Chapter 145: Last Man Standing (Part 2)

As Alex slashes into the open space before him with both his sizzling arms in quick succession, two diagonal flame waves cut through the air, rushing toward the wounded Armaros. Armaros is forced to activate rift flow and teleport away from danger with no conceivable way to dodge.

Not even concerned with where Armaros had gone, Alex focuses on Quinn, who has already gotten to his feet, a gaping flesh wound exposing itself on his left shoulder. Snapping his fingers, Alex casts a fireball at Quinn, and Quinn grunts as he moves his left arm to block with his shield.

Wanting to buy himself some time, Quinn creates a palm-sized disc in his right hand and pitches it at Alex as if it were a baseball. After Alex shifts his shoulder back to dodge the attack, Quinn sprints off toward Armaros, who is using what little free time he made for himself to recuperate his breathing and whatever iris he can manage.

After creating three more discs, Quinn armed his fist and appeared to be using the same strategy he attempted to attack Armaros earlier. But not so… as Armaros readied his daggers and looked for an opening, Quinn roared as he cast his shield toward Armaros, leaving the entire left side of his body vulnerable. With Alex on Quinn’s tail, Alex snaps his fingers and shoots two fireballs at Quinn to slow him down, but they both miss, leaving scorched marks in the dirt.

Swiftly dodging the large shield, Armaros was shocked to see three more bunched discs flying toward him directly afterward. Avoiding each of the discs as well, Armaros looks back toward Quinn with the intent of countering such a reckless attack, throwing one of his daggers.

But what Armaros does not know is that Quinn had planned for this.

Stopping his shield mid-air just after it had flown past Armaros, Quinn threw each of his smaller discs horizontally. But Quinn wasn’t aiming for Armaros with those discs… he was going for his hovering shield. Armaros couldn't have known… but Quinn’s discs aren’t capable of destroying one another, no matter their difference in size. It’s a strategy Quinn had almost learned by accident, but he knew that his discs could bounce off one another, so if he threw these correctly…

As each of the three discs ricocheted off the angled shield, Armaros’s dagger sank into Quinn’s stomach before Quinn could create another disc to block it. And then, a moment later, Quinn’s three discs riffled into Armaros’s body. One pierced him in the calf, another in the back of the thigh, and the last impaled the assassin in the lower back.

As Quinn dropped to his knees and brought a hand to his stomach, he felt the texture of Armaros’s dagger, and his expression went blank. Meanwhile, Armaros arched his back forward before keeling over frontward, barely catching himself with his arms as his entire body tremored. Both men lost their ability to properly breathe as all they could do was try and stay conscious.

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Realizing what he had done, Quinn softly smiled as he thought about his parents and that they should be spared now. But then he heard a pair of footsteps approaching from behind him. Following Alex with his eyes as he ran past him, Quinn noticed a look of dread and desperation painted on Alex’s face as Alex paid no mind to him, and Quinn’s expression of relief swiftly disappeared.

Watching as Armaros’s arms give out and he falls face-first into the dirt, Alex’s eyes begin to quiver as he mutters, “No…”

Sprinting toward Armaros, Alex deactivates his razor blades and channels his iris into his hand. Yanking Quinn’s disc out of Armaros’s back, Armaros groans in pain as a deep, potentially fatal wound is revealed, blood spilling out of his lower back. Lifting Armaros up, the assassin coughs up blood onto Alex’s shoulder as Alex flips him over to where Armaros is lying face up.

Noticing that Armaros is still barely breathing, Alex’s chest suddenly grows heavy as Armaros tries to lift his arm to defend himself with his dagger. Armaros could barely even drag his hand along the ground for a few inches before Alex grabbed the dagger from the assassin’s hand and tossed it away.

Barely able to open his eyes, Armaros discerns that Alex is crouched down beside him, armed and ready.

“I’m glad… you’re strong, Scar,” says Alex. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have lived until this moment.”

Overhearing Alex, Quinn’s eyes widen more. Trying to produce another disk in his right hand, his stomach emits an enormous pain, causing Quinn to retch blood right in front of him.

If Scar is still alive… if I wasn’t the one to kill him… then my mom… dad….

While tears start to well in Quinn’s eyes, Scar whispers to Alex, “I was…”

Alex meets him in the eye, “I was always told… that what I was doing… was good.”

His gaze transfixed with rage and hate, Alex can’t help but notice that Armaros looks awfully tired.

“I’ve never realized until now…” Armaros coughs again. “That my missions… were hurting other people.”

Trying to slowly inch his way toward Alex and Armaros inch by inch, Quinn internally pleads for Alex not to deliver the final blow as he suffers immense shots of pain every time he moves.

“What’s taking you…” coughs Armaros, looking at Ace. “So long? Get it over with already.”

Alex drops his gaze for a moment before looking back at Armaros, giving him a nod. Alex, for some reason, felt sympathetic, but rage still boiled in his heart, and he wanted Armaros to suffer. Snapping his fingers, a ball of fire hovers above his right hand.

“Don’t– do it, Ace!” screams Quinn, paying the price for yelling immediately as he retches more blood.

Ignoring Quinn, Alex stares at the man who killed his mother and sister. The man who was forcing himself to keep his eyes open out of respect for Alex. The man that he has trained for over two years to kill in the name of justice. The man whom he has never seen smile, not even once.

Fortifying his resolve, Alex raises his arm back over his head.

But just as Alex is about to send his flaming hand crashing back down, somebody grabs his arm and stops him. Worried that it might somehow be Quinn, Alex immediately looks back to see who it is and is shocked and angry to see two familiar faces, one of which avoids meeting Alex’s gaze.

“Hey Alex,” voices Zeris, his countenance sorrowful and voice quiet.

“Zeris? Sir–?” begins a conflicted Alex before Zeris knocks him out.