Oscar

Oscar awoke that morning ready for action. It wasn't every day that you got to beat the snot out of the man who you found the most kinship with. While Oscar and Bahr hadn't exactly spent inordinate amounts of time with one another, they had found a sort of unspoken bond. Even when Oscar was still a low-leveled noob, he felt his soul resonate with the man who called himself "Bloodedge." And though he worked to catch up with the crimson-clad man, it seemed Bahr was always just one step ahead of him. Not that he really minded. Aincrad was a rich world with much to offer besides the mindless grind for exp. And Oscar had never been one for level grinding anyways. He stepped out of bed and grabbed his axe from his bedside. He began the day with a brisk workout at his Mega Slime Farm. As he cleaved through the masses of harmless enemies, he began to wonder just what exactly he was getting himself into. It would be just like him to bite off more than he could chew. But then again, what was a friendly duel among friends? With his workout done, Oscar headed for the entrance to his manor grounds. It was then that the reason that Oscar called Bahr to Floor Seven would become obvious. Leeroy & Jenkins bounded off ahead of Oscar just as he rounded the corner to step off the boundaries of his property. It was then that he saw the Bloodedge cresting the hill in front of his home. Oscar set the butt of his axe against the ground and leaned against it as Bahr sauntered over to him. They would fight in the shadow of his manor. Oscar didn't call Bahr to Floor Seven for any reason beyond the fact that he didn't want to wander too far from home in order to have this duel. Besides, they could enjoy the amenities of his manor after their little brawl. Oscar greeted Bahr with a smile. It was plain as day that Bahr knew why Oscar had called him here. He opened his menu and fiddled with a few options before pressing the big green confirmation button. He wasn't one to waste time, but he also wasn't one to pour an inordinate amount of resources into something. A simple 50% duel would suffice. It would certainly be more entertaining than the constant grinding. "You ready?" Oscar's question was simple. He wouldn't mince words with the Bloodedge. He didn't need to. This day had long been approaching. From their very first meeting until now, both of them had to have known on some level they'd cross blades eventually. It wasn't about determining who was better. It was merely about the thrill of battle. He could forget himself in the heat of the moment. His demons wouldn't claw at his mind. Their grip would lessen. And Oscar would be able to truly feel alive.

And then it happened. The dream. Every single hit of his Explode Catapult landed against the enemies close enough to be hit by it as a critical. In the face of such explosive damage, the zombies staggered backwards. They seemed to glitch out for a moment before finally shattering in unison. Oscar took a passing glance at his Energy Bar and noticed that it had been completely depleted. So, he launched himself upward into the rafters once again to get away from the battle and recuperate. He placed his axe on the wooden slat next to him and slowly kicked his feet back and forth as he surveyed the fighting down below. He had certainly done some damage to the horde. There was a bit of a dip in their ranks. He'd managed to force them back more than a few feet. So much so that the shambling undead that attempted to close the gap were having a tough time of it. Maybe they could actually fight their way out of the tent before sunrise.

The fundamental difference between the Oscar of Aincrad and the Oscar of the real world was that he didn't really get tired in Aincrad. Certainly bad things happened when he didn't get enough rest, but he had almost infinite stamina here. He could swing his massive axe like it was a mere feather with absolute impunity. Though he couldn't keep it up indefinitely, he would certainly be able to do it for all of his waking hours. Aincrad was good about mimicking stimuli, but not when it came to one's personal endurance. Speaking of stimuli, he certainly felt no small amount of pain when a prone zombie reached out and sank its teeth into his leg. He growled lowly and kicked the undead abomination hard in the teeth, shaking it loose in the process. He made a mental note to not get so caught up in the melee that he didn't pay attention to when things were actually dead.

He swung his axe in a wide arc, carving through the zombies like a hot knife through butter. He sliced left and right, batting the zombies aside as if they were nothing but empty husks. He certainly enjoyed the way the two-handed battle axe felt in his hands. He like to hit things really hard and, while the katana was certainly good at doing that, it simply lacked the ability to deliver such devastating damage on a large scale. The battle axe on the other hand. Well it's rather difficult for the hordes of the undead to advance when a man is doing his best rendition of a blender right in front of them. Even when he was forced to dodge an attack, his onslaught wouldn't cease. He felt like a man possessed. He fought with strength he could never hope to have in the real world. And he wasn't a weak guy by any stretch of the imagination in the real world either.

His thoughts drifted from songs to his plans for the weekend. It was coming up soon after all. So what was he going to do? Was it just going to be more of the same? Wander about aimlessly on a random floor with his familiar? He did that last weekend though. He wanted to do something a little different. A little more interesting. But what would fit the bill? Maybe he could go for a swim? Could he even swim in Aincrad? He made a mental note to check into that later. Hopefully the water wouldn't be a death plane and he would die immediately upon contact. The game couldn't possibly be that shoddily made, now could it? He sighed. There weren't any good ideas coming to mind right now. Perhaps he'd go another round with the zombies and decide what he wanted to do later. He hopped down from the rafters and readied his axe. That sounded like the best possible plan in this moment.

And so Oscar sat there, kicking his feet off the edge of the wooden slat he was sitting upon. He didn't really watch anything in particular other than his energy bar. The rate it filled was agonizingly slow. It felt like an eternity before the first pip of energy was restored. Oscar began to let his mind wander. Once he had been able to see this low-stakes invasion of the undead for what it was, Oscar couldn't really bring himself to be extremely concerned about the goings-on down below. He began to hum a tune from a song that that been popular on the radio before he'd gotten himself trapped inside the game. He wondered how much music had changed in the outside world over the past two years. Probably not by much, he decided. It wasn't like music was evolving by leaps and bounds or anything. There might be a new popular artist or something, but they wouldn't be revolutionizing anything.

Annoyed, Oscar swung again. This time, his axe bit deep into the Zombie's shoulder. It remained stuck there for a moment. Just long enough for Oscar to begin to wonder whether or not the zombie's invulnerability had activated yet again. But then, after several excruciating seconds, the cracks began to form on the undead creature's model. The cracks spiderwebbed across the zombie's form until, finally, it fractured and shattered into a thousand shards. Oscar wasted no time leaping straight up into the rafters again. He wasn't about to get himself caught up in another fight with no energy left. It was good timing because several zombies had taken notice of him and had tried to advance on his position. He moved a bit faster for them to be able to track so they stumbled around where he used to be confused for a moment. It was a touch humorous, if Oscar had been in any mood for humor at the moment.

It was annoying, really. Having just one adversary left that simply refused to die. Whether it be from Oscar suddenly being unable to hit the sluggish creature for whatever reason or its own innate invincibility. Oscar was beginning to grow increasingly frustrated with both himself and the situation that he had suddenly found himself in. Nevertheless, the only thing he could do was keep pushing. He let out a groan audible enough to be heard over the din of the ever-encroaching zombie horde as his swing just barely missed the zombie. Thankfully, he wasn't the only one who didn't seem to be able to hit anything right now. The zombie lurched forward, its hands grasping for Oscar's throat. It missed, of course. Thought that didn't really help Oscar's predicament too much, all things considered. He was still locked in combat, despite his best efforts to disengage so he could recuperate some energy.