Chapter 57: Oversight I
Snowy fragments hovered in the stagnant air as Hit blitzed into a dimly lit corridor. Rectangular blocks twinkled on either side of him, arranged in a herringbone pattern on the hallway's walls. The ceiling above was rounded, emitting light from ovular filaments fitted within every tenth metallic brick, casting a bluish glow onto the onyx-black flooring below. Ahead, an unnamed man stood mid-step, arm raised to wipe at their perspiring brow. The tall figure cast a wide shadow behind them, flooding the inner reaches of the corridor into a sea of darkness.
This inky sea became home to a wraith-like serpent as Hit quickly darted to the side and crouched into the leftmost corner of the corridor. Once Hit exited the Tides of Time, he remained frozen in place, matching the Gargoyle doorkeepers that welcomed him to this plane. 'Yet again, I had to cut into my energy reserves…' Despite his success, a sense of frustration lingered in Hit's psyche, one that his logical persona found quite unnecessary, as he had already resolved himself to use stored latent time energy when necessary. Hit knew that he would have to resort to using the Tides of Time to cover the immense obstacle that was this pit's courtyard, but he still found it quite irksome. Of course, he could have instead leapt right off the outcrop and settled onto the ground at a far closer distance to the gate, making only Time Skip necessary. However, the detective would not dare risk being heard by his newest target, or anyone within this unknown region, lest this entire operation be compromised. Additionally, had Hit trespassed into the infernal pit prematurely, there may have been nowhere for him to hide, leaving the relatively fragile warrior vulnerable to attack. He needed to wait until the enemy entered far enough inside their territory, for there to be enough space to lay in wait behind them.
Hit took a moment to glance around his newest environment and marvelled at its advanced construction. 'These blocks are of a material completely alien to me. However, their close-packed crystalline substructure shares an uncanny resemblance to Katchin. To have carved hundreds of these equally sized 'bricks' and organised them at perfect 90-degree angles must have been quite the undertaking…'
Ahead, the other occupant of the corridor held no such deep introspective thoughts and let out a sigh of longsuffering, dripping the metal floor below in sweat droplets as he shook a damp hand back and forth. "Phew… God damn was that wait a pain in the ass. What the hell're all those Ganesha bastards doing out there!? And how did they find out about Daedalus' Hope!?" He rubbed a calloused hand against his bald head and ground his teeth in annoyance. "Was there a rat? It was a huge risk taking in all those newcomers, after all… Or was it the Stalker?" The brutish fiend spat onto the ground, as if the mere mention of Daedalus' largest nuisance left a revolting aftertaste in his mouth. "Either way, the boss ain't gonna be happy about this, that's for sure…"
Another faint tremor reverberated from behind, emanating from the cliff face outside. Hit tensed himself and waited for the man ahead to turn around in shock, yet the act never came to pass.
Clunks rang out as the indifferent fellow trudged along without a care, wiping his nose as he went. "Huff… Good thing this place hides itself, or the cat'd be outta the bag long ago…"
Hit glanced back as he continued to lay low, sensing the unmistakable tumble of rocky debris behind him. '…Hides itself? Hm… The system likely resets after a predetermined length of time and buries the doorway in a layer of enchanted earth. Just what being could have developed such an intricate barrier? They must either be a deity with a unique power or a genius matching Andromeda's intellect.'
Seeingthat his prey was on the move, Hit skipped a short distance ahead, enrobed in layers of shadows. Like a baleful doppelganger, the stalker continued to blur to staggered shaded positions as his guide advanced along the hall, coming to a stop at yet another orichalcum gate. This obstruction possessed an identical design to the previous one and was beset by the same horrific decorations. Now that it was obvious that the region was man-made, the petrified monsters appeared far less imposing. Rather than ravenous guards, they now seemed to be perpetual prisoners, forced to submit themselves to the will of humanity.
As the gate's spherical key was pressed against its gem once more, the barrier parted, demonstrating that it possessed the same exact mechanism. Finally, as the unnamed keyholder marched into the next room, Hit was able to glimpse upon the interior of an underground dungeon of obvious human design and function.
The difference in design was stark. Immense walls lined a square hall, the height of which towered above the previous hallway manifold. In addition to simple charcoal-black blocks, the outer edges were shielded in detailed sea-green Orichalcum fascia, along with an unknown gleaming white material and rounded obsidian spheres. These novel minerals shone brilliantly in the bright light that blazed from hanging magic stones, which radiated an unnatural pure white hue, devoid of the softness of sunlight.
To Hit's delight, the immense hall's outer edges were speckled in large wooden crates and supplies supported on pallets, shrouding the outskirts in murky spots ripe for exploitation. He quickly tensed himself and skipped time, before darting around the lefthand corner of the gateway and bounding towards a tower of crates and canvas sacks. Hit's crimson eyes were an endlessly dancing pair of binary suns as they scoured their surroundings for enemy forces and entry points beyond the shimmery higher dimension, settling on a series of doorways and a solitary faraway guard.
Thankfully, no such forces blockaded his immediate path, so Hit chose to power on. Settling into position behind a particularly large crate of wheat grains, Hit deactivated the technique and continued to evaluate his surroundings. 'Four entry points: the one I used to invade; two opposite doorways at the hall's midpoint; and a final door at the antipodal end. All are identical in appearance, suggesting that a key is needed to progress through all portions of this fortification. Although, I cannot be sure whether that individual orb is programmed to unlock all doorways here… Only two enemy forces: incredibly meagre defences in terms of numbers… However…' Hit reflected on the newest individual that graced his vision: another human male, one that was no ordinary human. A growing sense of nausea slunk its way into the pit of Hit's stomach, along with the sudden realisation that he was now trapped in a virtually inescapable dungeon with these unknown beings. 'That one's trouble… I'd estimate him to be around Ryuu's… no, Tiona's level, at least prior to her awakening. I need to tread lightly.'
At first glance, the man was not too intimidating. He stood at an average height of 5 foot 11 inches and his body matched the usual outward appearance of most adventurers in Orario. That is to say, he was incredibly lean and lacked an overly muscular body, at least when stacking up to Hit's high standards. The solitary guard wore faded blue jeans and a grey shirt, which was constricted by an unbuttoned leather jacket with an incredibly tall white collar. The middle-aged man's expression was not blatantly obvious due to the misty aviator goggles that covered his eyes and wrapped around his slicked back black hair. Oddly, the translucent smoky quartz spectacles seemed to be shrouded in an unusual reddish hue... A trusty brass-coloured dagger was strapped against his right thigh; however, Hit's eyes had been glued to what lay in the man's right hand: an instrument that sent a sense of foreboding up Hit's spine.
Cruel black gloves creased as they gripped an immense jet-black spear. The weapon's shaft consisted solely of polished black metal; however, this pristine material was finalised by a heinously serrated blood-red blade. Branches of twisted metal parted from the centre of the weapon, each indented with numerous backward facing barbs, which would viciously resist any escape once plunged into living tissue. Disturbingly, longitudinal grooves undercut each tormented 'branch', signifying the use of poison.
Hit narrowed his eyes on the final detail of his scrutiny. 'I saw no visible liquid coating to the conduits; however, there may be a release mechanism. Even if my body is resistant to most poisons in this world, it would be wise to avoid that weapon's ire. Strange… a dark aura seemed to cloud it... Perhaps the spear possesses a magical property, or the grooves may channel magical energy as was the case with Asfi's Hade's Head.'
Behind Hit's hiding spot, a repetitive clacking sound echoed across the hall, likely emanating from the leather boots that the unsettling guard wore. Once the lithe individual saw his supposed burly companion, he spoke in a harsh, commanding tone. "There you are, Gran! What the hell took you so long? I was beginning to think that I'd need to go fetch your sorry carcass…"
The muscular 'Gran' became quite timid and stepped forth to receive the scathing critique, with his occasional interlocking and fidgeting of stocky fingers betraying the man's nervousness. His voice was between a whine and a mumble as he stared at anything but the vicious leader's eyes. "S-Sorry, Dix. What with all the Ganesha higher ups running around, there's no way I was gonna risk getting caught. 'Specially not with this…"
Gran extended a shaky, enclosed fist, turning it around to reveal the unusual white key he used to unlock the two barriers blocking this particular room.
Dix quickly snatched the orb away with a grunt, stuffing it in his pocket, and paused as he looked around the room briefly. "…And based on your lack of merchandise, I'm guessing you failed at your main task."
"I-I'm real sorry, boss." Gran gulped and spoke in a breathless, remorseful tone. "The monsters were locked in Daedalus' Hope for collection, but that's impossible now. I'm sure our intel network has already filled you in on that disaster…"
"OH, YOU BET YOUR FUCKING ASS THEY HAVE!" Dix's previously irritated tone exploded into wrathful fury as he battered his spear against a nearby crate, sending the silken sheets within careening through the air like multicoloured ribbons. "It's unbelievable that we could be humiliated like this!"
Dix was normally a self-assured and collected man who was certain of his own strength in both combat and planning. Regardless of who he trifled with, a hasty application of trickery and treachery would always allow the serpent to slither under his enemy's skin and disrupt their rhythm. He was a cruel and sadistic individual, who revelled in forcing their organisation's pawns and opponents to dance in the palm of his sullied hands. Now, Dix was the one on the receiving end of the tactic and was not enjoying the mental toll it bestowed.
He paced back and forth, clawing at his face with a gloved hand. "And that blasted, flaming Stalker is the cause of it all; I just know it! There isn't a chance in hell that Ganesha suddenly decided to get his thumb out of his ass…" The gloved hand inched its way up the man's face and pulled at the frayed locks that framed it. "How does that guy keep getting away with this… We've been ignoring that pest for a while now, since he's just been messing with the common rabble, but this is the final stinking straw. That filth's interfering with forces that're far beyond his comprehension, and he's gonna get burned real bad when I get my hands on him. I'll admit that the fault lies with me for not taking him seriously before, but that changes today."
Gran scratched at his head in curiosity. "You sure it's just one guy, boss? Even we'd have trouble rattling the Ganesha Familia like that…"
"Obviously, Gran. Well… at least the maiming stage. I've read the reports, and even seen some of the bodies that were dumped on Ganesha's doorstep. Their wounds are all too perfect; too identical. An artist like me can easily tell the difference between one man's handywork and another's. These attacks could only be inflicted by a single person. I have no idea how the prick can outmanoeuvre the entire Ganesha pantheon, but the snatching's done by a single culprit. That bastard isn't doing this for fun, but he is enjoying the beatings…" Dix's eyelids drooped as he stared at his underling, who scrunched his face up in confusion at the conflicting statement. "Huff… You never were a smart one…" The commander leaned on his spear and huffed in irritation at having to explain such a simple concept, at least one for a serial killer to comprehend. "Alright, allow me to explain. The bodies' bruises were all identical in colour and size. That could only be caused by inflicting the trauma practically simultaneously, which means that he wasn't wasting any time. But…" Dix's eyes gleamed as a slight hungry smirk sprouted onto his face. "… the indentations were mostly at the perfect positions for torture. Only someone experienced with the craft would know to direct their strikes to those specific regions! In fact, some of his ravages fill even someone like me with inspiration… I'll have to try a few out tonight…"
Dix stood straight and snatched his spear back into a lackadaisical grip, sighing in slight fatigue. "Huff. Either that or it's some new brainwashing cult, one that coordinates their pawns' actions... I honestly don't know." He tutted and veered around, beginning to march towards the opposite doorway of the entry hall. "Anyway, I've done enough damage control for today, so I'll be retiring to my quarters. Oh, and Gran, bring me one with feathers tonight. I'm in the mood to do some plucking." The composed man suddenly stopped and spoke to his underling in a cold, deliberate tone devoid of any warmth. "You know how I get when I can't enjoy my hobby…" Smoky aviator goggles glowed a rusty carmine colour as Dix turned his head around in jerky movements, appearing possessed. A disheartened frown was now a cruel sneer as the commander glared at his subordinate and hissed between clenched teeth. "…Don't you!?
Gran shivered and nodded his head frantically, already twitching his body towards the right-hand side of the room. "Y-Yes Sir! I-I'll go the holding cells right now!"
"Good." The crazed aura quickly left Dix as he went back to his marching…
"…"
However, he immediately stopped dead in his tracks due to an unknown cause, as if jolted by an electric current. Following a few long seconds of standing in place with a wide-eyed expression, Dix licked his lips and spoke to seemingly no one, pressing two fingers against his ear. "…Is that so…" Another pause punctuated the awkward atmosphere as a well-hidden Hit contemplated what the peculiar man was doing. Finally, Dix spoke in an eager tone, albeit heavily supressed. "Send the lot."
Following this ominous order, Dix's body relaxed, and he spun on his heels with a contemplative look. The man was a ted tense as he held a casual hand to his chin and hummed a long-forgotten tune, waltzing along with great premeditation.
Quartz goggles fogged slightly as they were cast at the cold ground below, flickering as Dix spun a corrupted spear in his slender hands. "Hm… Scratch that, Gran. Maybe one with leathery wings would be more enjoyable. If I recall, our dear Night Stalker is described as a ghost, so that should be a closer match. Still, I'd prefer to rip apart the real deal. Why, if that guy was in this room with us right now, well…"
Dix's eyes bulged and he lunged to the side with a sickly grin. Spittle flew as the frenzied man screamed in glee and drew his spear into the air. "I'D CUT HIS FILTHY HEAD CLEAN OFF!"
*BOOM*
*CRASH*
Rubble and wooden splinters erupted across the grand hall as Dix plunged his spear through the very pile of crates that Hit was hiding behind! Grains of precious wheat and rice spiralled in an ephemeral whirlwind as the displaced air rocketed upwards, glittering in the clinical light from above. A cloud of dust clung in the epicentre for a few moments, depriving an incredibly excited Dix from savouring the damage he inflicted.
Once the particles settled, the ravenous man was rewarded with a view of a robed figure: a spectre shielded in dishevelled cloths. They crouched in a shaky martial art pose, arms held loosely at their sides, as if uncertain of how to proceed. Reddish pinpricks blinked in and out of existence on the figure's face, which was now locked onto Dix's delighted snarl. "Well, looky what we have here! A dirty rat caught in a trap! The fact that you're still alive is evidence enough of why those Ganesha dunces couldn't catch you! I could'a sworn I lopped your head right off…"
Off to the side, a mortified Gran paled as he watched the destruction take place. The underling shook with an agape expression as he stared at an unknown caped intruder, who had somehow been skulking only a few paces away. A sizeable gulp ran down Gran's throat as he realised that it was likely his fault that their base was now compromised.
Crouching in the centre of the strewn hall, an incredibly flummoxed Hit breathed out with a heavy sigh as he regained his bearings, sending a silent prayer to the seed grains that saved his life. 'Phew… It was the right choice to lay behind those containers... If I had chosen to hide in plain sight, that blade would have undoubtedly decapitated me.'
The moment Hit's astute ears detected the slashing of rope and splintering of wood, he skipped time and rocketed a few metres ahead as if his life depended on it. Dix's peculiar one-sided conversation also helped to pique Hit's suspicions, making the evasion near-instantaneous. Hit was quickly made aware that this was the correct move, as the prior hiding place was utterly obliterated only a few milliseconds later. The assassin now blinked up at Dix with a frown, deliberating over which course to take now that he had been rudely uncovered. 'How in the world did this man notice my presence? Is it a skill? A magic? The difference in level? … I must coax some information out of him if I'm to analyse this new threat.'
Hit drew himself together and stood tall, gazing at Dix with an unfaltering aura of assuredness. Gloved hands slinked into silky pockets and crimson eyes flared. "You're a perceptive one… It takes skill to detect my presence."
Dix's grin widened as he took in the intruder's calm drawl and confident persona. He couldn't wait to hear it shatter into screams and pleadings for mercy. "Heh… Nah, the credit goes to my buddy downstairs. You should've done your homework moron, because we've got the whole place bugged!"
Unexpectedly, the statuesque Hit reeled back as if stung, jaw falling slack at the declaration. 'Bugged!? Is he suggesting that this pit is lined with video and audio surveillance!? That should be impossible in this world...' The floor cascaded around Hit as he realised the gravity of his mistake. He was a single point in an endless sea of pitch-black shame, drowning in his sense of humiliation. 'No… I should know by now to not underestimate the denizens of this planet. How could I have allowed myself to not take such an obvious possibility into account? I just learned that advanced devices are well within a blessed mortal's power… How could only the risk of unknown skills and magics come to my mind… Idiotic. How can I call myself a millennium assassin when I fall prey to such rookie mistakes. I should have known that this region would possess a far superior technological level based on the intricate entryway...'
"GAHAHAHA! Look at you!" Maniacal laughter exploded from Dix as he held his stomach in glee, leering as his composed opponent fell apart. "You've got no idea what I'm talking about, do you!?" As the fit of giggles simmered away, Dix coughed into a palm and struck his spear's blunt end onto the ground with a dull thump. "First things first, I think some introductions are in order!" In a display of over-exaggerated acting, he twirled around and dashed a gloved palm to his side, directly at Gran. "The doddering fool who let you scuttle in here is called Gran! I hope that his bumbling carelessness was a warm welcome for you!" He then turned to face Hit head-on whilst pointing a prideful thumb at his cat-like grin. "My name's Dix. Dix Perdix: Captain of the Ikelos Familia!" Finally, the performance was completed as Dix extended a partially enclosed palm at Hit's hovering fiery eyes, as if willing the victim to draw closer to his dreadful clutch. "And you'd be, Mr Night Stalker, correct?You're him, ain't ya? Who else could skulk around here, right under our noses?"
A brief paused ticked by as Hit processed the unfamiliar names and Familia, disappointment obvious based on his slight hunch. 'I have absolutely no knowledge of either of their identities, nor of this Ikelos deity. My brief skim of that 'Familias of Orario' tome should have revealed some sort of information, but I suppose not… Tsk. This also means that I have no leverage to use, nor an easy path to worm information out of them. The best course of action is to keep my cards close to my chest, and to probe these two with vague statements.' Hit crossed his arms and cast his opponents a slightly uninterested gaze, glancing at the plaza in an aloof fashion. "I go by many names… Yours, however, are unknown to me…"
Dix snorted in distaste, narrowing his eyes at the furled bundle of sheets. "Hmph. You're a cryptic motherfucker, aren't you…" Abruptly, the man rose his hands into the air and cheered, finishing the act with several loud claps. "Come on, liven up a little! You're on the big screen for crying out loud!"
It was now Hit's turn to narrow his gaze as he processed a vital piece of information. 'Big screen? That confirms that there is at least video surveillance of this space, which is then relayed to an individual further underground. Could those black spheres be magic cameras, or at least light-absorbing elements? That would also explain the curious one-sided conversation from before… They are collaborating to track my presence.'
Once Dix noticed that the intruder was seemingly vexed by his jubilation, he smirked once more and drew two palms into a final round of applause. "Anyway… Who we are doesn't matter! All you need to know, is that we're the guy's who're going to be tearing you limb from limb, on an autopsy bench, in approximately five minutes. Unfortunately for you, Mr Stalker, you're going to be quite lucid during the process." Slowly, the grin extended into a sneer and was pulled upwards as a macabre simper. Sharp teeth glistened in the magic-stone light as droplets of saliva dripped from bloodthirsty canines. "So… I think we outta get this massacre started! You better make this entertaining for me after all the trouble you've caused!"
*BOOM*
The square plaza trembled as Dix kicked himself into a sprint, twirling his spear into a state of readiness; the instrument of torture was held above the man's head, ready to plunge into its prey like a viper's head. Leather boots were forced down noisily as Dix raced on, obviously making no attempt to conceal his presence, nor the fact that their sacred base was now a battleground.
*ZIP*
The distance between Dix and his opponent narrowed to a few inches in only a couple heartbeats. Strangely, the robed intruder remained fixed in place, as if they were unable to react to the speeds of a powerful level five adventurer. Dix savoured the moment prior to sinking his spear into the phantom's right arm, eagerly awaiting the fountain of ichor that would take place thereafter. "Got you!"
*C-CLUNK*
Wha… huh?" Dix frowned and furrowed his brows. The man's eager expression instantly fell into one of confusion as his spear became embedded in the orichalcum floor below, carving a shallow trench into the greenish metal. Rather than a bloodied extremity, his spear blade cleaved through nothing but thin whisps of dust, whilst its prey vanished into thin air.
*BAM*
This momentary lapse in concentration was quickly rewarded with a disembodied punch to the spine, which reverberated against Dix in a pulsing fashion. Dix blinked as the unknown piercing force rocketed into him but was not visibly disturbed. He rose back up and turned around, facing his opponent with a look of disdain. "Nice shot, but…Was that supposed to hurt? You'd better get a shift on, mate, if you want to live much longer!" The frenzied man leapt at his enemy with a hungry glare and plunged the blood-red spear forwards in a vicious assault. Flashes and glints of light reflected from the ruby blade as it went snicker-snack in a hurricane of psychedelic slashes.
The robed spectre veered and contorted between the incoming cuts, disappearing and reappearing in a deadly dance that was becoming increasingly life-threatening.
Hit grinded his teeth as a previously horizontal slash was kicked by Dix's boot in an unorthodox manner, rocketing the slash upwards. This unpredictability was highly effective.
*RIP*
Tatters of black fabric littered the floor as Hit barely managed to extend his Time Skip into the Tides of Time. He reappeared a few paces to the left, saving his body at the expense of its disguise. 'Shit. These attacks are far more vicious and unpredictable than Tiona's, and, unlike her, this guy's not holding back. I only earned the first strike since he wasn't aware of my abilities, but… Now that his fighting style is adapting to my moves and Time Skip distance, my chances of survival are in freefall. If he catches me post-skip, I'm done for.'
Dix tutted at Hit and taunted the partially disrobed intruder by waving a few pieces of cloth that clung to his spear. The shadowy webbing shuddered atop the infernal blade, appearing as if Amaterasu herself had hexed the weapon. "That was a close one, eh buddy! You can run, but you can't hide! Let's see who's under that damned cloth…" Each syllable was savoured as it was flung past Dix's lips, accentuating the strong desire that festered in the man's vile chest cavity. "I can't wait to find out which Familia you're working under! Those guys're as good as dead when I'm done with you!" Dix swung the spear in an arc and flung it forwards, using the heavy pole's momentum to propel himself into an even speedier sprint. Dishevelled black hair swept back into a single spike as Dix propelled himself towards Hit, now using the full might that level five agility afforded.
As soon as Hit saw this human missile approaching him, he switched strategies, placing his hands out of view and glaring at Dix with wide, critical eyes. 'Time Skip is now obsolete when the scales are so dramatically weighed against me. Dammit. This is going to cost me…'
Hit's window of survival was growing narrower and narrower as the battle raged on. Due to Dix's rapid adaptation and over two-fold greater level, he was able to analyse the entirety of Hit's movements and 'teleportation' positions relatively easily. These positions were individual pieces that would soon form an overall puzzle and unveil where Hit would skip to next. It was as if the two opponents were on an immense chess board, where it was an inevitability that Dix would identify a rhythm to Hit's moves. The use of Time Skip, against such a formidable foe, was therefore now a hindrance, only serving to inform Dix of Hit's battle tendencies and probability of action. Hit's relatively narrow range of movement also exacerbated matters: he could not skip time too severely, as the brief delay between activations would leave him vulnerable to the powerful level five foe. Unfortunately, this also meant that Hit would constantly remain within Dix's line of sight, facilitating the madman's combat analysis. In short, it would soon be checkmate for Hit.
Ordinarily, Hit would attempt to adapt to troublesome opponents, as with Dyspo, but the current imbalance in power would make such a tactic nigh impossible. Hit was a genius at evolving mid-battle, but he was currently up against a rabid beast many times stronger than him. 'Curse this slow vessel. Even against Jiren, I could at least begin to evolve. It is now obvious that if I attempted to use time skip against a drastically superior enemy, they would eventually pick it apart until it became a drawback. I need to withdraw and perform my first ever mission re-evaluation.' Hit tensed himself and entered the Tides of Time. Crackles of white stardust shot out from his core and rippled outwardly until they enshrouded even his peripheral vision in another world's embrace. He immediately swivelled to Dix's side and rose an open palm into the celestial sky.
The palm tensed into a dagger-like form and Hit sent the streaking comet plummeting down, directly towards Dix's right hip. The moment the hand was a whisker away from collision, Hit deactivated the Tides of Time and returned to the real world.
*KSH-RIP*
"What the!?" Dix bellowed in confusion as the speedy spectre somehow materialised at his right-hand side, in an impossible act of death-defiance. It may have been an illusion, but Dix could have sworn that his spear penetrated directly into the troublesome foe's abdomen.
Casting level five senses into overdrive, Dix gritted his teeth and flung himself into discerning what new ability he was dealing with, directing a cursory glance down at the slice carved in his upper thigh. Bloodshot eyes settled on a twinkling orb, which was currently falling from his torn trouser pocket amongst a splatter of blood. The sphere was around ten centimetres in diameter and radiated twinkles of prismatic light, which emanated from an unusual centre. Buried amongst branching golden veins, concentric bands of colour stared upwards at Dix's similar distinctive orbs. A sea of white surrounded a vermillion disc, which appeared to be an iris due to the pinprick of black at its core. Finally, a serrated letter D blazed from the orb's outer layer, pulsing briefly as it came into eyesight with its kin.
Dix snarled and flung his body into an angled front flip, using energy expended during his failed spear thrust to propel himself. The cursed weapon sang as Dix raked it across the ground during the manoeuvre, swinging it in a screeching arc. Sparks flew as the legendary metals sang in unison, before parting ways as Dix thrust his mangled spear edge at the daring intruder behind him.
*HISS*
Twinkling motes of light exploded upwards and warded the spectre away as if by divine providence, allowing Dix to snatch his prize into a firm grip. The victorious man stared at his enemy with a slightly impressed grin. "Ah, Ah, Ah. You're not getting your dirty mitts on this baby, Mr Stalker." He threw the orb up and down, allowing the key to gaze ahead intermittently. "This here is strictly Evilus property. No ghosts allowed."
A few metres away, Hit gripped his fists shut, causing the dark gloves to squeal in dismay. A solitary red eye glared at Dix through a puncture in its cloth disguise, liberated from the confines of its prison by an unexpected spin attack. 'Tsk. This fight's full of surprises… I would be enjoying myself, if a loss didn't mean a free vivisection. Hm… That confirms their allegiance. The Ikelos Familia must be a subbranch of Evilus' current forces, which use this man-made pit to carry out their illicit dealings. Based on Naga's other means of entry, there is another hidden door on floor 18, allowing Evilus to bypass the Guild and guards completely. Perhaps Ikelos isn't even officially recognised by the Guild, allowing him to act as he pleases. Such a possibility would explain why the organisation was not officially listed… That God could bestow power unto countless mortals without raising a single alarm… This is more troublesome than I ever imagined.'
Dix giggled at his first glimpse of the Night Stalker's true appearance, yearning to peel away at its outer layer. His corrupted heart hammered at being granted the sole privilege of unmasking such a notorious anomaly. "Oh, how I love this game! Slowly tearing away at my victim's clothes… their skin… their purity… their minds… I just can't get enough!" The blunted spear sang once more as Dix battered it against the ground, this time using the hunk of metal to propel himself into an immediate full-speed stride, directly at the meddlesome intruder.
*WOOSH*
*CRRRR*
*SCHWING*
Innumerable slashes and slices were sunk into his opponent's body, yet none had any form of effect. It was as if the enemy could now become ethereal at will, preventing any damage from reaching them. A purplish glow surrounded the Night Stalker, who would purposefully remain in place whenever a strike was directed at them, before their body 'teleported' to a nearby location. Dix's delight quickly soured into chagrin as his spear blade sliced through an illusionary projection, countless times, depriving him of enjoying the spillage of innards. "Well, that's an annoying skill… How am I supposed to hack you to pieces if you keep hiding!? Hm… I'll just have to make you go mind down first, then tie you up for some 'fun' in the barracks!" Dix switched tactics, now moving in a completely unpredictable manner. He swung his spear in all directions in a demonic dance and employed the use of feints: any dirty trick to hopefully manipulate his opponent into making a mistake during their concealment technique.
Hit continued to shield himself within the Tides of Time, allowing the numerous deadly slices to carve through the illusionary clone left behind in the surface layer of reality. This aspect of Tides of Time was both a limitation and a boon: despite being unable to hide his presence from the lower world in its entirety, Hit had adapted to the disadvantage, using the intangible figures to draw opponents into overextending their attacks. Now, this inefficiency was simply a means of distracting Dix for a few brief moments, and a cruel reminder to Hit that the maniac's attacks were more than enough to slice him to ribbons.
Once each of Dix's attack followed its course, Hit then hastened exit the Tides of Time and skipped to a short distance away. In this fashion, the tactical genius preserved as much latent time energy as possible, as staying still for too long would only provide a constant target for attack. Employing Time Skip thereafter would thereby regain a small quantity of energy during the breakneck escape.
Hit's eyes swayed to the precious item held in Dix's left hand. 'I need to steal that key; my survival depends on it. Time to use their teamwork against them.' Hit scowled as another spear slice bisected his glowing eyeline, and leapt over a tall tower of metal-lined crates. He drew himself into a ball and remained as quiet as possible, mimicking the position utilised when camouflaging himself.
Dix waited for a few moments, flittering his gaze across the cratered battlefield that was now devoid of any cloaked figures. A pregnant pause punctuated the air as rubble skittered across the scarred ground, before all sounds of activity ceased. Dix grunted and crossed his arms, cocking a curious head to one side. His ears twitched slightly as they sensed their surroundings, but no detectable scratchings or ruffles betrayed the location of a heavily garbed enemy. "Hmph… It's no use. You really are a sneaky bastard. However, you sure are lacking in brains. Haven't you learned anything, moron!?"
With a snap, Dix struck two fingers against an ear and smiled serenely, humming an unduly happy tune. After a few seconds of deliberation, he nodded with a knowing grin and bellowed triumphantly. "WE SEE ALL!" The predator sidestepped towards a particularly large tower of vegetables and rose his spear as high as it would go. The mangled razor sparkled gloriously as it sailed to its apex, preparing to sing its victim's final requiem following a screeching descent.
*BAM*
However, this deadly melody was lost for all time.
"Ghk!? Kh…" *Cough* *Cough*
Dix stuttered and wheezed as a pillar of force barrelled into his chest. He stumbled back in jerky steps, allowing his spear arm to fall slack beside him. Looking down, frosted quartz goggles glowed as Dix analysed his disconcerted body for wounds. His entire being shook and the world swam. Overhanging lights twinkled in and out of existence and a sharp ringing sound bounced within his cranium. After a few tentative pats of a slightly bruised front, Dix simpered sardonically. He rose a frenzied head into the air and guffawed in sadistic pleasure. "KAHAHAHA! Not bad ghosty! You got me with that one! That attack was excruciating, but you didn't do any real damage! Good job on aiming for my heart, but it was pointless in the end!"
Muscles shrilled as Dix instantly drew the spear back into position and flung it down, obliterating the neatly organised pile of crates. Sliced carrots and cauliflowers stalks whizzed into the air as the still atmosphere was disrupted once more.
Dix stood motionless above the impact zone for some time, closely scrutinising the rubble for any flickers of activity. The final scene was a display that pleased Dix greatly. There, at the end of his spear, lay the Night Stalker.
The robed man rested in a prone position, chest pressed against the ground. Ruffled arms were held limp at his sides, and his head was positioned to face Dix directly. This time, the shadowy mien was vacant of any glowing globes.
Strangely, the Stalker's robed body was still wreathed in a peculiar thin layer of purplish light…
*BAM*
*BAM*
*BAM*
*BAM*
*BAM*
*BAM*
Dix's eyes bulged as a barrage of reverberating blows slammed into his body at point-blank range. His leather coat billowed as the body within trembled back and forth, somehow experiencing a delayed reaction to the injurious agents.
These instantaneous attacks were unlike any blight that the nefarious captain had ever felt. Unlike traditional punches and kicks, the peculiar strikes that rained onto him now were all near-identical in force distribution. Heart; liver; kidneys; lungs: every vital point became the target site for a dozen perfectly aligned blows that sent shivers running up Dix's spine at their deadly potential. The pain crescendoed in mere moments, until an excruciating final haymaker hammered into Dix's spine, likely intent on paralysing him permanently. The eerily delayed, yet also instantaneous attacks were an impossible paradox. Time seemed to mangle and twist into a new state of being as the pummels cascaded down, in a detectably successive manner, whilst the world around Dix remained fixed in place during their unusual advent. Dix would be lying if he said that the existentially challenging 'bombardment' didn't scare him a little… However, as the pain ebbed and flowed from his body, the increasingly infuriated man realised that this opponent was no danger to him whatsoever.
Off to the side, the previously prone Hit was currently analysing the enemy's condition, along with his own failed attack, with a downhearted scowl. 'Still nothing...'
Hit's strategy had been flawless, yet the receiver was simply toopowerful for him at this moment in time. After successfully predicting that Dix would contact his subordinate downstairs for their enemy's hidden location, Hit had swiftly entered the Tides of Time and sent an incredibly dense collection of latent time energy careening through the dimension, in an invisible Time Release. As Dix prepared to deliver the finishing blow, Hit disengaged from the Tides of Time and allowed the force to pass through the metal crates and collide into the eager man's chest, to no avail. Dix's obvious next act would be to follow through with his attack, which Hit capitalised on by 'playing dead' as a clone. The subsequent Time Skip and flash fist crush barrage was perhaps Hit's most beautiful attack yet. No emotion graced the alien's mien as he thundered twin fists to and fro, his onyx robes sparkling in the aquamarine and emerald stardust. Phoenix eye fists twinkled like vaporising bolides as they impacted upon the enemy's motionless body, each focalised to impart the most pain possible. This torturous tactic had evolved from Hit's battle against the stolid Black Goliath, adding the modifier technique known as Dolor Drive to his repertoire.
Now, Hit rose two fists into a classic boxer's pose: his preferred fighting style utilised during the vast majority of his long life. 'Nevertheless, I will keep trying until the bitter end. As for what may transpire after… Hm.' Images of meat hooks and screaming, fleshless bodies flashed through Hit's mind. 'Hmph. Try as they might, I will not grant these snakes the luxury of hearing my agony. There is no force that can overcome my mental might.'
Despite Hit's ardent faith in himself, the assassin was now officially out of options. Even a full-power array of crushes left this likely level five foe with nothing more than a disappearing bruise and ringing head. Hit's only hope now was to fling himself into battle and force this brittle body to hopefully evolve somehow.
Ahead, Dix's stance was ramrod stiff. His ever-present grin was now a stern scowl, and only a lightly pained expression superimposed his aura of disappointment. He spoke in a downhearted tone, lacking any form of vitality. "…Really? …That's it? I thought you were getting warmed up before, but this is all you've got? …And there I was thinking that you were a threat… You… You're the bastard who caused all this?" Dix cast his arms wide, accentuating the ramifications of this pathetic opponent's meddling. "The Night Stalker… The Spectral Huntsman… Vengeance… All those lofty titles for the man behind the mask to be… a useless gnat." The severely disappointed commander slunk a shaky hand to his chin, which wriggled up his cheek until it alighted onto the quartz goggles that shielded most of the man's contorted face. The appendages shook and twitched madly for a few brief moments, toying with the rim of the vast glasses, before suddenly standing still. With slow deliberation, Dix rose his goggles upwards and seated them above his forehead, giving Hit a clear view of the ashen face within.
Rotten. Rotten was the first word that sprung into Hit's mind as he took in the middle-aged man's stony expression. The gaze lacked even a twinge of humanity: it was as if a monster was glaring at a festering pile of viscera. Deep scars and punctures marred the underside of Dix's left cheek, casting sliced shadows down its surface. These imperfections twisted and converged upwards until they married with V-shaped wrinkles at the man's brow, scaling his forehead until they disappeared amidst an oily mane. Dix's skin was not tanned, nor was it pale. It was as if a corpse was amid rigor-mortis and stilled between the initial stages of pallor and algor. Bushy eyebrows bristled upon this corpse-like face, which, combined with the layered eyebags that slunk underneath its eye sockets, accentuated Dix's otherworldly leer. His eyes were transfixing in their malevolence, glowing in a vermillion hue that surpassed the ire of a single entity. As a rasped sigh echoed past Dix's throat, his bloodied irises became superimposed by a jagged letter 'D': a symbol that was a perfect match for his emblematic key. Here, instead of golden veins, thin capillaries bulged at the spheres' periphery. Dix continued to stare at the let-down that was the 'Night Stalker' without blinking even once. "Do you have any idea how gruelling this is going to be for us? Reorganising and redistributing our entire merchandising network and reaffirming trust with our clients… You have cost us years of work, worm, and I don't even get to enjoy a climactic battle."
Dix's body shook as a paroxysm of rage burned within it. He groaned and clenched pointed teeth until the gums bled. Carmine eyes shrunk into fine dots, and a raspy voice exploded from his cracked lips. "ENOUGH OF THIS FARCE! I can't believe that Daedalus' underbelly was practically obliterated by some snot nosed level 3… Maybe even a chickenshit level 4, at a push. You're so weak that I can't tell the difference… I could just kill you here and now, regardless of your skills. They're certainly flashy, I'll give you that, but I'm getting used to your rhythm, assassin." Dix paused in his growing fury, taking great delight as the intruder's battle pose shifted slightly. "Heh… That's right, prick. Don't think I don't recognise your obvious poise and analysing gaze…" Dix shook his heated head and exhaled deeply, resurfacing the sadistic persona it normally projected. "Anyway, a quick death is too good for you. No, instead, I am going to savour skinning you alive, rat." Cruel lips ascended into a sinister sneer once more as Dix stowed his key away and shot a clawed hand into the air. Powerful legs parted and braced the man's body firmly in place as it quivered in anticipation. "SO, STAY STILL AND TAKE YOUR PUNISHMENT!"
*SCREEE* *SCREEE* *SCREEE*
Streaks of vermillion rays fled from the tainted grasp in disparately screeching formations, making way for an immense wave of pressure that ensnared all those present in ominous reverence. Light itself perished as a tenebrous flood of blackness swept through the plaza, acting as the corrupted sky to a crimson hue that now plastered the hellish floor below.
*CRASH* *RUMBLE*
Whip-like streams of corrupted energy followed next, and flayed the air, screaming in desperation to entangle any soul's innocence. The infernal thunder flared and spasmed in multitudinous directions, each bolt exploring the ambit of its prison with disregard for any obstacles.
'What power is this!?' Hit gaped at the aberrant radiations that screamed above him, skin crawling at their malice. He narrowed his eyes and grinded shuddering teeth at the horrendous force that only served to add to his pile of ignorance. 'That disgusting aura is not magic… It looks almost like… No, surely not…'
"KAHAHAHA!" The creator of these devilish rays grinned and cackled as the ejections shook Daedalus' underground prison in its entirety. Magic stone lights shook, and orichalcum chippings rained from above. Gran shivered in a faraway corner and Hit stood still in careful trepidation. This prison was now a hell zone where foe and friend alike were at the mercy of an insane alpha predator.
Abruptly, the hellish lightning vaporised and was replaced by a single inky sphere. The ovular singularity of energy hovered over Dix's right hand, barely restrained by sheer willpower.
Dix shuddered and snickered, sneered and tittered. He shut his fists into inescapable confines and drew vermillion eyes onto the object of his hate. The madman finalised the preparation by extending an index finger towards the phantom menace in front of him, saliva dripping in aching desire. "Lose your mind in an unending maze of stagnation! PHOBETOR DAEDALUS!"
Author's NotesThis is a two part chapter and is one of my favourites.I'll be honest with you; I wanted to get further than where I am now, but I'll do my best to get chapter 59 done, then the story will be finished there for now as 'part 1'. On holiday so will be slow.
I know they have video surveillance in Knossos, but I'm unsure of whether they can communicate wirelessly. Thought it was fitting and ruffles Hit's strategy, so consider it AU if not canon.
I really love this fight. Dix and Hit are two very different people engaged in similarly dark professions.
In this story, Curses attack people emotionally/mentally rather than physically, as is the case with most magic. Hit is obviously therefore incredibly resistant to them. If he has time to analyse curses, they should have little effect.
Dix's curse usually has a wide-area effect. Here, he is focalising all his energy on a single target, which is quite taxing. The Phobetor Daedalus curse can be modified if used on a limited number of people. This time, the effect was trapping Hit in a bewitched state where he cannot skip away.
I hope the changes in perspective were okay. I want to describe Hit and Dix's inner thoughts, but this may have made the chapter confusing. Dix is usually more composed, but he is expectedly thrilled to have this nuisance caged. His verbal lashing of Hit is typical, as with when he fights Bell.
Hit is choosing not to enhance his punches with latent time energy here, or use time lag/time prison, as this would have resulted in very noticeable, and recognisable, purple energy ejections. Dix would have likely overlooked Hit's rank up notice, not caring for a random level 2, but he would have heard rumours of the purple arcing fighter on the 18th floor.
In case Dix's orders to Gran were confusing, then allow me to clarify. He's ordering Gran to bring him Xenos for torture. Some people like a glass of warm milk before bed, while good old Dix prefers raping/torturing poor xenos.
I hope the power scaling is okay. Hit as a level 1 (level 2 power) couldn't cause pain to level 5s like Ais/Tiona/Dix/Black Goliath. Now that he's a level 2 (level 3 power), he can cause slight discomfort with normal attacks, mainly due to his own skill and focusing on vitals, and bursts of pain with time releases and full-power barrages, when the enemy is caught off guard (adaptation from Goliath fight). He still cannot do lasting damage to such powerful enemies. Levels are immensely distant, in terms of power, in Danmachi and Hit is not being underpowered.
Hit's attacks, particularly the time releases, are quite painful for Dix, as he has adapted to fighting Goliath. However, they do no real damage, other than mental. Dix is no stranger to pain and can power through them to belittle his opponent's actions.
Some people in the comments on AO3 once said that Hit's too strong, while others on FF say he's too weak. You can never please everyone, so I'll just do as I have always done and write the story how I like it: where Hit has a challenging experience. Goku never had an easy fight in any of his saga climaxes, so I find challenging fights more entertaining, which lead up to final battle whereupon the pieces fall together. Goku became hundreds of times stronger throughout the show, yet always faced an insurmountable enemy. Even DB Heroes Goku has a smidge of trouble for a little bit, before he unleashes a new unfathomable power-up. I always find the slow burn to great heights thrilling. The Bartimaeus Trilogy is another story I love. Good old Bart was never too powerful and had to devise interesting schemes to get out of his predicaments, making for a far more enjoyable story.
It's honestly quite difficult to write Hit having difficulty in any fight, which may make him seem underpowered, I suppose. He can literally skip time and do who knows what for two point five seconds before the actions are sent into the future. Skip time, do a little dance, and punch you in the face. Here, I made it so that there was no point in skipping that far. In fact, it became a danger. If Hit skipped too far away from Dix, he could swing his spear in a wide arc and slice Hit in two. On the other hand, if he remains close-by and performs short skips, he can at least dodge the thrusts. However, this is obviously incredibly unsustainable. Hit also has to deal with fighting in a pseudo level 3 body against a powerful level 5: a murderer who's no stranger to fighting dirty, and is actively trying to make the fight as irksome as possible for someone who has pissed him off.