Chapter 77: Mr. Eaten

Emma seized control of her unwitting host for the first time, forcing him into a headlong charge at the priest holding the dagger. A few bullets hit her from behind; far fewer than expected given the number of soldiers present; most of them, understandably, were too surprised by her sudden betrayal to aim accurately. To be clear, plenty of damage was still done; by the time her host reached the priest, both arms hung limply at his side, and his intestines were in the midst of an emergency evacuation. Pushing the dying body to its absolute limit, Emma managed one final lunge before his legs failed. The priest reacted admirably, stabbing the bloodied dagger straight into her host's heart; momentum was in her favor though, for just long enough to sink teeth into the priest's neck and sever the carotid artery.

As Emma emerged, she found herself facing the remaining priests; their heads bowed as they chanted in unison.

"No," Emma laughed, activating Null and Void for the first time.

A pulse of chaotic magic erupted from her frame, staggering the clergymen and breaking their concentration. The younger clerics among them coughed, bleeding from both nostrils. The elderly felt the backlash far more severely; several collapsing whilst one clutched at his heart, his body twitching spasmodically as it fought to dispel the remnants of a spell gone out of the control. Calling Epitaph to hand, Emma spent a total of five seconds killing the helpless casters; none of whom had been accompanied by a bodyguard for their divination. Regrettably, none of the kills granted any experience, such was the degree of difference between victor and vanquished.

[-1 Anima]

Emma spun around as primitive bullets bounced off of her armor; the black powder weapons lacking the force to cause her serious harm.

"Thanks for volunteering," Emma snarked, pointed a finger at the shooter as she invoked Oversoul once more.

A blinding wall of light abruptly cut off her line of sight, interrupting the possession. This first wall was joined by three more, boxing Emma into a square some hundred yards wide. A man leapt from the nearest guard tower, vaulting the barrier with ease to descend from the sky, the final frontier left open; until he landed, anyway, at which point a fifth and final wall snapped into place. Emma examined the man closely as he dusted himself off. Clad in full plate much like herself, no features were visible to the naked eye. His armor was exquisitely adorned; precise engraving covering every piece with lines of scripture, interspersed with images depicting acts of valour. His bulk was considerable; standing a head taller and twice as wide as Emma herself, nothing about the man resembled the Bishops she'd met briefly during her childhood.

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[Bishop of Dunwich - Level 15]

"You came prepared," Emma praised the man, who glowed faintly in the same hue as the walls he'd conjured. "Maybe you didn't know where I was hiding, but you had plans ready to execute the moment I was found. The priests were bait, no wonder they were so lightly protected."

"Men of true nobility; willing to walk into the lion's den in service of God!" Her adversary retorted. "Their souls shall rest in paradise; your traitorous soul, on the other hand, shall burn!"

"Stronger foes than you have sought the same," Emma boasted. "Yet here I stand."

The Bishop didn't reply, clearly deciding that the time for words was over. Crouching as his hands went to his waist; he settled upon a stance well practised for a swordsman, but for the fact that he carried no sword. All the same, his left hand went to his hip, and his right a foot in front, looking for all the world as though he intended to draw.

"Charge forward," Emma commanded, sending Sir Bearington to test the waters.

Now empowered to be her equal (in Levels at least), the bear charged forward amidst the crackling of lightning: his reflexes and speed alike enhanced far beyond mortal levels. Obscured from sight by her intimidating summon, Emma preemptively activated Ardent Ephemera, just in case. Her caution against the unknown proved wise, as the moment Sir Bearington closed the gap, the Bishop moved.

[Sir Bearington defeated.]

Her summon vanished; cut cleanly in half by an invisible blade of wind. Emma herself was unharmed save for the cost of Ardent Ephemera; the strike passing cleanly through her to no avail.

[Anima: 2610/3000]

Emma broke into a run as the Bishop took his stance once more, preparing to launch another strike.

Tilt the scales, Emma commanded, commanding the Earthbound Immortal to manifest underground.

Her own eyes never left the Bishop, watching carefully for the moment he began to attack; which came just as she crossed fifty feet and two thirds the distance between them.

Now! The earth trembled at her mental order, a patch opening beneath the Bishop's feet just as his right arm began to blur.

The impossibly sharp blade of pressurised air passed harmlessly overhead as he stumbled; recovering almost immediately, but his strike fouled beyond repair as Emma closed the distance. To her chagrin, the lack of a bladed weapon didn't make the Bishop any less dangerous; Epitaph's first swipe was knocked aside by an armoured gauntlet, then she was immediately placed back on the defensive by a flurry of punches. There was nothing fancy about his blows; just a boxer's technique and extreme force amplified by his armour to the point where Emma's arms shook with each strike she caught with the flat of her blade.

Six strikes later, she tired of playing the punching bag and activated Ardent Ephemera, slipping through a fist to the stomach. This proved as mistake; as the Bishop's fist glowed white whilst still buried within her intangible form, and then Emma was flying into the distance.

[-500 Anima.

You have been marked by Retribution.]

Plunging Epitaph into the ground, Emma arrested her flight before she hit the back wall; leaving her more or less where she started as her opponent settled into a sword stance once more.

[Anima 2110/3000]

"I need more ranged options," Emma grumbled, as she prepared for round two against a surprisingly resilient man of the cloth.