The two combatants eyed each other cautiously, a pregnant pause punctuating the moment before they launched into battle.
As Ajal and Molly clashed, their battle was a whirlwind of scythe swings, the clanging of metal echoing the dance of the blades. The ferocity of the blows reverberated through their arms, a testament to the strength behind the attacks. Ajal was surprised at how formidable Molly was, her strikes as deadly, if not, more deadly than his own.
But the fight was more than just their weapons clashing, and Ajal found himself on the defensive as a barrage of white bandages wrapped around his limbs, seeking to pin him down and trap him. The bandages moved with an uncanny speed, their grasping tendrils a flurry of motion. He was barely able to fend off the binds, his sword flashing in a flurry of motion, each swing of his blade cutting away at the white bands that threatened to overwhelm him.
Locked in a high-stakes dance where the slightest misstep could spell defeat, neither Ajal nor Molly could afford to cede any advantage. As a white bandage lashed out like a viper, Ajal leaped skyward, vaulting over the deadly strike. He landed with the finesse of a cat, but even felines have moments of fragility. In the brief instant his feet touched the ground, the world seemed to slow, his body momentarily rigid in the recoil of his jump. That's when Molly struck.
With a burst of speed that seemed to bend the very air around her, Molly closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Her leg shot out, a piston of raw power, and connected with Ajal's stomach with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. The impact reverberated with a sickening thud, the force of her kick so ferocious it wrung a spray of blood from Ajal's lips, painting the air in crimson.
The blow sent Ajal flying backward, his body contorted in pain as he hurtled through the air like a rag-doll caught in a tempest. He crashed through a wall with a thunderous explosion of dust and debris, the structure no match for the violent energy that Molly had unleashed upon him. As the dust settled, Ajal lay amidst the rubble, the echo of the impact a grim testament to Molly's devastating power.
"Let me tell you something," Molly declared, her voice carrying a calm assertion as she advanced toward the heap of destruction where Ajal lay. Her footsteps were deliberate, echoing softly amidst the settling dust and debris.
"Not only does my Gift let me copy others' gifts, but I can also amplify them, use stronger versions of them—as long as my body can withstand the strain." She leaned over the fallen Ajal, her figure casting an imposing shadow that blanketed him in darkness. Her eyes bore into his, seeking to impress upon him the gravity of her advantage.
"In other words," she continued, her voice dropping to a tone thick with portent, "I'm using your Gift, your abilities, at a higher level than you are. You don't stand a chance. Especially if you can't harness your own divinity." A chuckle escaped her, low and confident, a sound that danced mockingly in the charged air.
Ajal, despite the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and the weight of his injuries, kept his gaze locked onto Molly's. His eyes, steely and undeterred, reflected not surrender, but the flickering flame of a resolve unextinguished.
"Now this is certainly a site." A mysterious, unknown said.
From the shadows emerged a figure that immediately caught both Molly and Ajal's attention, his striking appearance and demeanor a mix of intrigue and quiet strength. The boy’s hair was a shock of untamed white, wild strands flaring outward as though permanently caught in a breeze. At the tips, his hair darkened ever so slightly, accentuating the stark contrast to his bright red eyes, which burned with a fiery intensity. They were unblinking, sharp, and filled with a confidence that seemed almost otherworldly.
He carried a massive cross on his shoulder, its jagged edges and eerie, purple hue giving it the look of both weapon and relic. His arms wrapped securely around the cross, the relaxed grip belying the sheer weight of the object. The cross appeared far too heavy for someone of his lean build to lift so effortlessly, let alone carry with such nonchalance. Tendrils of vine-like etchings crawled along its surface, adding a hauntingly organic quality to the otherwise imposing weapon.
His outfit was as rough and worn as the battlefield he seemed born to thrive in. A black hoodie with deep red accents draped loosely over him, its sleeves rolled up to reveal fingerless gloves that clung to his hands, the fabric worn and frayed from countless fights. A small potion vial dangled from his hip, its contents swirling with a faintly glowing crimson liquid. Around his neck hung a gold cross, gleaming softly against the tattered, dark layers of his hoodie and shirt beneath, as if it were a lone beacon of purity amidst the chaos.
His jeans were ripped and patched, exposing glimpses of his pale knees, the tears a testament to both his rough-and-tumble nature and the relentless battles he’d endured. Red high-top boots, scuffed and scratched from use, encased his feet, each step he took on the uneven terrain steady and deliberate, their straps tightly fastened for movement as precise as it was powerful.
⁂
"Is dual enrollment really that strange?" Miki asked.
"Yes," Principal Culpa responded. "Normally, those who take the exam to enter the Grand Church's academy branch choose to do so from a young age and are already connected with the church in some capacity, even if it's small. I saw that boy at the Church's exam earlier this year, the fact that he is taking our exam as well is suspicious to me, to say the least."
Fil's gaze was fixed on the monitor displaying the images of Ajal, Molly, and the enigmatic figure who had just appeared from the shadows. "Church kids have a unique advantage that they have training from birth," he noted, the timbre of his voice hinting at a mix of respect and critical analysis. "Compared to the rest of these participants, his comfort level with his abilities is significantly higher." His eyes narrowed slightly, dissecting every nuance of the figure's stance and the ease with which he wielded his power and skills, a natural affinity that set him apart from the others.
Lucius, nestled comfortably in the warm cradle of the principal's lap, shifted slightly, uncurling from his feline slumber. His ears perked up, a sign of his rising interest, and he raised his head, eyes still carrying the softness of recent dreams. The cat’s gaze was leisurely but intent, the languidness of rest giving way to the sharpness of sudden intrigue.
"Any idea what his Gift is?" he inquired, his voice a gentle purr that cut through the quiet of the room. His whiskers twitched delicately as he spoke, a subtle display of his inquisitiveness. "Even a baby could tell that the big scary cross is a diversion."
His tail, once wrapped neatly around him, now flicked with a thoughtful rhythm, betraying the cogs of thought whirring behind his golden eyes.
The room fell into a momentary silence as they considered the possibilities; the air charged with the weight of the question.
"The potions on his waist. If I remember right, what it does depends the color of the liquid he drinks. That's all I got though," Garth chimed in from the background, his voice steady and informed. His statement hung in the air, heavy with implications.
⁂
Yumiko's determination was as sharp as the shards of debris that filled the air around her. She was a blur of motion on the abandoned streets, weaving between the airborne fragments of the city as they whistled by. "Stop running!" she yelled, her voice fierce and resolute, echoing off the crumbling facades of the buildings that bore silent witness to the chase.
Suddenly, with a malicious intent, three sizable chunks of pavement tore from the street, hurtling towards her like crude missiles. Yumiko’s reflexes took over; she ducked under the first with grace, her body low and agile. The second and third came in quick succession, but Yumiko was ready—her feet found their surfaces in a fluid motion, and with the force of a spring, she launched herself forward, turning her foes’ attack into an advantage.
Each push against the concrete debris sent her hurtling closer to the adversary, who dared to command the very streets against her. Her eyes were set, a steely gaze upon the figure manipulating the urban landscape, as she became not just the pursuer, but an avenging force of motion, racing towards confrontation.
Realizing the futility of their flight, the figure ceased their frantic movements, their shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths from the exertion. The dance of evasion had come to an end, as the pursuer drew near.
Yumiko closed the distance in moments, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps from the exertion of her relentless pursuit. She stood before the halted figure, a mix of triumph and fatigue washing over her. "Finally got you," she panted, the words heavy with the weight of her chase.
Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath, the adrenaline that had fueled her still coursing through her veins. She steadied herself with the knowledge that the pursuit was over, and now the real confrontation would begin.
The first detail to emerge from the shadows was the uneasy green of his hair, tentatively peering out from beneath a snug, dark beanie. The strands fell around his face haphazardly, not so much styled as abandoned, a reluctant rebellion against order. Behind a pair of nondescript clear glasses, his eyes told a different story—one eye a bright, unnatural green, the other a piercing yellow—each seeming to flicker with a hint of uncertainty, as if they held tales of apprehension rather than adventure.
His ensemble was a mismatched effort at blending in, with an olive-green jacket that looked a size too large, hanging from his shoulders as if borrowed. Under the jacket, a grey shirt was haphazardly tucked in, its subtle stripes doing little to add character, accompanied by a loosely tied dark tie that suggested a half-hearted attempt at decorum.
His posture was a façade of relaxation, a clear effort to seem at ease where confidence was lacking. His hands were hidden deep in the pockets of his ill-fitting pants, perhaps in an attempt to conceal their tremor. The corners of his mouth were turned up in an uncertain smile, one that seemed less an expression of sly confidence and more a nervous twitch, the kind that surfaces when one is desperately trying to appear unbothered in the face of daunting odds.
"Now, now," the stranger said, his voice a strange blend of forced confidence and wavering uncertainty. He lifted his hands from his pockets in an awkward, almost theatrical gesture, as if seeking to emphasize the lack of danger that they represented.
"There's no need for this, uh, hostility. We're all humans at the end of the day, right? Unless you are an Especia and that isn't a transformation..."
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His gaze darted furtively around the area, scanning for potential dangers.
"Besides," he continued, his tone taking on a defensive edge, "if you're so determined to fight, then how about the others, huh? I'm sure there are other people here with much worse intentions than me."
His words hung in the air, punctuated by a momentary silence.
"In case you forgot, you attacked my team first." Yumiko argued.
The stranger's eyes widened in shock, as if this was a revelation. "Oh, come on, don't you think you're being a bit, um, oversensitive?" he retorted.
"Oversensitive?! You used the damn street as a weapon to try to crush me!"
"Okay, okay," the stranger relented. "I'm sorry. It was an accident. I didn't mean to use it as a weapon. I just wanted to, you know, get away. But it was just a, uh, reflex."
"A reflex? Really?"
"Yeah. A reflex. It's not like I had, um, control over it."
Yumiko stared at the stranger, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So you're telling me that you can't even control your own power?" she asked, her tone thick with doubt.
"That's, um, correct." The stranger responded, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "As you can probably tell, my Gift allows me to control gravity. The Gift itself is tie I'm wearing. When I close my right fist while it faces downward, gravity gets stronger. Closing my left while it faces upward, causes gravity to decrease."
Yumiko shook her head, a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "This is ridiculous," she muttered.
"What's so ridiculous about it?" The stranger shot back, a sudden flash of indignation flaring in his eyes. "I told you, it was a reflex. An accident. I sometimes lose control after changing the gravity."
"Sometimes?" Yumiko questioned.
The stranger shifted uncomfortably. "Well, er, okay, it's usually because I can't handle the changes, you know, and...sometimes it happens. Like you, um, saw earlier."
"Fine. Whatever," Yumiko sighed, her breath expelling in a whoosh of forced surrender. "Still, though, your team took one of my teammates and I kinda need him back."
The stranger shuffled uncomfortably, his words tumbling out with hesitation. "Do you, um, really need him back? I mean, you guys can still get enough points to pass without him."
Yumiko's eyes narrowed, a sharp glint of suspicion cutting through her previously resigned demeanor. "Why does it matter to you?" she pressed, her tone edged with a growing wariness.
The stranger's eyes darted away, his fingers fiddling with an invisible thread in the air. "Well, um, because Molly told me to stop anyone who tried to get him back. And I'd rather not have to fight."
"Molly, huh?" Yumiko's voice was laced with a trace of disdain, as if the name left a sour taste in her mouth.
"Um, yeah, that's her name. She's actually quite strong. Definitely not someone you want to mess with." His attempt at a warning came off feeble, an echo of secondhand bravado.
Yumiko shook her head, her lips curling into an amused smirk as if the stranger's words were a joke only she understood. "Thanks for the heads-up, but we'll see what happens when we find them," she declared, her confidence undimmed by the veiled threats.
As Yumiko turned to walk away, her instincts flared—a sixth sense honed by countless battles. A whistle in the wind was the only herald of the incoming threat: a piece of debris, tearing through the air with lethal intent, aimed at her back. With a fluid, almost lazy tilt of her head to the left, she dodged the makeshift missile.
Before the sound of the projectile could dissipate, she sprinted toward the stranger, her movements a blur of speed and purpose.
"Wait!" the stranger cried, his arms coming up defensively in front of him.
With a swift motion as lithe and lethal as a whip's crack, Yumiko unfurled her leg in a high arc aimed directly at the stranger's head. The attack was a blur, an extension of her intent to incapacitate swiftly.
The stranger, his instincts kicking in, enacted a sudden shift in the gravity's tether, an invisible hand yanking downward just behind him. His back bowed with the force of the augmented gravity, pulling him into a swift, impromptu backbend. It was a peculiar dance, his spine arching with the elegance of a contortionist, as Yumiko's kick sliced through the air above him.
His legs remained planted, statuesque in the face of danger, as the rest of his body contorted to obey the new, heavy laws he had imposed upon himself. The stranger's evasion was a gravity-defying spectacle, a blend of his own innate power and the physical prowess it took to use it so deftly, narrowly avoiding the strike that had threatened to end their encounter abruptly.
Yumiko wasted no time adjusting her position, drawing her extended leg down and pivoting to follow through with a roundhouse kick, propelling herself like a spinning top straight at the stranger's form folded beneath the gravity's influence. The strike caught him squarely in the midsection, doubling his body over as the air rushed from his lungs, a wheeze escaping past his lips. He collapsed onto the ground, writhing in pain as he fought to regain his composure.
"That was a neat trick, making the gravity behind you stronger." Yumiko said. "Unfortunately for you, I'm faster."
"My power, ah, also let's me control the gravity of anyone I touch for a period," the stranger gasped, struggling to get the words out.
Confusion swept over Yumiko's features as the world around her suddenly shifted. Without warning, her feet lost their purchase on the ground, and she found herself adrift, her body betraying her, succumbing to an unseen force that rendered her mastery over her own movements moot. She flailed, arms and legs carving desperate arcs in the air as she sought something—anything—to anchor herself.
But it was futile. The stranger, harnessing his mastery over gravity, had turned the tables, making her a victim of the very element that had always kept her grounded. With a jolt, as sudden as it was unexpected, Yumiko was sent hurtling backward with an unceremonious whoosh.
She crashed through the remains of a glass pane that once had been a window, the shards erupting into a shower of crystalline rain around her. Momentum unabated, she barreled into the decrepit shelving of the building, the aged wood groaning in protest before giving way to the violence of her uncontrolled entry. Books, debris, and dust billowed out in a cloud as Yumiko came to a harsh stop amidst the wreckage she had become a part of—a chaotic blend of disarray and disbelief.
The stranger walked to the entrance that Yumiko had left, holding his stomach. "Look, we still don't have to fight. Just let Ajal be, go after the other teams. Why are you guys being stubborn about this?!" he called out to the rubble strewn about the shop floor.
Yumiko stirred, shaking bits of debris from her hair as she gingerly picked herself up from the dusty floor. Her brow furrowed, her gaze steeled, as she surveyed the extent of the destruction that had engulfed the space around her. A spark of resolve burned bright within her, a counterpoint to the devastation she surveyed. She straightened and readjusted her clothing, dusting herself off with quick, efficient swipes of her palms.
"Listen, this may come as a surprise to you, but I consider him a friend," she declared, the edge in her voice tempered by the calm resolve that had settled upon her. Her declaration hung in the air, the words echoing through the damaged store, serving notice of her tenacity and resolve.
The stranger's jaw dropped. "You two are friends? The test has been going on for a couple hours, and I have seen you with him a total of what, three minutes max? How do you already consider him a friend?"
With deliberate steps, Yumiko stalked toward the exit, her pupils narrowing to thin slits as she homed in on her prey. Each stride carried with it a quiet promise, each movement fluid and deadly in its intent. It was a ballet of impending violence, a visual display of the brutal dance that was about to unfold.
As she emerged from the ruin, a confident smile crept across her feline features, and with a fierce yowl of challenge, she launched into a fierce, full-speed sprint. The air hummed with a potent mixture of threat and possibility as Yumiko raced toward the stranger, the weight of her fury and focus pressing in around them like the heaviness of imminent danger. The gap between them quickly disappeared, consumed in a moment of wild haste, leaving only the shadowy specter of certainty looming ominously on the horizon.
The stranger inhaled sharply, steeling himself for the fight ahead. His gaze darted left and right frantically, searching for an opening. To his credit, he stood his ground in the face of Yumiko's assault. As the distance shrank, his mind struggled to keep pace, weighing the rapidly diminishing options and outcomes in a split second. In desperation, he raised his right hand toward the sky, clenched his fist tightly, and brought it down hard.
It was a final act of defiance. Or at least an attempt at it.
As the stranger slammed his fist to the earth, the ground trembled as a result of his efforts; a mighty heave, a rolling shudder that reverberated through the street. The vibration increased in intensity, seizing the structures around them as its victims, subjecting them to a relentless attack.
Wood buckled, and concrete cracked. Glass shattered from the surrounding windows, raining down in a glittering tempest. Pavement crumbled, exposing jagged teeth of rebar that glinted dully in the light. And still, the tremors refused to abate, rattling through the space with increasing intensity.
A cloud of dust rose in response to the violence, a swirling cloak of debris that masked the chaos below. Through it all, the stranger's face betrayed a grim determination. His features were etched in lines of intense concentration, his body rigid with tension as he threw everything he could into his attack. His fists clenched tightly, his teeth gritted with the exertion; veins bulged at his temples, an alarming hint at the effort he was expending.
Yumiko skidded to a stop, the momentum of her run momentarily suspended by the tremors. She braced herself, the ground pitching wildly beneath her, each wave forcing her to adapt and adjust her footing as the situation worsened. She danced along the rippling pavement, her nimble steps barely keeping her on her feet, until the vibrations grew so fierce they ripped her footing out from under her and flew her through the air like a rag-doll, the last shred of stability torn away, and landed hard with a grunt of frustration.
"Yeah, that gravity power is annoying, but it looks like it's putting a strain on your body," Yumiko observed aloud, a taunt ripe with the irony of the situation.
She rolled smoothly to her feet, her motions as fluid as the graceful turns of a pirouette. A feral grin twisted her lips, her sharp incisors gleaming with a predatory gleam, her eyes narrowing in anticipation. A low growl resonated in her throat, a warning to her opponent—the battle would continue, despite the quakes that threatened to undo both combatants.
A cry of pain erupted from the stranger's mouth, echoing his tortured frame as he writhed in agony. His body contorted, muscles spasming uncontrollably as they rebelled against him. He clutched at his head, eyes widening in horror, his pupils contracting to pinpricks.
And then, in an instant, everything stopped.
The silence was deafening. All the clamor and chaos of the earthquake seemed to be swallowed by that void. The stranger swayed, stumbling as if drunk, the aftereffects of the intense toll the exertion had taken on his body still wreaking havoc in his system. He gaped at Yumiko in astonishment, breathing heavily, his face ghostly pale.
Yumiko leaped, vaulting over the stranger in a single fluid motion, her athletic prowess on full display. As her body arced, her clawed hands darted out, fingers grasping and seeking purchase. In that moment of stillness, it felt as if time slowed—that her movements were governed by a new set of rules, the laws of this moment granting her an eerie grace as she hurtled towards him.
The stranger froze.
Her hands made contact with his shoulders, and Yumiko spun him around, pivoting on the spot as her momentum carried them around in a tight circle. It was a deceptively simple move, with devastating consequences. The spin gave her the angle needed to execute her next strike.
With one swift motion, she launched her other arm into a brutal punch that caught the stranger square in the stomach. A burst of air expelled from his lungs, and he bent over double, doubled by the vicious blow that had just connected. He crumpled in slow motion, knees hitting the ground with a sickening thud, eyes unfocused and blurry with pain.
"Sorry... Molly..." he panted weakly. "I wanted... To help you more." He passed out in the middle of the road with a groan.
Yumiko paused. "Wow, weren’t you the one lecturing me about getting too close to someone I just met?" She threw a glance over her shoulder at the unconscious fighter, then casually turned away, lacing her hands behind her head as she walked off. "Talk about a hypocrite."
An announcement suddenly reverberated in Yumiko's mind, a cold, impersonal voice cutting through the chaos of her recent skirmish. "Attention, participants, ten minutes remain in the exam."
"In addition," echoed a new voice within the minds of all participants, this time carrying the gentle yet firm timbre of an elderly woman. "One team has already passed the exam, leaving only two spots remaining. With that being said, here are the current point totals: Team A: 90 points, Team G: 90 points, Team L: 100 points, Team Z: 60 points."