Chapter 56: The Two Remaining Champions, Part 3

The enemy stabbed Sylvester in the knee.

Once again, he was completely unable to feel or see it coming, for whatever reason. It was maddening. Sylvester clenched his teeth tightly, grinding them.

But at least now he knew where he should be.

He brandished the sword and cut through nothing but the air. At least he should be able to feel the resistance of his enemy's body when delivering a direct blow, so he was sure of that.

What had he expected differently?

That man had dodged the instant release of his [Needle Mountain]. In comparison, a single sword slash, no matter how fast, was child's play.

He had to think fast or he would die without even being able to resist. What a bad joke!

Sylvester tensed his entire body, trying to anticipate the moment when the attack would come. Because maybe that was the key, maybe he could only harm him when he got close enough "here" to attack.

In a way, his hypothesis was that the enemy was using some kind of astral projection. When he attacked, he was almost here, but the rest of the time, he pulled back for the sake of his safety.

He had never faced such an ability and was just assuming things, he was aware of that, but he had to assume certain parameters or be paralyzed by indecision.

He had to assume and give it his all following that path as if there were no doubt. That was his only chance of victory.

He would be ready and react even before the enemy's weapon plunged through his skin and flesh.

It sounded like madness. It sounded not superhuman, downright impossible.

But he had to do it, so he would. That must be why he was leaving so much space between the attacks. He had hit the mark, and the enemy feared being caught at the worst possible moment.

Sylvester took a step forward and brandished the sword.

Two or three seconds later, a hole opened in his free hand as if he had been crucified. He clenched his teeth even harder. He had reacted quickly, yes. Too quickly.

Two or three seconds. If he had attacked one or two seconds later, maybe he would have torn his head off, maybe this would have ended already.

It was really frustrating. But he couldn't let his emotions control him.

Sylvester took a deep breath. He was the one in control.

Again.

His sword flew twice as fast as any attack before. He didn't use overclocking because it wouldn't help him in this situation. It was all thanks to his reaction time, his strength, and speed.

At that very moment, the left side of his vision went dark.

The enemy's weapon had penetrated his left eye, plunging it into darkness. If he wasn't careful, it would push it deeper, reaching the brain, and that would be a more substantial wound.

But the superhuman effort had its reward.

A hand flew away, crashing into a chair, making it spin quickly. No blood, at least none he could see, but it was clear. He had cut the enemy's hand. It was a small victory, but he rejoiced anyway.

"The next one will be your neck," Sylvester promised with a wild smile.

He should be tense, not even knowing if the enemy's weapon was still in the shattered socket of his left eye. If it was, it could push it to the brain. But he didn't care.

He felt victorious, as if he had cut off an entire arm and not just a hand.

He felt almost as if his victory had become inevitable. For a hunter, the greatest pleasure was not bringing down the prey and skinning it but the moments before victory crystallized.

"I'm not going to let you escape."

Sylvester stepped back, opening the door to his room and stepping into the hallway. More than one saw him, well, everyone. He wondered if they first noticed his wounds or the fact that he was naked.

"There's an enemy in the base. Initiate isolation protocols. Come on, come on! Sound the damn alarm!" His voice was like a lash, urging them on, even though many had already started running, getting to work.

Yes. He wouldn't let that son of a bitch escape, no matter what.

He could think about how many people had seen and would see his dick when all this was over, and if shame served any purpose, if it ever did.

Sylvester prepared to do it again. If he had done it once, he could do it again. It was just a matter of who would fall first, him or the enemy, and maybe next time, he would get a juicier prize than just a hand. Maybe next time, he would cut his neck and crush his head.

The opportunity to take a life in exchange for risking his own. It was the most natural thing in the world, an equivalent exchange.

The lights would be turning red, and the metal doors descending quickly, separating sectors throughout the complex. The last time they had to use these protocols was when one of them unexpectedly transformed into a Lunar Remnant, and at least they took him (that is, he took him) out of his suffering before he realized what he had become and what he had done. Now the nature of the threat was very different, but they could handle it the same way.

"Sylvester, what the hell are you doing naked?" Ryan said. For his part, he wondered why he was here and the others weren't. If he hadn't received the alert when they sounded the alarm, then he must have started moving earlier. Then Ryan noticed his wounds and the blood. "Oh, I'm too late. Where's the enemy?"

"Somewhere, it's impossible to trace. I don't hear him, I don't see him, I don't smell him. I think it's some kind of astral projection..."

He choked on the word as he saw Ryan fall to his knees, with a hole in his chest. He had stabbed him in the heart. But it wasn't that easy to kill him.

"I see," Ryan replied, lips stained with blood.

And he transformed.

His monstrous werewolf form filled the metallic hallway in the blink of an eye.

"Oh, it's one of those gigantic bastards," Ryan said.

"Can you see him?"

"Yes. Perfectly. He's semi-transparent, but I see him."

Sylvester hadn't counted on that trump card. Ryan's biggest crime had always been ignorance, and the truth was he liked him as a person, but now he felt especially grateful for not having listened to everyone and spared his life.

This way was much easier than his method so far.

Ryan attacked the intruder. Although he couldn't see it himself, following Ryan's attacks, he would know exactly where it was. While he had been isolating and with a very limited way to defend himself or return the blows, the enemy had naturally had the advantage. But now that he had been exposed, he was doomed...

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As long as Ryan stayed alive. Now his priority would be to get him out of the playing field. Well, he wouldn't allow that son of a bitch to escape, whatever happened.

Sylvester ran towards the enemy. He couldn't help but think about the feeling of his penis swinging in the air. He couldn't help but think that he had lost arms, legs, had been on the verge of being decapitated more times than he cared to count, and had even been split in half once, but he had never lost his penis. Fighting naked, he risked too much for that to happen again. It would grow back like any other part of his body, but somehow it would be different and particularly traumatic.

He couldn't justify taking the time to get dressed while others fought and died, however. "I'll do what I must," he thought.

He reached the enemy and attacked in the same direction as Ryan. No reward. It hadn't attacked him yet; it would be focused on Ryan because no one else could see it. Or at least that's what he believed. If it took the inhuman senses of a Lunar Remnant to see it, then Heather also...

"My attacks pass through him!" Ryan exclaimed.

Oh, of course.

"He only becomes tangible when he has to attack you," Sylvester said. He didn't like saying it right in front of the enemy, but what other choice did he have? Not Sylvester, but the enemy. Yes, now he knew that he knew, but what was he going to do in response, not attack? "That's how I managed to cut off his hand."

"Understood."

The enemy was thrown against a wall. It wasn't that Sylvester suddenly saw that giant, but he saw the wall caving in and cracking.

Then...

White smoke spread through the hallway rapidly. As soon as it encountered an enemy that could see it, that could resist properly, it ran away with its tail between its legs.

In a life-or-death fight (meaning the only real fight), there was no cowardice. Honor was for fools, and a strategic retreat was perfectly valid. Still, Sylvester had to admit he felt disdain realizing what it was doing, wondering how that rat had given him so much trouble. Well, it had been despicable from the beginning, attacking him only when he was naked and unarmed, just out of the shower, not satisfied with being practically untouchable.

It would come back, of course, it would come back soon, but it was as if Ryan had ripped out its fangs.

***

The lights turned red, and the piercing alarm began to sound. Cynthia grimaced.

"So, Ryan was probably right. Something happened to Sylvester. Heather?"

It was strange to call this creature by a human name. She was aware that it was on their side, at least as long as the interdimensional deathmatch didn't end, but she didn't think she could get used to her as she had to Ryan. She didn't think she could ever forgive her for what she had done.

Nor for what she had forced her to do.

She had killed so many Lunar Remnants on the ruins of Kaleidoscope to defend herself and destroy those altars, not knowing that they were not something to destroy the world or humanity but defense measures against invaders. She didn't think Elizabeth had deceived them, but she had disappeared from the map, so she had no way to punish her. Assuming she had drowned in that black sea, which seemed likely, then she didn't believe she could give her a worse fate anyway.

The important thing was that every Lunar Remnant that fell was a person, deep down. Someone who could have been saved like Ryan.

And that blood stained her hands.

Unnecessary deaths because she had come to this world, because she had corrupted its inhabitants, pushing Cynthia to fight without all the information. How could she blame herself? She could only blame that monster.

So, yes, she wasn't sure if she could ever forgive her.

And she...

"What's wrong?"

Her face was a mask of anger.

But as soon as she asked that question, it disappeared, replaced by an empty expression. That is, forcibly relaxed. Heather blinked.

"Nothing," she lied, obviously. "Let's go."

"Yes."

They ran together. As some sort of team. No, now they were a team, whether she liked it or not. The four of them.

For a moment, she wondered if she hadn't read her mind. Not literally, she didn't think even she had such an ability or that it was possible, but close enough.

Then she dismissed it.

Even if that were true, it wouldn't explain the face she had made. She doubted Heather cared a shit about what she thought.

***

"At least put on some pants or something, for God's sake. I'll go stop him."

He figured he could take the time to put on some pants. No shirt, no shoes, but yes, pants. Otherwise, he'd be minced meat for what he didn't say.

So he retreated to the room to do just that. Putting on sneakers and a shirt wouldn't take much longer, but he ran out as soon as he finished. He'll feel much more comfortable. He had tried to ignore his discomfort for the sake of the mission, but the truth was he didn't like being seen naked. Even undressing for sex felt deeply out of place. Distractions at hand allowed him to forget that feeling for the moment, but that was another story.

Once they took care of the intruder, they would move to another base, as they had been doing for the past few weeks in an attempt to make themselves harder to trace.

And then he wouldn't have to face those who had seen him, well, in all his glory.

What would he hear? What did he think they would say about him? Sylvester shook his head. Nonsense. He continued following Ryan's trail and quickly caught up with him. Unfortunately, Ryan hadn't been able to do the same with his prey. To be fair, his werewolf form was a bit too tall and wide for the base corridors, so his trail had been very obvious and easy to follow.

"Now he could be anywhere."

Their target was the Champions, that is, Heather, Cynthia, and him. So he hoped they wouldn't have to follow the trail of corpses he left behind.

"The best we can do now is regroup with the others. Present a united front," he said. He was tall enough that the air he exhaled while talking ruffled his hair. He had always been big enough for the air he exhaled while talking to sway his hair. Now more than ever, but how could that fact not attract attention from such a close distance?

"Yes, I agree."

So he contacted Heather. He contacted Heather first, not Cynthia.

"Where are you? Yes. We're on our way."

***

"Shit, that was close," Kurt thought.

It had never occurred to him that one of them might perceive him even in this state. Nothing and no one else had before, not even the things that had almost ended his world.

It had never occurred to him that that man, Sylvester, would guess his only weakness so quickly.

But if he weren't so capable, he would have been defeated by Román, the strongest among them, or would have died with the explosion of the robot releasing a nuclear warhead. He still wasn't clear on how all of them had survived the explosion and radiation. He had worried about that and many other things, but he had set this plan in motion because he had no other option. In the end, it had surprisingly been easy to hurt him.

If that dog hadn't arrived at the worst possible moment, maybe he would have succeeded in killing the strongest. The biggest obstacle. But maybe that had been his mistake, trying to eliminate the most dangerous one first. Maybe what he should have done was kill his companions so that he would be isolated in the end, without help.

So that there would be no one who could come to his aid, sooner or later. Yes, it had definitely been a mistake. He was on his way to rectify it. Everyone depends on me; I cannot fail. He had already saved the world once. He would do it again even if he had to die trying.

The next door opened for them as well. On the other side was a corpse with its throat wide open and eyes blank, staring at the ceiling.

"Damn. Another one down," Ryan said. It was recent. At least, he wasn't far away.

"Agent Sylvester, I repeat, this is Agent Sylvester. Is anyone monitoring the cameras? Someone answer. Right now, it's the safest place in the base; the intruder won't bother going there to destroy all the equipment..."

He didn't have time to finish the sentence.

"Agent," he finally received a response, "sorry for the delay. We're barricading ourselves. What do you need?"

"What do I want? I need to know where the enemy is. Every time I kill someone, at least we'll know their general location. You have to keep me informed!"

"We weren't prepared, not..."

"Did I ask for excuses? The bastard ambushed me as soon as I got out of the shower. I know damn well he attacked at a bad time! Cut the crap and tell me the current sector; that's all I want to know."

"Fine. Ryan, with me."

They were approaching Heather and Christina. After contacting them, they had agreed to wait where they were. And the intruder, whatever his name was, was also closing in on them.

"How do you know the layout of the base so well? How is it possible?"

"I..."

"It was a rhetorical question. No, I'm not telling you, man, but the idiot I'm talking to on the earpiece. This happened because many people failed in their jobs, screwed up big time. I already know that. I know it very well. I just need you to tell me what's necessary. I need you to be professional, understand?"

"Yes," the man on the other end of the connection said slowly, as if afraid he might be harmed even at the distance they were. It was somewhat natural.

But it was also natural that he had lost his temper. How the hell had they allowed this to happen? The intruder should never have gotten this far. He knew the enemy was practically untraceable in that form, but for the love of...!

How long?

How long had he been wandering these halls, spying on them? Breathing down their necks like the breath of death?

How long had that fucker been preparing for this?

Sylvester had to make sure it wouldn't do him any good. To feel secure again, he had to erase every atom of his body from the face of the earth. Soon, very soon.

***

He had to kill more people than he had planned (for the sake of being practical and getting straight to the point, not because he cared; anyway, this whole world would die if he won), but he was here. The targets were in sight.

The target, to be more precise.

Cynthia, since they had discovered that her power had recently awakened. She was the most human of the champions in this universe.

The most vulnerable.

She was with the inhuman creature that was one of the Champions, somehow, the things they called Lunar Remnants. It was like the meddler a moment ago, only while Ryan could shift between his monstrous form and his human form, the woman (if he could even call her that, considering) always maintained that form. That's why he had thought it would be a problem, but he hadn't seen it.

So he would take the opportunity, kill Cynthia before she realized it.

He could do it.

He could, and he would.

The Two Remaining Champions, Part 3: FIN