Chronicles of Forgotten Extra-Chapter 139: Drunken Monkey Disaster?

Alden looked at the now-transformed space.

R𝑒ad latest chapt𝒆rs at freewebnovёl.ƈom Only.

It was completely different from before.

Gone was the mountaintop—he was now standing at the center of a vast, open arena.

But it wasn't the arena's size that caught his attention.

Nope.

He had seen many big arenas. It was the scenery beyond it that made his breath stop for a moment.

Surrounding the arena was a sea of stars—not just stars, but shattered, ruined planets drifting like broken marbles in the void.

Silent. Watching.

A galaxy graveyard.

Alden looked around, his expression blank.

Beautiful.

Alden wasn't a weirdo who found destruction beautiful. But the scene in front of him was too stunning to say otherwise.

The broken planets and sea of stars created an aesthetic scenery.

The kind that might make a philosopher drop their pens and weep.

A poem started to take root inside Alden's mind… looking at the beautiful scenery.

It looks so cool.

It is beautiful.

That's all.

Yeah, I suck at making poems.

That's not new news.

Even nursery kids might create better rhymes than me.

Alden was neither a poet nor a philosopher, so he snapped out of his daze quickly with a self-deprecating comment.

Yep.

Nothing more to see.

Totally normal.

He glanced at Mokha, who had somehow changed clothes in the blink of an eye.

The previously robed figure was now wearing a loose yukata, chest half-bared and a gourd slung over his shoulder.

He was holding a red-colored staff in one hand.

"You like the view?" Mokha asked, gesturing dramatically with his staff. "It's my personal little theater. I call it the Celestial Lounge."

"What about the planets? Are they real or just projections?" Alden asked curiously.

"Who knows?" Mokha replied with a smirk.

This damned monkey.

I am gonna kill him.

"Well, let's not waste time, shall we?" Mokha spoke, twirling his staff like a pro.

After he was done with that little show of staff, he gulped some liquid from the gourd.

What the hell is he drinking?

Steroid?

"What is that?" Alden asked calmly.

"Oh, this? Glad you asked," Mokha grinned. "This is a vintage chaos brew. Aged seven millennia in starlight."

"This goddamn space does provide me with some rare things sometimes."

Alden took a step back.

This guy's liver deserves a medal.

Mokha took a stance, but Alden didn't move.

He didn't have any weapons. He tried to summon his Sword of Chaos.

But it was no use.

The sword wasn't responding to his summons for some reason.

Just then—

Mokha's carefree voice sounded again.

"Ah—one teeny detail I almost forgot. Since you're in soul form, your mana core's off chilling in your real body."

Alden understood what that meant...

Damn it.

The next word from Mokha confirmed his suspicions.

"No mana. No spells. No Domain. Nothing. You're fighting with pure physical skill here, kiddo. Old school style."

"But, I'm not heartless," Mokha added with a wink, "I'll give you a weapon."

"So tell me which weapon you want."

Alden thought for a moment.

Before responding with a smirk of his own,

"A longsword."

Mokha didn't say anything and just casually swiped his hand through the air as a sleek black sword materialized in front of Alden.

Its blade was glinting with sharpness.

Good enough, I guess.

But definitely not as beautiful as my Sword of Chaos.

Alden had decided to go with a longsword instead of a katana in this trial.

The reason was simple.

No mana was allowed, and Alden had to rely solely on physical strength.

And although specialized in speed and preciseness, Alden wasn't confident to use it to his best without mana and his skills.

He had mostly trained with katana using his weapon art and mana. Both of which he couldn't use at the moment.

But the longsword was different.

He had trained in it long before he awakened mana. He had been taught by Ellara.

So in this space, the longsword was the most logical decision.

"If you are done admiring the weapon, shall we start?" Mokha muttered sarcastically.

"Yeah," Alden responded.

As soon as he replied, Mokha vanished from his spot.

Alden's eyes locked on the spot Mokha had just vanished from.

Then—

"Behind ya," came the voice.

Alden turned around immediately, his blade slashing upward—only to meet air.

Mokha stood a few steps to the left, balancing perfectly on one leg.

He was casually sipping from his gourd.

Alden didn't waste time.

He shot forward.

Let's see how long you're gonna fool around.

Alden's sword sliced through air with a swish sound.

Mokha ducked. It was anything but a graceful dodge.

It was not a dodge that followed any trained movement.

Nope.

It was more like he threw himself backward like he was avoiding a puddle of water or something.

The kind of movements most people do out of reflex. But Mokha was somehow controlling them.

The staff in his hand twisted as if it was drunk with him, redirecting Alden's momentum with grace.

Alden stumbled forward, trying to regain his balance.

As soon as he stabilized, he spun around and struck again. But Mokha wasn't there.

He was standing upside down on his hands. He was spinning in circles like a breakdancer.

That looked absurd to say the least.

A monkey wearing a yukata spinning upside down like a breakdancer.

What the hell is this fighting style?

As if understanding what Alden was thinking, Mokha spoke.

"Dance of the Drunken Monkey," he muttered between spins. "It's a martial art I developed for fun to annoy my friend once upon a time."

A friend?

He must be talking about the time before he was locked up…

Alden didn't waste any time thinking more as he slashed again.

CLANK...

This time Mokha didn't dodge but parried his attack mid-air.

Alden could feel Mokha's strength from the clash. It was definitely not above Alden.

Even their speed was similar, and yet Alden was having a hard time even reacting to Mokha's attack.

How?

Just then—

Mokha jumped above.

Alden slashed upward—

Only to find Mokha balancing on the blade with one foot, gourd still in hand, casually sipping.

"You call this footwork?" Mokha asked.

Alden didn't respond and just pulled his sword away instinctively.

Mokha flipped mid-air, landing on the ground.

This has to be a joke.

Alden gritted his teeth and charged again.

This time he went low, slashing for the knees.

Mokha hiccupped and jumped again, landing in a perfect position behind Alden.

Alden turned to block but—

WHACK!

The gourd hit him lightly on the side of the head.

"Boop," Mokha said.

Alden staggered.

But he quickly stabilized himself before jabbing at Mokha, but the staff intercepted and blocked his attack with minimal effort.

"Let's take a break. You look tense."

"No." Alden snapped, rushing at him again.

This time he made a feint to the left, then attacked right, his sword striking up in an arc meant to catch Mokha off guard.

He almost did.

Almost.

Mokha bent backward—his spine forming a C—and the sword skimmed the air millimeters from his nose.

"Close," Mokha said.

Alden growled.

They had the same stats. But still, it didn't matter.

Mokha didn't fight like a master. He didn't fight like a brawler. He fought like… chaos incarnate.

Drunk, lazy, untouchable chaos.

And Alden couldn't read him.

Not one move.

Every motion went against logic, gravity, and at least a few fundamental laws of physics.

Alden didn't like to accept it, but it was more chaotic than Gretta's dance.

But he didn't give up.

He went in again, mixing feints, stabs, and slashes.

Staff, foot, elbow—Mokha used everything to redirect, block, or just trip Alden when he came close to inflict damage.

"Ever fought a drunken master?" Mokha whispered. "No? Good. 'Cause I'm not one."

"I'm a drunken disaster."

And then he spun the staff overhead—not in a cool way.

Alden ducked and rolled, then followed up with a slash aimed upward—

But the monkey man rolled again and stood up without a care in the world.

"Kid," Mokha said. "You're good."

"But you know what you lack?"

"Your mind... your rhythm."

Mokha gave some words of wisdom to Alden.

As for the first time, a flash of seriousness crossed his face.

"Time to end this..."

He suddenly charged—no warning.

Alden blocked—but it was a feint.

The staff dropped low, and with a sweeping movement, it knocked the longsword out of Alden's hand entirely.

The weapon flew away.

Alden was left barehanded.

Mokha stepped back. "I'll give you ten seconds to pick that up."

Alden moved—Mokha didn't stop him.

He reached for the sword, grabbed the hilt—

Just then—

A gourd lightly tapped the back of his head.

"Too slow," Mokha whispered.

The world spun.

Alden collapsed onto one knee, dizzy.

He hadn't even seen Mokha move.

The monkey was standing over him now, grinning, staff resting lazily across his shoulders.

"You fought well," Mokha said genuinely. "But that's attempt one, yeah?"

Alden gritted his teeth.

He understood one thing.

He couldn't defeat Mokha in combat at least.

It was not a question of strength but experience.

Alden didn't have as much experience as Mokha.

But one question bugged him constantly.

"How are you so fast?" Alden didn't keep the question in his mind.

Although he didn't like the personality of Mokha,

That didn't mean he was going to leave an opportunity to learn something.

Mokha's eyes slightly widened before he flashed an amused grin.

"It's all about rhythm, kid."

"Everything in this world has one. You just need to find it and tap into it—" Mokha said, his grin widening. "Or mess that rhythm up."

Rhythm?

That's new…

Is that something like mana resonance I do when I use Ruinous Severance?

Or something completely different?

"So do you tap into it or mess it up?" Alden smirked.

"Why don't you try guessing?" Mokha matched Alden's smirk as he replied.

Alden didn't say anything but his mind started racing.

Fighting won't work.

So I'll stop playing his game.

He looked up at Mokha, eyes sharp.

Let's see if you are really undefeated at everything..