Chapter 29 – Self-Affirmation Pt. 1
Loud.
That's the best word to sum the Arena up: Loud. With the ever-present reek of perspiration from battle-hungry warriors and frothing stomping spectators alike. The difference between sparring class and this is like comparing a formal company party to a bunch of mates going to a metal gig and having themselves a few pints too many. If this were Professor Goodwitch's class, there'd be enough people in detention to fill the entire staff department including Headmaster's office.
It's here in this hall of clanging blades and uproarious onlookers is where this whole ordeal will finally be put to rest. For today is the day of the bet, where I put my career on the line for the chance of saving someone else's dream.
Today is the day I fight Cardin Winchester.
And I'm seriously feeling the pressure.
I arrived early after lunch, wanted to acclimatize myself to the starkly different atmosphere here. It was only after two matches I started feeling sick from all the screaming and relocated to the entranceway.
The arena horn blares. Match over. Next one's about to begin. A two versus two bout. Five minutes.
The battle begins, and I'm fixated, on the fight and timer both. After this, it'll be a standard duel. That's when they'll call for me, to prepare for the match afterwards.
Then, it'll be my go.
My hands haven't stopped shaking since class ended. Holding them doesn't do anything, no matter how tight my grasp is. It only makes me realise how badly the rest of me is tremoring.
I chew my lip and clench my hands tighter but still, they keep shaking. This won't do. A marksman can't hit anything if his nerves are shot and telling myself to calm down has predictably done next to jack and crap. At this rate, there's no way I'll win.
Assuming… I can shoot him. I can shoot him, right? After everything he's done, I have no reason to hesitate this time, yeah? I'll shoot him. I'll shoot him.
I. Will. Shoot. Him.
…I breathe in harshly. Crap.
"Ignore them."
I look up.
Weiss stands above me, still wearing her uniform despite classes having ended a couple of hours ago. Must've not had the time. Her left hand's carrying a decently sized briefcase, while her right rests elegantly on her hip.
"They won't be affected by what happens today," she scolds lightly. "You can't afford to be distracted."
…Right, I nod, using the wall to push myself up. Worrying about everything now is a waste of energy and focusing on how much time I have left will only make me more anxious. Maybe when everyone else arrives I'll calm down somewhat.
"Here." Weiss offers the briefcase – A snowy shade of white with the Schnee Dust logo shallowly shimmering on top. Engraved, I note. "Be gentle with them. They're stable now, but that doesn't mean they still can't go off."
I acknowledge with a hum. The combination lock is already set to a specific number so, I press the button in, and the top of the case unclips open.
Inside are three magazines, all the same size used for Warbreaker, with a sticker on the front of each to symbolize its contents. I pick them up one by one, peeking inside each of them. There's a vibrant glow from their innards as three different colours flash at me.
Red, yellow, and light blue.
Fire, lightning, and ice.
"Elemental Dust bullets."
"You read the brochure," Weiss says with a tint of surprise.
"I figured whatever you'd give me would be Dust related." Also explains why she needed three empty magazines and the size of Warbreaker's bullet casings. Odd morning, that. "Did you make these with your own supply?"
She scoffs, "Of course, I did. They're from a source I can trust. I wouldn't give you subpar Dust. As a Schnee, it would disgrace my very ancestry."
Hah. I suppose it would. If nothing else, Weiss prides herself on efficiency. Looks like she used her Dust Faculty authorisation to its most efficient too.
I smile, "Thank you."
She waves me off, "This is my investment into this fight. It's up to you to use it properly."
I move to close the briefcase, but Weiss' hand shoots out and grips the lid. She holds it, staring straight at me.
"For LABS."
We hold a moment, then I nod, "For LABS."
Satisfied, she lets go. I lock the briefcase again, putting it right next to us for when I leave. Elemental Dust Bullets aren't the most powerful use of Dust weaponry, doubly so thanks to Warbreaker's generally weak power output but, they do possess some additional side-effects that'll give me an edge during the fight. Good thing Dust weapons are relatively common, won't have to worry about my gear being banned for 'Unfair advantage' or anything like that.
Weiss stands at my side, give or take a few feet away. I'm content to stay quiet if it'll make her feel more comfortable. In the meantime, I look out amongst the spectators, trying to pinpoint a few VIPs that'll be watching our fight.
CRDL's already here – All four of them this time.
One of the students they're targeting has shown – That's something, I guess.
Wow, Velvet's here too – That's good. I was worried I might've put her off after our talk last week. If nothing else, I've sparked her curiosity.
Is that all? I run my eyes over the crowd again to be sure, but I can't find anyone else of importance to the plan. A fair few of our classmates have shown, for whatever good that does us. Maybe among them are those rare few targets still trying to power through?
I give the arena another sweep.
Then, my eyes stop, focused on a distant figure across the arena. I recognise them. Isn't that…
A sharp finger prods my ribs, "What did I just tell you about distractions?"
"Look."
Weiss follows my nodding head towards them, and her already frowning face predictably sours further, staring across at the black-haired girl, watching us both with those piercing amber eyes.
It's now that I realize that she's staring at me specifically. For just a moment, I freeze up but then, I stare back at her.
I hold. She holds.
We both keep holding…
Blake breaks first. She finds herself a seat – Top row, couple seats inwards- takes out a book no bigger than her palm from her pocket, sits down and begins reading.
Hm. That's curious. Ah, well, it's not like Blake being here at all isn't odd in the first place.
Weiss sighs, "She just goes wherever she pleases, doesn't she?"
I nod. That, she does.
"Hey, guys!"
"Hello!~"
Ah! The rest of the gangs arrived. Yang, Pyrrha, and Ruby, still wearing her school-uniform and carrying a decently sized briefcase of her own.
"Argh! You've already given him his gift without us?" Yang calls, feigning pain. "That hurts, ice-queen. Here I thought we were starting to build a connection, you and I."
"You thought wrong," Weiss says flatly. "And it's not a gift, I'm supplying him. When would you even consider munitions as a suitable gift for someone, anyway?"
She shrugs, "Birthdays."
Weiss rolls her eyes, pointing me a look that screams 'Is she for real?'
A blank smile and a haunted stare are my answer.
Yang's seventeenth. Like Guy Fawke's met the fourth of July.
Pyrrha wisely chooses to ignore the subject, "How are you feeling, Eren?"
"Uh…" I blink. "Everything. I think."
Usually, it either hasn't hit me yet or I'm having a full-blown anxiety-attack. Right now, I feel like it's both but at the same time, it's neither. I've… never really felt this way before.
"Well, I am here to put you at ease!" Ruby, almost blindingly gleaming, hauls her briefcase upward into both of her arms and pops both the locks. "May I present to you; the new, improved - Violet Vigil!"
Like a gangster proudly showing their wares, Ruby pries her briefcase open for us all to see, and what we see is…
Well, Warbreaker. Same assault rifle, same scope, same framework, same everything really.
The other three are predictably confused, no wonder, but Ruby is bouncing on her toes, looking like she's about to explode into confetti if I take any longer. Not exactly something anyone wants. Better get to it, then.
Carefully taking the weapon into my hands, I find the selective fire dial on the side. Previously, there would be only three options I could switch between, but now?
I grip the dial and I turn it clockwise, past semi-automatic: burst, and fully-automatic, all the way around to the fourth new mode.
Warbreaker's frame pops, expands. The empty magazine spat out from the loader as it and everything else morphs in my hands, barrel, ejector, grip, sight, all clanking and snapping together, turning from an ordinary assault rifle into something different. I can feel its bulk as its insides shift and twirl like a mechanical contortionist until, after roughly half a second, it reaches full formation.
This is Warbreaker Version 2: An Automatic shotgun with a twelve-shell magazine capacity and an effective range of up to ten feet. Not nearly as far as its assault rifle form but, from when we last tested it, it easily quadruples the damage. Ruby and I both felt I needed a little more punch in my stock. There's a rule against the usage of personal weaponry outside of specified safe zones such as the arena and other training areas so I'm not allowed to load or test it here. I'll have to discover any last-minute alterations to its power outage first-hand during the fight. Bit of a nuisance but, hopefully I'll manage with a dislocated arm should things go bad.
Key word being 'Hopefully.'
Oh, the bayonet's still there if you're curious. She said it wouldn't get in the way of the mechanisms so, we figured there wasn't much point in removing it.
"Woah-hoh-hoh! Sis!"
"You made it a transformation?!"
"Yep!" Ruby chirps, grinning like a proud mother. "I mean, the whole combination gun idea wasn't going anywhere. You know, with all the conflicting internals, the choke attachment not attaching, the many chambering problems." Technobabble. Technobabble. "So, yeah. I thought that making it a transformation would be easier in the long run and, it was!"
Weiss' eyebrows furl. She folds her arms, taking a step towards me, then around me, her attention completely drawn to the new Warbreaker in my arms as she analyses every little detail with a scrupulous glare. It's almost as if she's puzzled by it. That whatever she' looking at shouldn't be feasible possible.
She looks at Ruby.
"You made this?"
"Yep!"
"In a week?"
Ruby shrugs, "Sure. I made Vivi in a week to begin with. It's kinda fitting in hindsight."
Weiss balks, a perfectly normal reaction. Only a weapon-maniac as obsessed as Ruby could make firearm engineering look as easy as assembling toy blocks. Though, when she first created Warbreaker, she didn't wake up until after…
Hold on…
"Ruby." I start, "What about sleep?"
"What about it?" She replies innocently.
Right as her eyelids droop and she falls straight into Pyrrha's stabilizing hands.
"I think he may have a point," Pyrrha chuckles.
I stifle a sigh, Yang carrying our exasperation with a very audible groan behind me. The constant nodding off during classes makes more sense now. Here I was thinking it was because of certain lecturers, thank you Professor Port.
"You can borrow my pillow if you need it."
Approaching from behind, holding a pillow I believe came from her dorm, is Heather; the girl I met back at the hospital. We haven't really talked since our first meeting, Yang's been in contact with her as an informant of sorts, keeping us up to date on Jaune's condition. Unlike the rest of us, her involvement with the whole CRDL situation is skin-deep at best so, it's surprising to see her here.
Also, still in her school uniform. I'm not even going to begin to guess why that is.
"Hey! Heather!" Yang grins. "I didn't expect you to be conscious."
There's a smacking sound, then a limp pillow flopping to the ground. Her face turns flat.
"Wow. Childish."
"Like you're the definition of maturity," Heather huffs. She looks past her partner and waves laxly at me. "Nice to see you again, Liddell."
I wave back awkwardly, "H-hey Heather."
"Did you come to watch the fight?" Pyrrha asks.
"Partially. Been stuck as Agent Xiao Long here's personal informant over this. I had some time, for once. Thought I might as well see what comes of it."
Yang hisses, "Eesh. Personal informant makes it sound dubious. I prefer 'The Benefits of Partnership.'"
"Normal people call it espionage but, hey, you're not exactly normal."
She grins, "You're not wrong!"
Heather grunts and rolls her eyes. "But also, I figured this guy needed an escort." She turns her body, cupping her mouth, and calls to the back. "Hey! You wanna come and introduce yourself? I haven't practised my regal announcement, so you're out of luck if you're looking for one."
A silhouette straightens, tenses. At the edge of my hearing range, I catch what I interpret as an exhaled sigh as they hesitantly step forward. Two steps. Three steps. The figure walks out into clear view and-
I choke on my breath.
"J-Jaune."
This… this is the first time I've seen him since that day, since that night in the hospital and he…
He looks awful: Large dark bags under his eyes; his bloodshot eyes, a wrinkled pair of jeans and, instead of his armour or any of his combat gear, he's wearing a plain yellow top that makes his muscular torso look smaller than it really is. My mind has to keep reminding me it's not possible to lose that amount of muscle mass in so short a time.
He looks worse than Heather. Probably hasn't had a good night's sleep in over a week.
Heather clears her throat, "You wanna tell them the good news, or should I?"
Jaune takes a pensive moment, flashing me a look, before addressing us, "My examinations are all done. As of today, I've been medically cleared and released from the hospital - No signs of brain damage. I'm healthy."
"That's great news!" Ruby almost squeals in delight.
"Yeah!" Cheers Yang. "Won't have to worry about losing your mind and going on a killing spree!"
"Not how that works, Yang," Heather deadpans.
"I know it doesn't."
Pyrrha shakes her head, "Really, we're really happy you're okay, Jaune."
A relieved sigh leaves my mouth as a weight I wasn't even aware of rises from my shoulders. He's okay. Thank god. Heather's words probably smoothed things over in my head but…
Thank god.
Jaune smiles weakly at them all. I'm certain it's genuine but the dark creases growing underneath his eyes makes it seem likes he's struggling to hold it up, almost as though the action's physically paining him.
…Shouldn't someone else be saying something?
I look behind me - where she had just been not even a minute ago – and I find that Weiss has moved far back to the rails, watching the ongoing match with such rapturous attention you'd find on a loner in the middle of a house party. If someone else were looking at her, they'd think that she was ignoring someone.
I'd say that it's not so much as ignoring as it is avoiding…
"Eren."
I swing around. Jaune is staring straight at me, "What are you doing?"
…He wouldn't know. Crap. He has no idea what the hell is going on at all. I've been so busy with all the planning, training, and reconstructing Warbreaker that I never had the time to visit him, never had the time to think about what I would say. All he's seen so far is that giant arena board in the main hall.
He must be so confused.
"I-"
The arena horn blasts, rattling my eardrums. The match below ends and so the proctor calls out on an amplified microphone, "Would the combatants for the two: fifty-five match-up please make their way to the locker-rooms?"
Damn. That's the call. I really wish I could stay a minute more and explain things but, I need to go.
Ruby appears at my side, presenting Warbreaker's briefcase to me to return it - Easier to carry everything as one whole. Twisting the dial and resetting the gun back to its rifle form, one point one seconds, I push it down securely into its containment. Ruby locks it all and offers the handle.
"Don't forget your promise."
"I wouldn't dare." I take it and smile at her. "Thank you so much."
Ruby smiles back, then lets it go. She's had to put up with so much from me these past couple of weeks. I know making this bet wasn't right to her or the others, so I'll just have to make it right this time.
I look to Pyrrha, standing with all her height a couple of feet away and bow my head to her, "Thank you very much for the lessons, Pyrrha. I'll put your knowledge to good use."
"It was my pleasure," she nods, flashing that polite smile of hers. "Good luck, Eren."
Taking up space at one of the walls, Heather stretches her arms out and lets out a drained yawn, "Don't really know what this is about but, you be careful out there, Liddell."
"I'll be sure to," I tell her.
Don't know how careful I can be considering I'm looking for a K.O. here but the thought is nice enough.
Before I move on, I glance back to Weiss, still staring out into the arena despite the next match having yet to start: Not that I think it matters to her anyway, it'd just be more convenient if it had.
I ponder on it a moment. Then, I set my briefcases aside, digging through my pockets as I approach her.
"Weiss."
She tilts her head and I slip into her hands a Scroll – Jaune's Scroll.
It took some time, but I managed to decrypt the password Sky left after I took it back, after some time-consuming brute force access that is.
I won't repeat what it was.
"If you're serious about making up for what you did," I bob Jaune's way. "This is the first step."
Weiss glances nervously towards him, quickly away, and then back to me. She didn't know what to say to him either. They had a lot more to talk about and very little room for error. The Scroll would give her a place to begin, and she needed that far more than I did. The only condition that came with it was to try.
She mouths a 'Thank you.'
I nod affirmingly at her. There's no guarantee that they'll instantly patch things up while I'm away but, just the chance is good enough for me.
"Ahem."
I turn around.
Yang stands in the middle of the entranceway, arms folded, shoulders slack and wearing one of her playful smirks that says, 'Yeah. I can see where this is going. Get over here, already.'
So, concealing the faintest giggle under my breath, I step towards her.
I open my mouth to say something… but I mutely shut it again. The words don't feel enough, whatever they were going to be. She's the reason I've managed to make this far, after all. If it wasn't for her, I would be limping around miserably with my arm in a cast feeling sorry for myself, pushing everyone away under the delusion that I was sparing them from my problems.
I've given her so much trouble. Ironic, considering that's all I wanted to avoid.
"I'm still sorry," I tell her, gazing downward. "About me."
Yang sighs, "Geez, you're such a drama-queen."
The gap between us closes and, for a moment, I still. As I feel her arms wrap themselves around my back, the deep pressure in my chest floats away in their enveloping grasp.
"It was our choice," she whispers. "It was always our choice. Don't forget that."
I…
My arms fold around her, pushing my body forward, closer.
"Never," I whisper back.
"Go kick his ass, Eren'd boy."
"Okay, stop!"
Electricity bounces in my veins, sparking against my joints as I jolt in Yang's grasp. She gently lets go as both us and the rest of our group direct our eyes to the source of the startling outburst: Jaune, his chest compressing and decompressing so rapidly he looks like he's fighting just to breathe correctly. His eyes flicker between us, all of us.
"What are you guys doing? This is way, way too much, it's- it's just a fight. You're all acting as if he's leaving or something. Li-lighten up, already! That's not what's happening here."
He looks at me hopefully.
"Right, Eren?"
…There's nothing I can do. I know that. It's frustrating but I'll have to wait until Cardin and I are finished before we have our chance to talk. It's unfair to him, I want more time to do it myself, but I can't. I really, really wish I could but there's no time now, no time for us to talk.
My fingers fiddle with the zipper underneath my neck for an idle moment.
So, I'll book time.
I pinch and begin pulling it down, down, down, unclipping it at the bottom with a click, weaving my arms out from the sleaves:
And present my hoodie to Jaune.
My bare arms shiver at the air brush as I feel everyone's eyes bore into me. I'm pretty sure I even heard someone gasp, possibly Ruby, but I ignore them and extend my arms further to him.
Stiffly, Jaune reaches out and takes the hoodie from me.
"Hold on to it for me," I tell him, picking up both of my briefcases. "I'll be back for it later."
I stride past him, my footsteps echoing like thunder against the exit walls, Jaune's desperate shouts the only thing cutting through.
"Eren, where are you going? What are you doing?!"
…I haven't been a very good friend to you, Jaune.
When you needed me most, I abandoned you. I kept telling myself I was trying not to hurt you but that was just a pitiful excuse I made to comfort myself, only showing up when it was the most convenient for me. All I ever did was run and hide like a coward while you suffered.
But I won't hide any longer.
"Eren, come back!"
I'm going to win.
"Eren!"
And I'm going to get you back!
"Eren!"
Gloves - Check.
Warbreaker - Check.
Rifle Ammo. Check.
Shotgun Ammo. Check.
Dust Ammo. Check.
And Ammo-Bag. Check. Maybe should've grabbed another one for ammo separation's sake but, y'know, being broke doesn't give me a lot of options. Bah. I'll just deal and watch what I touch during the fight.
Fourth years and a few third years work around me as I wait, some talking into their earpieces while others are typing away on their Scrollpads. A couple of them glance my way once or twice but, they pay me little mind. Really, I'm more than fine with it. Gives me a moment of peace to think things over before my opponent shows up.
"Gotta hand it to you, Liddell-boy, here you had me thinking there was no way you could get any skinnier, but you just went ahead and dropped the extra bone marrow like it was nothing."
Speak his name and he shall appear. Ugh.
Cardin stands beside me, resting his onyx mace upon his shoulder -Right hand, I note with a squint- all while wearing his smarmiest grin, "What's your secret? Special workout? Extreme dieting? Or is it the old-fashioned college girl bulimia?"
Ignore him. Remember what Pyrrha taught you? There's nothing to be gained from responding. Focus on yourself.
"Pssh. Fine. Keep your secrets," he sniffs. "Just so you know, selfishness isn't an attractive trait, Liddell-boy. You'll never find a semi-decent girl to be boring with if that's your attitude."
But he makes it so difficult…
Warbreaker starts rattling. My hands are beginning to tremor again, and the gun's making it harder to hide.
Cardin notices.
"Oh my god. Seriously…?"
Before he can say anything derisive, one of the fourth years, a bespeckled man of average height and buff build with a ScrollPad snug against his arm and an earpiece blaring an indecipherable number of voices, approaches us both.
"Alright, just so we're sure we have the right guys." He looks at Cardin, "Cardin Winchester?"
He scoffs, "Um. Yes? Obviously?"
Very modest.
The senior rolls his eyes before looking at me, "And you're, uh, Eren. Liddell? Is that how you pronounce it?"
I nod, "Mm."
"Mm? Mm?! That's all you're going to say to the guy? Mm?! Normal people answer with a 'Yes' or a 'Yes, sir' when they're answering somebody Liddell-boy." Cardin snorts, turning to the senior while pointing a thumb at me. "Like really, man, you try teaching the boy some manners but in the end he's still a rude little shit."
My fingers whiten as I cradle Warbreaker tighter.
The senior flickers between us both, his lips thinning as he makes the connection that this wasn't going to be anything but a friendly duel.
"Oh. Joy. It's one of those. Brilliant…" He sighs, flicking away at his screen. "Okay, well, we're just cleaning up the arena after the last fight, we'll bring you both in in a minute. The proctor will tell you the rules, you probably know it already but, y'know, formalities. Once that's done, we'll leave you in the ring, start the clock and it's all you guys for three minutes."
With that, the senior goes to back to work, typing away at his ScrollPad and doing his best to decipher that racket in his ear.
Only thing to do now is wait for an all clear.
The other higher years continue to work around us. I imagine they're doing this for a sort of extra credit thing we not in the know about. That, or some of them have dreams of hosting their own fighting tournaments Pyrrha and Yang kept talking about. I notice a couple of them eying both Cardin and I as they get on with their duties – Worried that we'll both start duking it out before the match begins? How many times have they seen that I wonder?
Cardin, thankfully, is ignoring me. Probably caught on to the wary glances we're getting right now. Not that it seems to bother him. If anything, he just looks bored, gazing up at the ceiling like he's stuck in one of Professor, sorry, Doctor Oobleck's classes. He doesn't even look worried. Of course he wouldn't. Why would he be?
As for me, well, you know…
Where is that all clear?
The horn echoes through the tunnel. Finally.
The senior looks up from his pad, opening his mouth to speak. Cardin, being Cardin, just breezes past him, ignoring the other higher years scoffing and shaking their heads.
"There's always one," the senior sighs. He looks to me, offering a polite smile. "Well… you're up. Have fun, I guess?"
Not likely but thanks for the thought, I nod.
So, with my footsteps thrumming against the tunnel walls, I begin walking towards the arena. With every step I take, the droning buzz of the crowd grows louder and louder like stereo speakers slowly being dialed up to maximum.
As I step out into the arena, the damp air tickling my arms and my ears ringing, I do my best to keep my fraying nerves in check as the raucous atmosphere threatens to overwhelm me. This must be what rock bands feel when they first perform in front of an audience. Makes me glad I didn't give that old 'Become a Rockstar' idea a second thought, if this is what they would've had to put on with.
Cardin's already in position. I take my place a few metres away, facing him. The proctor – a dark-headed fourth-year wearing what I can only describe as eighties shades- stands between us. He starts explaining the rules to us both but, just as the senior said, it's nothing either of haven't heard before. Three minutes. First aura to drop below twenty-percent loses. Fight ends when the proctor says it ends. It's just a formality so neither of could claim that we didn't understand the rules should something go awry. It's plausible deniability more than anything else – Not our fault if one of you beats the other to a bloody pulp, you should've known better.
While the proctor's still reciting the rules, I glance around into the crowd looking for my group. Thankfully, we were sizable enough that I quickly spot them fairly quickly – Same spot we were before I left, leaning against the rails, watching from above.
Jaune in particular is staring at me, looking distressed as he holds my hoodie in his arm. Ruby and Pyrrha appear to be talking but it's difficult to make out what they're saying due to all the noise.
Most of the crowd is just noise, really. As the proctor finishes his explanation, taking his place far away from the action, the racket only continues to grow.
I can still make out a few stray voices here and there, though. I even recognize a couple from class.
"Talk about a mismatched fight. That big guy looks like he's about to eat the scrawny one."
"Hahah! What are you gonna do, shortstuff? You gonna nibble at his heels the whole three minutes?!"
"Why did Liddell ever think this was a good idea? Doesn't he remember what happened to that Jaune guy last week? Cardin mauled him."
"That's probably why – Liddell and Arc are teammates. Revenge makes people do some really stupid shit."
"Ah, that's just tragic."
"Yeah."
"Cardin's gonna kill him."
Tune them out, Eren. They don't know anything. Tune them out.
"Hey, Liddell," Cardin leans in and whispers. "I know you're really feeling the heat, what with your boyfriend here watching you and all. See, the boys' gave up their Friday just to be here today and support me. They're good boys, really great friends and, I can't speak for you but, I feel like I'd be pissing all over their sacrifice if I ended this in five seconds so…"
He pushes his emblazoned chest-plate out, tapping the outstretched golden bird on it like it were an English nobleman's game.
He smirks, tapping the emblem like a bullseye, "Here. I'll give you the first shot."
What is he playing at? Is this a ploy? Is he trying to bait me into a counter-attack or does he really think-
…That's it, isn't it? He doesn't think I'd do it. I haven't shot anyone in any of my spar matches so far, why would I shoot him now?
I raise the barrel higher. He doesn't think I can do it? I will.
I'm going to shoot him.
I will shoot him.
I. Will. Shoot him!
"Come on! I'm an honourable guy. No tricks here. Just take your shot."
…I lower Warbreaker's barrel, turning the gun completely away from Cardin.
"Tch. All that talk for nothing," he sneers. "Coward."
The horn booms. The match timer begins to tick down.
…And I buck Cardin straight on the chin, stock-first, with a resounding crack!
Cardin reels back with a yelp, eyes almost dazed from the impact as he raises a hand up to his chin.
While he's stunned, I snappily twist Warbreaker's dial, the gun transforming as I deftly swap out magazine types, hearing the chamber click in acceptance. As Cardin's senses returns, I close the gap between us, push the barrel square up against the golden bird and-
Bang!
The sound of thunder cracks from the barrel of my shotgun, the sheer force of the blast sending both Cardin and I flying back.
My shoes screech and squeak as I wrestle with the recoil, fighting to keep myself upright, almost finding myself slip a couple of times due to the slippery surfaces of my shoes. Never have I regretted my choice in footwear more than I do right now.
I slide and slide further but, luckily, I skid to a halt without having to break my back. I stand stable, already heaving.
Holy crap. Ruby said she made some minor improvements to the knockback since we last tested but that… Jesus. That recoil sure as hell didn't feel very minor. Need to adjust that real quick. Also, I'm almost certain I've got tinnitus now.
I look up to find that Cardin has careened into one of the arena walls, his back crashing into its solid layering hard enough to leave him indented in it. I don't think he even hit the floor once during his entire hangtime.
God. Damn.
That felt good.
Cardin wrenches his arms free from the wall and oh. Wow. That's quite the glare he's throwing my way. I should be feeling intimidated or even downright horrified by all that seething vitriol but all I can do is smile a sickeningly sweet smile.
What? The match hadn't started. Dumbass.
Refusing to drop his glare, Cardin instead holds his mace outwards, and he tosses it into his left hand.
My aura's full. Cardin's is at ninety-two percent. There's two minutes fifty seconds left on the clock.
Cardin charges.
Here we go.
Switching back from shotgun to single, I fire off two quick shots towards two different limbs – Left foot, right shoulder.
Cardin arches his back and twirls his mace in a swift arc, easily bashing both bullets aside with a sharp plink.
It's as Pyrrha thought: For all of his power, that onyx mace Cardin's wielding isn't anything special – It has no augmentations, no transformations, no compartments, not even a gun attachment or anything that would allow him to fight long range. Jaune's shield is more technically complex than that thing. He never bothered to upgrade it; probably believed he never had to. Maybe he's not entirely wrong.
One hit from that thing and my fight is as good as done.
Nevertheless, Cardin must've fought plenty of other gun users with that disadvantage before. I won't be able to get away with trying to riddle him with bullets outright. Didn't think I would but, annoying all the same.
Remember what Pyrrha taught me: 'Think of a duel like a game of chess. Pick your moves carefully. Lure your opponent into creating an opening and then exploit it.'
Okay. In terms of distance, I currently hold the advantage. That's the name of the game here.
So, backing away at a jogging pace but still keeping my full attention on Cardin, I begin firing volleys targeting specific points: Arms, legs, shoulders, knees, elbows, everything, varying from limb to limb, switching between both single and burst during intermittent periods to try and catch him off guard.
Maintaining his speed, Cardin powers through my assault: Deflecting most, avoiding some, and the ones he can't do either with, he simply storms on through as if they never hit him.
Of the twenty-eight bullets fired; only six made their mark. Hm.
He's closing in. Reload. Not enough time for a decent attack, and I'm metres away from the wall. Cardin is mere paces away, his shoulders bracing. He's going for a swing, forearm, I note. Warbreaker fires off a couple of suppressing shots that are quickly diverted. Cardin raises his mace and, as the swing rounds for the right side of my head, I bound back, push my right foot into the wall and roll into his right.
The swing misses, but Cardin chases. He's not about to let me breathe. Every step I make retreating, he matches. Every attempt I make trying to sidestep or outmanoeuvre is either met or avert through a wide swing of his mace. And every time I raise Warbreaker for a shot, I'm greeted with another swing threatening to disarm me, Cardin waggling his finger and chuckling doing so.
"Come on, come on," he taunts. "Show me something."
I can't get any distance. I can't fire any shots off. I can't do anything other than back away.
A quick glance at the board: My aura's still full. Cardin's at ninety. The clock's at two minutes thirty-four seconds.
Damn it! I'm losing time. I'm already close to being in the same situation I just evaded.
'Don't forget: You're not fighting a Grimm out there; you're fighting a person. Just as you're constantly thinking of ways of how to beat him, he'll be constantly thinking of ways of how to beat you. Be aware. Try to understand what he's thinking and use it to your advantage.'
…Right. He's seen me fight. He'll be expecting a defensive play. That's probably what he wants, and that's where he'll catch me.
In that case…
I stand firm and turn the dial, Warbreaker morphing into its shotgun state as its rifle magazine ejects into my waiting hand.
Cardin smirks and closes the distance. This must've been one of the scenarios he was aiming for because, as his shoulder rolls back, the arc of his swing shifts from the head to the torso. My hand's still shuffling about in the ammo-bag, I won't be able to land my previous roll so easily, he's probably thinking.
He'd be right.
So, I don't.
I press forward, arching body back, dip down and I slide through the gap between Cardin's legs.
Credit to him, Cardin quickly catches onto what I'm doing, and he snaps his legs together, pincering my ribs. I register the jagged boots with a hiss. Yep, definitely a size twelve at least. His mace comes down in a rebound from the last, a blow that will surely end the fight here and now if he connects.
Good thing this was what I wanted in the first place.
Shotgun magazine jammed into Warbreaker, I aim directly at Cardin's stomach and before he land the finishing strike – Bang! A bellowing slug blasts right on target. He reels, a wet wheezing sound spluttering from his mouth. Literally.
Ew.
His impeding attack has stopped but, Cardin's still standing over me.
Bang! Another shell, this time higher, and the towering boy is thrown several feet back, landing onto his head and neck in an unceremonious heap.
Switching to burst, I take out one of Weiss' personal investments – The ice dust bullets – and I begin peppering Cardin with the frosty bullets. The results are small-scale but no less potent, as Cardin's sides and limbs are slowly encrusted in icicles, some of which even fuse together as a kind of icy chain holding him down. He stirs and, with an audible growl, Cardin starts struggling against them. I can see the ice already beginning to crack.
Well, if there was ever a time to go all-out.
Switching to fully-automatic, I waylay into Cardin's prone form, unable to deflect or avoid any of the bullets piercing into him. With a yell, Cardin's left arm breaks free of the ice and the rest of his bonds seem like they'll follow shortly.
In response, after a swift reload, I slowly encroach on his position while keeping him suppressed by my barrage. Cardin's right arm breaks free next, and his legs seem like they're just about to break through too.
Warbreaker transforms back into its shotgun state and, as Cardin raises his mace to defend himself, bang! Another slug sends him skidding back. This time, he remains on his feet.
Though, so do I for that matter. The recoil bucks like a bloody minotaur and I'm pretty sure my shoulder's clinically dead, but I'm starting to adjust to it more. Helps that I'm able to gauge how much to absorb now.
Glance at the board: Time's almost reached two minutes, my aura's at ninety-eight percent -geez, those boots were sharper than I thought- while Cardin's at-
Seventy-one?! Christ!
I riddled him with three shells, a full magazine of normal bullets and ice Dust bullets! How have I only taken off nineteen percent?!
Gah, he must've strengthened his aura. That first blow must've taken him completely off-guard. That's going to make the rest of this fight one hell of a slog, and I can't rely on the same trick working over and over for easy hits. Crap!
No, no. Relax. I only need to get him to twenty. I've got options, I'll make another opening again.
Crack!
My back straightens as my eyes snap to the sound of concrete breaking.
Cardin's fist is imbedded into the arena's flooring, the cracks from the impact spreading to other nearby tiles. Another glance tells me that move just took off another percent from his aura bar.
What the hell is he…?
His arm twists and-
A giant slab of floor flies straight towards me!
Too big. Too close to dodge!
Barrel up. A shell from my shotgun shatters the slab in twain but the separate releases a dusty residue, stinging my eyes and threatening to scrape down my throat to poison my lungs.
In a haste, I stumble back when out from the plume, Cardin charges.
His mace is up. My eyes are watery. I only have enough time to toss myself to the side as Cardin brings the onyx mace down for an overhead smash, devastating the tiles below far greater than his fists did before.
As I haul myself to my feet, rubbing the substance out of my eyes, a shard of rubble almost crashes into my forehead, only just avoided by a bob of my head.
Another chunk; I throw myself to the left.
Another block: I toss myself to the ground as it soars above.
Another piece: It scratches across my cheek.
Another lump: I have to use Warbreaker as a makeshift shield as it buffs into my chest and I'm stumbling and I'm heaving.
Freaking Christ. Even when he's throwing rocks at me it feels like I'm being rammed by a car.
Shit, shit, shit! I'm losing control of the fight here. At this rate, it won't be long until he finds some way to catch me!
'Don't be predictable. The moment Cardin begins to tap into how you move and what your strategy is, you're already losing. Try to mix-up up your movements. If you're being too cautious, try taking more risks. Too erratic, maybe try feigning more often and catch him out. Not matter what though, never get too comfortable with your fighting style.'
…Yeah. Alright. If I'm being too defensive, then I should take this opportunity to counter-attack.
In that case, I shift Warbreaker back into fully-automatic mode. I think it's time for another difference maker.
Hand reaching into my bag, I weave my head away from another thrown fragment and I rush towards Cardin. Picking up one last chunk, he does the same. He tosses it, I sidestep it and it crumbles against the floor. I feel the electric shock of the magazine I'm looking for.
Cardin raises his mace, I grip the lightning Dust magazine tightly.
Five paces out, Cardin arches his back again. Three. Two…
I feign right, and then I slide to the left, pulling the lightning Dust out from my bag, turning in place to face him and…
Wait.
He didn't swing.
Before I can react, a force bats the lightning Dust out of my hand, yelping at the dull pain searing through it. The bullets inside of the magazine burst out, crackling, discharging electricity as it spins and spits its contents abound, sparking dangerously but ultimately harming nothing.
Cardin held. He didn't take the bait like I wanted. He saw through it.
I peer up, his smug grin leering at me.
"Nice try."
We're centimetres away from each other. Warbreaker's unloaded, and I've just lost one of my greatest assets.
I couldn't have made this scenario worse if I tried.
And Cardin starts swinging.
I leap back away as far as I can but, once again, Cardin follows me. A backhanded swing sends me further on the backpedal: a downward sweep almost cuts my legs from underneath me, an upward club could've broken my jaw. I'm barely dodging them all but with every attack Cardin grows closer and closer to making purchase. Every swing, every club, every powerful smash could end my bid right then.
I sneak a glance at the board: One a half minutes left, my aura count's at ninety-one, Cardin's is at-
A swing almost bashes in my skull. Shit! I only looked away for a moment. Cardin's feet slam into the ground and-
Fucking SHIT!
Two-handed swing! A two-handed almost blitzes through my throat, the sheer force of the blow practically slapping me in the face with the power to level an entire bloody building. That was the strike that sent Jaune careening into a wall, that split his head clean open, that put him in the hospital for over a week.
I'm off-kilter, rolling away from Cardin as far as I can. My fingers instinctively twist the dial to shotgun, my hands fraying in my ammo-bag trying to grab the correct magazine – rifle, rifle, fire Dust, wrong!
A foot slams down on mine, holding me in place.
Cardin snarls, both hands still on the onyx mace, rearing up for the match-ending shot he's been craving.
I can't run. I can't dodge. The only I can do is to stand my ground.
Desperation gripping me, I grab the shotgun magazine from my bag and slam it into the loading port, practically forcing the shell into the chamber. I take aim at Cardin's chest and I fire.
The shell chunks into its target but Cardin's body doesn't reel. I can hear his teeth screeching against each other, but he's not been thrown back.
Oh no.
Press trigger. Another blast into his chest. More harsh breaths and inaudible cursing but he's still coming.
Come on, please.
'Most importantly.'
Fire another shell. Two more. Three more. Four more! Five more! He won't move! Get away!
'No matter what happens.'
Away! Away! Away! Away! Away! Awa-
Click. Click.
'Always stay calm.'
Everything stops. My stomach hollows.
A large chunk of metal stabs me in the chest and my senses begin to bleed. I can't breathe, like I'm having a heart attack, but I know that's it's something far worse than that.
He got me.
Cardin Winchester finally landed his blow, two-hands. A strangling weight pushes harder against my ribcage, the world around me beginning to numb and darken.
The weight presses off me and I'm flying. Flying. Flying.
And then, falling.
Falling.
Falling…
Fall… ing…
…
..
.
A/N: Hey guys! After nearly two years of painful waiting, I bring to you what everybody wanted to see since the very beginning of the arc.
A cliffhanger!
Wait, where is everybody going? Guys, no. It's just a writing technique. Please. All the cool writers use them. Come back. Come back! I NEED OTHER PEOPLE TO VALIDATE ME NOOO-
Ahem. Anyway, for those of you who didn't get to read the update; the reason this was late was because I got a job, I'm still working on Calamity Factor, and the arc finale is being split up into two parts due to how big the original chapter was getting. The second part of this is going to be even chunkier than this one and, thanks to this being the oh so lovely time of Spring where work likes to pile all of the things on top of me, the second part will take a while and I can't say when it'll be done.
As always, thank you all very much for reading and an special thank you to everybody who stuck with the story during its long hiatus. Have anything to say about the story so far? Want to rip me a new one for putting in a goddamn cliffhanger? Be sure to let me know in the reviews and here's hoping the next part won't take nearly as long to release. Maybe. Hopefully.