“Nael Manron.”
“Atoy Muzazi.”
Glass crunched underfoot as Muzazi strode across the walkway high above. Blood squelched underfoot as Nael strode across the floor far below. Their eyes were locked onto each other, and nothing else. Both of them understood, after all…
…the first one to lose focus would be the first one to die.
“I’m surprised you came all the way out here tonight. The weather’s awful…” Manron said, looking up at Muzazi, his voice so quiet that one had to strain to hear. “...and if you wanted to fight me, you could have just waited. This is a tournament, after all… and I had no plans to go after you early.”
The Crown gurgled weakly, and Manron glanced over to them. Even with his eyes pointed away, though, Muzazi could tell that his opponent’s attention had not lapsed. It was a deception.
“Or… maybe you heard these guys were in trouble, and you came to save them? You seem like that kind of guy. It’s a little too late for that, though… don’t you think?”
He wasn’t wrong. As the Crown squirmed on the floor, guts strewn out around them, they seemed seconds from death. Hell, in that state, they seemed seconds after death.
“Looks like that one has some kind of physical ability,” Nael commented. “Probably boosts their survivability too. I bet they’re regretting that right about now. I’d ask them, but… I’m fairly sure those are their vocal cords lying over there. What do you think?”
A taunt. Nael Manron had judged Muzazi to have sensitive moral sensibilities, and he was doing his best to prod them. He hoped for a reckless attack that he could counter with precision. Well, things weren’t going to go that easily for him.
Atoy Muzazi put ice to his heart, and coolly stared down.
“You surprise me as well, Manron,” he replied calmly. “I didn't expect you to be Dragan Hadrien's dog.”
“Bark.”
Nael Manron's face reflected none of the levity of his words.
“As you say,” Muzazi continued. “They don’t seem to be --”
Two slashes, nearly invisible save for the slightest reflection of light against string. Not aimed for Muzazi himself, but at the walkway he was standing on. Slicing away the section beneath him, and sending it plummeting down. It was only when the shock of his sudden descent hit that the third string went for Muzazi…
…aimed right for his throat.
AETHERAL SPACE 13.20
“Against the Rain (Part 1)”
No time to waste. No time to think. Against such speed, only instinct and experience held dominion.
White Aether cracked. Thrusters roared into life along the underside of the falling walkway, positioned to flip the platform immediately. The metal string that had been coming for Muzazi's throat was repelled, and he himself was sent flying backwards.
His feet landed flat against the wall, and in that same instant he kicked off from it -- thrusters blasting him down to the ground. To stay still would be to court death. Even as Muzazi moved, the three strings of Shamichoro -- united in purpose -- were shredding the space behind him.
They were long, sharp and unpredictable -- barely visible save for the silvery reflection of light they gave off. Muzazi decided he would do better to think of them as flexible, unseen swords. Even if he could withstand one or two direct hits from the Guardian Entity, these attacks were not one or two hits -- they were a mobile blender in pursuit.
He landed on the floor, immediately rolling away from another slash of wire. He stopped mid-roll as a second string came in from the other side, planting his hand against the ground and using a thruster to hurl himself back up into the air.
The third string waited above. Muzazi adjusted his trajectory once again, hurling himself off to the side -- towards the massive glass cube containing the Skull of Granba. The Skull itself was huge, too, nearly twice the size of a normal humans -- but that wouldn't be a factor in this fight. The defenses on these priceless relics were far too potent to break through and use them.
However… the defenses themselves? Those could be a factor.
Muzazi landed atop the glass cube -- and immediately, the shielding activated. Angry orange sparks flew in every direction as it repelled Muzazi, sending him flying up into the air. The speed of his rejection was one that would take his thrusters several seconds to build up to, enabling him to zoom past the third string before it could move to intercept him.
In short, a jump pad.
He flipped through the air, his feet now planted against the ceiling -- and narrowed his eyes as the three strings came for him once more. Each from a unique angle. Their pursuit was unbreakable, and Muzazi was willing to bet that they themselves were just as durable.
Radiant Horizon!
The armour of light appeared around Muzazi's body, just for a second.
Just long enough to repel the attacks.
Just bright enough to serve as a distraction.
Crash.
The walkway that Manron had cut away with his first attack was still falling -- and Muzazi had adjusted its route with his thrusters. It slammed down against the side of one of the other exhibits, and the shield ricocheted the platform directly towards Manron himself.
Your strings are too close to me to return to you in time, Muzazi thought, already falling. You have only one option to avoid it hitting you.
Nael Manron was no fool. He immediately came to the same conclusion.
The shamisen and its strings dissipated into crimson Aether. Manron raised his now-empty hands and seized the platform right before it could hit him, the metal buckling under the strength in his fingers. Sparks danced around Manron's hands -- and as they did, his skin brightened to a porcelain white, punctuated by the vivid red veins of his cardiovascular system.
A ghastly Aether tic.
Muzazi landed directly behind Manron -- and immediately swung his Radiants at his opponent's back. Before the blades could burn through him however, Manron swung the massive platform around, using it as a rudimentary shield. The blades of light burnt through the metal, but did not reach Nael Manron himself.
Manron pushed the platform towards Muzazi with his foot, trapping the swordsman between it and the wall. Before he could be crushed, Muzazi dodged to the side, freeing himself… but the moment of opportunity had already passed.
Nael Manron had vanished.
Catching his breath, Muzazi raised up his twin blades of light. Manron was definitely still here, still in the room. The chamber had five stories, with countless exhibits to take cover behind. There was no shortage of places for an assassin to hide. This was the King of Killers, after all.
Muzazi looked around warily as he advanced through the exhibit, glass cubes on either side of him containing wonders and terrors alike. If Nael Manron launched a surprise attack now, he was confident he could react in time… but he understood that wasn't what Manron was after. Manron was hoping he'd take the obvious solution to this problem.
An Aether ping.
From what Muzazi had been told of Nael Manron, he'd learnt Aether in an unconventional way. The people of Hexkay had achieved a complex method of Aether usage without even knowing the fundamentals existed. Nael Manron had now acquired the basics by reverse-engineering his own ability, but the chances were good that he wasn't capable of Aether cloaking.
But, if Muzazi took advantage of that and tried an Aether ping, he'd be left defenseless for a single moment. Those strings were fast enough to take advantage of that.
No. Aether pinging wasn't an option. He'd have to locate his enemy another way.
The Emerald Eyes were filling the chamber now, flooding in through the broken skylight like flies to a pungent corpse. They wouldn't be any help. The camera automatics were programmed not to interfere with the fights. They wouldn't do anything that would reveal Manron's location.
…Unless?
Muzazi kicked himself forward into a sprint beyond sprinting, weaved through the countless exhibits, and circled around the glass cube containing the feathered cloak of Renée the Raven. He struck at what he found there before his eyes could even register it. They didn't need to: he knew what it was.
His prey.
Nael Manron raised his Shamichoro, blocking Muzazi's strike with the base of the instrument -- and for a moment, the two of them remained there, each pushing against the other's strength.
In this position, the strings of Shamichoro were pinned against the body of the instrument. They couldn't whip out to slash at Muzazi like this. Nael Manron understood that, too -- it was written all over his face. He was on the backfoot now.
“How?” the King of Killers spat.
“These Emerald Eyes,” Muzazi grunted, struggling against him. “I knew they wouldn't show me your location. In such a situation, I'd obviously follow their line of sight to find you. So I just attacked the one spot where none of them were looking.”
“Clever,” Manron sneered. “But it's a wasted effort!”
He adjusted his positioning slightly, and one of the strings slithered free, lashing out. Not at Muzazi, but behind Manron, wrapping around an information kiosk. Manron kicked Muzazi with both legs, forcing him backwards -- and in that same moment, the string pulled him backwards, out of Muzazi's range.
“Let’s change the venue,” Manron muttered, glaring back at Muzazi as he flew through the air.
Then, he turned and ran.
Muzazi pursued, thrusters boosting his speed, but Manron knew what he was doing. As he fled the exhibit and charged down the hallway, his strings continued to assist -- pulling down obstacles to impede Muzazi's path. Muzazi slashed with his Radiants, slicing the debris apart before it could strike him, but still… the effort slowed him down.
Clearly, Manron had a destination in mind, but Muzazi wasn't just going to let that happen.
As the two reached the doorway at the hallway's end, Atoy Muzazi planted his hand against the cold floor.
“Radiant Ablaze!” he roared.
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Countless shining blades of light burst forth from the floor like stakes, forming a barrier between Manron and the door. The King of Killers skid to a halt, muttering a curse under his breath, and turned to meet his opponent once more.
Radiant Lustrous.
Now, as Muzazi ran forward to resume their clash, a shining spear appeared in one hand. A shorter blade roared out of his other hand, giving him a defense at close range as well. His arsenal secured, Muzazi attacked.
Blade met wire, and wire met blade.
Muzazi swung and stabbed with ludicrous speed. Manron parried and blocked with absurd precision. Sparks rained down as the two faced each other. While Muzazi was a dervish of motion, Manron was deadly still -- his Guardian Entity fighting for him -- but both their faces were covered in sweat.
Their first mistake might have been their last, after all.
Muzazi only realized his mistake when he felt the pain around his ankle. The speed of the strings counterattack had increased gradually, so he hadn't noticed that the number of strings had changed. The three wires whipping at him had -- just a moment ago -- become two.
The third had grabbed his leg.
Immediately, Muzazi focused all his Aether into the spot the wire was grabbing -- an act of pinpoint infusion that saved the limb -- but that didn't mean he was off the hook. With monstrous strength and crackling crimson Aether, Nael swung his Shamichoro -- and, in the process, swung Atoy Muzazi too…
…directly at the barrier of blades he'd created.
He had no choice but to disable the ability, or else be cut apart by his own Radiants. The second he did, the string slipped off of Muzazi's leg, hurling his body into the dark chamber beyond. A moment later, Nael Manron charged in after him.
The room was pitch-black, but even so Muzazi was able to slow his descent -- jets of flame bursting out from his underarms and depositing him on the floor. Immediately, he ignited new Radiants from his palms, his head swinging left and right to locate his enemy. White Aether surged into Muzazi's eyes, but… no luck.
It seemed the King of Killers was hiding again.
“Is this all you're capable of, Nael Manron?” Muzazi called out. “Running away? Striking at the back?”
“Actually… I wanted to talk to you about that.”
Nael Manron stepped out of the darkness, hands in the pockets of his fur coat. His white hair hung limp over his tired face, heavy bags under his eyes making them barely visible in the darkness. His entire being radiated a sense of exhaustion.
“Is that so?” Muzazi asked, adjusting his footing.
“It is,” Manron replied, taking a step forward -- and Muzazi cut his head off.
He knew before the body fizzled away that it had been a useless gesture. The lips of ‘Nael Manron’ hadn't been moving just then, after all. It was a fake, a hologram. This was clearly the museum's holosuite, used for special shows. No doubt Manron had one of his peons somewhere else operating it for him.
“I heard a lot about you… from Dragan Hadrien.”
Another Nael Manron stepped out from Muzazi’s shadow, and another Nael Manron was cut down. He couldn’t afford not to -- that was what Manron was waiting for, surely. Sooner or later, one of these ‘fakes’ would turn out to be the real deal.
“That’s a surprise,” Muzazi said. “He never struck me as the type to reminisce.”
“I don’t get it.”
A string rushed out of the darkness towards Muzazi, whistling through the air. Moving with the quickness of adrenaline, he rolled out of the way -- and when he turned around, it had already vanished. Had that even been a real attack or not? It was difficult to say. Was Manron trying for the same thing as before -- provoking Muzazi into using an Aether ping?
Slowly, he turned on the spot, tuning his senses to their limits. If that attack had been real, he had to be prepared for the next.
“What don’t you get?” Muzazi asked quietly, under his breath.
“I know what you’ve gone through.”
So Manron could hear him. Did that mean he was already in close range, then? Or was he just infusing his ears to boost his hearing? Did he have the technical knowledge to do that? Impossible to say for sure yet. He had to keep calm… and observe.
“The betrayals…”
The scenery around him changed -- and for a moment, he was standing atop the tower on Caelus Breck… watching as Dragan Hadrien shot him in the back. As he watched his past self collapse to the ground, he narrowed his eyes further, hot anger still recalled by the memory. He bit it back. That was what his opponent wanted.
The next second, the Heart Building disappeared as quickly as it had appeared -- and another string rushed through. Muzazi struck at it with his Radiants, deflecting the blow, and it pulled itself back into the abyss. He let out a relieved breath.
That had been physical. That had been real.
Nael Manron wasn’t done.
“The losses…”
The scenery flickered into a new form once again -- the casino back on Taldan, where Dragan Hadrien and del Sed had defeated him. The time that anger had driven him into incompetence. He wished nothing more than to look away from his shame, but he knew that he must not. The place he looked away from would become the source of the attack.
“Is there a point to this?” he called out, the anger that did not show in his posture becoming a growl.
The casino vanished into the dark.
“I wanted to understand… because I get it. We’re birds of a feather. No matter where we go, what we do… it all ends with failure. It’s what we’re for. Cautionary tales. I just wanted to understand… why you’re still trying. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
As Manron spoke, more and more copies of him appeared, wandering the abyss. Each of them seemed to have a different destination, out of sight, a crowd of ghosts passing Muzazi by. He slashed at the few that came too close, but for the most part kept himself stationary -- kept himself steady.
“Let me tell you something,” Muzazi replied firmly. “If you’re hoping to drive me to fury or despair, you’re going to be disappointed. Whatever has happened to you, is not what has happened to me. I keep going because there is meaning in it -- and my legacy is not failure.”
“Really?” Nael Manron asked, his voice almost bored. “Then why don’t you tell her that?”
Black became white. The darkness was flooded with blinding light, forcing Muzazi to squint for a second… and when his vision adjusted, he saw a figure standing before him. The eyes that had narrowed opened wide in outrage.
Bastard. I’ll kill you.
Marie Hazzard stared back at him.
It was obvious at a glance that this was nothing but another hologram, derived from archive footage. Yes, a hologram. A mockery. Processing artifacts hung in the air around her. Her smile was frozen on her face. Her eyes were made of glass.
He did not embrace her, because that was not her. He did not speak to her, because that was not her. He did not look at her, because that was not her.
All Atoy Muzazi did… was turn around and seize the wire out of the air.
“Your attacks are getting predictable, King of Killers,” he snarled, pinpoint Aether keeping his hand safe as he pulled on the wire. “Distractions and sneak attacks, over and over again. I see… perhaps you’re right. You do seem familiar with failure.”
The holograms flicked off.
His eyes followed the wire he was holding. Even as Muzazi pulled, he now realized that would not bring his target to him. He had been tricked. The single string ran up to the ceiling, where Shamichoro was suspended -- its other two strings bound against pillars to hold it in place. Nael Manron was nowhere to be seen.
He can control the shamisen without touching it, Muzazi realized. Shi --
He turned around just in time to see the King of Killers.
He turned around just in time to take a palm thrust to the chest.
He turned around just in time to feel ribs crack.
“Funny,” Nael Manron commented, smiling a dreary smile. “I don’t feel disappointed.”
Atoy Muzazi was sent flying backwards from the pinpoint blow, right through the wall -- and right through the window beyond that…
…out, into the rainy night beyond.
----------------------------------------
Nael raised a hand and Shamichoro vanished from the ceiling into godsblood, reappearing in his hand a moment later. As he stepped through the hole he’d created through the wall, he scowled at the torrential rain pouring in through the window. It was a damn cold night, too. His breath came out as a pale mist.
He wasn’t arrogant enough to think that strike had finished off his opponent. The Full Moon was apparently a pretty big deal, after all. They were still feeling each other out.
Nael brought his foot up onto the ledge outside as he stepped through the broken window. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe just how advanced the galaxy at large was. He’d thought the capitol back home was huge, but this city was an entire planet. Flying machines carrying thousands on their way, each building a giant cylindrical monolith covered in signs and advertisements and monitors.
Just looking at it was enough to make one feel… tiny.
But he didn’t have time for that right now. As expected, Atoy Muzazi was still alive. He could spy that little white dot of crackling godsblood far down below, on top of one of the bigger vehicles… a truck, it was called? Now that he’d been injured, was the Full Moon trying to make a retreat? It was far too late for that.
He’d show him, right here, right now, that all these efforts were meaningless. No matter what he did, he was doomed to misery -- doomed to lamentation -- doomed to despair. It was a lesson Atoy Muzazi should have learned a long time ago.
After all, Nael Manron had.
Godsblood surged into his legs as Nael kicked off, the sheer force of it obliterating the room behind him. Like a cannonball, he launched himself straight down towards Muzazi. Shamichoro’s strings tensed up, ready to lance out and latch onto the truck as soon as it came into range.
Before they could, however…
Bright.
Three massive pillars of light burst out from the truck’s carriage around Muzazi -- and as he raised his hands up above his head, bright specks began to flow out of those pillars and into his grip. White godsblood coursed all around as the shape of a sword slowly began to form in Muzazi’s hands. The sheer presence of it was such that Nael could feel his bones shuddering, even as he fell.
He knew what this was. He’d seen this.
This was the attack that Atoy Muzazi had used to win his Inner Melee. While the man called King had been distracted, the Full Moon had generated enormous amounts of force with these macro-thrusters -- force he’d then transferred into his own blade as he swung. It was a sword of devastation that could cut through anything.
But it wasn’t unbeatable. The fact that Atoy Muzazi had distracted King was the key. It meant that, if he hadn’t been distracted, he could have stopped the attack.
The pillars were vulnerable.
“Shamichoro!” Nael commanded, even as his voice was swallowed by the wind. “Honchoushi!”
In an instant, the three stings returned to the shamisen like worms returning to the soil. In Nael’s free hand, the secondary component of Shamichoro -- the plectrum, a straight wooden stick -- appeared. When it came down to it, Shamichoro was a musical instrument, after all. It could be used like this.
Using the plectrum, Nael Manron plucked the three strings -- and three projectiles of sound surged forth like guided missiles, slamming into the pillars below and dispelling them. Suddenly cut off from the power he’d been gathering, Atoy Muzazi fell to one knee. He’d miscalculated.
Shamichoro’s strings lashed once more, latching onto the back of the truck. As they pulled Nael in, he roared into the rain: “Distractions and sneak attacks!” he mocked. “It seems you never mastered either!”
Only…
…something was wrong.
Nael realized it immediately, but it was already far too late. He saw that specks of light were still flowing into Muzazi’s hands, his hands that he’d been keeping out of sight since ‘collapsing’. He saw that there was the slightest smirk on Atoy Muzazi’s lips. He saw that the truck was still far too brightly lit.
Back then… in the Inner Melee… there had been five pillars, hadn’t there?
The other two are on the truck’s underside.
----------------------------------------
Atoy Muzazi had caught his prey.
For a moment, Nael Manron seemed suspended in time, his eyes wide in shock as his strings pulled him in. Even the raindrops seemed to hang in place. Lightning crashed in the distance, agonizingly slow. The flash lit up the city. The thunder crashed through like a wave.
Two pillars meant this wouldn’t be as powerful as it could be… but it was still far more than enough to kill a man.
Muzazi swung his blade in an upward slash --
Radiant Almighty!
-- and sliced through the night.