Knight Xavier’s initial attack, a haphazard casting of telekinesis unfolded in a multi-directional, perhaps even omni-directional pattern, yet its range remained constrained.
In a blink, Zhan Shen had maneuvered adeptly, weaving through the incoming projectiles. Although it was true the old butler couldn't linger, he had still left with a cheeky wink, leaving Miles to fend for himself.
In a single kick that ruptured a few wooden floorboards, Zhan Shen ascended into the air, his plain fist meeting the Knight’s gauntlet, both figures just centimeters below the ceiling of the clinic.
For a fraction of a second, their fists were held in a standoff.
THOOM!
The impact of colliding forces–Zhan Shen’s raw power against Xavier’s telekinetically augmented strength–unleashed a powerful wave of wind throughout the clinic.
Miles' focus was elsewhere.
The gusts from their collision subtly redirected the telekinetically hurled items, but it was insufficient to aid, merely adding an element of confusion to their paths of motion.
While the old butler had made avoiding the attack of the ripper-doc’s wares come to life seem effortless, for Miles it was a challenge.
With a deliberate exhale for concentrated focus, he moved.
The winds and gales spoke to Miles, each current and eddy guiding him in a whispered dance. The air became a seasoned partner, orchestrating him into a magnificent performance, his feet moving in tandem to the rhythm of Nameless Movement Art.
He side-stepped a massive burst of wind from the back–revealing a mechanical robotic torso and a head sized rocket boot that had been hurtling at his head, both at speeds that would have broken bone.
A flickering flash that almost blinded him, but Miles, not solely reliant on his vision, allowed the gusts to guide him, hurriedly ducking underneath a dislodged will-o-wisp sign.
He deftly swerved to the side, a mantis blade that threatened to spear through the back of his neck, only to be forced to step over a stretched spool of wire about to trip him over.
A barrage of nails, power tools and assorted materials came next in a crash course with his head, a chaotic yet gathered cluster that was comparatively easier to avoid.
A brief pause, but Miles had stayed a second too long in place. By a sudden warning of a lash of wind upon his back, he just narrowly evaded a metallic chimera tail implant, letting it dash past him.
But that was the conclusion of his perfect dance with the wind.
While the flow of air bestowed knowledge, gracing him with an unfair advantage, Miles was limited. The pace required for perfection was beyond his reach, he could not keep up.
If he wished to escape the volley he was trapped inside, Miles would have no choice but to selectively permit the less perilous of projectiles to hit their mark.
With a deep breath, he focused.
First in line was a ridiculous implant–ears of pink furred felinei–which landed upon his arm. Ignoring the wind's warning, Miles had to suppress the instinct to dodge. He prepared to endure the hit, expecting little force from something so simple, but to his surprise…
The side of his torso swiveled, the force equivalent to that of a steel bar's impact, the telekinetic force formidable enough to reverberate even through his R&B suit.
His surprise faded, as Miles realigned his focus.
Next was a piece of paper, some sort of schematic he couldn’t afford to read, and it merely glanced past his face… but what it left was a stinging cut across his cheek, more akin to glass than paper.
[External Bleeding Detected. 0.01 Blood Points (BP) lost.]
Notifications flashed, but Miles was focused. A mace-like baton, preceded by a powerful blast of wind, heralded a volley of over a dozen papers. It would have to be one or the other. Miles clenched his teeth, shielding his face with his hands, allowing the papers to hit him. The backs of his palms, uncovered by the suit, were lacerated.
[External Bleeding Detected. 0.15 BP lost.]
[0.2 BP lost.]
The pain from the injury caused him to wince and pause, an outcome that was far from ideal, for the Nameless Movement required flawless sequencing.
Piercing winds buffeted his back and Miles barely evaded a steel-clawed gauntlet, but there were still too many for him to persist through.
For a moment, his gaze fell upon the armored torso he had dodged earlier, now left upon the ground.
Miles made the decision.
He rolled across the wooden floor, allowing numerous items of unknown nature to collide with his back and legs, the wind continuing to inform him of those that he could not afford to let hit.
[Internal Blood Vessel damage detected. 0 BP lost.]
His body shuddered, but the ogre-lined suit was formidable defense, and Miles’ hand reached the armored torso.
Instantly he was on his feet again, the torso directly before him, and he rushed forwards, almost blindly.
Nameless Footwork was let loose to its maximum, his agility heightened, and the wind blurred past as Miles sprinted to reach the opposite end of the clinic.
He acted with precision, intervening only when an object threatened the movement technique, primarily defending against projectiles targeting his head or threatening the movement technique. Impacts he deemed he could handle, were allowed to hit his suit.
[Internal Blood Vessel damage detected. 0 BP lost.]
With a focus honed by controlled breathing, Miles dismissed the pain.
His hands trembled as the mechanical torso crafted of what felt to be a mediocre alloy resisted the relentless barrage. The rippling forces tested his grip, and a series of items, sharper and more robust than mere paper, sliced through his unguarded hands.
[HP: 9/10]
[External Bleeding Detected. 0.3 BP lost.]
Unabated, objects pelted his back and chest, but with the suit, he managed.
At least, until something, a ribbed, heavy sphere, struck him from the side, his shoulder, right where the suit had been ripped through by the mantis blade, the self-weaving only having provided minimal repairs.
A pronounced crack echoed through his bone.
[Skeletal Dislocation detected. 0 BP lost.]
Miles gasped at the sudden injury, but before he could experience anything worse….
He reached the counter, slamming into the transparent screen, more than strong enough to hold his weight.
Driven by the screaming winds upon his back, Miles didn't stop, and vaulted over the top of the counter, landing safely on the other side, behind.
Clang! Crack! Clang!
The onslaught of items that had been telekinetically hurled towards the counter, collided against the screen. As the barrage continued, fissures expanded across its surface, until the screen finally shattered in a cascade of glassy shards.
Fortunately, that was the end of it.
Hunched over and hissing in pain, Miles panted heavily, having discarded the now mangled mechanical torso.
Every inch of his body ached, a sensation akin to being pummeled by an assembly of gnomes. His hands stung, the back marred by knife-like slashes. The worst was his shoulder, the arm uncomfortably contorted.
Adrenaline was high and mitigated most of the pain, but Miles sensed the aftermath would not be pleasant. Thankfully a system notification was right on time to offer respite.
Ding!
[Conditional Undeath Activated.]
The relief was palpable. Miles could almost imagine it, feel the blood energy surging through his vessels, finding the sources of his wounds and tending to them.
The natural yet unnatural movement that guided his dislocated shoulder bone, and with a crack, Miles felt the bone pop back in place and the regeneration continued.
In mere seconds, even the minor injuries had vanished, leaving behind only a faint ache–more memory than reality.
[All wounds healed. HP 10/10]
[Total Blood Points lost: 0.66 BP ≈ - 1 BP.
Total BP remaining: 10/10 (+13 BP in Blood Bank)]
Perhaps Miles would’ve been awed by his regeneration and its intricacies, the ability extending to skeletal and bruising healing, if not for his preoccupation.
His struggle with a few dozen telekinetically manipulated items had vividly demonstrated that he was far from being the Knight's opponent. But... old Zhan was.
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It turned out that after the first clash, during those fleeting seconds where he had struggled, the two Epsilons had not continued.
Miles recognized the event, they were sizing each other up.
Why old Zhan was playing along, when he had known about the Knight's power level well before they even met... Well, the reason was obvious, and he could only roll his eyes.
The elderly butler was poised for the upcoming fight, maintaining an empty, unseen presence.
The Knight on the other hand was visibly shaken, his gauntlet appearing crumpled–the blue sigils distorted and leaking power. The armor that had held against missiles, had been useless against an old man’s fist.
To Miles' great relief, Xavier seemed to have realized the futility of telekinetic barrages and changed his strategy.
His hands molded into a punt-like grip, producing a fist length baton–serrated silver metal, rippling upwards like an unfurling ladder. It extended into a nano-blade, with ridges spaced throughout the edges, a model that was unfamiliar to him.
The two Epsilons waited no longer, clashing in resounding booms that caused the weak wood beneath them to shatter.
Miles observed, even his enhanced vision capable of only gleaming an occasional glance.
Although Xavier was blessed with telekinetic flight, and the old butler had to make do with returning to the ground and leaping every few seconds, he did not appear to be at the slightest disadvantage.
Zhan Shen was unarmed, and fought as a pugilist against the Knight wielding his serrate nano-blade. Despite the apparent disadvantage in weaponry, a single glancing punch against the Knight's armored form left the enchanted silver crushed inwards, molded to the shape of his fist, the sigils flickering like dying will-o-wisps.
Only the blade held, when the Knight managed to actually defend.
That crushed armor should’ve encumbered the Knight, but it popped back out instantly, reshaped by some unseen force, yet the reformed metal remained wrinkled and weakened.
Perhaps in a bout of desperation, Xavier manifested a familiar ball of blue lightning.
The elderly butler acted with lightning reflexes, as if he had been waiting for that. His hands flashed for an ephemeral moment, and clenched, crushing and extinguishing the mysterious energy as soon as it had manifested. No peculiar ripples passed through the clinic this time around, the extinguishment swift and absolute.
The Knight appeared shocked, but Zhan Shen merely grinned and answered with a punch.
The nano-blade shattered at its ridges, as if the old butler's fist had finally broken through, when even to the Butler's surprise, it transformed into a swarm of serrated shards, a portion circling the Knight and the rest rushing forward.
Zhan Shen was forced to defend and retreat, encountering razor slashes from all directions.
The fight took a turn then and there, nano shards slashing across his face and fists. The old butler’s suit, also an R&B original, guarded against most attacks, yet some of the blade shards managed to slice even through the inlaid ogre skin.
They were all secondary wounds however, Zhan Shen skillfully ensured no blade reached his vitals, but this didn't last long. For the moment he spotted an opening, the butler swiveled through the air and executed a kick, crushing through silver armor upon the Knight's leg, and the tide shifted again.
Another, smaller, but equally desperate marble of blue lightning appeared, but it barely lasted a fraction of a second, crushed by Zhan Shen's waiting hand.
The old butler seamlessly transitioned to wielding his combat knife, the cold steel almost shimmering, and launched a flurry of punches and slashes, pushing the Knight into the defensive once more.
The battle unfolded, butler versus knight, crescendoing in a spectacular display.
Gales erupted all over the clinic lobby, each clash that was sufficiently close leaving cracks riddled through the concrete. Streaks of wind lashed out, tearing apart the wooden flooring into splinters.
The two figures responsible became blurred streaks, black versus silver, each collision a war between muscle and metal–butler against a myriad telekinetic razor shards.
One second, they were by the doorway, the next near the ceiling on the opposite side of the lobby. Yet somehow, they perpetually maintained a safe enough distance from the counter where Miles himself stood. Zhan Shen's effort no doubt.
The spectacle before him had forced his face in the reality that this was not a conflict, he could involve himself. Well, at least, not actively.
Suddenly, a hand grasped the counter from underneath, and Haruka, a figure he had momentarily overlooked, hauled herself off the floor. The middle-aged woman seemed to be still recuperating from that peculiar ability of the Knight.
Despite appearing somewhat frazzled, Haruka fixed her gaze upon him, staring for a long few seconds, “You, are you after my husband too? That faetality booster?”
A courteous smile revealed, Miles gestured towards the entrance, "Haruka-san, this is not the time for this. Your husband over there will bleed to death if you do not give him treatment soon."
Realization dawned upon the ripper-doc, and he directed her gaze towards Inani. The muscular girl was propping up James, both having managed to survive the hail of telekinetic objects, ”Get those two to bring him to you, before his head can get squashed in by a wayward burst of wind. We’ll make sure the Knight stays away. Your husband is far too injured for some motion to do much worse. Do you disagree?”
She didn’t, and after staring for a few seconds longer, the woman nodded, hurrying past and out of the corner towards the duo. They spoke in hushed whispers for some reason, all of which were clear to Miles' enhanced ears.
Did Miles genuinely care about the Hakuryuu gangster? Of course not. What he did care about was creating a favorable impression on those who possessed something he desired.
Meanwhile, James seemed horrified by the suggestion, gawking at the dangerous bursts of wind blasting all over the clinic, and specifically those that occurred near the doorway. He attempted to dissuade Inani, warning her of the risks.
The muscular girl humored him, listening seriously for a while, until she shushed him with a grin and a pat on his shoulder. “I’ll do it!” was all she said.
Haruka seemed conflicted about sending the girl into danger, but ultimately only offered advice on how to handle the white-cloaked patient, soon distracted by the task of gathering makeshift medical supplies.
With that having gone as well as it could, now it was Miles’ turn to play his role.
He trusted Zhan Shen would handle the situation, but the sooner it could be resolved the better.
Unholstering the Caucon from his suit, Miles felt the cold steel in his palm. He checked the fully loaded armor-piercing rounds in the magazine, the pinnacle of Lykaon small arms ammunition. No cold iron here, as the metal wasn't effective against faehumans.
A slow wind approached, and Miles turned, noticing James' approach. He was holding out the Lykaon Doghead, the assault rifle, "Uhh, umm, Haruka-san asked me to give you this. She said it will be more effective than your... umm... pistol."
“I said pea shooter, not pistol,” called out the annoyed ripper-doc, staring at him while she remained crouched, still preparing for the treatment.
It seemed the ripper-doc wasn’t well-versed in gun design. Well, he couldn’t blame her, much, the Caucon was not available in the general market, and was meant to appear unassuming.
Miles scoffed, “What was it you people love to say? That it’s not the size that counts, but what’s inside? The Doghead is a good weapon, sure, if it had been loaded with proper ammunition.”
He turned to the straw-haired boy, “So no, thank you. Just watch and learn how powerful this peashooter is.”
James seemed to realize that Miles was truly not going to be taking the Doghead, and so... he himself raised the weapon, an odd gesture, as if he was contemplating shooting himself.
Ignoring the strange boy, Miles continued his preparations, examining the integrity of the enchantments, and propulsion mechanisms. Once satisfied, he flipped over the safety latch.
Instantly, the Caucon came to life, thrumming with energy, the externals glowing a mild gold.
James gasped, a rare show of confidence, "What is that?! Are those enchantments? I've never seen that kind of gun before!" He reached out for the Caucon...
"Keep your hands to yourself," Miles hissed, causing James to recoil instantly, and began stuttering, "I-I'm sorry! Sorry!"
Repeated mumblings and apologies came, but after a few seconds of judgmental glaring, Miles heaved a sigh and opted to ignore the strange young man, again.
His gaze returned ahead, revealing that unlike her rude and tactless friend, Inani had made substantial progress. She remained crouched to half her height, halfway through the lobby to reach the door.
Perhaps Zhan Shen had noticed their attempt, for the booming explosions of wind had been kept at a distance from the muscular girl this entire time. Even when the epsilons wavered closer to the doorway, the most they approached was a few meters.
Miles gripped the Caucon with both hands, bracing for the potent recoil of the semi-explosive rounds.
His eyes lined with the reticle. Then he began to shift the Caucon all over the clinic, attempting to target the elusive bursts of wind, and perhaps, shoot the Knight.
Concentrating upon his breathing, Miles achieved perfection.
His instincts and senses sharpened, his entire consciousness honing upon the gun in his grip, and the flow of the wind, what it whispered to him and him only.
The Caucon began to move, almost instinctively.
Each gust of wind possessed a precursor flow–a shift in the air that hinted at an impending eruption–and it guided his hand and his target, just like before.
Meanwhile, Inani had finally reached the doorway, but was grappling with the gangster. Even the muscular girl had to struggle, but eventually, she succeeded, and began to return with the bleeding man over her back, but progress remained slow.
Miles’ targeting pace quickened, nearing the point of predicting bursts of wind instantaneously.
However, he refrained from firing, for it was not possible to discern Zhan Shen from the Knight. Not well enough.
His focus remained on the gun, and the rhythmic flow of wind.
However, there was also the assurance that Zhan Shen was keeping the Knight away from the counter where Miles stood, as well as from where Inani was struggling to carry Hayato Ryota. It was a very simple assumption, but it allowed Miles to bring down the seemingly infinite possibilities of where the two Epsilons could appear, to just a few.
Miles' eyes flagged a sudden glance, revealing the Knight, desperation painted over his face.
His armor, once a formidable defense, was now a patchwork of hastily mended telekinetic repairs, crumpled like tinfoil, but he pressed on, rushing forth with telekinetically enhanced speed, launching a barrage of razor blades.
Zhan Shen, nimble as ever, avoided most of them, but allowed a few to hit. Even as the blades failed to hit anything vital, he swiveled in the very air... and struck out in a familiar feint, a move that Miles had fallen for numerous times.
The Knight fell for it, tricked into a useless dodge.
The old butler grinned, his knife stabbed directly upon his damaged breastplate. The armor cracked, the silver metal shattering and disrupting the enchantment entirely.
For a perfect moment, the Knight slowed down.
Miles didn’t miss it.
He double tapped.
Boom! Boom!
Two piercing explosions echoed–explosive rounds that rocked the Knight, propelling him through the air. The first explosion crippled the remaining enchantment, the sigils fading into non-existence; the second pierced the upper chest, causing damage but unfortunately not striking anything vital.
Although it had not been fatal, the impact was profound, for not even an Epsilon could shrug off a shot from the Caucon, let alone two.
The Knight crashed into the wall, shattering multiple will-o-wisp signs, instantly killing some of the trapped fae, while a lucky few escaped into the air. A sizable chunk of concrete splintered into shards and debris, but the wall riddled with cracks, just barely clung to its frame.
Zhan Shen flashed a surprised yet approving thumbs-up at Miles for his impeccable shot, but before the old butler could pursue the faltering Knight to finish the job...
In a burst of debris and shattered signage, Xavier floated outwards.
His silver armor, once pristine and regal, was now crumpled and shattered, the enchantment long dissipated. The fire breathing dragon of the chest plate was no more, its pieces lay scattered, blood marking its ruins.
The Knight was in no shape for another clash with Zhan Shen, just barely floating with the help of telekinesis, but his eyes glowered with madness.
James, perhaps spurred on by Miles' success, unleashed a volley from the Doghead, managing about half a magazine before the recoil and unfamiliarity with gun handling caused him to literally drop the rifle onto the counter.
Miles couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. The fellow's aim was decent, and, well, that was about it.
As expected, the Knight was prepared this time and not caught off guard, for the moment the bullets were close enough, they halted mid-air captured by an unseen force.
Miles had half a mind to pat the straw-haired young man on the back, and 'praise' him for his very noteworthy performance, but chastised himself. That would be quite counter-productive to his intention of forming a good impression.
So instead, he observed in silence, the serrated blades flying back out from wherever they had fallen to join the bullets. Rubble and sharp pieces of glass, as if meticulously chosen, floated upwards. They all converged, orchestrated with eerie precision, and began to revolve around the Knight, forming lethal streams of wind.
Xavier glowered at Zhan Shen, and he lifted a hand, beckoning, "Again, old man."
If the Knight had expected to anger the elderly butler, he was gravely mistaken. On the contrary, Zhan Shen was ecstatic, vibrating with excitement, and he rushed to answer the challenge.