“It seems that the untamed inhabitants of this world need to be taught a lesson.”
Despite their seemingly heavy, cumbersome form made of polished gemstone, Hyperion was almost too fast. Izabel barely had the time to react, only realizing that she had dodged a strike when she was able to feel the whizz of her opponent’s claw slicing the air. She landed a few meters away, attempting to put some distance as Pestilence’s swarm and Baskerville’s hounds blocked the way, only for her to be forced back once more, as if the presence of those weapons held no meaning.
Another attack, right as she landed, and Izabel jumped once again, landing a few feet away, giving Baskerville some time to merge her summoned hounds into their bigger, stronger form. With a wave of her hand, Pestilence’s black cube swarm returned to her, some forming a sword, while the rest surrounded all four of her limbs.
Right as Izabel was about to refocus, a sharp clang shook the place.
It was Pestilence, using her sword to parry an attack, Hyperion’s claw mere inches from her face as the black sword attempted to dig and consume the metallic claw weapon. With a mighty push and a grit of her teeth, Pestilence pushed Hyperion away, the act hard enough to make her exhale. If one focuses for a moment, a light-blue barrier could be seen forming as she parried Hyperion’s attacks.
“Get your head out of your daydreams! He warned me, if you get grazed by that claw, you’re done!”
“Pestilence is correct,” Hunter remarked. “More specifically, Pestilence, the Mirror Avatar, is correct.”
“Do you know what their ability is?” Izabel asked.
“I do not know what their individual ability entails - however, those three tubes attached to their weapon are a concoction of serums tailored for specific needs. There are many possible serums, their characteristics differing between each Primeras, but–”
Izabel dodged another strike, while Pestilence jumped past her and slammed her sword down on her opponent.
“You are facing me, not her,” Pestilence snarled, as she pushed Hyperion away, the act repelling the two away from each other. Seeing a chance, Baskerville ordered some of her enhanced hounds to strike, the skeletal beasts with gnashing teeth all aiming for the Primeras’ four limbs with the accuracy of a trained group of soldiers, the mighty jaws of each hound clamping down on the target with a vice grip. Seeing a chance, Izabel gripped her gun, willing energy to gather into an orange bullet that exploded on Hyperion’s head - or perhaps, what passed for it. Drops of orange-red molten rock marred the ground as Hyperion was pushed back ever so slightly from the attack.
Their recovery came too swift for the three to savor any of the victory. Bubbling, transparent substance leaked from the wound, and as it covered the wound Izabel made, the three realized that their efforts were in vain.
“To continue, the serums were likely a subjugation agent. They do possess the means to create deadly substances, however, it is unlikely that those would be used to deal with what they viewed as a nuisance at worst and a fascinating creature at best,” Hunter explained, as Izabel willed for her other weapon, a long katana with a segmented blade, to materialize on her left hand. Relying on her feelings, she swung the weapon, only to almost strike one of Baskerville’s hounds.
“Adjust the number a little, allow me to assist,” Hunter said, her presence enveloping Izabel, allowing herto handle the second weapon much more easily. The sudden change allowed her to carve out a nasty gash on Hyperion’s chest.
[Mental Integrity Number Distribution]
[65 - 35 (Host)]
“If I have to guess what substance they were using, it is either serum P or S. Paralysis and Sense, respectively.”
As Izabel was about to ask about the veracity of the information, she felt an ominous gust, and then, on instinct, she was barely able to dodge, a sharp pain spreading through her left hand. Then, there was a numbness spreading from the wound, reaching to envelop the entirety of her left arm. With the limb out of her control, Izabel was forced to drop her segmented katana, the weapon disappearing into light the moment it left her fingers.
Her hand felt heavy, a leaden weight that refused to budge. Hyperion was in front of her, their clawed hand reaching for her torso.
It was then, she realized, despite the power she held, she was not strong enough.
“Now, tell me–”
Izabel jumped back just as Hyperion grasped at the spot she was standing at not even mere seconds ago. Baskerville attacked from above, her hand covered in clawed, skeletal armor of the same color as her summoned hounds. As their weapons collided, a shockwave shook the air around them, nearby stone pillars now sporting pinprick cracks on uneven surfaces.
“Izabel! Focus!”
The numbness felt like chilling water, a cooling sensation that pierces through skin to chill one down to the bone. She was afraid, the fingers of her unhurt hand trembling, as if she was freed from the illusion of strength and now has to contend with the bitter reality.
A realization that, perhaps if her opponent was meant to hurt her, she would not be standing.
The true weight of futility.
“By the thralls, Izabel! Come to your senses!”
If the realization was the bitter cold, Hunter’s voice would perhaps be the searing heat, the warm, blazing fire that shattered the pull of clawing hopelessness from the depths of an unending storm.
“Hunter, but…”
“As long as I– no, as long as we still stand, we will not lose. This may not be the best course of action, but…”
A moment’s pause. In that short time, Izabel was able to pick out a trace of hesitation from her partner, only for it to disappear as Hunter spoke with a resolute assurance.
“Increase the numbers. We will win this.”
“I understand. I trust you, Hunter.”
Even though she could not see the screen of the Mirror Device strapped to her numb arm, Izabel was able to navigate the app, not fumbling even once as she opened the Integrity Number menu.
[Mental Integrity Number Distribution]
[65 - 35 (Host)]
With a few quick taps, she adjusted the number, her familiarity with the device allowing her to do so without looking at the screen. Spurred by the desire to achieve the impossible and win despite the odds. She neither hesitated, nor did she think of anything beyond the present fight.
She has to win. Win this fight, strike at the core of the living shackles of her world.
[Mental Integrity Number Distribution]
[30 - 70 (Mirror Avatar)]
[WARNING!]
[Adjustment reaching critical thresholds!]
[Rebalance requested! Critical imbalance may result in permanent side-effects!]
In the corner of her vision, she saw the Mirror Device flash red, incessant beeping and reddish tint creeping from the periphery of her vision and projected straight into her mind, cacophonic noises assaulting her ears and thoughts. The warnings conveyed a sense of panic, trying to spur her to take action, to correct the mistake a machine assumed she must have made. Even without knowing what exactly she has done, Izabel could feel it, the deep mire that comes from knowing on the most base level of thinking that she has made a mistake, all as payment for the sheer level of strength that coursed through her veins.
However, her guilt, her reservations, her fears, all of them did not matter, it all faded along with the scenery and the battle, as she saw the transparent image of Hunter floating in front of her, a small smile on her lips. In that moment, there was nothing but the two of them in their own world, as Hunter took her uninjured hand, their fingers intertwining with each other. Her voice echoed in her head, but this time, it sounded much, much closer. They were separate, two within one, yet for that moment, the distinction was not clear.
“Thank you for your trust in me, Izabel, my partner.”
Gingerly, slowly, Hunter brought Izabel’s hand close to her lips, and then, with her smoldering stare meeting with Izabel’s, she kissed the back of Izabel’s hand, her lips radiating a tender, gentle warmth. Flames dance around the two of them, forming a wall, as if no one else was allowed to witness this moment between true companions. A secret moment shared between two living as one, two souls, both united with the same desire to break the shackles disguised as luxuries, to attain freedom.
“Even if you are afraid, find strength in my vow, I will bring us victory,”
For a moment, she paused. Hunter’s voice started to fade, until it was barely a whisper. The heat of her breath caressed Izabel’s fingers, as if trying to disguise what she said right after.
“I just hope that, for the future punishment you will have to bear, you will accept my sincere apology.”
Before Izabel could respond. an explosion of power has been injected into her veins. She felt invincible, unstoppable, Hunter’s intentions and movements now clear to her without the Mirror Avatar expressing her intention with words.
Burning crimson spilled from the roots of her brown hair, fading to white as it reached the tips, and pinpricks the color of persistent embers overtook her pupils until her pupils were a stunning orange. She could feel the material of her clothes had changed, even though she was unable to look, she was able to feel. Her body moved with spontaneity, dodging attacks with the grace and experience of a veteran fighter, fast enough that she would often have already moved before her mind could process the sensation of an incoming attack.
“If you intend to catch me, you will need to stop playing around, Hyperion of The Skies,” Izabel felt herself speaking, in a mix of hers and Hunter’s voice.
“Hunter, you…” Pestilence muttered.
“Did you forget Cordis warned us not to–” Baskerville gritted her teeth as she launched another attack, aiming at the healing gash on Hyperion’s torso.
Before Baskerville could continue, Pestilence responded.
“No, Baskerville, from the beginning, even he has warned me, we can’t fight the Primeras without taking any risks,” Pestilence said, shaking her head.
Power gathered on Izabel’s gun, intense fiery glow shifting from a pale orange to a vivid blue as heat started to concentrate on the weapon. The projectile looked small, not even bigger than the size of a fingernail, yet the pressure from its sheer power was intense, pinpricks of heat rising on the skin as more power was added.
Then, she pulled the trigger.
The blue, fiery projectile sped through the air, hitting Hyperion square in the chest wound while they were fending off Baskerville’s hounds and close-range attacks. Seeing a chance, Pestilence gathered her cubes, the swarm all gathering into one group to form a massive, towering spear much longer than she was tall. Her hand gripped the air, commanding the swarm to tighten, to fuse into one, single object, with every ounce of power concentrated at the very tip.
[WARNING!]
[Sustained use of critical imbalance in Mental Integrity Number Distribution is not advised!]
[Requesting permission to rebalance. Prolonged critical imbalance may result in permanent side effects!]
[Mental Integrity Number Distribution]
[30 - 70 (Mirror Avatar)]
Seemingly sensing Izabel was ignoring the device, its warnings became more incessant now, projected messages obscuring her vision in a haze of flashing red. It mattered not, however, for Izabel was still focused on her target, the weakened Hyperion being pushed back by Baskerville as they attempted to strike at Izabel. With the ease of dealing with a minor inconvenience, Izabel would dodge, giving Baskerville a window of precious seconds to call for her hounds to restrain Hyperion.
The hounds were only able to restrain Hyperion for but a brief moment, but that was enough.
As Izabel landed, another vivid blue bullet had formed at the tip of her gun, and she took aim, the rush of pride from the success spurring the flames to burn brighter.
“Wherever you will go after you perish, watch as we dismantle your empire of lies, Primeras. This is our promise.”
With chilling precision, she pulled the trigger.
