When two pokémon trainers lock eyes… wait, what the hell was a Pokémon?
The stray thought hit me like a rock, followed by a sharp, stabbing pain in my head. My mind froze for a moment, the edges of my vision tinged with static as my temples throbbed. I barely stopped myself from cursing aloud, years of experience keeping my reaction down to a faint grimace.
Dumb. So dumb. Digging into the shouldn't-be-there memories was always a bad idea.
If they surfaced on their own? Fine. Fair game. I could pick them apart without consequence. But trying to reach for them, pulling at the jagged threads before they were ready, was like swallowing shards of glass. Painful, stupid, and ultimately pointless.
I knew better. Normally, I'd never let my focus slip like that. But with my attention pulled in two directions—half-listening to Professor Port's lecture while also piecing together a battle plan for the inevitable showdown with Nikos—it was bound to happen.
And no, I didn't think of it as an "if." It was definitely a "when", and that when was likely the exact moment this class ended. Her eyes practically screamed challenge.
She was on top of my list because I was mostly certain she outclassed the amethyst-eyed blonde with Kinetic Storage and the ginger-haired one with Electricity-something, both of whom also seemed plenty eager to throw down.
Holy shit though, what beautiful semblances...
Focus.
I rubbed my temples, letting a trace of healing semblance flow through me to dull the ache. The professor's booming voice was a useful distraction, though the topic had drifted a few times already.
"Why, I remember it as if it were yesterday - there I was, a young, dashingly handsome Huntsman stranded atop the peaks of Mistral's northern mountains. The wind was howling fiercer than an angry Beowolf, and the snow was deep enough to swallow a full-grown Ursa!
That's when I heard it - the distinctive wing beats of an ELDER Nevermore!
Now students, pay attention to this crucial detail - Elder Nevermores can be identified by their significantly larger size, often reaching wingspans of over 50 meters, and the distinctive bone-white plates that cover not just their masks, but extend down their entire backs!"
Okay, this was quite interesting, but my mind was inevitably drifting elsewhere, running simulations.
I'd only been to Mistral once before, and I hadn't had the pleasure of watching a tournament in person. The logistics never worked out. Thankfully, the web—limited as it was here in Remnant—still had plenty to offer. When you didn't require sleep at night, the hours stretched long, and it was surprisingly easy to find and dissect recordings of the most interesting fights ever filmed.
Ergo, I knew how she fought.
Nikos might have added a few bells and whistles to her style since then, but her core methods weren't likely to deviate much. Her semblance was also practically an open book to me. She wasn't even close to unlocking its full potential, but it wouldn't be wise to underestimate a metal bender either.
All in all, some habits and a moderate/high percentage of her strategies could be predicted.
I also knew when, where, and how she would die.
But that was neither here nor there, now was it?
"This particular beast had been terrorizing local villages for decades! As it dove toward me, I could see those blazing red eyes, each the size of a man's head! Did you know that a Nevermore's eye structure allows them to spot prey from over 3 kilometers away? Fascinating creatures!"
In a pure physical confrontation, I was probably superior. But that wasn't the whole picture. Magnetism let her manipulate her armor and weaponry, which made her mobility and speed far beyond what I could hope to match if I wasn't willing to bleed aura like a gutted fish.
Shadow Blink could force close quarters if needed, but it came with risks—if she predicted it (which was safer to assume she would) I'd be leaving myself wide open for a counter.
At least I didn't use metal equipment. That would've sucked. Gotta take off the throwing knives beforehand, though...
"THERE I WAS, armed with only my trusty blunderbuss-axe, two Fire Dust crystals, and raw, unmatched courage! The beast unleashed its signature attack - a barrage of razor-sharp feathers capable of piercing solid steel! But I had noticed, students, that like most avian Grimm, it had a distinct pattern to its attack rhythm! Three volleys, followed by a two-second recovery period!
Using this knowledge and a tactical mind, I waited until JUST the right moment... timed my roll... and when it swooped down for what it thought would be an easy meal, I launched myself straight into its beak!"
Can I overwhelm her with numbers?
Hard no. Each clone costs 10% of my aura, not to mention the semblances they wield independently. A solid hit dispels them, wasting all that aura in an instant.
One feels insufficient, given her specs.
Two clones, then.
Medium-high aura consumption, but it's the optimal number.
Start with the basics: she'll track all three of us, no matter how we move. Her reflexes mean surprise alone isn't enough. But maybe that's not the point. If I can't overwhelm her defenses outright, then the goal should be to make her commit to the wrong ones.
One clone at range. Keep her busy with flames, make the threats real enough that she can't ignore them. Meanwhile, the second clone and I close the distance—not to overwhelm her, but to split her focus between multiple combat ranges.
Of course, no plan survives first contact with the enemy, so stay flexible. Keep enough aura in reserve to adapt once she counters the initial approach.
The real goal should be to adapt faster than she can, using her responses to create new openings.
"The key to defeating a Nevermore, you see, lies in disrupting their flight pattern! Their massive size makes them formidable, but also unwieldy when knocked off balance! After a brief wrestling match inside its beak (during which I may have lost a button from my favorite coat), I used Fire Dust to create an explosion right in its throat!
AH-HA! The mighty beast never stood a chance! Though I dare say, my mustache did take several weeks to grow back properly..."
The bell rang, cutting off further tales.
"And that's it for today. Have a good day, children," Port concluded kindly, his voice a surprising contrast to his storytelling.
I smiled to myself. I could barely wait.
Glancing at Nikos, I saw that she was already gripping a red-and-bronze shortsword and a shield.
Huh? Didn't I hear something about some rocked lockers or something?
How did she...where did she...either way, it was on.
A quick introduction to her team—JNPR, right?—might be in order before things escalated. Fighting in the hallways probably wasn't allowed, but honestly, who cared?
I rose from my desk, ready to make my move, only to freeze in place.
"Oh, and Mister Geas," Port's voice cut through my thoughts, "please remain here for a bit. I would like to discuss a few matters with you..."
...Damn you, Mustache Man.