6. To Each, Their Own Ability

Quin heard, not listened.

Despite Tavar’s monologue about politics having become noise that went in one ear and out the other, Quin remained neatly seated opposite to Tavar at the table. She was tuned out because politics was a subject which she was not familiar with, situation-wise and jargon-wise. Whenever words she considered confusing such as “jurisdiction” came out, she would nod her head, and that seemed to please him.

‘What’s wrong, Quin?’ Tavar asked, concerned.

‘?’ She tilted her head sideways. Only then did she feel wetness coursing down her cheek. Quin had shed a tear.

‘Was my talk… that boring?’ he worried.

‘… No.’ Quin wiped her tear with her palm. ‘It just…’ her words died on her lips. It just… reminds me of… Quin shed more tears. Memories she had sunk away were floating back to the surface.

She used to do this often. Hearing despite not listening, nodding despite not understanding, and…

He’s dead.

Quin’s hands trembled. She looked at them and saw flames. On that day she had lit the fire. She had… burnt him.

‘I… I’m sorry Quin,’ Tavar said, guilt in his expression. ‘I must have talked about something that brought up your sorrows.’

Quin shook her head. ‘It’s… fine. You just… remind me of… someone… Someone I hold dear…’

‘I see… Please,’ he offered her a kerchief, ‘use this.’

Quin accepted and used it to wipe her tears.

After she had calmed down, the silence that hung in the air was loud. Tavar, not being able to withstand it, stood up. ‘Thank you for listening to me, Quin. I suppose that’s enough talking for me today, so why don’t we go to the front and check how Eliza is doi—’

Blam!

A loud noise from the front interrupted. Tavar quickly turned his head toward the direction. ‘What’s that sound?’

… A crash, Quin recognized.

‘I’ll check—’

Slam! Someone opened the door to the back. Tap! Tap! Tap! Footsteps neared.

Eliza showed up in front of the dining room, her apparel: the black apron and white shirt under, was tattered. She leaned her body on the wooden frame, hand on her chest. Her breathing was rasped.

‘Eliza! What happened?’ Tavar asked, worried. Such a sight was not within his expectations.

‘Enemies,’ Eliza answered.

That’s…

From afar, Quin could see that Eliza had no visible wounds; and, upon Tavar’s approach, her unstable breathing had calmed in an unnatural manner. Not to mention, that hint of crimson in her eyes was not Eliza’s.

‘Are you alri—’

… not her.

Stab!

“Eliza” sunk a knife into Tavar’s gut.

***

Eliza stared at Bach.

Her eyes sparkled like an innocent girl having found a new toy she could play with.

As she regained her footing, she remembered the course of events that had led her to getting slammed onto the wall. Her opponent had plucked the string of his lyre; next, both sound and impact had hit her simultaneously.

He can create sound blows with his lyre, Eliza gleaned.

For now, she could assume that Bach’s ability was somewhere along the lines of infusing his anima into sound; hence, creating the sound blow.

Perhaps the ability’s condition is that he could only enforce the sound created by his lyre, Eliza assumed further.

She shifted her sights away, spotted that other than the bent cashier’s metallic counter, the item shelves on the side were unharmed. The sound blow affected only the line that the lyre had previously faced: toward Eliza.

The limitation is that the sound could only travel linearly.

… It’s like an amplified flintlock! she concluded. The shot is more destructive than a bullet and the reload time is very short! That’s an interesting weapon to go against! I’ll have to respond to when he’s about to pluck and shoot, then dodge by avoiding the line of fire.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Easier said than done, though! This will be interesting!

But, Eliza glanced toward the market store’s door toward the back, which was opened; her opponent’s companion had infiltrated inside, can I afford to spend my time fighting him?

‘You should be concerned about Tavar,’ Bach said.

He threw his words at the most opportune timing, meant to divide her mind between this fight and her client’s safety. An adept fighter, for he was taking all the advantages he could get.

‘After all, he might already be dead.’

***

Splik!

“Eliza” pulled out the knife from Tavar’s gut.

‘Wha—’ Tavar, with eyes widened from shock, saw wickedness in her smile and crimson in her eyes. ‘You’re… not her…’

‘Too late.’

Tavar staggered backward. Strength draining away along with the blood, his knees weakened, and he fell bottom first onto the floor. Struggling still, he dragged himself further away from her.

Shapeshift, that was Shuri’s ability, one that allowed her to assume the form of others. It was still imperfect, for sometimes her own characteristics would leak, but was good enough to catch her target unaware.

Despite the surprise attack, however, she still had difficulties in stabbing a person in the right spot; she had missed his vitals. Judging from the damage, he would die nevertheless—if left behind without proper medical treatment.

In this line of job, Shuri had learnt to forgo risks. She had to prevent him from showing up in tomorrow’s court trial for certain; therefore, she must finish him right here, right now.

From under her black apron, she pulled out a loaded flintlock.

Shuri pointed the barrel—toward Quin.

Right here, right now, in this very room, the only threat that would prevent Shuri from finishing Tavar was Quin alone: someone from his side who might put up a fight.

***

Eliza smiled. ‘He’s not dead.’

“Trust” is unpredictable and difficult to believe, but the possibility that could emerge from it… is too interesting to miss out on…! I can count on you, right?

She took off her shoes; her bare feet touched the cold floor. ‘You should be concerned about yourself.’

‘… That’s not necessary,’ Bach said.

***

On the night of the market store’s attempted arson, Bach had witnessed Eliza’s capabilities from afar. Her attack, from a normal person’s perspective, had seemed like a simple sidekick. Yet, the aftermath: the arsonist being blown away toward the wall from the force of impact, stated that it was anything but a simple side kick. Her anima was polished, her movement was refined, and her kick was as Rigor’s description: deadly.

Bach could coat himself with anima against her kick; but, he knew that even then, he wouldn’t be able to withstand the impact.

That was if her kick could reach him.

***

Bach stepped back, increasing the distance between him and Eliza.

Her kick, deadly as it may be, is a kick. As long as I put myself a distance away from her, I have nothing to worry about.

Eliza hopped over the bent cashier’s counter and dashed. He understood that she had shifted up a gear as a countermeasure against his ability. The faster she closed the distance, the lesser he could fire his sound blow, and the better for her. In response to her move, Bach swung his arm and plucked the strings of his lyre.

Tring! The sound blow traveled.

Syncing her movement with his, knowing the direction the lyre was facing, and understanding the radius of the sound blow, Eliza dodged by stepping to the side, and resumed her dash in a quick motion.

She has already adapted to my linear sound blow. Just from a single observation. Eliza the Still, you are… truly formidable.

Tring! Another strum, another sound blow.

Again, Eliza dodged by stepping to the side, then resumed her dash.

She had finally closed the distance to a range where her kick could reach. Taking caution, she approached from the side, where his lyre wasn’t pointed toward her. She held the ground with one foot, lifted the other. Swung her torso and—

Trang! Bach played a different note.

The sound blow hit Eliza, blowing her away, causing her to crash onto the item shelves. Blam!

This sound blow, unlike the previous linear one, hit the surrounding in a spherical manner. Due to limitations, the damage was halved, but it provided versality: Bach need not aim for this one to hit, simply needed her to be close enough.

Eliza remained standing, but she was on shaky ground.

Tring!

Imbalanced, she couldn’t find a stable foothold to dodge in time and was hit by the linear sound blow. Blam!! Her back crashed toward the item shelves. The force broke the wood, the items fell, and she was buried under the wreckage.

You can’t reach me. My victory is absolute.

***

Quin saw Tavar dragging himself away from Shuri, leaving a trail of blood on the floor.

‘I know about you,’ Shuri said, the barrel of her flintlock still pointed at Quin, ‘you’re just a new hire who has no direct involvement to this. I’ll give you a chance. Be an obedient girl, leave this place, and stay out of this.’ She jerked her head toward the door. ‘This doesn’t concern you at all.’

This… doesn’t concern me…

Her relationship with this market store was fickle. After all, she was dragged here against her will. For the duration that she had been here, she merely had been… taught about words by Eliza, who had the patience of an elder sister; cared for by the Manager, who had the warmth of a parent; and interacted with by Tavar, who…

‘Quin,’ Tavar called, his voice could barely be heard, ‘it’s alright… Leave me…’ he gave a weak, bloodied smile, ‘Live.’

‘Live. Please, sis, even after I’m gone, live.’

… had the same goodness as her cherished little brother.

On that day, standing before a burning building, Quin had burnt down her own house. Her brother was dead and that was the burial she gave him. He had coughed blood on his bed, grasped his chest with a hand, and only had borrowed time.

He had given her a weak, bloodied smile.

‘Live.’

This whole situation in the market store didn’t concern her.

She had no purpose in being elsewhere. But she had a purpose in being here.

This was the same situation: someone was dying before her. Except, this time, she wasn’t powerless to change the result.

Shuri still had the flintlock pointed at Quin, ‘Leave, or—’

‘No,’ Quin refused.

Shuri exchanged stares with Quin: a sharp crimson that cut, against a night sky blue that had a north star. ‘… Fool.’

Shuri pulled the trigger of her flintlock. Quin grabbed the edge of the wooden dining table. And—Bang!—the roaring sound of a fired shot marked the start of their fight.

***

My victory is absolute, Bach thought. That is… if you remain stubborn on not using your ability.

Eliza rose from the wreckage.

She stretched her right hand sideways. Bach, an adept specialist, could see her anima flowing in a certain manner: that of a receding wave that only suggested a crashing torrent.

‘Aria,’ Eliza called, a smile on her expression.

Her anima surged, focused mostly on her right hand, forming an object—no, a weapon.

This fight was far from over, and the battle had yet to be won.