SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 517: Trafalgar vs Sand Worm [I]

In the center of the miniature desert, Trafalgar clutched Maledicta while obsidian armor hugged his form tightly, its ebony segments devouring the sunlight until he resembled not an exam-taking pupil but a nightmare the sands themselves ought to dread.

The surrounding landscape was already morphing. Low dunes reshaped with each hidden motion below, gentle inclines folded inward, and the tough veins of split earth protruding from the top vanished bit by bit whenever the buried entity glided nearby.

’Slow when rising, but massive enough to make the entire field shift around it.’

That marked the first vital detail to commit to memory.

The next insight struck moments afterward, as the sand in front tightened into an elongated forward bulge. The motion avoided a direct path. The ripple bent, expanded, faded briefly, then reappeared farther right. The worm showed cunning beyond blind charges, adapting even underground while already assessing him.

Trafalgar dropped his stance a touch lower and held steady.

The approaching swell closed in, its outline sharper now under the surface. A wide crest barreled through the dunes at alarming velocity, churning beneath like a concealed surge. Heat spiraled upward from the earth in coiling wisps. Sand grains rattled off his leg guards. The whole desert appeared to tilt toward the spot of imminent breach.

He continued to wait.

A weaker combatant might have lunged too soon. Trafalgar refused. He permitted the gap to narrow until vibrations under his boots escalated to savage quakes and the sand right beneath him swelled ominously.

Then the worm lunged at him.

Its head exploded from the sands in a colossal gush, hauling a curtain of grit and haze in its wake as the round maw gaped vast enough to devour a horse outright. Layers of inward-curving fangs evoked raw appetite sheathed in muscle and rock. It rocketed upward with power that rent the very air apart.

Trafalgar dissolved into [Severance Step].

His dash curved precisely, flickered for an instant, and solidified him behind the soaring mass right at the apex of its assault. He rematerialized crouched low, boots skidding a short distance through the powder, Maledicta already whipping across the bared flank in a swift, probing arc.

[Arc Slash] surged from the blade as a midnight-blue ripple, slamming into a segmented band on the worm’s hide. The strike lopped away stony excrescences and etched a clear gash into the meat below, yet the beast’s drive barely faltered. It hammered back into the dunes with crushing mass, unleashing a new whirlwind around them as the ground convulsed from the impact.

Trafalgar tsked beneath his helm.

’It takes a cut, but not deep enough. Need a sharper angle.’

Before the dust fully cleared, the worm burrowed out of sight once more. A vast crater alone persisted, imploding as sands rushed to reclaim it. Seconds later, a fresh ripple tore across the desert at greater range.

This round, Trafalgar struck first.

[Crosswind Edge] erupted from Maledicta in a slender pressurized arc that raked low across the dunes, cresting the forward bulge and scattering loose grains from its trajectory. The blow missed direct contact with the worm, yet provided something far better: precise insight.

The subsurface motion crystallized in his thoughts. The creature built momentum over long sweeps, shifted course only in broad turns, and fully engaged upon choosing its target. Buried, it moved swifter than its enormity allowed, but each surfacing exacted a toll. It required a pause to ascend. A pause to channel buried velocity into upward devastation.

That vulnerability stood as the key.

The earth fractured anew, this time not underfoot but off to his left. Trafalgar wheeled toward the burst and beheld the worm’s torso twisting skyward through the sand in a jagged thrust designed to snare him mid-pivot. The jaws parted wide. Clouds of dust and ancient warmth belched forth, laced with the reek of decayed meat.

Maledicta descended without delay.

[Severing Fang] exploded from the sword in a slanted compressive cleave so thick the air wailed in its wake. The slash tore across the worm’s neck flank, shattering an armored segment and flinging debris spiraling into the dunes. Thick black ichor jetted from the gash, and the monster flinched midway through its rise before cratering back down with amplified fury.

A solid strike.

Not a killing blow.

The worm retaliated in fury.

The whole desert heaved suddenly. It wasn't only the sand near the injury, but a vast expanse shifted, as if the beast had hurled its enormous body laterally beneath the ground. Without any prior sign, the dune under Trafalgar’s right foot gave way. He adjusted his stance just in time, yet the subsequent rush struck from behind, so rapid that he barely perceived it at the final moment.

He whirled and slashed.

Maledicta clashed against the rim of the rising maw rather than the tissue beyond, with sparks erupting where sword met curved fangs. The collision's power flung Trafalgar backward over the sands. He skidded low upon landing, one knee plowing a furrow through the dune as sand grains battered his armor.

The worm didn't remain above ground.

It never lingered up for long.

That remained the true challenge.

Trafalgar rose straight and observed the new bulge speeding subsurface, his thoughts swiftly reshaping the battle strategy.

‘While it dominates from below, I’m forced to respond.’

That realization clicked into place.

Each time the worm dove underground, it dictated the range, direction, and moment. Sure, he could injure it upon surfacing, but that required awaiting openings the beast provided itself. Against a feebler foe, that might suffice. Here, it equated to yielding control.

He rejected that notion at once.

The following assault swept in a broader arc, aimed more at disrupting his stance than consuming him. An underground mass shoved one dune into the next, transforming the landscape into a churning hazard. Trafalgar dashed over the unstable terrain, maintaining equilibrium through pure accuracy, as the worm erupted diagonally beside him, showering scorching sand onto his helmet and shoulders.

He countered with his blade.

One strike at the outer segment. A second, deeper and fiercer, targeted the junction of flesh and armored bands. Maledicta pierced, pulled back, pierced once more. The follow-up gash carved a neater wound and unleashed another thick gush of black ichor, yet the worm’s form contorted with savage power before he could press the advantage. That twist alone shoved him back an entire pace.

Then it plunged underground again.

Trafalgar stood amidst crumbling dunes and breathed out steadily.

No frustration marred his expression, though his mind grew icier.

The beast lacked grace. Each assault embodied raw power, fueled by its immensity, subsurface velocity, and the reality that fifteen to twenty meters of plated length could endure minor cuts to dictate the fight's pace. Refinement wasn't necessary for the worm. Just a single perfect gulp.

Another quake rippled beneath his feet.

This one drew nearer.

Nearer than before.

Trafalgar held back from striking. He tracked the path gliding under the sands, observed the surface rising over its trail, marked how the bulge narrowed right before the worm decided to ascend, and finally spotted the detail he’d overlooked.

During its rise, a section of the upper body skimmed just below the surface a heartbeat longer than the remainder.

Within reach for an implement slimmer than a blade.

A quiet chuckle slipped from his lips.

"So that’s how you want to fight."

The subsurface charge barreled directly toward him. Trafalgar held his position until the ultimate instant, then sidestepped barely enough for the worm to surge upward beside him in yet another massive lunge. Its jaws ripped through the spot where his form had been, sand blasting outward in a golden veil around them.

This time, no sword technique replied.

His left hand acted instead.

Widow’s Whisper whipped out in a swift gleam, the uncommon dagger locking into his grasp with its hidden edge deployed. Trafalgar thrust it with maximum force into the tender gap between one armored segment and the next, precisely as the worm’s torso rushed by.

The dagger embedded deeply.

For a frantic moment, everything turned to chaos and speed.

The worm slammed back underground, dragging Trafalgar along as his boots lost traction with the weapon still lodged. Sand exploded around him, the desert splitting apart from the beast’s plunge. His frame hit low, yanked ahead at horrifying velocity while particles and rocks pelted his armor like fragments.

He refused to release it.

Perfect.

Precisely what he desired.