"Fuck!"
Before he knew it, his feet were ten meters off the ground. He hadn't screamed because of that, but because of the pain in his chest at what had undoubtedly been an explosion. Not too much pain, considering the circumstances, and on top of that he was intact and not scattered across the city in pieces. But there was no doubt about it. It was an explosion that had lifted his feet off the ground, that had sent him flying through the air.
His back hit the roof of a building... and went right through it. He fell along with the debris from the roof, spinning, screaming. He thought he would die, and it was probably close, but he escaped. He only cracked a table under his weight, nearly breaking his neck in the process, but that was all.
Through the hole in the ceiling, someone descended.
His enemy broke through, pursuing him.
A surprisingly young woman, wrapped in some kind of armor, from feet to neck. Yes, her head was exposed. Vulnerable. Though evidently that hadn't changed much.
The woman took a step forward. Toward the ruins of the table, toward him.
As she moved, so did the dark armor that covered her. It was as if it were alive. As if it was breathing. He hadn't fully understood her abilities yet, but it was clear that both the explosions and the armor were Unique Skills.
Yes, but so what? That wouldn't help him survive this fight. She might not be able to kill him, not quite, but her overwhelming power would cause her to capture him in the end, which was pretty much the same thing. Once he ended up in the Count's hands, he would be dead.
Jonathan struggled to get to his feet. His legs were barely capable of supporting the weight of his own body. So even simply to get up, he had to lean on one of the broken halves of the table. She rested most of her body on that half, sticking out like a broken wing.
She needs no physical contact to create these explosions.
But how exactly does she do it?
If I can't figure out the mechanism of her skill, then I have no chance of winning. She'll tear me apart and carry my pieces to the Count in a nice package, perhaps a real coffin.
"Jonathan. The demon of Elesbury." Was that what they called him now? Well, he supposed he'd been called worse. "I expected more," said the woman wrapped in black armor. "But I'm not complaining. Easy work, easy money."
"That's all you care about? Money? Just like any pirate. I don't have a ship or crew anymore, but I'm still a pirate. I'm…"
"Are you going to try to buy me off?" The woman kept moving slowly, step by step, towards him. Without taking her eye off him. But, at the same time, she didn't seem at all worried. "If you could beat the offer I received, I would gladly let you do it. But since I know that's not possible, I won't even bother to give you a figure."
"I see. Very well."
Jonathan stepped back.
He took two or three steps back, almost stumbling over the remains of the table. Fuck, where's Elizabeth? How long does she intend to keep me waiting? There was also the possibility, of course, that she had run away.
That she had betrayed him at the moment of truth. No?
No, not really.
Elizabeth had nowhere to run. She had joined her destiny to his, she had no choice. Either they would prosper together, or go down together. Right now, the latter seemed more likely, of course. That's exactly why I could use her help. Where the hell is that bitch?
"I know you're a legend in the modern pirate world," the assassin continued. "Not a fitting end for a legend. But if you don't resist, at least you'll die quickly, I can promise you won't open your eyes again.
Was it possible that she was intentionally wasting time? Waiting for her Skill to recharge and he was unknowingly helping her, because he also needed time to recover and her detours were therefore good for him? No. Jonathan didn't think it was that convenient. All that rambling a snake playing with its food. That was all.
The explosions didn't have that kind of limit. Well, it was possible, but at least she hadn't reached it yet. He wished explosions were his only problem, having tried and failed too many times to get through that armor.
"A no, huh? None of the people I've killed so far have taken me up on my offer. But you know what? Later they wished they had. Because I've never lost a single battle. I'll bury you along with this city of the dead, Jonathan Harker.
The woman extended a hand forward, pointing a finger at him.
Jonathan flew off, again. This time to the side. To the right, over the bar counter and through a wall, not the ceiling. He was being tossed back and forth like a rag doll. On the other side of the wall, swallowing dust, he tried to get up again, of course, to run away and found there was no way.
Because he hadn't broken his neck, he hadn't broken anything excessively important.
But enough to seal his death sentence. To be trapped like a rat in a maze. In other words, Jonathan had a broken leg. He couldn't escape that woman with a broken leg, especially now that she had stopped playing with her food. He gritted his teeth, frustrated with himself to no end. Such was the rage burning inside him that he could bite out his own tongue.
Not to kill himself, not to escape. Really out of pure rage. Without realizing it.
He had come too far to fall now. He couldn't fall until he strangled the bastard with his bare hands. The assassin was getting closer. Soon she would break through the cloud of dust that enveloped the hole he had opened on his way in. She would be on top of him, leaving him no escape.
And like a common rat, he would be crushed by a superior being.
Unless he could think of something.
A way to turn the tables. It was clear that Elizabeth couldn't be relied on. Even assuming she was on her way, there was no way she would make it in time. He could only depend on himself.
His teeth chattered.
What to do? What the hell to do?
——
"For starters, don't think you've done most of the work already. The Count is not going to come here so easily."
Surrounded by the dead, they were having a macabre tea party. The atmosphere wasn't too pleasant. The words she'd chosen to start the talk, even less so.
"Don't look like you've just bitten a lemon. Come on, think about it, you're the only person in the world who can kill him. He wouldn't come running here unless he'd had enough of life. In a way, he has. But you've seen how he manages to entertain himself. He intends to keep having fun here for a long time."
Jonathan nodded slowly.
"What are we supposed to do then?"
"Wait."
"Wait?"
Elizabeth crossed one leg over the other and rested one hand under her chin. Not the one she was using to hold the tea cup, of course.
"I don't like sitting still either. But it's the best we can do right now. This city, dead and empty, is like a fortress. A perfect place to face the assassins who will come after us."
"Assassins, huh?"
"Of course. That will be his first move. Like any nobleman, he'll try to use money to get his way. After all, he's got more money than most. "As if she had said something funny, she burst out laughing."
Jonathan was not amused. But something pleased him. The prospect of having a mission, something to focus his whole being on. At least it would help him stop thinking about the bonfire. To stop bringing back to life the smoke, the smell of burning flesh, all those terrible sensations, just as if it had only been a few seconds since he had turned his back on the bonfire, trembling from head to toe, swearing revenge.
He needed something to focus on if he wanted to stay on his feet.
And naturally, everything was easier to handle broken down into clear steps. First the assassins, then, somehow, the Count. He was impatient by nature and the circumstances didn't help. But as long as he could strangle him with his bare hands, he could wait until hell froze over.
He had all the time in the world, after all.
He still couldn't quite trust Elizabeth, but that wouldn't change. He could trust, though, that she cared about him being victorious as much as he did.
Elizabeth's life depended on it. And there was no better motivation.
He could trust that, at least.
——
The shadow of the assassin made her way through the cloud of dust. Jonathan had a few seconds to think. Those seconds had already come to an end.
He had already made up his mind and acted before she'd gone through the smoke. Elizabeth had been helpful in many ways, but mostly because of her information.
Now, his teeth were grinding his own flesh. Chewing, swallowing.
His too was the flesh of a revenant.
In other words, by ripping a chunk of flesh off his arm he was going to regenerate his leg. Fast, but not fast enough, he wasn't ready yet. Better than before, but he wouldn't get very far on it.
The woman clenched a fist, raising it. She clenched it except for one finger with which she pointed.
She always made that gesture before an explosion, so he found it hard to believe it was just a quirk. It had to be something more. Jonathan prepared to run or fight, trying to think. Figure out the secret to the explosions.
With one leg screwed up and his head also pretty badly bruised, Jonathan lunged forward. Less than a second later, there was an explosion, but behind him. The ground that a moment ago had been under his feet.
I see. So that's what this is all about. Explosions don't come out of nowhere.
Followed by a trail of explosions, he reached the assassin and attempted to thrust his sword into her shoulder. Yes, attempt was the key word, as it simply slipped on the armor, releasing a shower of sparks. For some time now, he had been massing his attacks on the right shoulder, hoping that in that way his sword would get through the armor. But his efforts hadn't paid off.
Still.
"You can explode everything within sight! But not humans. If you could, this fight would have been over since you first looked at me. You've never lost? This will be your first and last defeat!"
Would she explode something while Jonathan was so close to her? It was an easy question to answer, since she had proved it to him several times during the short fight. She didn't hesitate to send him flying, even though they were close enough to feel each other's breath on their faces.
The armor offered the woman sufficient protection even against her own explosions.
One could say that it wouldn't make sense otherwise, but it wasn't something that could be taken for granted, nonetheless.
And Jonathan couldn't avoid it. He didn't have time, even though he had started moving a second earlier, anticipating her inescapable reaction. Running in a straight line, he had managed to avoid several explosions, even with a fucked up leg.
Running backwards, he couldn't avoid a single one.
His back slammed into the wall.
He managed to hold on, albeit barely, onto the sword. Despite the force of the impact, he didn't lose his armor. Not that it was doing him much good either. I can win. I can still win, if I think about it....
Something came rolling towards him.
A cue stick, moved by the blast as he was, most likely. It wasn't the strangest thing to see in a bar, but it gave him the key to victory. It fitted together in his head like the pieces of a puzzle.
With this I can do it. I can win after all.
Jonathan stood up. For that he had to lean with one hand on the wall behind him. The regeneration was working, but of course it had been delayed by the next explosion. Good thing he didn't need to move. Good thing he could do everything from here.
"Doing the same thing over and over again is nothing but madness," said the assassin, "unless it works. It works for me. All you do is squirm like a fish out of water."
Wait.
I have to wait for the right moment, that's what he said to himself as he watched her raise a hand to point the finger that triggered the explosions at him, again.
What was the right moment, would he know how to recognize it?
Jonathan trusted his instincts and his ability to react. He had to do it. Before the assassin released another explosion, he threw the cue stick as if it were a pole.
The assassin simply stepped aside, dodging the stick.
Then she fired.
Unaware that he had done it first. The woman's eyes widened. She had noticed, but too late to change anything.
What exploded wasn't the ground beneath Jonathan's feet, or the cue stick.
It was the bullet that was practically on top of the assassin.
This time it was she who went flying. Back the way she'd come, through the wall he'd punctured as she whipped him back and forth with her bloody Unique Skill. Who knew it would turn against her in the end?
Jonathan discarded the pistol, it would be of no use to him from now on. He approached the fallen assassin, sword in hand, and along the way picked up the cue stick with his other hand.
The assassin's armor was in shambles.
The explosion had come too close, too violently, and perhaps most importantly, unexpectedly. So this was the result.
But it was regenerating.
Not the assassin herself, but the armor that protected her.
Jonathan jabbed the cue stick into her shoulder. To her credit, the woman didn't scream, didn't utter the slightest sound. She would retain her dignity even in defeat. Even though, she claimed, she had never once experienced it.
Until now, that is. Until now.
Jonathan thrust his sword at her as well. Not close, not the heart, he couldn't, as the armor had already regenerated the damage in that area. But he did stick it pretty close to the heart.
The cue stick and the sword prevented the armor from regenerating at those points, as he had thought. It had only been a guess, but his whole plan from the beginning had been nothing more than that. He had even hoped that her head would fly off, and it would all be over in a second.
But he was going to have to find a way to finish her off.
Sticking the sword in her head would have been quick and easy, but the black armor had spread to her head as well, quickly. He guessed she'd made that change while flying through her own blast. Desperately seeking to protect at least her head.
Well, what now? I think I know.
"This isn't over," the assassin said, coughing, spitting blood all over herself. On the ground, too.
That bitch Elizabeth hadn't shown up, but she hadn't needed to either. Even though he felt like shit and couldn't stand without leaning somewhere, Jonathan gave a satisfied smile like that of a naughty child.
The assassin was trying to raise a hand.
She had to aim to direct it to concentrate her explosive power. But the hand was shaking and weak, falling off on its own.
"I haven't been sitting around waiting for you these past few weeks," Jonathan explained. "I've trained. I've been preparing. And, in particular, I've been thinking of ways to replicate Class Skills now that I'm no longer a Swordsman. Crazy, huh? They are what they are because they're not attainable in the normal way. But that's not entirely true. Now let's put my ideas to the test. You will help me."
Jonathan pulled another gun from his belt and took aim. No matter how many times he fired, the bullets couldn't get through the darkness armor, they would just ricochet. But what did that matter, when the armor had already been penetrated?
Yes.
He aimed not at the assassin herself, but at the sword a little above her heart. More specifically, at the handle of the sword.
Jonathan pulled the trigger.
The bullet impacted against the handle, causing it to spin rapidly. Making the whole sword spin, digging deeper into the assassin's wound.
Jonathan discarded this pistol, too, and immediately withdrew another. He aimed and fired.
At the same spot, of course.
He had no intention of allowing the sword to stop spinning.
The third time was the charm. That is, she finally screamed.
Naturally. It was unavoidable. No matter how good anyone was at maintaining composure, it was something that had to be maintained, as the word indicated. And nothing could be sustained forever.
Whereas it was very easy for things to wither away.
You just had to put them aside, forget about them, and things would go to shit on their own. Everything was rushing towards its own destruction. That's why life was anything but natural. Life was a war.
Which he intended to win.
Jonathan kept discarding the pistols, drawing the next one and firing.
The sword spun and spun, reaching deeper and deeper into the assassin, and she screamed and writhed. There was nothing she could do now. It was a waste of bullets and very inconvenient, overall, compared to an ability that could be activated with a simple thought. But he had put his idea to the test and had succeeded.
He had won.
The assassin was just another obstacle in the way, not his real enemy. But he had won.
"Bam, bam, bam, bam," said Jonathan, sadistically, to the rhythm of the gunfire.
Now he understood her... It wasn't bad at all, playing with the food!