Chapter 88: “Talent” Wayne |
This was where Magic-Body Techniques truly showed their strength.
They were not merely simple energy release, but could attach various deadly special effects to otherwise plain physical attacks.
Lance roughly estimated that the activation just now had consumed about 1 unit of Aether Energy from his pool.
This level of consumption was extremely low, basically equivalent to a spellcaster casting a Zero-Ring Spell.
And this was precisely the biggest difference between melee professionals and those spellcasting elites.
Spellcasters had to strictly control their energy output according to the upper and lower limits of their Spell Models. Once control was lost, they would suffer backlash.
Melee professionals, on the other hand, were much more straightforward and crude.
They only needed to consider the amount of energy consumption, and could even pour out all their energy in a single instant without worrying about model collapse or backlash.
But this crudeness did not mean there was no finesse.
Once that range was exceeded, the energy conversion rate would drop off a cliff.
For example, if the optimal energy range for a move was between 1 and 10—
If one insisted on dumping 50 units of energy into it, the final damage might only be about 30% higher than using 10 units.
For melee professionals who already had limited energy reserves, this behavior was simply an enormous waste.
“That’s about enough.”
Lance glanced at the night outside the window and did not continue testing the remaining moves.
Actual combat was the best proving ground for skills.
There were still matters to attend to tonight.
Through Jeff’s secrets, he had already selected several targets to deal with.
According to the intelligence, one of them seemed like a formidable character in Jeff’s eyes, but Lance felt that something about it was off.
……
Wayne was an indispensable Gold Washer within the Ghoulhound organization.
His job was to process the goods handled by people like “Razor” through various shady gray channels, converting them into circulating silver coins.
Just moments ago, he had completed a transaction involving goods that had been piled up for half a month, and his mood was fairly good.
Originally, Wayne looked down on a backwater place like Graystone Town.
He had once belonged to a fairly well-known underground black-market organization in White River City, responsible for trap deployment and outer perimeter reconnaissance.
Unfortunately, later on, due to greed, he secretly skimmed a portion of the stolen goods while handling them and was discovered by his superiors. He had no choice but to flee overnight and hide here.
However, because the organization he had once belonged to carried some reputation in the circles, the bumpkins in Ghoulhound seemed to hold him in high regard.
This sense of being admired made him feel that staying in this small place wasn’t so bad after all.
But the shadow of being hunted in the past always lingered in his heart, causing him to become extremely sensitive—even somewhat paranoid and suspicious.
His residence was located in a deep alley beside a tailor shop in the Craftsman District.
It was a very inconspicuous single room, perfectly fitting for someone like him who needed to hide his identity.
The stairway inside the building was dim, with no light at all, but he was already familiar with the environment—he could walk back to his room with his eyes closed.
Wayne hummed an off-key tune as he took out his key and opened the door.
However, the moment his foot stepped over the threshold, the relaxed expression on his face instantly froze.
The room was pitch black, so quiet that only the occasional sound of wind from outside the window could be heard.
Everything looked the same as usual.
But Wayne knew—something was wrong.
The smell had changed.
Within this room filled with mold and dust, there was a foreign scent that didn’t belong.
This came from his Common-grade Talent 【Scent Recording】.
Like a hunting dog, he could record smells and perform precise comparisons in his mind.
Originally, this was a somewhat useless Talent, but at this critical moment, it proved its worth.
Someone had entered!
Wayne closed the door without a sound and used the motion of turning around to quickly scan the room.
It was too dark—he couldn’t see anything.
But he knew his room well. The layout was extremely simple.
Aside from a single bed and a worn-out sofa, there was almost no extra furniture.
The only place that could hide an adult and was also a blind spot in his field of vision was the gap behind the wardrobe.
Logically—
That intruder had to be there!
Wayne suppressed his racing heartbeat and pretended to notice nothing.
While adjusting his breathing rhythm, he rapidly constructed a tactical model in his mind.
“The opponent chose to sneak in at night. He definitely wouldn’t use weapons like blades that could make noise.”
“To ensure stealth, he must be using a poisoned silent hand crossbow!”
“If I show any abnormality now, he’ll immediately pull the trigger.”
The kerosene lamp was beside the sofa—he couldn’t go over and light it now.
He had to act natural.
Wayne’s hand casually reached toward his belt, as if to unbuckle it and hang his clothes on the wall, but in reality, his right hand had already quietly gripped the handle of the dagger hidden at his waist.
“From that wardrobe gap to my current position, the bolt would take about 0.4 seconds to reach me.”
“Human reaction speed has limits—I have to predict his prediction!”
Wayne’s eyes became incomparably focused in the darkness—the gaze of a hunter about to kill its prey.
If it were me, I would choose the timing…
With his back to that blind spot, he silently counted down.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One… now! He’s going to act!”
“Ha!”
Wayne suddenly let out a low roar. His entire body tensed, and he burst forward like a pouncing leopard.
Mid-air, he executed an extremely perfect tactical roll, dodging the imagined incoming bolt.
At the same time, his hands flashed as he drew two poison-coated daggers from his sleeves.
With a flick of his right hand, one dagger shot toward the predicted hiding spot with a piercing sound, while he himself followed closely behind, gripping the other dagger in reverse and lunging viciously forward.
The entire sequence flowed like water, without the slightest hesitation.
“Trying to kill me, Wayne? You’re still too green!”
However—
The moment his dagger stabbed fiercely into that patch of darkness—
Something felt wrong.
There was no resistance of blade piercing flesh, nor any scream as expected.
He had missed.
There was nothing there but a cloud of old dust.
Wayne’s ferocious yet confident grin froze instantly on his face.
“Excuse me.”
A calm, emotionless voice suddenly sounded from the other side of the room.
Wayne, who had been facing the wardrobe in a battle-ready stance, stiffened abruptly.
His neck turned slowly, like rusted gears grinding into motion.
The previously pitch-black room was now illuminated by a warm yellow glow.
At some unknown moment, the kerosene lamp on the table beside the sofa had already been lit.
A man dressed in a dark gray night cloak sat there, half of his face hidden beneath the hood’s shadow.
But Wayne could feel it—the other party was looking at him like he was an idiot.
That man was Lance.