Vanguard of the Eternal Night

translator: xiin

editors: alamerysl & Pyromancer

"Our player number 419 is already in critical danger—"

As soon as the commentator's voice fell, Tyron performed a roll on the spot and landed in a standard sprinting start-up position, dashing forward and bypassing the arcane missiles that were still in flight. In an instant, he had already arrived in front of his opponent.

Commentator: "Oh, my god! What kind of speed burst is this! Is he tied to a rocket launcher?!"

When Tyron and his opponent were still one meter apart, the mage had already stopped casting Arcane Storm and promptly used Flicker (a short distance teleportation spell). His figure instantly reappeared fifteen meters away.

"Beautiful!" The commentator shouted, "What kind of awareness is this! Basically when the assassin put on his burst of speed, the mage was already preparing to use Flicker! He managed to get away within a single second, this is simply miraculous—"

The commentator hadn't even finished speaking, but Tyron had not paused at all. He followed up with a Shadow Leap and immediately appeared in the mage's shadow.

The commentator disregarded the pain in his face and hurried on to say, "0.5 seconds! He caught up in just 0.5 seconds! The assassin's reaction was actually even faster! This is really an amazing scene!"

.

After Tyron appeared behind the mage, he first knocked him in the back of his head, sending him into a brief <stun>. Then, taking advantage of the <stun>, the dagger, Song of Triumph, in his right hand slashed across his throat, while the dagger in his left, Deep Silence, stabbed into his back.

When the mage recovered from <stun> 1.5 seconds later, his body had two new status effects: <silence> (unable to cast) and <bleed> (continuous loss of HP).

Commentator: "What an unparalleled hand speed and hit rate! The assassin used three skills in succession within 1.5 seconds. Oh my god! That was only a 0.5 second global cooldown between each skill… Is he cheating?"

.

Tyron wasn't cheating. He wasn't using skills - it was pure technique.

The skills released through the system had a global shared cooldown period of at least 1 second; but because the techniques he executed with his hands were judged as being within the range of an ordinary attack, there was no cooldown.

However, the effect of these techniques came from the experience that Tyron gained over countless battles, and there would never be the tiniest flaw.

The mage was alarmed to discover that his HP bar had already dropped to red (below 30% health).

Commentator: "Red blood! Victory or defeat is imminent! The mage decisively used his last life-saving skill Alpha Substitute, immediately escaping from all negative effects and fleeing 15 meters away. Only a substitute scarecrow was left behind in the spot where he had been.

In the next moment, the substitute scarecrow exploded!

"The scarecrow exploded! It's a rare counterattack spell!" The commentator shouted excitedly, "The assassin is no longer at full health! He's finally no longer at full health, everyone!"

Audience: "…" Why did they feel a twinge in their hearts when they heard this?

.

Alpha Substitute and the scarecrow's explosion happened instantaneously. There had been no opportunity to evade at all.

In that instant, Tyron relied on his combat instincts to jump back, using his forearms to defend against the deadly damage. The HP bar over his head fell to&#k2026; 97%.

Commentator: “&#k2026; Damn, there’s no way to fight this assassin at all. Is his nervous system made out of quantum particles &#k2013; is that why he can respond at the speed of light?”

His words had just finished when Tyron put on another burst of speed and rushed towards the mage so quickly that he basically had no time to react at all.

The mage had already used all of his life-saving skills, and the only skill that wasn't on cooldown was his Arcane Storm. He could only grit his teeth for the sake of his dignity… five arcane missiles whizzed out.

And then… there was no 'and then'.

"A swipe across the throat again! Damn it, every strike lands accurately on a fatal point and causes a critical hit, what kind of accuracy is this?! What kind of accuracy is this, everyone! 1 second… 2 seconds! The mage is down!" The commentator roared, "Dead!— Ah, he's really down! Victory has been determined."

The next second, the system officially declared the results.

.

The mage transformed into a white light and returned to the main stage.

Tyron placed Song of Triumph and Deep Silence back into their sheaths and also flew up to the stage.

The host clattered up onto the stage: "Congratulations to contestant number 419 on his victory. Would the two contestants like to share some remarks?"

The microphone was passed to the mage, who hesitated for a moment and then said, "I feel… Like I was chased and killed."

The host laughed out loud: "Single player duels in the arena have always been about killing and being killed."

Mage: "…" How about you come and try how it feels to be chased and killed by #419? Have you really experienced despair before?

But in the end, he held back and said nothing.

.

The microphone was then passed on to Tyron.

The host hadn't yet asked 'Do you have anything to say?'.

But Tyron had immediately started with: "No."

Host: "Our contestant number 419 has no comment again? Geez, the audience is very curious to know - how did you manage to execute three skills in a row in 1.5 seconds? This has gone beyond the limits of the system's rules on skill release speed."

Tyron: "Trade secret."

The audience was shouting in continuous bursts, and the sounds of conversation were endless, while girls collectively continued to scream and whistle at Tyron.

.

The host wrinkled her brow and asked, "Oh, handsome big brother, can't you tell me? How about 50,000 dollars for your trade secret?"

Tyron: "50,000?"

Host: "This is already not a small number. I wonder if I can get reimbursed for things that happen on stage?"

Tyron: "It's not skill. It's technique."

Host: "…"

Audience: "…"

Commentator: "Lord Four! You are my father! Let me first kneel to you to show my respect!"

.

When Tyron calmly walked away with 50,000 dollars, the audience at the scene was still embroiled in heated discussion.

The difference between 'skill' and 'technique' lay in the fact that the system controlled the release of former, while the latter was released through freeform manipulation of the player's body. The difference between these two was so gigantic, it was like comparing clouds with mud.

For example, 'skills' were like engraved printing blocks. Everyone could use the same set of stencils, and everyone could use them in the same way. Only hardware (character attributes, equipment, etc.) could influence the results. Once skills were acquired, players only needed give the system a command, and the skill would be released without any variation.

'Techniques' were like using a paintbrush. The threshold for entry was low, and there was a high degree of freedom and variability - anyone could give it a try, but some ended up like failed projects, while others became famous masterpieces. Even if they were high level masters, they might be able to create a masterpiece when they were in good condition, but then become utterly discredited if they weren't careful.

Some people's freely controlled techniques may not work at all, or could even end up hurting themselves; others' techniques not only stood a head above everyone else's, they could even freely control the speed, target, have no cooldown period, and break through the system's upper speed limit.

The realm of techniques contained infinite possibilities.

Generally speaking, world-class masters would focus on training one or two techniques that complimented their own advantages. Once it was successfully mastered, this technique would become their 'famous unique move'.

Because there was a large range of freedom in techniques, everyone's techniques would have their own personal characteristics, and were extremely easy to recognize. Training was not easy - the level of difficulty was high, so a master player would normally only concentrate on one or two techniques.

The known master with the most techniques was 'Secret Hand' Van Dough, the highest ranked assassin from the previous A League Competition. Since his debut, he had exhibited a total of eight types of techniques, and was given the title 'an bottomless pit of techniques'.

That night, Tyron's personal page on the official website was updated.

Player number: 419

Source of Competition Qualifications: Free-for-all Battle

GNA Comprehensive Rating: B-list

PVE Score: unknown

PVP Score: A

PVN score: B+

GNA Evaluation: An assassin class character with unknown potential. The player showed excellent concealment, assassination, explosive output and hunting skills, and has a considerable battlefield life-harvesting capability. Has also shown a good performance during 1v1 PVP.

PVP Characteristics: Based on present data, the player's main and off-hand weapon hit rate has been maintained at more than 90%, of which the fatal point hit rate is 65.9%. In addition, he has an alarming burst movement speed, and an even more alarming burst attack speed. According to his own words, he has mastery of some high speed continuous damage technique.

Personal Quotes:

(When asked if he has anything to say): "No."

(His explanation regarding his attack speed) "It's not skill. It's technique."

The two images at the bottom were still the same, and hadn't been updated.

The comments section at the very bottom continued to explode with messages:

"Lord Four, I'm also kneeling!"

"Damned godly Lord Four, what is that 'No.' doing there in the personal quotes? [laughing and crying.jpg]]

It was probably because the commentator had shortened his name from 'contestant number 419' to 'Lord Four' in a moment of excitement, so netizens also began to follow the trend and started to call him 'Lord Four'.

"Lord Four is powerful and magnificent! Lord Four is so handsome that I can't close my legs."

"Lord Four, I want to give birth to your monkeys!'

"Lord Four, I want to give birth to a mountain of flowers and fruit for you!'

Tyron: "…" I don't quite understand you modern people.

.

Tyron felt unhappy and itchy. It was like grinding a knife, taking a bath, and happily going out to PK, but ultimately finishing work by kicking a little mob to death at the door and going back home.

He had just started to get excited, and then it was over. He was very unsatisfied.

However, situations like these were not uncommon in the past 500 years. Ultimately, when one's skills had been honed to the point where they were considered among the best, there would naturally be a sense of frustration from the fact that it was difficult to go all out. There was also a sense of loneliness that came from being unable to find a worthy opponent.

But even so, to assassins, it was also something to be pleased about.

He was different from these people who were just playing games at home.

They were participating in a lively and satisfying duel. The process was cool and romantic; they were given an audience hall full of applause when they won, or merely patted their buttocks and returned home if they lost. He had lived a life full of bloodbath on the tip of a knife. The process was dull and cruel; he licked his wounds silently if he won, or had nothing and was nothing but a dead body if he lost.

Now, Tyron had arrived in their world. In comparison, this world was so bright, so friendly. To him, this was the best kind of era for him to cast off and extricate himself from all the killing and evil.

No matter which world it was, Tyron Odin was indisputably a powerful man.

The powerful were those who could bear the worst kinds of fate, and were also deserving of the greatest of glories.