System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 97: Chapter 96: ”An Assassino cannot live by bread alone...”

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---Previously---

Alaric let his carefree facade drop completely, replaced by a confident, almost challenging smirk. He met the eyes of those closest to him.

”Again,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a clear warning. ”Don’t blame me if you guys go flying.”

---Now---

The air grew thick with anticipation as more than fifty pairs of eyes... Assassins, the Maestro, Flavia, and Reuben, were fixed on Alaric, who stood utterly relaxed in the center of the courtyard, unarmed.

The first wave came without a signal, a coordinated rush from five Assassins on different sides. They moved quickly as their blades flashed, aiming to overwhelm him with numbers.

Alaric didn’t even seem to move his feet initially. He swayed slightly, letting a sword thrust pass harmlessly by his ear. As the Assassin lunged past, Alaric tapped the man’s elbow, redirecting his momentum into another attacker.

Simultaneously, he ducked under a wide slash from a third, his hand shooting out to trip a fourth who was closing in. The fifth attacker aimed a precise stab with a dagger but Alaric simply pivoted, using the man’s own arm to block the incoming slash from the second attacker he’d unbalanced.

It was a chaotic flurry of motion, yet Alaric moved through it calmly, using minimal effort to turn their aggression against each other. Two Assassins collided, another tripped over his own feet, and the one whose arm Alaric had used yelped as his comrade’s sword grazed him.

”Too slow,” Alaric commented casually, delivering a swift chop to the neck of the Assassin nearest him, sending the man crumpling to the ground, unconscious. He then spun, kicking another attacker squarely in the chest. The Assassin flew backwards several meters, landing in a heap with a loud grunt, clearly knocked out.

The remaining Assassins paused, momentarily stunned by the effortless dispatch of five of their number.

”Come on now,” Alaric taunted, beckoning with his fingers. ”Don’t tell me that’s all the famous Auditore Assassins have got? I expected more of a warm-up.”

Angered by the taunt, another wave surged forward, maybe ten this time, trying to use coordinated tactics, feinting and attacking from multiple angles. Alaric became a blur. He flowed like water between them, his hands and feet moving with blinding speed and precision. He slapped a sword away, deliver a quick palm strike to a jaw that sent teeth flying, sweep the legs out from under another, catch a wrist and use the Assassin as a human shield against a comrade’s attack before tossing him aside.

One Assassin managed to get close, hidden blade extended, aiming for Alaric’s kidney. Alaric simply leaned back matrix-style, the blade whistling past his stomach, then brought his knee up sharply into the Assassin’s face as he straightened.

CRUNCH.

The Assassin went down hard. Another tried a low slash yet Alaric leaped lightly over it, landing behind the attacker and delivering a sharp kick to the back of the knee, followed by a precise chop to the base of the skull. Down.

Bodies began to litter the courtyard. Alaric moved constantly, never staying in one place, controlling the pace entirely. He knocked one man out with a quick jab, kick another into a wall hard enough to stun him, disarm a third and use the sword hilt to knock out a fourth.

He sent Assassins flying with seemingly casual kicks and pushes, their bodies tumbling through the air before crashing onto the flagstones or into their bewildered comrades. No one could land a blow. Swords missed, daggers were deflected, hidden blades found only empty air.

”Is this really it?” Alaric asked, effortlessly dodging a sword thrust while simultaneously elbowing another attacker in the ribs. ”I’m barely breaking a sweat here.”

Seeing her brethren being dismantled so easily, Flavia could wait no longer. With a determined cry, she darted forward, dagger flashing towards Alaric’s side. He turned lazily, catching her wrist with ease, stopping the dagger inches from his body. ”Naughty, naughty,” he tutted.

Flavia snarled and tried to bring her hidden blade around with her other hand. Alaric simply opened his palm and placed it gently but firmly on her stomach. A seemingly small push, yet Flavia gasped as she was launched backwards through the air as if struck by a cannonball. Reuben, anticipating something like this, moved quickly, catching her before she hit the ground, though the force knocked him back a step. Flavia was unconscious in his arms.

Matteo stared, aghast, as his daughter was taken out so effortlessly. ”Impossible...” he breathed, his face pale. ”No man moves like that...”

Reuben looked down at the unconscious Flavia, then back at Alaric who was casually dusting off his shoulder. A single bead of sweat trickled down Reuben’s temple despite the cool morning air. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves.

Alaric turned back to the remaining Assassins, who now hesitated, their earlier confidence shattered. ”Anyone else?”

That seemed to break the dam. With renewed, desperate yells, the remaining thirty or so Assassins charged him en masse.

What followed was less a fight and more a whirlwind of controlled chaos.

Alaric moved through them like a force of nature. Fists blurred, kicks sent bodies flying, elbows cracked jaws, knees found solar plexuses. He used attackers as shields, redirected weapons, tripped, pushed, and struck with blinding speed and pinpoint accuracy, targeting pressure points and vital areas for instant knockouts.

Within another minute, the courtyard was silent again, save for the groans of the downed. Fifty Assassins lay unconscious or groaning on the flagstones. Alaric stood in the center, completely untouched, not a speck of dirt on his clothes, not even breathing hard.

Matteo Auditore stared at the scene, his master-crafted sword hanging limply at his side, his face a mask of utter disbelief. He looked at the sea of unconscious bodies, then at the unharmed Alaric. He slowly shook his head and lowered his sword completely.

”I yield,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. ”I... I am out. I cannot beat that.”

Alaric turned his attention to Reuben, who carefully laid the still-unconscious Flavia down against the courtyard wall. Reuben stood up, drawing the Sword of Damokles, its golden light flaring slightly in the foggy morning.

He took a ready stance, his expression deadly serious now.

”Alright, ’Laric,” Reuben said, his voice tight. ”Just you and me.”

The spar that followed was on a different level entirely.

Reuben, armed with the powerful Sword of Damokles and fueled by his own enhanced abilities, attacked with incredible speed and ferocity. The golden blade whistled through the air, each strike carrying immense power.

Alaric met the challenge, still unarmed, but his movements became sharper, faster. He blocked the glowing sword with his forearms coated with chakra, the impacts creating small shockwaves. He evaded lightning-fast thrusts by millimeters, weaving and ducking under wide, powerful slashes. He moved like smoke, always just out of reach, occasionally letting the very tip of the Sword of Damokles graze his sleeve, only to disappear before the blow could truly land.

Unlike his fight with the others, Alaric began to counterattack. He wasn’t aiming to knock Reuben out quickly, but to test him, push him.

He’d block a blow, then deliver a swift kick to Reuben’s side that made the dark-haired man grunt, even with his enhanced durability. He’d parry a thrust and land a quick jab to Reuben’s shoulder, forcing him back. The hits weren’t debilitating, but they were sharp, precise, and clearly carried significant force, forcing Reuben to constantly adjust and defend.

They fought across the courtyard, a blur of motion against the backdrop of unconscious Assassins. The clang of the Sword of Damokles being blocked by Alaric’s bare hands echoed strangely.

Minutes stretched into what felt like an hour. Matteo watched, utterly speechless, his earlier shock replaced by profound awe at the level of skill and power displayed by both men, though Alaric’s effortless dominance remained terrifyingly clear.

Finally, Reuben stumbled back, panting heavily, sweat dripping from his brow, his arms trembling from the strain of wielding the powerful sword against Alaric’s relentless defense and sharp counters. Alaric stood opposite him, a light sheen of sweat on his own forehead, but his breathing was perfectly even, and his stance was still relaxed.

Reuben lowered the Sword of Damokles, its golden glow dimming slightly.

”Damn it,” he gasped, leaning heavily on his knees. ”Even with the ’buff’ you gave me... even with this sword... I still can’t touch you.”

Alaric allowed a small smile. ”Well,” he replied, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple with his thumb. ”You’re the first person to make me sweat in a long time, Reuben.”

Reuben just scoffed, still trying to catch his breath. ”That’s hardly an achievement.”

Matteo finally walked forward, shaking his head slowly as he looked from the exhausted Reuben to the barely taxed Alaric, then around at his incapacitated Assassins. ”The Brotherhood... the Brotherhood would do greatly with strength like yours, Alaric... and yours, Reuben,” he said, his voice filled with genuine awe.

Alaric casually wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. ”I’m good, Maestro,” he replied politely but firmly. ”Thank you for the offer, though.”

Matteo managed a small smile, though the shock was still evident in his eyes. ”I am truly surprised,” he admitted. ”Astonished. I... I do not know what else to say to all this.”

”Well,” Alaric grinned, gesturing around at the groaning bodies littering the courtyard. ”You could help me drag these bodies somewhere more comfortable before they wake up.”

Matteo looked around at his fallen Assassins, then back at Alaric, a flicker of his usual sternness returning. ”Gah... they are grown men, Assassinos all. They will wake up soon enough on their own.”

Alaric just chuckled as Reuben finally managed to straighten up, still breathing heavily.

”So... everyone’s unconcious,” Alaric stated as he and Matteo began to walk towards the interior of the villa, Reuben went to Flavia to carry her. ”No one’s gonna cook now...”

Matteo widened his eyes but recovered. ”An... an Assassino cannot live by bread alone...”

Alaric was surprised, he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

”W-What the fuck?”

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