* Ciconia - Briefing room
* Umineko - Don't Cry
Chapter XXXIX: Emotional Engagement
* Ciconia – Briefing room
His target had a head start on him, but Ewald wasn't worried as to whether he could catch up.
Leo was running, but he was overwhelmed by panic. If he couldn't think straight, then he couldn't run eternally. He would exhaust himself eventually, and then he wouldn't even be able to fight back. That was why Ewald was walking at a steady pace, but not in a hurry. He still had to make sure he knew which way his target went, but it wasn't a problem either. There weren't that many hallways to begin with, and he could rely on the sound of Leo's precipitated footsteps to know which way to go. That way, he could remain in good shape, unlike the Master of Red.
That being said, whether Leo was filled with energy or on the brink of death didn't matter. Ewald had met many people across the battlefields. He had spent his entire life with people for whom fighting was a common occurence, and he knew how to recognize them. That boy had definitely never set the foot on a battlefield. His reactions when Ewald tried to kill him had spelled it out clearly: he was a weakling who couldn't bear the mere thought of risking his life.
Once Ewald would have caught up to him, it would be over.
And yet, despite how weak he was, he still hadn't died. Ewald glanced at the gun in his hand – he had wasted a grand total of five bullets, and none of them had reached home. Of course, that was mainly because of the boy's Servant, but Ewald still couldn't wrap his head around Galahad's actions. Casting away his shield was one thing, but his sword as well? Could a seasoned veteran truly do something like that at a moment's notice? That boy may not have any skill in fighting, but he certainely had luck.
Of course, Ewald believed in luck.
Circumstances and a whim of fate could turn a situation around completely, and he certainely had benefitted from it before. But what was luck? Merely something that existed, a vague force of nature at best. It wasn't his enemy; it wasn't a weapon his opponent could use to kill him. And luck could be overriden by competence; so long as Ewald focused on his objective and didn't relent, there was only so much luck could do for his target.
Now, there was another question: was that boy running to get reinforcements?
Ewald was in the middle of enemy territory, so he couldn't discard the scenario of running into multiple opponents. However, while he would keep that possibility in a corner of his mind, he didn't put much faith in it. For one, Alexander had made sure to immobilize as many Servants as possible, which meant their Masters would most likely hesitate to take action on their own. If they were ready to take part in the fight, then they would already have been attracted by the battles and the collapsing of the building's lobby. In other words, if there were other Masters here, either they were too far for Leo to reach them before reaching exhaustion, or they wouldn't dare to come out.
It was only him and Ewald.
There was practically no danger in pursuing a lone target who couldn't fight back. Nonetheless, the Master of Black maintained vigilance; he didn't so much as blink or slow down. His ears were wide open – despite the noisy battle in the background, he could catch the faint sound of Leo's desperate flight.
(...Left.)
While calmly reloading his gun, he took the same corner as Leo had. It was definitely this corner... Yes, it had to be.
Each time, Ewald felt the need to double-check despite his confidence. There was no such thing as being too careful – a subtle crack in his confidence, so to speak. In truth, he had to be twice as sharp as usual. And the reason for that was his current state: he hadn't moved from their base all day, but he couldn't ignore the efforts he had gone through. He had eaten and rested very little, all while focusing on Lancer's seal. Needless to say, working on a seal created by a god was no small task. He had put his mind through an ordeal in order to reach the desired result as fast as possible – and unavoidably, a strain on the mind would reflect on the body.
Therefore, he was in less than optimal condition.
But that did not mean he would refrain from fighting. All he had to do was brace his body and sharpen his mind, put in twice as much efforts as usual and all would go well. That was all he needed. It was nonsensical to rest. He could fight. He had to. He... he knew nothing else. It was pointless to tell him to rest.
"..."
Thinking about those things... only brought memories from that discussion. It didn't matter. It didn't matter. It was all false. It might as well have never happened. So he would just focus. He wouldn't let his mind wander and dedicated all his attention to tracking his target.
(...Right... no, middle, then right.)
Along with footsteps, the sound of ragged breath reached his ears.
Ewald had not picked up the pace since initiating pursuit, and yet he could hear his target more clearly, and he hesitated less at each intersection. It was exactly as he had expected: the boy was exhausting himself. It had reached a point where his legs were gradually giving up. Despair and panic could give someone a surprising amount of strength, so he might be able to carry on a bit further. However, doing so only meant ruining his body even more. Soon enough, Ewald would find him sprawled on the ground, unable to even stand on two feet.
(Left... left again...)
He was edging closer.
Even though he couldn't see him yet, there was less than fourty metres' worth of distance between them.
"...!" Then, all of sudden, something changed.
Nothing new happened. On the contrary, something had stopped: the sound of footsteps. The time had come – there was no way his target could have vanished, so this meant he had finally ran out of energy to spare.
"This is the end." Ewald stated matter-of-factly while turning around the final corner.
Why exactly did he feel the need to say that, to someone he didn't care about to boot? That thought hadn't really occured to him. He was simply announcing to him that his luck had ran out.
And sure enough, he was there, in the middle of a short hallway: the boy was bent over , struggling to catch his breath and not fall over. It was clear that his legs were giving out, but he was desperately taking support against the wall. But it was probably not only his legs – the adrenaline wouldn't let him feel it, but the rest of his body was just as worn out as his feet.
When he turned around and caught sight of his pursuer, Leo was haggard. With great effort, he pushed himself off the wall and tried to walk away on wobbly legs. This couldn't even be called hope anymore, it was just despair.
Ewald didn't care – he aimed and fired.
Luck couldn't intercede in Leo's favour at this point. There was so little distance between them that it was practically point blank; the bullet couldn't miss. And it didn't: his target recevied a bullet at the back of the head and fell over without even a cry.
Or maybe he had cried out, but that would have been drowned out by the gunfire anyway.
For good measure, Ewald shot him again, in his back and in his neck.
That way, he could confirm that Leonidas Argas was well and truly dead.
"..."
And thanks to that precaution, Ewald saw through the subterfuge: even though Leo had reacted when shot the first time, the second and third bullets didn't even leave a trace.
Ewald reacted quickly: first, his eyes shot up to the wall at the end of the hallway. Even at this distance, he could tell that there was a bullet impact in it, more or less aligned with where Leo had been shot.
In that case, there was no doubt.
In a single breath, Ewald pulled out his knife and started swinging it left and right. At first, he was only slashing at empty air...
"Kh!"
"There you are."
But in a matter of seconds, his blade encoutered something solid, something that Ewald's eyes couldn't see. The illusion was broken: Leonidas Argas was standing there, holding his arm with an expression of pain. Since Ewald had been attacking at random, he had left nothing more than a light gash along the boy's forearm, but that had been enough to break the latter's focus.
So he was an illusionist. Thinking about it now, the way the fake Leo had toppled over when shot hadn't been natural – something quite visible to someone with experience. So it had been a pretty shoddy illusion, considering how easily Ewald had seen through his scheme and how easily he had countered it. But that could have proken fatal if the boy had had a weapon, or if he had attacked faster. In fact, the truth ran deeper than that: the newly appeared Leo didn't look quite as exhausted as his illusion had been.
In other word, the true trap had been laid long before that: Ewald would have been suspicious if his target had stopped too soon after he started giving chase. He would have expected an ambush, and for that reason Leo had gradually slowed down, thus allowing Ewald to catch up while he was preparing his illusion. Meanwhile, the mercenary had expected an easy target and had played along. If he hadn't shot the body more than once, he would have found out too late.
That boy had come up with such a subterfuge while under the influence of panic, which was still written all over his face. Ewald was forced to admit he had underestimated him.
But that was still where things ended.
Ewald had fought a few illusionists in the past – their tricks were their lifelines. That boy had just been cut a little, and now his guard was wide open; it was clear that he had no experience whatsoever, as a fighter and as a magus.
"..." Ewald didn't waste a second and swung his knife again. This time he was aiming Leo's head.
"Uh...!"
The boy had enough good sense to raise his hands in front of his face, even if it was a half-assed defence. Fortunately for him, the blade hit the metallic glove on his hand and thus didn't inflict more harm. Luck was still shielding him, but at the very least Ewald had inflicted fear – the reason he had aimed for the eyes was to make him flinch. The very moment the knife was accidentally parried, the mercenary sweeped Leo off his feet. The boy tripped with a mix of pain and surprise, and for real this time.
"You're struggling for nothing." Ewald didn't leave him time to recover, and crouched on top of him to pin him down. "Die already."
A knife was ill fitted since it needed momentum Leo could still push back – so Ewald calmly shoved the barrel against his victim's forehead. But Leo was not calm at all – in fact, his face showed not only panic, but anger. Not that Ewald could understand that; he imagined that the young man was feeling despair by default. But that was a mistake: that is, to underestimate the power of panic and wrath combined.
This time, it was no luck.
"Like hell!"
"...!"
BANG!
The gun fired, but the bullet hit the floor. The reason for that wasn't that Leo had gotten away – on the contrary, he had gotten closer.
A split second before death could claim him, the Master of Red had hugged Ewald. Well, not really; calling it a 'hug' would convey an image of gentleness. What had happened was that Leo had pulled himself closer to Ewald with the strength of despair and had clasped his arms around his aggressor.
This meant he was dragging Ewald down with all his weight, and the mercenary had come within a hair of falling down. Since he was already bending down he managed to put his hands against the ground just in time, but he couldn't shake off Leo this way. Yet, the latter didn't stop there – instinctively, he bared his teeth and bit Ewald as hard as he could.
The intense and sudden pain in his neck took Ewald completely by surprise. The mercenary's brain was overrun with messages of pain, and without even understanding what was going on he was doing his darnest to shake Leo off.
Leo was holding on, powered up by the rage to live.
Maybe because all that anger was aimed at him, something inside Ewald resonated - a boiling sensation he wasn't used to feel.
Anger and panic, in answer to his target's stubborness and distress.
No matter how much he tried, he couldn't shake Leo off, and he didn't think of using his gun to incapacitate him. In his current state of mind, the odds of hurting himself thoughtlessly were significant, so it was probably better this way. But Ewald in a disadvantageous position – Leo's weight would throw him off if he tried to stand up, and his instinct told him not to.
So instead, he did the first thing that came to mind: hit.
Hit as hard as he could. He did not even think about which hand to use – he slammed his fist into Leo's head. Incidentally, it was the hand holding firmly onto the gun, so instead he hit him with the pistol's butt. He did so repeatedly, as hard as he could in this position, until the boy let go. Eventually, Leo let go and fell back heavily on the ground, but he hadn't lost consciousness: he was still staring at Ewald with defiance. Even after he let go, Ewald hit him once again, with his knuckles. This time around, it was not out of panic, but purely out of rage.
He didn't know how long it had been since he had been overwhelm with an emotion to this degree, and that wasn't what he cared about.
"Die...! Shit...!" But he didn't slam his fist a second time – instinctively, his hand went to his neck in order to check the wound. Even though Leo had bit hard, his teeth hadn't stabbed into the skin except in a couple places. So in spite of the pain, the injury wasn't scary. This didn't calm Ewald down at all. "You should be dead already!"
"Pfft...!" Leo spit to his face.
While the mercenary was worrying about his neck, Leo had gathered the blood on his face – both Ewald's and his – with saliva, and had spat it into his eyes. Once again, Ewald was stunned, on top of being partially blinded. This short attention deficit allowed Leo to throw him off a little and to crawl away, at least enough that Ewald wasn't pinning him down anymore.
"Je n'existe pas!" Leo shouted as soon as he was free.
Ewald sweeped the spit off his eyes and, now that there was more distance between them, he immediately aimed his gun and fired. But instead of dropping dead, the Leo he had shot vanished like mist into thin air. But Ewald would not drop his guard anymore; he stood up and listened: Leo couldn't be seen, but he could be heard. He was hustling barely four steps ahead of the mercenary.
And so the latter put his knife away and lunged toward that area.
He hadn't misjudged – Ewald's hands grabbed something which felt like a shoulder. Then, he sank his knee into the invisible boy's stomach. With a muffled cry of pain, Leo staggered and bent forward, but Ewald was holding him firmly in place. The illusion wore off – at least enough that half of Leo's body became visible. The boy had a bloodied face, mostly from taking hits to the face. But he still had enough composure to glare at Ewald.
In the end, this fight revolved around when Leonidas Argas would finally die. Each time Ewald was about to kill him, the boy somehow managed to slip away. A routine that would repeat until Leo made a mistake. It was the same here: with his target in his grasp and defenseless, Ewald tried to lodge a bullet in his head for the umpteenth time. However, that was without taking into account that half of Leo's body was still invisible – including a hand.
"Tch...!" Ewald clicked his tongue in annoyance when this gun hand was suddeny grabbed by a hand he couldn't see. "Why do you keep fighting? You're simply going to die exhausted."
"As if...!"
The struggle of strength between the two of them was uncertain. Leo had not merely seized Ewald's arm – he had tried to grab the firearm. Which meant that the center of the struggle was their interlocked hands, with the weapon in the middle. Ewald should have superior strength, but Leo was not budging at all. They were not pushing, but pulling: Leo so that he could take away the gun, and Ewald so as to free his hand. However, the latter's finger was still on the trigger while they were wrestling – because of the pression, Ewald accidentally fired two rounds.
Fortunately, they had hit the ceiling instead of Ewald himself. But the mere fact that he had wasted these two bullets was enough to make him even more upset, and that wrath conferred him more strength.
Eventually, he prevailed.
After slowly gaining the upper hand, Ewald managed to free himself and swatted Leo's hand aside. But instead of giving him any more occasions, the mercenary brutally kicked him in the shin and, after Leo fell down on his knees, he sent him rolling with a kick. The boy ended up in the middle of the hallway, laying down battered on the ground.
He tried to stand up, but the adrenaline had visibly started to wear off. He only managed to crouch up with his hands on the ground, and was trying to get his breathing under control.
There was nothing more luck could do for him now.
"Just die."
Such were Ewald's parting words.
Click!
* Umineko - Don't Cry
...
...
But the gun didn't fire.
All they heard was a clicking noise, followed by silence.
And Leo smiled smugly to Ewald's face.
The pistol wasn't broken, nor had it jammed. It was simply out of ammunitions, something Ewald had failed to notice. That was exactly what Leo had been counting on from the beginning: that gun made such an overwhelming difference, there was no way the Master of Black wasn't going to use it; which meant Leo had to get rid of it. And the only way to do that by letting Ewald unload it, with the hopes that he wouldn't count the bullets.
When he had caught Ewald's hand earlier, Leo had only wanted to save his life, but it had worked out in his favour in the end.
That was an extremely risky tactic, especially since Leo had no idea how many bullets that gun was supposed to hold. One could say he had lucked out – but he had attracted that luck to himself by being audacious. After all, there was a saying: 'God help those who helps themselves'.
So he would gladly take the luck he goddamn deserved.
Meanwhile, his opponent was staring at his weapon in stunned silence.
"...You..."
But Ewald wouldn't remain like that for long, so Leo had to act quick. And he was in the perfect position for that: the reason he was crouching down wasn't because his legs couldn't support him. On the contrary, it was the position he had prepared to spring up. Just like a sprinter in the starting blocks, he used both his hands and his legs as support to propel himself toward Ewald.
"...!"
"Heyaa!"
He did it exactly as he had been taught – first, spring forward. Then, take another step to gain even more speed and stabilize his trajectory. But there was still some distance between them, so he had to take a second step. That was where the advantage of surprise was coming in handy. During that second step, shortly before the impact, Leo turned his chest slightly to the side and bent forward a little.
"That's the Argas-Style Shoulder Bash!"
Leo smashed into Ewald with all his weight and momentum, and was met with no resistance. Upon impact, Ewald litterally flew off his feet to land a few metres away, and not lightly at that. Leo's shoulder should have emptied his lungs of air, so Ewald made no sound when hitting the floor; but something else did make quite the racket: the pistol in question, which had flown out of its owner's hands and had landed elsewhere.
At last, it was out of his hands.
"...huff...Alright...huff..." Leo was breathing heavily with beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He had only ever managed this kind of attack in soft practice, and he had worried every step of the way. "...Now we're only equal footing, asshole."
If Ewald had managed to reload even a single bullet, then all Leo had done would have been for nothing. So just to be sure though, Leo cast a little illusion on the gun to hide it from sight. Now no one would get their hands on it. The firearm beacame invisible, and just in time before Ewald was on his feet again.
The latter had recovered at an admirable speed; as soon as he had air in his lungs again, he sprang onto his feet and already had his knife in his hands. Leo couldn't help but curse that he was up against a professional – even their bulks were widely apart. But he had managed so far, and he wasn't planning to stop now.
Not to mention, even now Ewald was staring at Leo with wide eyes. There were various emotions mixed in there, or at least Leo thought so. It was hard to tell, but he had a little hunch that the mercenary was furious, on top of being flabbergasted.
"What? You thought I couldn't bite back?" Leo taunted him.
Although, that wasn't exactly wrong.
Leo had never gotten in a real fight before. Well, there was his battle against Linandir, but he had mostly ran away from that one. It was fine to think of Leo as a weakling without any fighting experience. However, you were deadly wrong if you believed he was a weakling without any training. After all, close-quarter-combat was part of the curriculum of a modern magus – even before coming to the Clock Tower, he had received personal training from none otehr than his uncle.
Although, honestly, Leo hated that class.
He could hold his own, sure, and many students were the intellectual type, so it was easy to remain middle-of-the-road. However, one of his very first fights had had him pitted against Hatsuyo, and ever since his attendence to that class had dropped harshly. So it should be very surprising that he wasn't completely in shape for martial art fighting. Yet at the same time, he also had a certain samurai to thank for honing his reflexes. Their banter more often than not involved her trying to beat him up, even if it wasn't serious.
If he could deal with that superhuman excuse of a samurai, then he could deal with someone trying to kill him.
And last, but certainly not least...
...He was itching to punch something.
"I hope you're ready for an Argas-style beatdown..." After getting his breathing under control, Leo raised his balled up fists. "...because I have a lot of frustration to vent."
"..." Ewald didn't even answer – he dashed toward Leo immediatly and swung his knife. "Hmph."
"Whoa...!" Leo had expected more verbal dynamics than that, and he almost stood there like an idiot. After rolling aside to avoid the blade, he hastily activated his Phantasm Glove. "Je n'existe pas!"
He wasn't crazy – the idea of a fair one-on-one fight was a lot less glamorous once his life was on the line. If Ewald could have a knife, then Leo could have his illusions. And they weren't easy to use either; Leo had his Mystic Code and his years of mischief to thank for saving his butt. His go-to spell basically executed two actions: making him invisible, while at the same time creating a mirage clone. His invisibility actually worked similarly to camouflage instead of messing with the enemy's head, so that way they wouldn't necessarily notice they were being tricked. Well, no matter how he put it, it was still amateurish.
Leo had his clone circle around Ewald in one direction, whereas he spun on his feet and took the other direction. The Master of Black already knew about Leo's illusion, so his best bet was to disorientate him and use his clones as a distraction. Humans relied a great deal on their sight, so having to face an invisible opponent alongside a visible distraction was bound to make up for the advantage of knowledge.
However, Leo might have been a bit cocky in that regard.
His clone went down in a matter of seconds.
He had barely given instructions to it that Ewald had mercilessly closed in on the mirage and sliced its throat. And he didn't even stopped to gasp in surprise that it wasn't the real Leo – he knew, he was only getting rid of distraction. In truth, even though illusions were his specialty, Leo had never had rarely had the occasion of using them in the heat of the moment. If all they had to do was stand there or play dead, then it worked just fine. But having to keep his illusion in movement while he himself was running around was a taller order.
At least, even if his clone was gone, he was still invisible.
But that thought was only comforting until Ewald turned around and started swinging his knife dangerously close to Leo. The latter had to bend his body in unusual poses to avoid getting shanked, and in his panic he was starting to wonder if he was truly invisible. But if he hadn't been, then he might already be dead: it was obvious from Ewald's uncertain gaze and some hazardous swings that he could only guess Leo's general position.
(He did that before too, I should have known better...)
He knew what he had to look out for though: Ewald's free hand. If the mercenary managed to grab him like he had done before, things would get nasty. So obviously, Leo tried to step back in order to avoid that scenario, but Ewald immediatly took notice and followed after him relentlessly. Somehow, he was even more agressive than when he still had a gun, and it was not hard to see why – not only did it raise his chance of hitting an opponent he couldn't see, it made Leo hesitate.
And it was darn effective, as Leo wasn't too keen getting on getting close to a knife nut.
(But I promised I would kick his ass...!)
Ewald could tell Leo's general location, but that was it.
That was why he was putting on so much pressure – he actually didn't know what he was up to. So for exemple, if Leo were to crouch down and sweep him off his feet...
Thunk!
Ewald tripped over with success.
Of course, he didn't stay down for more than one second, but now Leo was a bit more confident. While he was still at ground level, the mercenary attempted to slash at Leo's legs. The latter hopped back just in time - but not fast enough to avoid the knife grazing his ankle. That accuracy was scary!
"Can you do anything aside from running away?" For once, Ewald didn't hurry after him; instead, he delivered those words while standing up calmly. "You said some big words for an illusionist, but I suppose that too was an illusion."
He was obviously taunting Leo. When in hiding, only an idiot who reply and make themselves more noticeable. The fact that Ewald was bothering to goad him meant he was annoyed, and that was a win in Leo's book. Yet, even though he told himself that, Leo couldn't help feeling those words stung a little.
He did feel that way too, didn't he? The frustration gnawing at him had a small part of that as well.
...
Scratch that, it was a huge part of it. Galahad could confidently make the most inane promise as though it were nothing. Would it be too much for Leo do to something else than run away for once? He was itching to bury his knuckles in that guy's face, so why couldn't he just go and do that?
"..."
So he took a resolute step.
And with that step, he lunged forward – Ewald squared up as soon as he heard his footsteps, but now Leo was the one coming for him. The knife was swung horizontally at throat level; a good enough bet, but Leo saw that coming and had ducked. He only had experience in sparring with a familiar opponent, so he attacked in the most straightforward way possible: he sunk his fist into Ewald's stomach.
In a fist fight, it was better not to attack the head – a human skull was very hard, and hitting it the wrong way with too much strength might just hurt your hand badly. The Phantasm Glove could do fine, but it wasn't on Leo's dominant hand.
Unfortunately, Ewald didn't even wince; he too knew where he could be attacked, and had contracted his abdominal muscles. On the other hand, it wasn't easy to brace completely for an invisible attack, so there was no counterattack. Leo didn't have the time to think or worry – this time, it was a hook from his gloved hand aimed at Ewald's jaw.
The mercenary had gone on the defensive by now: he raised both arms in front of himself like a boxer to take the hit. The sting of the metallic Mystic Code wasn't enough to break through that barrier; even though Leo followed up with more punches and tried to sweep him off his feet again, his guard was tough. Meanwhile, this chain of attacks was giving his opponent a good idea of his posture – when Leo attempted a hook that bypassed his defenses, his arm was caught.
"There you-...!" But Ewald hadn't predicted how fast his response would be.
Leo knew how strong the mercenary's grasp was and, as soon as his arm was caught, he returned the favour by grabbing Ewald's shoulder. He used the latter's own unflinching strength as a support to pull himself up and passed his caught arm around Ewald's neck. In doing so, he was putting all his weight into making him fall backward.
This was the Argas-Style Lariat Takedown!
...As improved in the blink of an eye by someone as inexperienced as him, so it was better to say they were both falling down. But one of them would hit the floor harder, and it sure wasn't going to be Leo. The Master of Red gritted his teeth to brace for impact; he landed on his hip, but in the heat of the moment the pain was temporary. In comparison, Ewald must have suffered a lot more – Leo heard him chocking next to his ear.
But the next thing he felt was intense pain in his arm – the one holding the mercenary's throat, and which now had a blade stabbed in it.
"Aaaagh...!" He couldn't hold back a cry of pain.
When would that guy stay down?!
For the record, it was Leo's first time getting stabbed. His arm froze and he lost grasp – both the pain and the novelty of it were obstructing his thought. In the meantime, Ewald freed himself from his hold and staggered to his feet. He was glarring daggers at Leo while rubbing his throat. Indeed, he was glarring straight at him: Leo's concentration had been broken, and his camouflage had worn off. It was a most precarious situation already, and if he didn't stand up fast he would be tasting the sole of Ewald's shoe.
Leo pulled his head up in haste, just in time to avoid having his head stomped on. But after getting up on his feet, he almost tripped over again – his heel was... frozen?
"Wh...at?" He glanced down at the foot that seemed to be glued to the floor, and with a shudder he understood.
"You fell for it." Ewald declared. "You can't get away now."
What was holding Leo's foot in place was a spell: chains of lights were binding him. It wasn't just the sole of his foot – he was frozen up to his ankle. If he fell down, he would twist his foot for sure.
But when...? When had he done that...?
"When you fell down...!" Leo cursed in realization. Earlier, when he had made Ewald trip, the latter had laid his trap. That explained why he hadn't come after him at that time, and also why he had taunted Leo. "...But you don't have your knife anymore!"
"And so?"
"...!"
Leo barely managed to catch Ewald's arm before the latter could go for his throat. By reflex, he also caught the other hand before it could move: after passing his finger between Ewald's fingers, he brutally twisted the hand around and pulled up. It was a technique to avoid being locked in a wrestling match, but it wouldn't be enough. Leo was in no position to hold his ground, and Ewald's hand was edging gradually closer to his throat. His own arm was getting weaker and weaker, while the excruciating pain from his stab wound was muddling his thoughts even further.
"You can use my own knife against me, if you dare." Ewald challenged him, but it was clear he didn't believe Leo could. And Leo agreed on that point: even in this state, he couldn't yank a knife out of his arm in cold blood.
(Think think think think think think think think think think think!) His arm was about to give in. (How do I get out, how do I live...!)
But it couldn't be helped – no matter how much he struggle to pull his leg out of the trap spell, he couldn't free himself. On the contrary, he felt that the more he struggled, the more the noose was tightening around his leg. As of now, it was immobilized up to his thight. There was no way he could break a spell on the fly, especially with zero knowledge about counter-spells.
Even if it was a basic spell without any verse–... oh!
(That's it!)
He had a stroke of inspiration.
If the spell would trap him further the more he struggled... then wouldn't the opposite be true as well?!
(It's risky, but...)
With no other choice, Leo put his desperate plan to execution. First, even though it was the hardest thing to do in this situation, he tried his relax to relax his left leg, the one that was trapped. Lo and behold, it worked: the spell's influence diminished. In fact, it worked beyond Leo's hopes – he could actually feel his ankle and the rest of his foot. But that didn't mean he could get away. As soon as he would try to pull out, he would be stuck.
In that case...
"I'll free it with my other foot!"
"Huh...?"
Leo lifted his right leg and put all his weight on the left. When you thought about it, if his ankle was free, then what was stuck to the ground? The answer was: Leo's shoe. He had been struggling like a madman to get out, so it would only take a little push to take it off. In the blink of an eye, Leo put his right foot over his left ankled, and switched the weight between legs at once.
"Heave-ho–!"
"Wha...!"
And it worked to perfection.
Leo managed to pull his foot out of his shoe, but now he had no support on the ground. With the balance of force broken, Ewald didn't pull back in time and fell with him again. That would be another bruise on Leo's butt, but that beat being dead any day. Since he had fallen on his back, he took advantage of Ewald's confusion to kick him in the chest, pushing him away violently.
"Haha...ha...huff...haha, I'll call that one the Argas-Style Escape..." Leo could finally catch his breath and calmed down. "Ah shit, it still hurts like hell."
With a sense of apprehension, he looked at the knife still stuck in his forearm. He didn't want to imagine how much pain it would cause to remove it, not to mention the blood that would come pouring out. But he had to do it while he still had bravado in him – he didn't think twice, grabbed the handle and pulled out with all his strength. The blade slid out with surprising ease – thanks to being well sharpened – but the pain was just as bad as he had imagined. But nevermind that, he had to heal it immediatly.
"So...huff... you still want to go...?" While closing the wound with magecraft, he adressed Ewald who was also standing up. They were both panting and sweating heavily. Leo's body felt like it was on fire, as a matter of fact. "You really don't have any weapon now...huff..."
But the mercenary didn't look in any mood to negociate. He cracked his knuckles and his neck, and though he seemed to have calmed down, Leo couldn't miss that glint in his eyes.
"I'm not going to die. I'll kill you first..." He muttered in a deep voice.
"Hey, I wasn't talking about...huff... oh, whatever." Leo's breathing calmed down. Thank God and Michael for those breathing lessons. "Alright then, let's finish this fair and square. I'm still not done kicking your ass."
Saying so, Leo threw the knife far behind himself, removed his other shoe and gave his back a good rub. And finally, he squared up. Ewald did the same – and without the need for a signal, they both rushed at each other at the same time.
"Ha!"
"Kh!"
Ewald was faster, both to reach Leo and to swing his fist. Leo bent forward slightly and deflected the attack with his elbow, before swinging his own fist into Ewald's ribs. Even though it was his gloved hand, Ewald didn't even wince. It was clear he had experienced not only with weapons, but with his bare hands as well: without losing a second, he sent a lightning hook toward Leo's throat. With his strength, he might even be able to crush his windpipe – and yet, even though Leo saw the knuckles homing in on him, he smirked.
And for good reason, since Ewald's fist punched through empty air. The throat he had tried to crush was as intangible as sunlight, an illusion Leo had cast when he had pretended to rub his back.
Ewald's eyes widened, and he looked around himself frantically to guess where the real Leo was.
"Gh...!" But Leo was in front of him, and he took advantage of his confusion to land a beautiful straight into his jaw.
However, it hadn't been an invisible attack – after all the arm belonged to the Leo standing in front of him. Surprise and incomprehension was painted all over Ewald's face, alongside pain. His brain couldn't conclude whether this Leo was an illusion or the real deal.
The answer was simple...
"By the way." Leo said between two breaths. "I lied about playing fair."
He was both.
It was exactly the same spell than before, and nothing about this illusion was different than those he used as decoy. This was his secret technique, a usage for illusion Leo had thought up on his own: his real body was invisible and a mirage clone had been created, but both stood exactly in the same spot. Instead of an illusion to lead the enemy elsewhere, this was a disguise Leo had cast over himself.
He could choose to make it match his movement or not, and there was no way to tell.
"This is the Argas-Style Barrage, Leo Edition!"
Ewald couldn't defend against this.
An onslaught of attacks rained on him, and he couldn't tell the real from the fake. When he thought he had dodged Leo's punch, the real one would hit him square; when he shielded his head, Leo would knee him in the stomach. The mercenary tried to fight back, but his punches hit nothing, and neither did his kicks. It was too late for him anyway – his physical and mental exhaustion were catching up to him, and his brain couldn't compute Leo's tactic nor how to counter it. Leo hit him over, and over, and over, and each time Ewald staggered backward and stood his ground as much as he could, but there was nothing he could do.
Eventually, Leo added one more layer to his illusion, by conjuring images of fists flying in Ewald's direction. It was like being one of those thousand-armed eastern deities, even if it was all an illusions. It was easy to create the blurry image of an arm, and Ewald was too overwhelmed to even make the difference. The end was near – with an elbow strike into his stomach, Leo pushed him away with all his strength.
Ewald staggered and almost fell over, but he miraculously managed to stay on his feet.
"Not... yet...!"
"No, it's over." The finish was long overdue. Leo was not going to let it all go to waste after this, so he dashed at the man barely standing on his feet. "And stay down this time!"
It was a simple palm strike. It wasn't like it mattered at this point – Ewald's state told that the battle was already over, but he wouldn't give up until he was knocked out. So Leo indulged him in doing exactly that: his simple palm strike met no resistance and slammed into the mercenary's face, breaking his balance for good and sending him on the floor.
* Cut music
"..." Even after sprawling on the ground, his body twitched in an obvious effort to get up. But that was the limit. "I won't... die... I'll get... the Holy Grail..."
"Like I said...huff..." Leo was also exhausted from this barrage of attacks. He had overdone it a little in the heat of the moment. He was breathing so hard that he had difficulty swallowing." I'm... huff... not here to kill you..."
He had better things to do than killing people. Not to mention, attacking an unconsious, battered man on the floor wasn't going to comfort his ego. Even if that guy had tried to kill him, Leo wasn't thinking about that at the moment. In fact, he wasn't sure what he was thinking about. Many thoughts were doing circles in his head, and he didn't know which one to focus on.
It was at this moment that it occured to him that he too was losing it.
All the adrenaline wore off, and suddenly it felt like his entire body was made of lead. He didn't even have the strength to lift his arm to support himself against the wall: he just collapsed on the spot. Now he too was sprawling on the carpet, too tired to even move an inch. It wasn't a bad feeling actually – it was like laying down in bed after a long day. At last.
The last thought that came to him was the image of a knight, who must have been fighting somewhere around there, before his mind slipped into the realm of unconsciousness for good.
Thanks for reading.
"Insert author's not here." Said a Tatsubride.
As always, thank you for reading. Do not hesitate to comment, reviw or ask a question.
~Legends Storytelle
