Jean rushed through the ruins, wind flowing around him as Eliza rode the air above him. He was looking for a specific thing. A twist of fate that he would only know when he laid eyes on it. He needed that little bit of an advantage to turn the fight around. He needed something that would allow him to pierce through Armstrong's thick skin.

"What can I use?" He hummed to himself as his eyes roved the ruins around him.

Crack. Thunk.

Dust exploded behind him as Armstrong broke through another wall in his pursuit. While Jean ran down different alleys to stay ahead of the man, Armstrong took a more direct path, blowing through wall after wall with his massive muscles and carving his own path through the complex.

That was something Jean could use to his advantage.

Armstrong's skin may have been impenetrable armor, but that didn't mean he had no weaknesses. His will and his aether may have blocked Eliza's kicks, but Jean had more options than just his feet. It didn't meet his preference, but he saw a path forward that he was willing to take.

He dismissed Eliza, giving her a faint nod as he ran and focused on his fingers. He wasn't summoning his 'Spirit Shroud.' Instead, he had a different idea. He threw out his hands and splayed his fingers wide, focusing on his gate and drawing in more aether with hurried breaths.

"Spirit Strings."

He flung out his strings behind him, catching hold of the walls with five lines on each side before allowing his fingers to draw together and connect them. He released them immediately, leaving a line of almost invisible purple wires connected behind him in a criss-crossed shape.

Boom.

Armstrong exploded through a wall behind him, rushing through the empty alley after Jean. Jean slowed a little. He needed to know if his plan might work, and the strings were a key test. He kept one eye on the path behind him as he ran and smiled as Armstrong reached his strings.

Twang.

His spirit strings flashed a bright purple as Armstrong made contact. The man's guard was utterly down as he rushed forward and caught all five sets of connected strings across his chest. The strings immediately went taunt under the force of Armstrong's momentum, and lines formed across his chest as he pressed against the string.

Jean kept a count of how long it would take for him to break the string. Jean had no illusions that Armstrong would. The man had already proven his strength by breaking through the gilded stone walls of the temple complex. Jean just needed to know how long the strings would hold out. He needed to know if the technique was strong enough for the fate he saw.

"Straight Charge!"

Errk. Snap.

Armstrong's muscles bulged as he pushed forward with his legs against the strings until they finally gave way. He broke past the strings without much of a thought, but Jean now had an idea of how well his technique would work. Jean chuckled as he slowed and turned on the man. His strings flickered and disappeared as Armstrong slowed to watch him.

"You seem confident, skeleton man." Armstrong looked left and right at the ruins around him. "I'm halfway expecting your spirit to appear out of nowhere."

Jean shook his head and chuckled, placing one bony hand across his forehead as he bowed his head.

"You'll understand in a moment," Jean said between his laughs. "But know that this is no longer a dance with a partner. This is something that I must do solo."

Jean stretched out his fingers, splaying them wide as he bowed to Armstrong. The test was over. Everything else would be left over to fate. Would his strings be strong enough to restrain Armstrong, or would they break and allow Armstrong to take him? That question, that twist in the lines of fate, would be determined in the next few moments.

"We're in a fight, you zombie wannabe," Armstrong said, holding back one arm as he spread his stance wide. "You keep bowing, and I'll take off your head."

Jean took in a breath as he finished his bow. Bowing before starting a dance was polite, especially to the audience. Armstrong didn't know it yet, but he was about to witness a feat of dance that might never be replicated again. Jean smiled as he raised his eyes to meet Armstrong's own.

"Thank you in advance for pushing me to a new move," Jean said. "Spirit Strings."

Lines of purple energy flashed out from his fingers and toes as he raised his hands and tossed off his robes. He was down to his black dancer's clothing, the cloth skintight around his bones as he lengthened the strings further. Armstrong's muscles bulged across from him as the man prepared his own move.

"Straight Punch!"

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Spirit Step!"

Jean blurred as he leaped into the air, just as the punch sailed through where he had been. Armstrong may have had the defenses, but he was slower than Jean. That was the only reason Jean could survive this long into the encounter. Armstrong had the durability and the muscles, but Jean knew how to move.

He landed on a wall for a brief moment, touching one of his fingers against it before vaulting down to the opposite wall and planting his finger a second time. Jean's eyes immediately tracked to Armstrong, who had stopped in the middle of his attack and turned to jump at Jean.

"Straight Punch!"

Thud. Crack.

Jean threw himself from the wall as Armstrong's fist careened past him. The fist slammed hard into the stone and gold, cracking them both under the force of the strike. Jean tapped Armstrong's back with another finger before throwing himself to the ground and running toward another wall. A string of purple energy followed behind him, flickering slightly before fading away as he touched the next wall.

Thump.

"Your attacks aren't working, skeleton." Armstrong landed on the ground behind Jean. "Stand still and take the hit so this fight can end. You can't keep running forever. Eventually, you'll make a mistake, and I'll take your head!"

"Is that what you think?" Jean laughed as he ran into the shadows, tapping his finger on the wall before leaping toward the other side. "You just don't understand the machinations of fate."

"Fate." Armstrong laughed. "That means nothing when you have the will of a great man leading you."

Jean tapped his finger against the top of the wall before throwing himself down to the ground a second time. Armstrong was there a second after, his hands held together in a strong grip as he brought both fists down on Jean's head. Jean had a moment to react, and he saw their closeness as an opportunity.

"Spirit Battement."

"Straight Hammer!"

Crack. Boom.

Seven kicks, each one connecting a string to Armstrong's body, flashed out of Jean as he rolled a circle around the man on his hands. At the same time, Armstrong's fists crashed into the ground, cracking it as the aftershock sent dirt and rocks flying into the air. Jean threw himself back, catching himself on the ground not far away.

He thought he had enough strings but could only be sure once he pulled the final string together. Jean stretched his fingers, connecting the rest of the strings to the nearby walls. In the end, he had to hope for the best. Fate would have to turn in his favor, but he was confident he would win the fight.

"You're too confident in your strength, and your faith in your leader is misplaced," Jean said, shaking his hand and snapping a finger to a beat only he could hear. "That is the fault in you. You have such great strength but refuse to use it to carve your own path. You are bound!"

Jean pulled on his strings, crossing his fingers together along the lines from his fingers to where he had planted all of them. Armstrong's arm folded into his chest, then his second arm. Then, he was pulled up from the ground and pulled up into the air. Jean pulled hard on the strings, throwing down both hands until they touched the ground as he completed his technique.

"What are—"

He knew that Armstrong had a will that wouldn't be easily controlled by his strings. He was no grunt sent to serve in the Military Police. He also knew that Armstrong could break his strings if given a chance to move. So, Jean decided to eliminate those two advantages. He pulled Armstrong up into the air between the strings, circling them tight around his body as he ripped him up from the ground.

"Let me go!" Armstrong struggled against the strings as Jeaned pulled them tighter across his muscular form, holding him suspended in the air with nothing to push off of.

"Ending this fight," Jean said.

He was no fool. He was sure that Armstrong could escape if Jean allowed him time to gather his strength. Jean needed to end the fight immediately, and he couldn't do it by beating sense into Armstrong. One thing he had learned in the fight was that his kicks would do nothing to stop the man.

"Spirit String." Jean twitched his finger free and shot out a line of string around Armstrong's neck. "I can't defeat you in any normal way, so I'm choosing a new path forward. I can't break through your skin or your muscles, but there is one thing that every man needs to fight."

"Wait—grrk"

Jean pulled the string tight around Armstrong's throat with one flick of his finger, cutting off the man's airflow and pulling the string tight around his throat. Jean pulled down with his arms, raising the man higher to pull the one around Armstrong's neck tighter. Armstrong began to rotate in the air as his fingers clawed toward his own neck, where the string had cut off the flow of air.

A person needed air, not just for breath but also to draw in the aether to fuel techniques. While Armstrong would be able to draw on any aether that remained in his body, whether through his last meal or in his natural reserves, without air to draw in additional aether, his techniques would be limited in both terms of use and strength.

It was a pitiable way to end a fight, and Jean frowned as he pulled the string tighter around the man's neck. However, with Armstrong's bodily strength, he had little choice. Aside from finding a way to penetrate the man's defenses, Jean had no idea how else he might take down the muscular combatant.

"Please—" Armstrong croaked out as Jean pulled the string tighter, coughing but still unable to breathe.

His feet began to vibrate as his fingers tried to claw their way out of the cocoon of strings and toward his throat. Armstrong was trying to rip the spirit strings away, but he could never reach them without the motion. Jean had won. Now, he just had to watch his method unfold.

"I'm sorry," Jean said. "But I need to win this fight, regardless of how it must be done. I only hope that you get a better chance if fate decrees that you can try again."

Armstrong's body spasmed as the last few dry heaves tried to escape his mouth. However, there was nothing to be done. There was no struggle left in the fight. As his eyes closed, Jean focused on the ground, finding a point where he saw a long green vine writhing through the shadows. It was odd, but the vine seemed to be crawling across the ground to get closer to Armstrong.

"What is that?" Jean said, holding the strings tight.

Thwip. Crack.

In a flash of movement, the vine lashed out, wrapping around Armstrong's body and ripping it away from the strings with one violent pull. Jean was thrown up into the air for a moment before his strings broke, and he fell to the ground. He watched, his arms splayed behind him, as the vines wrapped fully around Armstrong's unconscious body and slithered back into the shadows with the man in their grasp.

Jean's jaw fell open wide as he lay against the ground. His strings were broken, and the fight was over. He had won, at least, he thought he had won.

"You don't see that every day," Jean whispered, pushing himself up from the ground and following after the vine.