Selena Fair had been through her fair share of battles. As an unofficial hunter, she'd donned countless roles: bodyguard, thief, spy. Her abilities were sharp, honed by years of experience. Yet, in the grand hierarchy of strength, she understood her limits. Among the juggernauts—the titans who could single-handedly turn the tide of a battlefield—she was but a shadow… of what she could have been.
Chairman Bob was a juggernaut. The Association's top hunters likely grazed that echelon, and even Leora, in her refined grace, could stand among them. Reynard, too, yearned for that unreachable power.
And Dummy? Selena didn't need Reynard's warnings to see that this man—or whatever he was—belonged to that realm. After all, not everyone could casually regenerate a head.
Dummy smirked, his voice dripping with mockery. "So, are we gonna stare at each other, or are we gonna throw hands?"
Selena narrowed her eyes and vanished into thin air, activating her invisibility cloak. Yet, before she could reposition herself, Dummy was already there—moving with impossible precision. His outstretched fist stopped just inches from her face as if taunting her with how easily he'd found her.
Her cloak flickered, revealing her stunned expression.
Dummy's grin widened. "Oh, did I forget to mention? Your little tricks don't work on me."
Selena's mind raced. Reynard's suspicions were proving true—Dummy's nullification wasn't just limited to abilities; it extended to artifacts as well… or anything with 'aura' as of that matter. The playing field was even more uneven than she'd feared.
But Selena wasn't the type to give up easily. She slid back, barely avoiding his punch, and reached for the other tools in her arsenal.
Fine, she thought, her determination hardening. If tricks won't work, then let's see how you handle the unexpected. But for her to counterattack, she'd need space… Dummy was sticking to her space like a corn stuck in her teeth.
Selena's instincts screamed as Dummy's jab darted toward her like a bullet. She shifted back just in time, the air where she'd stood moments before snapping from the force of his strike.
Dummy didn't relent. His movements were like a predator's—smooth, relentless, and horrifyingly efficient. He surged forward with a straight punch aimed at her core. Selena twisted to the side, feeling the gust of displaced air graze her ribs.
But Dummy was already closing the gap. He accelerated again, his knee rising with devastating speed and precision.
Selena barely managed to block, her arms crossing over to shield her midsection.
The impact was brutal. It was a shockwave of pain rippling through her body. She staggered, her arms trembling as her bones screamed in protest.
Selena's mind worked rapidly, piecing together the puzzle Dummy represented. The Tower's simulation felt too perfect—death was inflicted, yet the victim was saved the instant it happened. It defied her understanding of the Tower's technology, making Dummy's abilities even more daunting. To the Tower, death was merely an inconvenience… but to Dummy, he could make it into a reality.
How does his ability interact with the Tower's mechanics? she wondered, her mind probing for answers.
Her first strategy—overwhelming him with a relentless barrage—had failed spectacularly. She couldn't afford to waste more energy without understanding the rules he played by. If surprise didn't work, then I'll have to outthink him.
Dummy suddenly shifted, decelerating with eerie control. His stance changed fluidly, and then—he vanished.
Super speed? No... It's something else.
Selena's instincts screamed again. She raised both arms just in time, bracing for impact.
Thud!
A sharp kick slammed into her left arm, jarring her entire body. The force reverberated through her bones, and the blow had been aimed at her temple. If she hadn't raised her defenses in time, she'd already be unconscious—or worse.
He's testing me, she realized, her arms aching. Dummy's attacks weren't just powerful—they were surgical. His movements carried precision, as if he was calculating her limits, waiting for her to slip.
Selena gritted her teeth. Then I'll give him something to calculate.
Unfortunately, Selena's disadvantageous position continued to worsen.
Dummy blurred forward, his fists glowing faintly with aura as he launched a swift one-two jab. Each strike carried precision and ferocity, aimed at breaking through Selena's defenses.
Selena stepped back instinctively, trying to use her footwork to create an afterimage—a tactic she'd honed over years of training. But this time, her body didn't respond the way it should. The attempt failed, leaving her vulnerable. Gritting her teeth, she raised her battered arms, summoning a shield.
Her wristwatch whirred faintly, releasing one of her sealed tools: a compact, high-density energy shield that expanded into place just in time to intercept Dummy's next flurry of attacks. The aura-infused fists hammered against the barrier with relentless force, each strike reverberating through Selena's arms and shoulders.
Energy-based artifacts that could be fueled directly with another person's aura were rare, but not impossible. Yet Dumm had proven himself to be more than the shield could handle.
It wasn't just the sheer strength of his blows that troubled her. There was something off—her reactions felt sluggish, her movements heavier. Dummy wasn't using super speed; she realized that much. Instead, she was getting slower.
Reynard's earlier words echoed in her mind: "Dummy has a weakness attribute."
Selena gritted her teeth. It wasn't just physical exhaustion. His aura, his strikes—they were distorting her perception, making her feel like her strength was draining away, like she was losing control of her own body. The illusion was insidious, and it was working.
Dummy smirked, his voice dripping with condescension as he pressed the attack. "You must be thinking… 'this is bad, I didn't manage to finish him as fast as possible… and now he's gaining the upper hand.'"
His words stung, not because they were far from the truth, but because they were too close. Selena adjusted her grip on the shield, steeling her resolve. No… this isn't over.
She glared at Dummy through narrowed eyes, her mind racing. If this is all an illusion, I just need to remember… it's not real.
But it was real…
Selena gritted her teeth as she rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow of Dummy's axe-kick. The strike created a blinding arc of energy, sending shockwaves through the platform and leaving a small crater in its wake. Her shield, now bent and sparking from Dummy's relentless assault, clattered to the ground beside her—a useless heap of metal.
Time was her enemy.
She pushed herself up, breathing hard, her mind racing. Dummy's abilities weren't just about disorienting her; they were a direct threat to her survival. The Tower's protections couldn't be trusted to shield her if Dummy's anti-Tower measures came into play.
More importantly, if Dummy won, Reynard would face him next. Selena had no doubt that the Elsewhere Cult planned to turn that fight into an assassination. The stakes weren't just her life—they were Reynard's. Winning wasn't just a matter of pride; it was a necessity.
Could the Association help? The thought was fleeting, dismissed almost as soon as it surfaced. Reynard's words haunted her—how he'd narrowly avoided assassination during one of his own matches and had to kill the offending hunter in self-defense. The Association's response had been tepid, almost indifferent.
Selena clenched her fists. This was a place where power ruled, where the strong thrived and the weak were trampled underfoot. Asking for help was pointless. The only option was to win—quickly, decisively, before Dummy could turn the match into something far deadlier.
Dummy chuckled, his aura flaring around him in a dangerous glow. "You're slipping, Fair. What's the matter? Feeling the weight yet?"
Selena kept her distance as best she could, dual-wielding a pair of uzis and unleashing a hail of bullets. The rapid spray of gunfire lit up the arena, but Dummy seemed unbothered. He weaved through the storm with effortless grace, dodging the projectiles as though he were dancing.
Then, as if to mock her efforts, he began parrying the bullets with his brass knuckles, deflecting them with sharp, deliberate movements.
"Surely, you can do better than that," Dummy said, his voice dripping with condescension.
Selena gritted her teeth, the frustration mounting in her chest. This wasn't working. No matter what she tried, Dummy was always one step ahead, and the gap in their abilities was becoming painfully clear. She hated admitting it, but the likelihood of her winning was slipping further away with each passing second.
But then, a thought struck her—a grim silver lining in the chaos.
Dummy wouldn't kill her outright. Not here. Not now.
Selena could see it in his movements, in his calculated restraint. While Dummy might've had the means to end her, doing so openly would draw too much attention. Reynard had mentioned that Dummy's goal was assassination, but such a blatant display would undoubtedly spook both Reynard and the chairman.
He wants to win without suspicion, Selena realized.
That gave her a small window of opportunity. If Dummy wasn't going to go all-out, she could use that hesitation against him.
But how?
Selena's mind raced as she fired another volley, forcing Dummy to sidestep again. The only way to truly protect Reynard was to ensure Dummy couldn't advance to the finals. That meant killing or severely injuring him.
And that was the real problem.
Dummy's nullification ability made him almost untouchable, but it had to have limits. From what Reynard had told her, it worked by distorting probabilities, erasing auras, and bypassing protections. If Selena wanted to break through it, she'd have to strike at the exact moment when Dummy was using his ability.
Otherwise, the Tower would simply resurrect or heal him, rendering all her efforts meaningless.
Her grip on the uzis tightened as she circled Dummy, her mind churning through possibilities. I only have one shot at this, she thought. If I can't catch him at the right moment, Reynard's as good as dead.
It was a good mentality for a bodyguard in her situation.
Dummy's form blurred as he accelerated again, a razor-sharp arc of energy trailing behind his knife-hand. The precision of his movement was deadly, every step measured, every strike deliberate.
Selena didn't flinch. She summoned a blade of her own, the shimmering sword materializing in her grip just in time to intercept the incoming attack. Metal clashed against raw energy, and a shower of sparks illuminated the battlefield as Selena fluidly deflected the arc with a well-timed parry.
Her mind worked quickly as her sword met Dummy's relentless blows. The energy arcs weren't some supernatural ability, she realized. They were pure aura technique.
Selena narrowed her eyes, the gears in her head turning as she analyzed his movements. So that's how it is…
Aura techniques were a testament to mastery—control over the corona of one's aura, refined through years of dedication. They weren't flashy or otherworldly; they were honed skills, sharpened to perfection through practice. This was different from abilities, which functioned more like inherent powers or specific tools designed for combat.
Most Fighter-types developed a single ability to rely on, but their real strength came from the refinement of their techniques, the art of fighting itself. In contrast, Trickster-types, like Selena herself, often built a vast arsenal of abilities but tended to neglect their techniques.
Dummy wasn't just a master of his aura. He was leagues ahead in raw technique, something Selena had never faced before.
Sparks erupted as her sword clashed against Dummy's fists, again and again. Each impact was precise, calculated, and unforgiving. For every move Selena made, Dummy had an answer, his strikes coming faster and harder with each exchange.
Her muscles ached as the force of his blows reverberated through her arms. This wasn't just a fight anymore—it was a battle of refinement versus ingenuity, of raw technique against adaptability.
Selena tightened her grip on her blade, gritting her teeth against the mounting pressure. If I can't match his technique, I'll have to outthink him.
The sparks continued to fly, lighting up the arena in a dazzling display of skill and power.
Selena's sword shattered with a sharp, metallic clang, the fragments scattering across the arena floor. Her arms felt like lead, and her movements were becoming increasingly sluggish. Each step felt heavier, her body betraying her. Sweat dripped from her brow as she willed herself to summon another weapon, but no matter how hard she tried, her ability refused to respond.
Panic set in. She realized with a jolt—Dummy had somehow sealed her ability.
With no other option, Selena raised her battered arms, the bones already protesting with sharp, fiery pain, and braced herself. Dummy's fist came crashing down on her guard like a battering ram, and the force sent her flying.
She felt the wind rush past her as her body soared through the air, completely out of control. Her vision blurred until strong hands caught her mid-flight, steadying her just before she could crash to the ground.
Her breathing was ragged, and her head spun. The roar of the crowd seemed distant, drowned out by her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Bob's voice rang out, sharp and decisive. "Out of bounds! Victory goes to Dummy!"
Selena's lips curled into a bitter snarl as she croaked, "Fuck."
She tried to shrug off the hands holding her, but Reynard's grip remained firm.
"You've done enough," he said, his tone calm but carrying a weight that demanded her attention.
Selena felt a soft, warm glow envelop her as the Tower's restoration magic began to take effect. Her breath steadied, the pain in her arms fading as the glow mended her broken body.
She glared at Reynard, yanking herself free from his grip with renewed vigor. "I don't need your consolation," she snapped. Her voice was sharp but cracked slightly under the weight of exhaustion. "If you die, I don't know how I'll face Leora, so you better not die."
Reynard's expression softened, but his resolve was unshaken. "Believe me," he said, his voice steady. "You've done enough. I understand now."
Selena frowned, puzzled but too drained to question further.
Reynard met her eyes, his tone unwavering. "I needed to see his abilities firsthand, and you've pushed him far enough for me to understand how they work. The gaps in my knowledge have been filled. I can handle him."
Selena's expression shifted, the fire in her eyes dimming ever so slightly as fatigue overtook her. With a nod, she turned and limped toward the sidelines, her retreat marked by a weary but determined glare aimed squarely at Dummy.
The next fight would be Reynard's, and she could only hope he was right.