathan with reckless abandon.

Stolen novel; please report.

[

Time till effect fades: 0:00

Time limit reached.

[Rooted: (III)]. Dispelled. You are now able to move.

]

He didn't need more prompting; he dived out of the way of Sparrow's reckless attacks, his injuries protesting the action, but he gritted his teeth, knowing that he was on his last legs and a simple miscalculation on his end would result in him losing his life. He couldn't take any direct hit from Sparrow as it was; his health was too low to play around with, and his current state wasn't helping matters. He was sporting sword cuts on both arms and legs that went down to his bones; the slashes from Sparrow had been methodical as well as lethal.

By all accounts he was severely screwed, but like all things in life, he simply needed one chance, one chance to end this one-sided contest, one chance to turn the battle over on its head, one chance for the dog to lay the lion down. As much as he hated to use those words on himself, he knew he was outclassed. The old berserker had simply been playing with him from the start, and now he'd tired of the farce, which meant Nathan had to up his game considerably if he wanted any chance of killing the old man.

"All that talk about the lion and the dog, but you still haven't managed to kill me. I guess we know who the lion is, seeing as the only thing you've been doing is barking." Nathan taunted, struggling and succeeding in getting back on his feet. An enraged Sparrow on the other side of him.

"Well, then I suppose it's time to stop barking and end your pitiful existence," Sparrow said, leveling his sword and launching himself at Nathan.

This is it.

For a brief second, death was the only thing present in Nathan's mind. He'd done his best; he'd fought the good fight, crushing opponents left and right until he finally met someone that was way above his level. Fitting it was for him to die to the man who'd taught him most of what he knew, and at the very least he'd die standing, with his dignity intact. What better way was there to go?

NO. The single word rang loud and true in Nathan's thoughts: it wasn't time for him to die. He hadn't accomplished anything with it in the time he spent on this earth. He'd been nothing more than a runaway mafia prince, a sign spinner on a random corner in the middle of nowhere, and most recently a lord, a lord that no one would remember. Forever swept away by the sands of time without a single accomplishment to his name. He might be a lord, but he was unknown off his island; he'd had to introduce himself to any and everyone with a semblance of power.

That wasn't the way he wanted to leave the earth, to be forgotten a millisecond after his death, a waste of space who'd simply existed to be nothing but fodder to those who truly wished to rise to the top. So, as time stood still with his death rapidly approaching him in the form of Sparrow, Nathan took the time to think about who he really was and what he wanted to do with his life. The first was easy. He was Nathan Orion, the blood berserker, and the latter was even easier. He wished to be the best there ever was in this new world, to take advantage of the clean slate that had been handed over to whatever entity that had infiltrated his world. To rise to the pinnacle of whatever this was.

A light smile split his features as he reconciled with the fact that he'd been making bold steps towards his ambitions; even right now, at this very moment, he was covered in the blood of the opponents who had fallen to him, and he was responsible for the death of the many souls who'd sought to cross him. Demons, goblins, humans, and snakes—he'd fought them all and won. He was soaked in the blood of all his foes, and in that moment a feeling of bliss enveloped him. He'd finally discovered who he was, and he was more than just Nathan Orion; he was—

[Congratulations! Moniker Earned: Crimson King.

Monikers are a reflection of who you are as an entity; for earning a moniker, you have received a soul weapon.

Your soul weapon is a Blade

Soul Blade( Grade D)

Your type of weapon was selected to match your tastes, and further modifications can be made to the soul weapon by meeting certain requirements.

Name Soul Blade.]

king's wrath

[Soul Blade Name Confirmed: King's Wrath

To retrieve your sword from your soul, just think about it, and to return it, it's simple, will it? Please note that your Soulblade is non-transferable and not lootable. It will be yours and yours alone till death.

Depending on the grade of your soul blade, it will either remain manifested or disappear from existence with your soul when you die.]

Nathan skimped over the details; his mind was on one thing, the fact that he now had an identity. He was the Crimson King. With that settled, Nathan did the next best thing: he willed his sword into his right hand, and it simply came into being. The sword, seemingly drenched in blood, had a bloody red tint.

As much as Nathan would've loved to savor the look of his new sword, the world had other plans for him. The passage of time resumed abruptly; the sudden change caught both him and Sparrow off guard. The old berserker was surprised by the appearance of Nathan's blade, but he charged regardless, with the pair ultimately clashing. The sound that permeated the air wasn't one of steel meeting steel; it was something worse, as a wet squelch filled the air, a light gasp following as a fatal blow had finally landed.