MM - Chapter 156 - TAKE FLIGHT

Raine didn't know how long he’d been fighting in the dark, illuminated only by the intermittent blinking light from Morty’s drone. Time had a way of stretching when one’s life was on the line. He moved with purpose, having no other choice than to utilize the full extent of his strength. Each burst of internal force pushed him closer to the edge of shutting down, and he used them freely, for to stop would invite death.

Every glimpse of his opponent, the scraping of a foot, or the ruffle of fabric were precious commodities that combined to barely allow for his continued survival. Raine danced with everything on the line, thirty years of training culminating in this hour of supreme fulfillment. He was alive like never before, deep in the embrace of his most demanding lover: the thrill of battle, and she was his everything.

Robes and skin torn to bits, Raine continued to evade by the slimmest of margins while landing strike after strike, always to the same location. However, his opponent was learning, and as is the inevitable truth of the universe, a change occurred.

The only reason he survived at all was because Jedidiah couldn't use his own martial techniques. It was the drone’s recording that denied the master, and they both knew it. Turning away from Raine, Jedidiah lunged at the drone.

Melani Feladay

- Carter City Central -

Ever since she was a young girl, Mel loved being chased. There was a spine-tingling, magical exhilaration that came from knowing someone was right on her heels and about to tickle. She could never get enough of the sensation. Being chased by a knife-wielding maniac was significantly less enjoyable.

“Get back here, you ugly bimbo!” Thin lips snarled. Her shrill voice sounded like it was right behind Mel’s ear as they dashed through the crowd.

Mel wasn’t fooled by the feint. If she panicked and dove to either side before the lithe woman committed to an attack, it would lead to an ugly death, the kind Mel had experienced so, so many times already. 

As the event drew near and her progress in the Tower of Triumph stagnated, she knew she wouldn’t reach Raine’s demanding goal in time. She did the only thing she could think of and threw herself into the tower repeatedly without breaks, where she experienced death after gruesome death. For every waking minute of three days, Mel was surrounded by groups of people and monsters working together to murder her. They succeeded, time and again.

The experience changed her. It hollowed out the part of her brain where a naive little girl once resided in denial of a world full of danger. Now, her senses were alive, highlighting potential avenues of attack from even those who meant her no harm. She saw them all, and evaded with absolute focus.

Pretending to go right, she dove left, eliciting a fresh string of curses from the belligerent woman chasing her. The thin martial was fast, catching up to Mel in no time. A building loomed large; it was to be the escape she’d planned with Raine before the event. The emergency stairwell door was unlocked, just like they left it. The second and a half it took to pull open the door brought back the childish exhilaration at full force. She knew the woman was right behind her; every hair across her body standing at attention demanded it was so.

Mel raced inside, heart pounding out of control. She took the stairs four at a time, marveling at how strong she had become since her genesis. It wasn’t enough to entirely leave behind her tail. The woman was a fully vetted class four martial, and proved it when her mental ability slammed into Mel’s skull. She barely held off the stagnating pressure with her own immature power.

“Fuck! Get back here!” The door banged against the wall as thin lips followed. “I swear, once I kill you, I'm going to cut up that pretty face of yours a hundred different ways!”

Which is it? Ugly or pretty?

Mel wanted to laugh hysterically at the insanity of her situation. She wanted to yell back a retort. She wanted to escape and not already be so out of breath that shouting was a fantasy. Instead, she got more bad news.

Sounds that sent shivers up Mel’s spine tumbled up the stairwell. The door banged three more times and dozens of pairs of boots thudded up the metal stairs. The woman wasn’t alone. If Mel slowed, if she was caught, she would be surrounded again. There was one thing the tower taught her above all other lessons, being surrounded meant death. Mel ran harder.

Her lungs and muscles burned. The floors flew by, each adding a layer of exhaustion, but most vitally, buying time. Raine had been confident that if anyone did chase her, all she had to do was run for a couple minutes. The assassin's plan would be based on tight timing, and two minutes was more than enough to force them to abandon it and flee.

After the fiftieth floor went by, and they were still chasing her, Mel grew worried. When the roof’s exit came into view, and they were still on her heels, panic and exhaustion pounded through her with each wild beat of her heart. They had all slowed, heavy breathing more often heard than stomping feet. She didn’t know if the door was unlocked and wasn’t about to test the latch like an idiot. With a last burst of strength, she ran at a full sprint, jumping feet first.

A loud crash assaulted her ears as a heavy gust of wind blasted into her. She landed hard on the graveled roof, rigid material biting into her skin. She barely noticed the bloody scrapes through her exhaustion.

“I’m going… to enjoy… this… so much!” Thin lips panted as she joined Mel in the billowing wind. Surprisingly, only eight figures exited behind her. Mel’s eyes flew wide at the last person to appear, a mistake that turned a perfect surprise into a deadly brawl.

Wearing what could only be described as a ninja wetsuit, Pamalaiha threw herself into the last man’s back. A short sword with angular edges protruded from the front of his throat. With a jerk of her arm, the blade sliced to the side in a spray of blood. He collapsed as the doctor pushed off him toward her next victim. How many she stealthily killed on the flight up, Mel would never know.

“No!” Thin lips cried out, dashing toward Pamalaiha, a long dagger leading the way.

Mel mustered more energy, the will to live revealing depths of herself she hadn't known existed. Back on her feet, the clang of metal joined the gusting wind, filling the rooftop air with the cadence of violence. Three black-robed assassins jumped at Mel, the last two joining the woman to gang up on Pamalaiha. Instead of facing them, Mel turned and ran again. Unlike the sandy arena, this battlefield had squared corners—a waist-high wall around the outer edges of the roof. With her back to one such corner, the three were forced into a tighter formation, unable to surround her.

The old Mel would have wondered what she thought she was doing. She’d never even punched anyone in the outside world. The new Mel knew exactly what to do. The first came with an electrified baton raised high; his slash was as predictable as the rising sun. A gentle tilt saw the weapon buzzing past with centimeters to spare. Her torso twisted, a large man's grasping arm sliding past.

It was her turn. With a snarl born from desperation, Mel grabbed either side of the man’s head and dug her thumbs into his eyes. Wet filth gushed over her hands as a scream split the air. She ducked, having seen a warning flash of movement in her peripheral. Another electrified baton from the second man flew through where her head had been. Meanwhile, the mutilated one reached for his face, baton forgotten.

As it fell, Mel deftly snatched the weapon from the air, wet fingers clasping the hard plastic hilt in a death grip. The weight and length of it felt natural; close enough to a ZionLine dagger in that moment of extreme need to suit her tastes. A boot crunched into her side. She was already moving in the direction of the force before it landed. The wall was there and she spun against it, distributing the excess force. Her baton led the way as she came around.

The man who kicked her took a step back to evade. At the same time, the third roughly threw their ‘friend’ out of the way. Kicking off the wall behind her, Mel's thrust extended beyond expectations, and her target fell to his ass to not eat thousands of volts of current. He wildly waved his baton between them to fend off the insane girl, but she wasn't there, having already pivoted and lunged the other way.

The third man wasn't as fast and took her baton in the throat. He stiffened, mouth opening wide to release a spray of grotesque smoke. Stiff and unable to control himself, the much taller and heavier man fell toward Mel. She barely got her foot up in time to kick him away. Exhaustion was her entire existence. The short but extreme fight took more out of her than the unending stairs. The second assassin was back on his feet by then. He took a glance over his shoulder, finding thin lips facing off against a genuine ninja alone. The other two who moved to help were crumpled, unmoving, their throats sliced wide open. Meanwhile, he was alone against a panting woman with a look in her eyes that screamed she still had more fight left in her. The rooftop battle was now two versus two.

To Mel's extreme relief, instead of attacking again, he dashed for the door. After he passed, the other two women displayed dramatically different responses. 

Thin lips snarled, “Dommy, you coward! You're a dead man!”

Without looking back, Pamalaiha threw a knife that burrowed into Dommy's back. He stumbled forward, whatever poison she'd coated the blade with finishing him before he hit the ground.

The lithe woman jumped back, landing atop the roof's short wall. “Well, this was fun. Let's do it again soon.” She leaped into the open air. Thin metal plates extended from the torso of her suit and connected with her spread arms. Similar plates extended from both legs, forming a makeshift wingsuit.

Against every expectation Mel had, Pamalaiha ran toward the roof's edge as well. “I decline. We shall finish this now.” She leaped head-first, leaving a stunned, breathless Mel alone on the roof.

Mel dashed to the wall, leaning over. The wind blasted her hair into knots as she watched the doctor, who was apparently a freaking ninja, fly after the woman who nearly killed her.

Did that really just happen? She saved me… She wasn't part of the plan at all, and she saved me. Why? How? Was it for Raine, or me? Ugh, I knew she was dangerous, and sexy, but this… Nope, no bad thoughts until I wash my hands. Yuck!

Raine KongRu

- Carter City Central -

Morty’s drone detected Jedidah kicking off the ground and attempted to circle around toward Raine. Airborne, the master was forced to land before changing directions, almost giving Raine time to get between them. When Jedidiah attempted to reach the drone again, Raine was there. Weaving his arms around his opponent's outstretched limb, Raine threw him toward the wall. Jedidiah recovered smoothly, landing on his feet before dashing at Raine. Jedidiah jumped and spun mid-air, both legs flashing out as his form vanished in the dark. One leg whipped toward Raine’s neck, the other his knee.

Raine retreated until the wall was at his back, and still, Jedidiah flew, speed too great to fully evade. Raine’s eyes widened, his every sense expanding. A side-step wouldn’t create enough distance, so he went the only direction remaining: up. Internal force shredded the muscles in his legs, instantly propelling him to the ceiling only a meter above. He landed upside down on his feet, then dove toward the wall, only to rebound again in an entirely new direction.

Continuing to use the ceiling and walls, Raine’s evasions took on an otherworldly quality that baffled Jedidiah. In the span of a few seconds, over fifty punches, kicks, and grabs missed by the slimmest of margins, oftentimes when his much younger opponent wasn’t even able to see him. 

A disturbing question broke through Jedidiah’s intense focus: How did a child gain the environmental awareness to maintain their balance and directionality while flipping off the walls and ceiling in the dark and in such a high-speed battle? It was like the boy had lived through this very fight a thousand times and was merely going through the motions. It was exactly like the girl. Whatever training the two of them had been through, it was extraordinary, even by Jedidiah’s standards.

The unexpected complications restored Jedidiah’s stable mindset that had escaped him since experiencing pain for the first time in ages. Calming his overuse of internal force, he resumed the offense with killing intent. Raine frowned at the noticeable change of pace. His mental defenses were as impenetrable to Jedidiah’s lances as before. However, his body was deteriorating at an alarming rate. If he allowed the battle to be dragged out, then his defeat would be assured.

Raine charged, punching and kicking with desperate vigor. After Morty's light blinked, he jumped off the wall and sprinted from another direction. Jumping into a flip, he bounced off the ceiling and attacked from above. His arms bent at the most extreme angles yet, weaving around Jedidiah’s hasty blocks to deliver two loudly echoing impacts. The old man actually winced, a hint of bright red dribbling from the corner of his lips.

Jedidiah dove at Raine to catch him before he could land. Instead of succumbing to gravity as expected, Raine, still upside down, kicked the top of Jedidiah’s shoulder. The force sent him right back to the ceiling, where his other leg propelled him toward the wall. The master released a quick, sharp shout while unleashing his largest lance of killing intent yet. It sank deep into Raine’s second defensive layer, its momentum halting centimeters from his left eye.

More deadly spikes appeared from behind, and two even from below, but they were much weaker. While far more skilled in the manipulation of killing intent than Raine, Jedidiah lacked the mental force necessary to punch through in one go. In many ways, the two were fighting similar battles. The clever use of killing intent caused realization to strike: Jedidiah was a problem solver, not a murderer. There was a reason he was sent to resolve the situation in Carter. He was a diplomat first and a warrior second. To fall short of peak master by his age was another clue.

Since the beginning, Raine had been holding back a reserve of bloodlust. Assuming his opponent was feigning weakness, he only responded with the same quantity of mental energy being thrown at him. With a roar, he stopped holding back. Bloodlust coated the mobile shelter as he went all out. 

Jedidah fell back a step, horrified that one so young could have experienced enough death to produce such thick, murderous intent. Despite catching the master by surprise, Raine lacked the understanding of how to turn his energy into something capable of causing real harm. Still, the old man paused for an entire second, overwhelmed by fear, allowing Raine to land another hit.

Now that he realized the futility of his strategy, Jedidiah resumed his all-out physical offense, pressuring Raine’s weakening body further. A loud crack rang through the shelter as a bone snapped. There was no contact between them, Raine merely pushed his leg too far with internal force while wildly evading several blows. The pain was intense, but nothing compared to what was coming.

Time swelled as Raine tilted and fell to the side; his support collapsed. This was truly his last chance to take a step down his martial path. He knew what to do. It was no different than in the raid while battling the Unliving Paroxysms. The demons hid inside ultra-durable braziers, just like Jedidiah’s body. To overcome their defense, Raine chipped away at the same spot repeatedly, finally succeeding by infusing his spear with killing intent to blast through with singular focus.

Except, this time, he lacked a weapon.

The thought had held him back before, but after fighting Jedidiah, Raine now understood the limits he placed on himself and on what was possible were beyond false. Jedidiah’s sturdiness was imprinted on Raine’s fists, just as it was now imprinted in his mind. The human form was not inferior to mundane materials. It could be so much more. Raine could become so much more. If he lacked a spear, then he would become the spear.

Raine’s murderous intent was sucked from the air and concentrated into his arm. The limb practically glowed to Jedidiah’s senses as it shot forward in a truly suicidal knife-hand. Sensing the weakness he’d been aiming for since the beginning, the old master formed a sturdy lance and sent it toward Raine’s skull. His single-minded focus on ending his opponent in the classic fashion between masters was his undoing.

Raine’s attack arrived first. Fingers shattered against hard skin, yet stubborn bones plunged deep, finally tasting blood. Raine’s mental energy rode the highway of blood from his body into Jedidiah’s. A storm of terror swept through the old man. His finely wrought lances shattered before reaching their target.

A cough impossible to deny released a splatter of liquid. Wary of a block that would take off his limb, Raine’s ruined hand withdrew just as quickly as it was extended. A flood of innards came with it. Jedidiah didn’t understand the weakness that invaded his limbs. He hadn’t felt weak in decades. He moved to strike Raine anyway, but his opponent still had one good leg and used it to kick the feet out from underneath the wobbling master. Jedidiah fell hard, slipping in his own fluids when he tried to stand again. 

Raine fell as well. Cradling his hand, he scooted until his back was against the wall. His voice sounded like someone else's, hoarse and choked with emotion. “Keep that up, and you’ll bleed out in no time.” Raine looked away, eyes falling to the floor. “Never mind. I can’t open this thing from the inside. Morty, that’s enough.”

As the vodcast ended, the blinking light faded, plunging them into true darkness. Jedidiah’s next cough was barely audible, as were the last words that escaped his lips, “Yet another… oddity.”