Orion braced himself the moment he passed through the ominous boss fog every Souls player dreads.
The stench of old stone and stale rage wafted out like an unwelcome greeting. Within the dim chamber, the Soldier of Godrick or Rick, as Orion now called him in the privacy of his own terror—stood once again, waiting with the same silent, armored menace as before.
"Yo bastard, ready for another round." Orion grinned, tightening his grip around his weapons.
This time Orion stood differently. Shoulders squared. Blade steadier. Knees only trembling half as much as last time, which he chose to consider progress.
With a slight impromptu lesson of fighting, courtesy of his residential goddess, and the recent stat boost—once again Marika's doing—he was feeling his chances of success were better than ever.
The moment he stepped inside, Rick surged forward with the speed of a man who clearly didn't care about the safety of his joints.
"Oi, at least let me enter the stage, dammit."
Orion yelped—quite dignifiedly—and dodge-stepped backward. His boots skittered across stone, but for once, he didn't faceplant.
He had already forsaken dodge against a humanoid opponent. One fight against Rick and he knew this guy wasn't just an AI; he was real, at least thinking like a real person.
If he dodged, he'd just speed up or delay his attack to escape his iframe. He started doing that when a few of his attacks didn't work the first time Orion dodge-rolled away.
'Smart ass hole...'
"Okay. Not dying in the first two seconds. Improvement," he muttered, trying to ignore the fact that Rick's sword had passed an inch from decapitating him.
He would have been scared shitless if it was his first time, but nope. He had already died gods knows how many times against him. He lost count by now.
He knew panicking would just make him die faster.
No, he had to stay calm, observe, and act accordingly to stay alive. Possibly dish out attacks of his own sometime in the near future.
He kept his distance like any rational, horribly outmatched fifteen-year-old should. Rick swung again in a wide arc. Orion dodge-stepped, barely timing it right.
0.30 seconds of the iframe was ridiculously hard to catch, but he managed. He had also gotten it into his head that dodging away from the attack wasn't necessary. As long as he matched the iframe, he'd be fine.
He had died a few times earlier just because he was trying to stay out of Rick's range, burning out stamina unnecessarily.
The world blurred, his heartbeat thundered, and for a moment he felt that little flicker—the brief, blessed moment of invincibility.
"I-frames… my beloved," he whispered reverently.
[Thou hurt my heart, O lord of mine, calling someone else thy beloved...]
Came the timely sarcasm from Marika. But now he was quite used to it. He wasn't sure why, but it rather calmed him down, unlike earlier when he used to get irritated when she spoke in the middle of a fight.
"Don't worry, you're definitely on the top 10 list after the stats boost..." Orion taunted back and back-stepped again at the coming stab of hell aimed at his heart.
Rick did not appreciate the sentiment. He lunged again, sword descending like a falling guillotine. Orion dodged sideways, then thrust forward to counter—only to be reminded immediately that hitting a knight wearing full plate armor was about as effective as punching a refrigerator.
This wasn't a full-on game, after all. Even if he had a few elements of it, these bosses didn't have a health bar. If his attack lacked power then he might just do no damage at this rate, unlike in a game.
Metal clanged. Orion's arm buzzed with pain. Rick didn't so much as wobble.
"Right. Armor," he hissed. "Because this clearly wasn't hard enough."
Rick took that moment of complaint as an invitation to attack. He swept his sword upward in a rising strike that Orion barely managed to avoid by throwing himself backward in a roll that likely made him look like a panicked raccoon. He scrambled to his feet as Rick pressed the assault, forcing him to keep dodging and weaving.
For all his floundering, though—Orion was learning.
Slowly. Painfully. Terrifyingly.
But he learned. From Rick's timing to spotting openings in his stances and movesets. Even his armor—where he could attack.
He observed the way Rick stepped before swinging, the shift in balance, the faint clink of armor plates before a thrust.
Every attack and swing had an indicator, no matter how small it was. From the position of his feet to how his torso twisted.
He started predicting the rhythm. Not perfectly, of course—he still looked like a greased toddler avoiding a broom—but it was enough to stay alive.
Until it wasn't.
Rick suddenly pivoted, faster than Orion expected, and the blade came down in a brutal diagonal cleave. Orion attempted to dodge, but misjudged the timing by a fraction; those accursed delayed attacks were the bane of Souls players.
White-hot agony exploded through him as his shoulder was nearly hacked in half. His protective clothing tore like wet paper. He screamed, stumbling back as blood drenched his upper body.
Panic dug its claws into him instantly. His vision shook. His lungs trembled. Rick raised his blade again.
[Panic serves thee nought—thou must not fall to pieces now]
Marika from the side reminded him, in her ethereal form—unseen but definitely heard by Orion.
"Yes—I mean no—no, no! Don't panic heal!" he wheezed desperately to himself. "Marika said panic healing kills you—don't make her right!"
Arguably because he already died like that a few times.
He forced himself to dodge instead, wincing as his shoulder protested violently. With a few frantic steps, he created enough distance to chug down his flask. Crimson warmth flooded through him, knitting torn flesh back together as Orion sagged with relief.
"One down… one left," he muttered. He had only one flask left now.
Rick rushed forward again, relentless as ever. The fight resumed, a deadly dance between inexperience and iron-clad brutality. Orion ducked, rolled, dodge-stepped—sometimes correctly, sometimes catastrophically. His fighting instincts weren't refined—they were more like the panicked reactions of a particularly determined squirrel—but they were improving.
If not for the boon of iframes, he would have stood no chance.
That was Soulslike games' motto…
It was gonna be hard but never impossible—just need skill to overcome the challenge.
And even unknown to him, his skill Animus Ignus thrummed inside him, a subtle heat pushing him sharper, faster, more aware. Each close call seemed to ignite something in him, teaching his body how not to die.
But Rick still had every advantage—strength, experience, armor, height, muscle density rivaling his dick on "Saturday's corn" sessions.
Okay, that was just him jerking his self-ego, but damn, how the hell was anyone supposed to beat this guy.
Orion was doing what he could, but each blow he blocked numbed his arms. Each mistimed dodge left him bruised and gasping.
Then Rick caught him again. This time mainly due to him running out of stamina while dodging.
A horizontal slash carved across Orion's ribs, sending him spinning. He crashed to the floor, vision blurring. Groaning, he scrambled away and used his last flask, the warm healing light barely soothing the ache that had settled deep into his bones.
"No more juice," he gasped. "Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. One more hit like that and I'm done for."
Rick didn't pause. The knight advanced steadily, sword raised for the kill. Orion forced himself up, wiped the blood from his mouth, and steeled himself.
"Okay. Plan. Think. You can't run. He's faster. You can't block. Bastard hits like a bullet train. You can barely breathe. That at least helps a bit. So… what does Elden Ring expect from you in a situation like this?"
[Thou canst always die, if that be thy wish to escape]
He blinked.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. First time hearing a goddess promoting suicide." Orion almost rolled his eyes, though he didn't because his eyes didn't have the luxury to see anything else besides the armored man resembling a bull charging at him.
Rick charged.
Orion, instead of dodging away, did something else.
It happened almost without conscious thought. His hand dove into his inventory and yanked out a small, round shield in a single desperate motion. Rick's sword descended like thunder.
The shield met it with a resounding crack.
It wasn't a block, though… it was a parry.
An Elden Ring–style parry. One of his skills, just like dodging and flasks.
Light burst. Force rippled. The blow rebounded violently.
Rick's sword was violently pushed back with so much force that it staggered him, armor clanging as he fell to his knees, completely thrown off balance.
Orion stood frozen for a moment like time itself stopped, stunned by the fact that the move actually worked. And that he actually did this. It all happened unconsciously.
Even in-game he couldn't parry in time; it was a ridiculously hard thing to match that timing. And he did it here in real life...
[What dost thou tarry for, fool? Finish him.]
Shouted Marika; even she sounded desperate the way she shouted out.
Then something inside him snapped back into focus.
"Right—finisher! Finisher! Before he—!"
He rushed forward, ripping the small dagger from his belt. Rick struggled to rise, but he was still trapped in the staggering aftermath of the parry. Orion lunged, driving the dagger into the narrow slit of Rick's helmet, right into the face beneath.
The knight jerked once, then collapsed.
Silence filled the chamber.
Orion stood over the fallen armored giant, chest heaving, drenched in blood—mostly not his—and trembling from adrenaline.
He saw the soldier slowly turning into ash and dust, evaporating away.
'I did it...'
Then he whispered to himself:
"…Holy shit. I actually won."
"I fucking won..."
~o~
A/N : How was the fight, I put all the resentments I had when I fought my first souls like boss here. I pretty much messed up in all of those typical fromsoft game traps.
It was a hard fight, but it only makes you stronger.
And of course, this being a real fight and not a game one, meaning things like armor and the opponent's own intelligence matter unlike in the game.