Among the three melee classes—thief, knight, and warrior—the warrior's attack speed is between that of the thief and the knight, with a well-rounded balance between offense and defense. However, this well-rounded nature also makes the warrior a somewhat mediocre class by design.
In warrior-on-warrior battles, those who take the initiative to attack are usually the ones who get countered and crushed. If they fail to establish dominance with their first strike, it's easy for the opponent to take control, especially in battles between skilled players.
"This is impossible!"
The War Saint Darkbo reappeared, his expression filled with shock, and the entire arena of skulls fell silent.
"Impossible? Your skill timing and adaptability? You're not even as good as Reaver," Orson said with a smile.
Darkbo's expression was full of confusion, to which Orson shrugged and explained, "A walking target."
Before becoming a Trialist, Orson was merely the Sword and Conquest Triple Crown winner. He could still wield the warrior class and easily dominate the top ten magic swordsman in the US, Reaver, with nothing but ragged gear and a worthless Soul Seal. Surviving two years in the apocalypse with only a mastery of the mage class wasn't enough. His knowledge of the warrior class was just the tip of the iceberg in his "profession pool."
The screen flickered once more, and Darkbo growled in frustration. The skulls in the stands began to murmur again.
"You have drawn the Archer class!"
"You can freely choose weapons, skills, and styles."
The prompt rang out. Orson wore a playful smile as he muttered to himself, "If you had drawn Priest, you might have had time to stall. Archer… I'm familiar with that."
In his past life, he was relentlessly hunted by the strongest archer, Usher, the ruler of the US battle zone. Whenever Orson closed his eyes, he could replay every movement Usher made, from every basic attack to each skill, as if it were burned into his mind.
Every movement, every breath, every possible moment to strike—how could he not memorize it all, engrave it into his very bones? As a mage class specialist, in some ways, Orson understood warriors better than most warriors and archers better than most archers.
This gladiatorial battlefield set up by War Saint Darkbo seemed tailor-made for Orson.
The weapons table refreshed, and Orson casually picked up a tough cowhorn bow. This time, he wasn't seeking a surprise attack or trying to control the pace of the fight. He raised the bow and pointed it at Darkbo.
Darkbo, who had fought alongside God-Emperor for a thousand years, immediately became enraged. He drew a crossbow and fired multiple arrows at once. Five enchanted arrows shot toward Orson, accompanied by the howls of countless angry skeletons.
"The crossbow's attack speed is fast, but its range is shorter than a longbow's. Given we both have level 45 base attributes, your range won't exceed fifty meters."
Orson stepped back three paces, his eyes shining with brilliance. The five enchanted arrows struck the ground, kicking up dust, and the nearest one was barely half a meter from his foot.
"I'll teach you how to use an archer," Orson laughed. He jumped into the air, pulling the bowstring back to form a full moon.
This was a fairly standard D-level skill from the longbow style, designed for precise long-range attacks. The bronze-colored arrow shot straight down into the War Saint's head. Darkbo froze for a moment, thinking, Did it miss? No, it can't be!
Before the first arrow could even land, the second one followed, smashing into the back of the first. The two arrows trembled violently before curving in mid-air, sealing off Darkbo's escape route.
Darkbo quickly activated his movement skill and rolled to avoid the Shock Shot. But when he got up and looked up, Orson had already finished charging a higher-level skill. His expression cold, Orson sneered, "Savage Dragon Fang!"
A-level skill: Savage Dragon Fang!
Effect: Consumes 1000 MP, charges for 2 seconds, creates an area of near-immovable force, reducing movement speed by 90%, and launches a devastating blow at the target!
A gray-brown dragon shadow enveloped Darkbo. His legs felt as if they were filled with lead, and every step became a struggle.
"Light Elf's Protection!"
Darkbo let out another roar, activating a skill that allowed his body to phase out of reality, making him immune to physical damage. A dragonfang-shaped light arrow passed through him, simultaneously eliminating the speed-reducing effect of Savage Dragon Fang.
Darkbo's hair stood on end, and his eyes filled with terror. For a thousand years of battle, he had never felt this powerless.
"Looking somewhere else? This is the real killing move."
A voice suddenly sounded next to him. Darkbo turned around in shock and horror to find that Orson had already used his movement skill to appear beside him.
Orson smiled coldly, "D-level skill, Rapid Fire."
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Three arrows flew point-blank, landing on Darkbo's torso, his heart, and his head. The War Saint collapsed with a look of horror on his face.
"Do you like 1v1s, NPC?"
Orson's expression was one of indifference, his smile unfazed. Darkbo, struggling to rise again, could hardly believe what he was seeing. In a fair duel, the intelligent NPCs created by the gods were nothing more than ants in his eyes. In terms of skills, class features, and combat awareness, they were simply not on the same level.
"You have earned the Gladiator Point!"
The prompt rang out. Orson didn't feel much joy. It was a bit too boring.
The screen flickered once again.
"I… how could I lose so completely? This is impossible!"
Darkbo, a super-strong NPC with a powerful background setting, was now drenched in sweat. The young man across from him was so overwhelmingly strong that it felt utterly hopeless.
"Magician! I'll definitely win against a Magician! I'm God-Emperor's personal guard. I've been personally instructed by His Majesty, God-Emperor!" Darkbo clenched his teeth, silently praying in his heart.
When it came to his gladiatorial skills, maybe a god-level player would defeat him, considering they were more proficient in their own class. But the real challenge lay in facing a class they didn't understand, let alone master.
Unfortunately for Darkbo, he was up against a freak with a 99% correct rate on the opening server questionnaire.
This was the tragic fate of God-Emperor's personal guard.
"You have drawn the Mage class!"
"You can freely choose weapons, skills, and styles."
With the class locked in, Darkbo couldn't help but burst into delighted laughter. "Adventurer, you can't escape your fate! The Mage style, I have never been defeated!"
Orson stared blankly at the screen for a moment, scratched his head, and laughed. "Uh… that's a coincidence, I've never lost either."
Watching Darkbo eagerly await the weapon refresh, Orson nearly burst out laughing.
In this 1v1 fair duel mode, equipment, extra attribute points, and personal skills were all unavailable.
That didn't mean Soul Seal was off-limits.
Orson flashed a sinister smile, then began to retreat. Darkbo looked on in confusion.
Soon, Orson had backed up nearly a kilometer, and a weapon platform appeared beside him.
Orson casually picked up a firewood stick of unknown origin, too lazy to even select a skill. His skill panel only showed a basic fireball.
"Ready for a satisfying beatdown?"