“Is there anything else I should be prepared for? Any more surprises like that… fire magic?”
“That wasn’t magic. And yes, I suppose I should discuss something with you. Later though.”
The Puppet Master had come to see me in my exclusive staging room. Umara was still in the medical room recovering, unfortunately unable to come and see my match.
I, meanwhile, was still perfectly fine, having not actually expended much Psyka while burning Ravon.
Cooking my enemies with fire wasn’t of particular concern; I proved it would work and knights could just tough out the flames. I was more worried about the effects of my other weapons.
World War One and Two was a time of extensive weapons engineering in all sectors. Plenty of weapon types diverged from the standard “launch rock very fast” type of weapon I was most familiar with; I wasn’t sure if they would accidentally kill a knight or not, to say nothing of a warlock’s fragility.
Those weapons could come later, when I was in a pinch. I would rely on conventional firearms for now.
The Puppet Master sighed.
”Ravon’s armor wasn’t suited to handle what you threw at him given the existing record on your arsenal. You got lucky this time, but now that they know, they won’t make the same mistake. Every knight and warlock will be prepared for your fire.”
“Obviously. I was thinking about saving it for later but I was curious how effective it’d be. Turns out, it’s just as good as everything else in my arsenal.”
“Yes, it was quite shockingly effective. The attack is entirely physical so Magika-oriented defenses are nearly useless. The synergy is almost too good. Ravon crumbled despite being on the tougher end of Authority 6. Whatever dimension, whatever world, that continues to feed you those weapons, was obviously extremely good at making them. I can’t imagine the kind of place it was.”
“Yeah, it’s a real headscratcher.”
My lips contorted into a half grimace, half smirk. If only I could show him how much worse it could get.
The wars themselves, although horrifying in terms of sheer scale, paled in comparison to the mere concepts behind the weapons they necessitated. The arms of this world were optimized for the Scourgebeast; they could be used against man in a pinch, but were primarily designed around eliminating the ever-present existential threat. Nobody even considered creating weaponry to facilitate killing another person with the greatest efficiency. In this world, battles between humans were one-on-one, the scarcity of the Magus limiting the number of combatants who fought.
Now, I, with the technological prowess of my home and the Psyka of another world, could focus their great destructive power against the barrier of magic.
And when that barrier collapsed, the recipient would taste a hint of the horror dispensed upon every other earthling in history who had to face them.
I had to admit. I was having some fun.
It was even more satisfying to be kicking the asses of the goons they were sending to try and kill me. It was all legitimate self defense — there was no remorse to be felt. I was letting them off generously with just some wounds.
There were still four more ahead of me before Ponteck though, three warlocks and one more knight. I could have all the fun I wanted, but I still needed to be efficient. I had to incapacitate all of them while preserving enough energy to win the final battle.
It had to be done, but it would be difficult.
I looked over to Maxwell.
“Would you happen to have anything that can give me Psyka if I need it?”
“I would. It comes with backlash, however.”
“Anything permanent?”
“...No.”
“Then I don’t care. I may be coming to you later.”
“I never agreed.”
He offered his refusal to my back. It was time for the next battle.
The warlock whom I walked to was geared in thick robes and a hood. I didn’t know their name and didn’t care to listen to it as it was announced.
They would be gone before long anyway.
I equipped my hood and pulled up my gloves, getting comfortable before the judge’s hand went down.
The Browning A5, four shells in the tube, appeared in my hands. I chambered a shell and slipped another in before shouldering it in preparation for the spell formations popping up before the warlock.
A barrage of fireballs flew toward me. I simply emptied the tube into the oncoming spells, balls of flame dispersing as their integral formation was torn to shreds.
The opposing mage froze, wand paused in the midst of another formation. In that time, I dropped the shotgun and swapped to my StG, letting off a burst at the warlock.
The bullets were minimally empowered when they collided with the barrier and didn’t even make it ripple. I continuously poured Psyka into them until I noticed reactions.
The last few rounds in the magazine were charged full of Psyka, three of them outright shattering the barrier and catching the warlock off guard.
That’s when I took out the M1 Garand, lining up a quick shot that when through his shin, shattering his tibia.
“Ahh!!”
His scream rang in the silence between gunshots. That shot was fully empowered as well, so although the robes had some defensive measures, they folded like paper before the projectile.
Right after that, the barrier came back up, but its formation was unsteady and its surface disturbed. I emptied another magazine into it for good measure before putting a few more holes into the warlock’s legs.
When he couldn’t stand, I lowered my gun and turned to the judge.
The judge glanced between me and my opponent, not immediately calling the battle even though it was pretty obvious I had won.
It didn’t matter though. I just stood there as the warlock continued to suffer, his blood pooling under his shattered legs.
Still, it took almost 2 minutes for the judge to call it.
“The winner is John Cooper. Next battle will be in 5 minutes.”
“Seriously?”
I stared at the judge for a second, the man turning away from me.
I rolled my eyes. This was just what he was being told to do. So I simply stayed on the arena, watching the warlock get carried off and the next step on.
Two warlocks back to back. Seemed they were doing their best to put me in a difficult position.
My eyes narrowed as the Judge’s hand moved, my coat activating when it was only halfway down.
Time slowed, and as soon as the battle officially started, I brought out my M1 Garand with the fastest speed I could muster.
It appeared as my arms raised, settling into an aiming position before the judge’s hand even retracted. And it wasn’t even a second and a half before I had her in my sights.
I saw the spell formation for her barrier glimmer around her. It wasn’t formed yet, and I was a full step ahead.
I fired, an unempowered bullet tearing straight through her shin just like the last warlock. She buckled involuntarily, the pain barely registering in her mind before I fired again, another bullet going through her arm and tearing a chunk of flesh off it as she collapsed to the floor.
Her gripped staff released, falling to the ground and all spell formations flickering out of existence. Like that, my time dilation ceased, everything around me speeding up, her screams entering my ears.
I walked over, glancing at the judge who didn’t want to call the battle. It had barely been 7 seconds, and she was already finished.
So I simply approached her, silence reigning as she grunted and glared up at me.
I looked down at her, and then suddenly saw a few spell formations flicker around her hands. To that, I brought my leg back and sent a swift kick across her jaw, knocking her dizzy, the spells flickering away.
Then, I reached down and grabbed the back of her throat, my arm flexing as I lifted her up off the floor. She hung above the ground as I faced her toward the judge.
And then a knife appeared in my hand. Guns weren’t all there was in those dimensions, so I brought out a trench knife in my other hand, putting the blade against her jugular.
“Call the match, dumbass. I’m sure her parents don’t like seeing her like this, and it’ll be your fault that she continues to suffer.”
“...”
Everyone watched as the girl continued to choke and sob, blood streaming down her arm and leg, her face swelling up from my kick. It was obvious who won, and now it was obvious that the judge was hesitant to declare the obvious.
Finally, he raised his arm.
“The winner is John Cooper. Next battle is in 30 minutes.
“Finally.”
I dropped the girl and turned, healers running up on stage as I walked off.
Maxwell muttered when I entered the staging room.
“...You know why they’re stalling?”
“Yeah, because they want to give my enemies more time to try and wear me down. I can’t just point a gun at them and expect to deliver the same message of dominance as if I were holding a knife.”
“Mm. That, and they want Ponteck to have more time to rest. The Puppet Master told me his status. He lost a significant amount of blood and they’re feeding him a bunch of medicine. He’ll recover a noticeable amount within the next few hours, but at the very least, he shouldn’t be 100%. You just need to preserve your energy and use the opportunity your girlfriend gave you.”
“I will. How is she anyway?”
“She’s fine. She just ran through every ounce of mana she had. Given an hour she’ll be lucid enough to watch.”
“Good.”
“Focus on recovering. That means clearing your mind.”
“Like meditation?”
“Yes. Just relax. Sleeping if you’re able would be good as well.”
“Hm.”
I nodded, and right then, Maxwell spawned an entire couch.
My brows raised.
“For me?”
“No, for my dog.”
“Hey, I’m not your dog.”
“I didn’t… Nevermind. Just sit.”
He waved me off, making me chuckle as I plopped down on the couch.
It was plush, it cradled my butt, and it smelled nice. I kicked my feet up and heard a scoff.
“Boots off my couch.”
“Fine, fine.”
I rolled my eyes and slipped the boots off. Couldn’t he just get it cleaned with some magic? This couch probably had a self-cleaning function anyway.
After that, I got comfy and closed my eyes. With the control over my thoughts the Spark gave me, it was fairly easy to blank out and doze off.
However, I didn’t have long. After 20 minutes of a power nap, I felt a sharp poking in my mind.
“Get up. Next battle is here.”
“Hmm…”
I yawned and climbed off the couch, slipping my boots back on and heading out the door. My yawns were incessant as I stepped onto the arena. The next opponent was a knight, a girl a head shorter than me.
This girl was the top knight before Ponteck arrived. Her name was Kevala and she wore armor that was particularly intricate.
She wielded a spear, but interestingly, also had a whip coiled around her waist. I noticed the bladed tassel on the end.
Worse than all that though was how threatening she felt. I was quick to sober up when I felt her snake-like gaze on me.
And perhaps another detail I was curious about was how I couldn’t remember her name from the Elite leaderboard. I remembered them all, courtesy of my enhanced memory, and she wasn't there.
Which meant she wasn’t good enough to be on it, or the more likely explanation, she didn’t care to compete for a position.
Perhaps she just never went on the expeditions, training on her own in whatever way her family insisted. Regardless, she caused my neck to tingle, and not in the sexy way Umara did.
I tilted my head.
“I’ve never seen you around before. Too good for the Magisterium excursions?”
“Something like that. I wouldn't be here if it weren’t a special request… and I was curious.”
“Man, they must want to kill me pretty bad if they’re bringing you out. Just forewarning you though, I’m not into the whipping or bondage stuff like that.”
“...Like what?”
“You know. Spanky spanky?”
I made some whipping motions and sound effects, getting confused silence in response. The judge's hand slammed down.
“Battle start!”
“I had a girl convince me to try it without realizing that she wanted to tie me to the bed. It took spanking her ass red to finally get her to-”
“S-Shut up!”
She charged at me, making me laugh a bit as my hood wrapped over my head.
This time, I didn’t bring out a flamethrower. It would be useless. I could sense the mana around her armor. It probably wouldn’t even make her sweat.
So I took out a Lewis Gun and started unloading.
The pan atop the gun chugged along with mechanical clicking to match the blasts coming out the front. Kevala faced a storm of lead.
However, some of the bullets actually ricocheted off her armor, while most didn’t do any noticeable damage. They were moderately empowered so it was surprising.
I started kiting as she continued forward. She wasn’t incredibly fast, unlike Feiden, so it was pretty easy to keep my distance with the pressure of my machine gun.
However, eventually the pan went dry, and she took the opportunity to charge forward.
An StG appeared in my hands the next moment, fully empowered shots emptying into her chest. This time, I saw sparks fly as they managed to pierce the metal. However, the effects seemed minimal. They probably couldn’t break much further past her skin.
She completely disregarded them and stabbed out with her spear. My Aura screamed at me.
I made a split second decision and spread.
A clone appeared, taking my place as I ducked out of the way. We both barely dodged before sprinting off in different directions.
She looked between us for a few seconds, not able to decide. And then, she shot toward the wrong me.
I kept my face neutral even though I wanted to laugh. My clone continued to run as I took out my M1 Garand.
My eyes zoomed in through the iron sights, finding a gap between the helmet and collar piece of Kevala’s armor.
And I stuffed my gun so full of Psyka that she actually turned around toward me.
I fired before she could respond.
The gun slammed back with more force than usual and blood bloomed from her collar as it pierced through the leather underneath her armor and into her flesh.
She staggered for a second before suddenly dropping the spear and grabbing her whip.
I watched as it flicked about with her arm, emptying my clip but not hitting any more significant shots.
She finally stopped having me wait and beat the whip toward me like a bullet. I created another clone, sidestepping a bit and letting the tip crack past me.
It snapped right where my body was, the bladed tassels letting off a sound no less explosive than my bullets. There was even a shockwave. I would get turned to paste if I let that hit me.
Although I still presented a facade of calmness, my mind worked overtime to come up with alternative strategies. My Psyka would only go down the longer this continued.
But she still couldn’t pressure me much. It turned into an almost comical bout of target practice, her shots whipping naught but air or the occasional clone.
It went on for a minute or so. I thought I could sustain my current situation since she couldn’t seem to hit me.
I thought wrong. She shot forward and slashed her whip horizontally, the whip’s length striking my shoulder and beginning to wrap around me.
Time dilation and my Crown’s agility saved me, letting me duck under the path of the strike and have it slide off me just before it could wrap me up completely. In my moment of distraction, however, Kelava closed the distance.
I generated another clone, but luck was not on my side today and she came after me. The clone disappeared as I devoted the entirety of Aura and Spark to dodging and analyzing her patterns. This was a worst case scenario.
She slipped out a pair of knives from her sleeves and tried to slash at me. Occasionally, one of my clones would distract her long enough to get me some breathing room, but it was clear that I wasn’t getting away. Even pulling out a machine gun didn’t deter her; she still came at me like nothing could hurt her.
Gradually, her threat started to grow. I had to do something now before I got overwhelmed.
I donned another gas mask, different from the one I used with the flamethrower, and dropped a grenade loaded with Psyka a little behind me just as she lunged. She managed an incredible Vigor-aided feat of agility, twisting out of the way of the grenade and jumping to the side as it exploded.
The shockwave washed over me, but I landed unharmed as the coat absorbed the majority of the energy.
It shocked Kevala too. She landed several meters away and righted herself.
We looked at each other. I pulled out another canister.
I sighed, tightening up my coat a bit.
“Let’s see how this works. At the very least, you'll be sorry you ever fought me.”
I pulled a tab and threw the canister between the two of us.
She naturally backed away as yellow vapor started spewing from the canister.
I tossed a few more in her direction, saturating the entire area with one of the most feared chemical weapons in Earth’s history.
“Mustard Gas is quite the fitting name, isn’t it? Although I don’t think you guys have mustard here.”
“What is…”
Kevala rushed around, but was eventually enveloped. I also continued to shoot her in order to keep her away, and I suppose she decided to test her luck inside the gas cloud to try and get to me.
That turned out to be her biggest mistake.
I backed away to a corner of the arena where the gas hadn’t spread, staying as far away from it as I could. Between bursts of fire I could hear whimpers and muffled cries sounded from the gas cloud.
The gas was contained by the invisible protective barrier around the arena, so she had nowhere to go to escape it.
Unless she wanted to lose of course. I watched her faintly through the gas as she scrambled around, even bringing out some water and dousing herself with it, all while trying to protect herself from my barrage.
Of course, nothing worked. I stopped shooting and after a few screams, my brows raised.
Seemed the gas was incredibly effective. From what I knew, mustard gas didn't work immediately. It took a while for the effects to kick in and really cause some damage. It also seeped into everything it touched, adding to the fear factor.
I knew that my Psyka made my summons better. They made my shots sharper so they could pierce and destroy barriers and knights, and it also made flames more effective, otherwise my flamethrower would have been useless against Ravon.
Now, it seemed it was making this gas more effective as well. Maybe not more potent, but definitely faster acting. It burned Kevala's skin and whatever got into her lungs was no doubt wreaking havoc as well.
I realized it was even worse than I expected when she threw herself off the arena, ripping off her helmet and armor. After that I saw her bare arms, completely red with yellow blisters already forming. She looked like she was choking on her own throat before vomiting and coughing, streams of tears going down her twisted, agonized face. At the very least she was still breathing, for now.
I suddenly looked at the judge, getting a bit worried at how well the stuff was working. I also wanted to get the hell away from the vapor that gradually started to settle in my direction.
“Hey! Call the match! She ran off the arena!”
“... The winner is John Cooper.”
“Good. Puppet Master!”
I called and ran off the arena, escaping the gas as the Puppet Master appeared by my side.
“What did you do now?”
“She’ll probably be fine. It’s a poison that causes blisters and irritation.”
“Do you have an antidote?”
“Of course not. You guys can treat poisons, right? Besides, she’s a knight. It won’t be as horrible as it would with a normal person. Also, if you can, I would try to contain all that gas in the arena. If you disperse it, some spectators might get affected. It likes to linger.”
“My god. What the hell did you leave me with… ”
He sighed as I walked off. It was no longer my issue so long as Kevala wasn’t weaker than she looked.
I walked back to my private room as the Puppet Master started to gather warlocks to contain the gas.
Maxwell looked me dead in the eye.
“What the hell was that?”
“A poison gas. Not as deadly as it is extremely painful and terrifying.”
“I saw you staying away from it. I’ve never seen someone so afraid of their own weapon.”
“You’ve also never seen a weapon like that. You don’t know what it’s capable of. I do. I'd say it's a war crime in a can, but hey, nothing's a war crime the first time. Either way, I respect the weapons I use. I know that all of them could kill me even easier than they do anything else. That’s not fear.”
“Mm.”
He nodded as I sat down.
After some silence, I smiled.
“Looks like it was quite effective. I just can’t use that one against Ponteck now. I would end up hurting myself. A mask might protect my lungs, but not my skin.”
“Do you have another card like that to play?”
“No, nothing so exotic. I’m preserving my energy, like you said. Now, I only need to face one more warlock before fighting Ponteck.”
“If you let that battle drag, you may be screwed.”
“So I’ll start by going all out. A blitzkrieg, as we call it where I’m from. Maybe the shock and awe will give me the edge I need.”
I rubbed my chin while laying down to take another nap.
“Wake me when it’s time.”
“Mm.”
I heard a hum before closing my eyes, falling into a state of half-sleep.
It was almost time for the finale.
“Is there anything else I should be prepared for? Any more surprises like that… fire magic?”
“That wasn’t magic. And yes, I suppose I should discuss something with you. Later though.”
The Puppet Master had come to see me in my exclusive staging room. Umara was still in the medical room recovering, unfortunately unable to come and see my match.
I, meanwhile, was still perfectly fine, having not actually expended much Psyka while burning Ravon.
Cooking my enemies with fire wasn’t of particular concern; I proved it would work and knights could just tough out the flames. I was more worried about the effects of my other weapons.
World War One and Two was a time of extensive weapons engineering in all sectors. Plenty of weapon types diverged from the standard “launch rock very fast” type of weapon I was most familiar with; I wasn’t sure if they would accidentally kill a knight or not, to say nothing of a warlock’s fragility.
Those weapons could come later, when I was in a pinch. I would rely on conventional firearms for now.
The Puppet Master sighed.
”Ravon’s armor wasn’t suited to handle what you threw at him given the existing record on your arsenal. You got lucky this time, but now that they know, they won’t make the same mistake. Every knight and warlock will be prepared for your fire.”
“Obviously. I was thinking about saving it for later but I was curious how effective it’d be. Turns out, it’s just as good as everything else in my arsenal.”
“Yes, it was quite shockingly effective. The attack is entirely physical so Magika-oriented defenses are nearly useless. The synergy is almost too good. Ravon crumbled despite being on the tougher end of Authority 6. Whatever dimension, whatever world, that continues to feed you those weapons, was obviously extremely good at making them. I can’t imagine the kind of place it was.”
“Yeah, it’s a real headscratcher.”
My lips contorted into a half grimace, half smirk. If only I could show him how much worse it could get.
The wars themselves, although horrifying in terms of sheer scale, paled in comparison to the mere concepts behind the weapons they necessitated. The arms of this world were optimized for the Scourgebeast; they could be used against man in a pinch, but were primarily designed around eliminating the ever-present existential threat. Nobody even considered creating weaponry to facilitate killing another person with the greatest efficiency. In this world, battles between humans were one-on-one, the scarcity of the Magus limiting the number of combatants who fought.
Now, I, with the technological prowess of my home and the Psyka of another world, could focus their great destructive power against the barrier of magic.
And when that barrier collapsed, the recipient would taste a hint of the horror dispensed upon every other earthling in history who had to face them.
I had to admit. I was having some fun.
It was even more satisfying to be kicking the asses of the goons they were sending to try and kill me. It was all legitimate self defense — there was no remorse to be felt. I was letting them off generously with just some wounds.
There were still four more ahead of me before Ponteck though, three warlocks and one more knight. I could have all the fun I wanted, but I still needed to be efficient. I had to incapacitate all of them while preserving enough energy to win the final battle.
It had to be done, but it would be difficult.
I looked over to Maxwell.
“Would you happen to have anything that can give me Psyka if I need it?”
“I would. It comes with backlash, however.”
“Anything permanent?”
“...No.”
“Then I don’t care. I may be coming to you later.”
“I never agreed.”
He offered his refusal to my back. It was time for the next battle.
The warlock whom I walked to was geared in thick robes and a hood. I didn’t know their name and didn’t care to listen to it as it was announced.
They would be gone before long anyway.
I equipped my hood and pulled up my gloves, getting comfortable before the judge’s hand went down.
The Browning A5, four shells in the tube, appeared in my hands. I chambered a shell and slipped another in before shouldering it in preparation for the spell formations popping up before the warlock.
A barrage of fireballs flew toward me. I simply emptied the tube into the oncoming spells, balls of flame dispersing as their integral formation was torn to shreds.
The opposing mage froze, wand paused in the midst of another formation. In that time, I dropped the shotgun and swapped to my StG, letting off a burst at the warlock.
The bullets were minimally empowered when they collided with the barrier and didn’t even make it ripple. I continuously poured Psyka into them until I noticed reactions.
The last few rounds in the magazine were charged full of Psyka, three of them outright shattering the barrier and catching the warlock off guard.
That’s when I took out the M1 Garand, lining up a quick shot that when through his shin, shattering his tibia.
“Ahh!!”
His scream rang in the silence between gunshots. That shot was fully empowered as well, so although the robes had some defensive measures, they folded like paper before the projectile.
Right after that, the barrier came back up, but its formation was unsteady and its surface disturbed. I emptied another magazine into it for good measure before putting a few more holes into the warlock’s legs.
When he couldn’t stand, I lowered my gun and turned to the judge.
The judge glanced between me and my opponent, not immediately calling the battle even though it was pretty obvious I had won.
It didn’t matter though. I just stood there as the warlock continued to suffer, his blood pooling under his shattered legs.
Still, it took almost 2 minutes for the judge to call it.
“The winner is John Cooper. Next battle will be in 5 minutes.”
“Seriously?”
I stared at the judge for a second, the man turning away from me.
I rolled my eyes. This was just what he was being told to do. So I simply stayed on the arena, watching the warlock get carried off and the next step on.
Two warlocks back to back. Seemed they were doing their best to put me in a difficult position.
My eyes narrowed as the Judge’s hand moved, my coat activating when it was only halfway down.
Time slowed, and as soon as the battle officially started, I brought out my M1 Garand with the fastest speed I could muster.
It appeared as my arms raised, settling into an aiming position before the judge’s hand even retracted. And it wasn’t even a second and a half before I had her in my sights.
I saw the spell formation for her barrier glimmer around her. It wasn’t formed yet, and I was a full step ahead.
I fired, an unempowered bullet tearing straight through her shin just like the last warlock. She buckled involuntarily, the pain barely registering in her mind before I fired again, another bullet going through her arm and tearing a chunk of flesh off it as she collapsed to the floor.
Her gripped staff released, falling to the ground and all spell formations flickering out of existence. Like that, my time dilation ceased, everything around me speeding up, her screams entering my ears.
I walked over, glancing at the judge who didn’t want to call the battle. It had barely been 7 seconds, and she was already finished.
So I simply approached her, silence reigning as she grunted and glared up at me.
I looked down at her, and then suddenly saw a few spell formations flicker around her hands. To that, I brought my leg back and sent a swift kick across her jaw, knocking her dizzy, the spells flickering away.
Then, I reached down and grabbed the back of her throat, my arm flexing as I lifted her up off the floor. She hung above the ground as I faced her toward the judge.
And then a knife appeared in my hand. Guns weren’t all there was in those dimensions, so I brought out a trench knife in my other hand, putting the blade against her jugular.
“Call the match, dumbass. I’m sure her parents don’t like seeing her like this, and it’ll be your fault that she continues to suffer.”
“...”
Everyone watched as the girl continued to choke and sob, blood streaming down her arm and leg, her face swelling up from my kick. It was obvious who won, and now it was obvious that the judge was hesitant to declare the obvious.
Finally, he raised his arm.
“The winner is John Cooper. Next battle is in 30 minutes.
“Finally.”
I dropped the girl and turned, healers running up on stage as I walked off.
Maxwell muttered when I entered the staging room.
“...You know why they’re stalling?”
“Yeah, because they want to give my enemies more time to try and wear me down. I can’t just point a gun at them and expect to deliver the same message of dominance as if I were holding a knife.”
“Mm. That, and they want Ponteck to have more time to rest. The Puppet Master told me his status. He lost a significant amount of blood and they’re feeding him a bunch of medicine. He’ll recover a noticeable amount within the next few hours, but at the very least, he shouldn’t be 100%. You just need to preserve your energy and use the opportunity your girlfriend gave you.”
“I will. How is she anyway?”
“She’s fine. She just ran through every ounce of mana she had. Given an hour she’ll be lucid enough to watch.”
“Good.”
“Focus on recovering. That means clearing your mind.”
“Like meditation?”
“Yes. Just relax. Sleeping if you’re able would be good as well.”
“Hm.”
I nodded, and right then, Maxwell spawned an entire couch.
My brows raised.
“For me?”
“No, for my dog.”
“Hey, I’m not your dog.”
“I didn’t… Nevermind. Just sit.”
He waved me off, making me chuckle as I plopped down on the couch.
It was plush, it cradled my butt, and it smelled nice. I kicked my feet up and heard a scoff.
“Boots off my couch.”
“Fine, fine.”
I rolled my eyes and slipped the boots off. Couldn’t he just get it cleaned with some magic? This couch probably had a self-cleaning function anyway.
After that, I got comfy and closed my eyes. With the control over my thoughts the Spark gave me, it was fairly easy to blank out and doze off.
However, I didn’t have long. After 20 minutes of a power nap, I felt a sharp poking in my mind.
“Get up. Next battle is here.”
“Hmm…”
I yawned and climbed off the couch, slipping my boots back on and heading out the door. My yawns were incessant as I stepped onto the arena. The next opponent was a knight, a girl a head shorter than me.
This girl was the top knight before Ponteck arrived. Her name was Kevala and she wore armor that was particularly intricate.
She wielded a spear, but interestingly, also had a whip coiled around her waist. I noticed the bladed tassel on the end.
Worse than all that though was how threatening she felt. I was quick to sober up when I felt her snake-like gaze on me.
And perhaps another detail I was curious about was how I couldn’t remember her name from the Elite leaderboard. I remembered them all, courtesy of my enhanced memory, and she wasn't there.
Which meant she wasn’t good enough to be on it, or the more likely explanation, she didn’t care to compete for a position.
Perhaps she just never went on the expeditions, training on her own in whatever way her family insisted. Regardless, she caused my neck to tingle, and not in the sexy way Umara did.
I tilted my head.
“I’ve never seen you around before. Too good for the Magisterium excursions?”
“Something like that. I wouldn't be here if it weren’t a special request… and I was curious.”
“Man, they must want to kill me pretty bad if they’re bringing you out. Just forewarning you though, I’m not into the whipping or bondage stuff like that.”
“...Like what?”
“You know. Spanky spanky?”
I made some whipping motions and sound effects, getting confused silence in response. The judge's hand slammed down.
“Battle start!”
“I had a girl convince me to try it without realizing that she wanted to tie me to the bed. It took spanking her ass red to finally get her to-”
“S-Shut up!”
She charged at me, making me laugh a bit as my hood wrapped over my head.
This time, I didn’t bring out a flamethrower. It would be useless. I could sense the mana around her armor. It probably wouldn’t even make her sweat.
So I took out a Lewis Gun and started unloading.
The pan atop the gun chugged along with mechanical clicking to match the blasts coming out the front. Kevala faced a storm of lead.
However, some of the bullets actually ricocheted off her armor, while most didn’t do any noticeable damage. They were moderately empowered so it was surprising.
I started kiting as she continued forward. She wasn’t incredibly fast, unlike Feiden, so it was pretty easy to keep my distance with the pressure of my machine gun.
However, eventually the pan went dry, and she took the opportunity to charge forward.
An StG appeared in my hands the next moment, fully empowered shots emptying into her chest. This time, I saw sparks fly as they managed to pierce the metal. However, the effects seemed minimal. They probably couldn’t break much further past her skin.
She completely disregarded them and stabbed out with her spear. My Aura screamed at me.
I made a split second decision and spread.
A clone appeared, taking my place as I ducked out of the way. We both barely dodged before sprinting off in different directions.
She looked between us for a few seconds, not able to decide. And then, she shot toward the wrong me.
I kept my face neutral even though I wanted to laugh. My clone continued to run as I took out my M1 Garand.
My eyes zoomed in through the iron sights, finding a gap between the helmet and collar piece of Kevala’s armor.
And I stuffed my gun so full of Psyka that she actually turned around toward me.
I fired before she could respond.
The gun slammed back with more force than usual and blood bloomed from her collar as it pierced through the leather underneath her armor and into her flesh.
She staggered for a second before suddenly dropping the spear and grabbing her whip.
I watched as it flicked about with her arm, emptying my clip but not hitting any more significant shots.
She finally stopped having me wait and beat the whip toward me like a bullet. I created another clone, sidestepping a bit and letting the tip crack past me.
It snapped right where my body was, the bladed tassels letting off a sound no less explosive than my bullets. There was even a shockwave. I would get turned to paste if I let that hit me.
Although I still presented a facade of calmness, my mind worked overtime to come up with alternative strategies. My Psyka would only go down the longer this continued.
But she still couldn’t pressure me much. It turned into an almost comical bout of target practice, her shots whipping naught but air or the occasional clone.
It went on for a minute or so. I thought I could sustain my current situation since she couldn’t seem to hit me.
I thought wrong. She shot forward and slashed her whip horizontally, the whip’s length striking my shoulder and beginning to wrap around me.
Time dilation and my Crown’s agility saved me, letting me duck under the path of the strike and have it slide off me just before it could wrap me up completely. In my moment of distraction, however, Kelava closed the distance.
I generated another clone, but luck was not on my side today and she came after me. The clone disappeared as I devoted the entirety of Aura and Spark to dodging and analyzing her patterns. This was a worst case scenario.
She slipped out a pair of knives from her sleeves and tried to slash at me. Occasionally, one of my clones would distract her long enough to get me some breathing room, but it was clear that I wasn’t getting away. Even pulling out a machine gun didn’t deter her; she still came at me like nothing could hurt her.
Gradually, her threat started to grow. I had to do something now before I got overwhelmed.
I donned another gas mask, different from the one I used with the flamethrower, and dropped a grenade loaded with Psyka a little behind me just as she lunged. She managed an incredible Vigor-aided feat of agility, twisting out of the way of the grenade and jumping to the side as it exploded.
The shockwave washed over me, but I landed unharmed as the coat absorbed the majority of the energy.
It shocked Kevala too. She landed several meters away and righted herself.
We looked at each other. I pulled out another canister.
I sighed, tightening up my coat a bit.
“Let’s see how this works. At the very least, you'll be sorry you ever fought me.”
I pulled a tab and threw the canister between the two of us.
She naturally backed away as yellow vapor started spewing from the canister.
I tossed a few more in her direction, saturating the entire area with one of the most feared chemical weapons in Earth’s history.
“Mustard Gas is quite the fitting name, isn’t it? Although I don’t think you guys have mustard here.”
“What is…”
Kevala rushed around, but was eventually enveloped. I also continued to shoot her in order to keep her away, and I suppose she decided to test her luck inside the gas cloud to try and get to me.
That turned out to be her biggest mistake.
I backed away to a corner of the arena where the gas hadn’t spread, staying as far away from it as I could. Between bursts of fire I could hear whimpers and muffled cries sounded from the gas cloud.
The gas was contained by the invisible protective barrier around the arena, so she had nowhere to go to escape it.
Unless she wanted to lose of course. I watched her faintly through the gas as she scrambled around, even bringing out some water and dousing herself with it, all while trying to protect herself from my barrage.
Of course, nothing worked. I stopped shooting and after a few screams, my brows raised.
Seemed the gas was incredibly effective. From what I knew, mustard gas didn't work immediately. It took a while for the effects to kick in and really cause some damage. It also seeped into everything it touched, adding to the fear factor.
I knew that my Psyka made my summons better. They made my shots sharper so they could pierce and destroy barriers and knights, and it also made flames more effective, otherwise my flamethrower would have been useless against Ravon.
Now, it seemed it was making this gas more effective as well. Maybe not more potent, but definitely faster acting. It burned Kevala's skin and whatever got into her lungs was no doubt wreaking havoc as well.
I realized it was even worse than I expected when she threw herself off the arena, ripping off her helmet and armor. After that I saw her bare arms, completely red with yellow blisters already forming. She looked like she was choking on her own throat before vomiting and coughing, streams of tears going down her twisted, agonized face. At the very least she was still breathing, for now.
I suddenly looked at the judge, getting a bit worried at how well the stuff was working. I also wanted to get the hell away from the vapor that gradually started to settle in my direction.
“Hey! Call the match! She ran off the arena!”
“... The winner is John Cooper.”
“Good. Puppet Master!”
I called and ran off the arena, escaping the gas as the Puppet Master appeared by my side.
“What did you do now?”
“She’ll probably be fine. It’s a poison that causes blisters and irritation.”
“Do you have an antidote?”
“Of course not. You guys can treat poisons, right? Besides, she’s a knight. It won’t be as horrible as it would with a normal person. Also, if you can, I would try to contain all that gas in the arena. If you disperse it, some spectators might get affected. It likes to linger.”
“My god. What the hell did you leave me with… ”
He sighed as I walked off. It was no longer my issue so long as Kevala wasn’t weaker than she looked.
I walked back to my private room as the Puppet Master started to gather warlocks to contain the gas.
Maxwell looked me dead in the eye.
“What the hell was that?”
“A poison gas. Not as deadly as it is extremely painful and terrifying.”
“I saw you staying away from it. I’ve never seen someone so afraid of their own weapon.”
“You’ve also never seen a weapon like that. You don’t know what it’s capable of. I do. I'd say it's a war crime in a can, but hey, nothing's a war crime the first time. Either way, I respect the weapons I use. I know that all of them could kill me even easier than they do anything else. That’s not fear.”
“Mm.”
He nodded as I sat down.
After some silence, I smiled.
“Looks like it was quite effective. I just can’t use that one against Ponteck now. I would end up hurting myself. A mask might protect my lungs, but not my skin.”
“Do you have another card like that to play?”
“No, nothing so exotic. I’m preserving my energy, like you said. Now, I only need to face one more warlock before fighting Ponteck.”
“If you let that battle drag, you may be screwed.”
“So I’ll start by going all out. A blitzkrieg, as we call it where I’m from. Maybe the shock and awe will give me the edge I need.”
I rubbed my chin while laying down to take another nap.
“Wake me when it’s time.”
“Mm.”
I heard a hum before closing my eyes, falling into a state of half-sleep.
It was almost time for the finale.
