Chương 14: Resistance

Drops of putrid water ran from the top of the long, narrow stone corridor. The smell was crushing and heavy, but considerably better than the Rafflesia. The walls were damp, and a thin layer of frozen condensation accumulated on their surfaces, making them slick. The echo of the group's footsteps resonated through the thick darkness of the gallery, lit only by Noel's torch. That light was nothing short of a gift, except for Lance, who could see in the dark perfectly well with minimal use of his ability.

With a gesture, he stopped the other two, palm toward the darkness ahead. An unsettling, viscous, hissing sound was slowly approaching their position.

"Further ahead… I see something." His eyes sharpened as he examined the source of the noise. A cold shiver ran up his neck when a cluster of violet eyes lit the darkness before them.

"Helspawn?" Noel murmured, bored, shifting Lance aside and advancing toward the creatures. Helspawns were humans irreversibly corrupted by the Hel, an existence comparable to that of the undead, though that description was reductive.

"This night is getting even more tiring." He said, levelling the wide shotgun in his robotic hand and tucking the submachine gun back into his cloak. The creatures finally became visible in the torchlight. Their appearance was almost exactly as he remembered: black scaly skin, crystals scattered across the body, an unsettling violet glow. With a hiss, the beasts began approaching Noel, charging at him with force.

A smile of genuine pleasure appeared on his face, as if he were welcoming the creatures about to tear him apart alive. One of the Helspawn launched itself at him, spreading its arms as it flew toward Noel. Before it could open its mouth to attack, he crushed its rocky jaw between his fingers, pressing it into the wall. The wall cracked, spraying drops and fragments across the floor. The creature began thrashing uselessly. Every movement only increased the sound of scales fracturing against its own face.

The other Helspawn began to approach, this time far more cautiously. Noel cast them a smile, then returned his attention to the prey still pressed against the wall. The shotgun in his arm rotated on his finger, pointing its barrel against the creature's skull. The muzzle was a few centimetres from its face. The prosthetic fingers moved slowly, with a faint but sharp sound of gears. The trigger began to retreat until it disappeared entirely inside the mechanism.

A large burst of flame and smoke erupted from the barrel, followed by a loud report. It was not comparable to Supplicium, but it was genuinely impossible to hold something like this in one hand without absorbing the recoil, and Noel had done it without blinking. The Helspawn's legs slid to the floor, the wall behind it pierced by a series of thick black spheres. Noel smiled, reloading the weapon, which promptly ejected the spent casing. The cartridge fell at Lance's feet. He was still amazed by Noel's display.

He had also fought spectral beings from another dimension, but at least he hadn't derived pleasure from it the way the enormous boy in front of him had. He had no time to protest. Another Helspawn launched itself at him, almost intent on avenging its companion. The shotgun wheeled in the air again as Noel rotated his powerful body toward the creature. It did not even manage to open its jaws before it was eviscerated by the blast. The crystalline remains fell to the floor and shattered.

The remaining beasts began to retreat slowly, attempting to disappear into the darkness. A pair of golden flashes severed their necks, sending the heads rolling across the floor. Lance turned, this time genuinely startled by Jeanne. She had rapidly transformed Kroonlijst into a pair of daggers and thrown them at the creatures. Satisfied, she smiled toward him, only to meet his pale, stunned face.

"Did I… D-do something wrong?" She asked, almost hiding her face.

"Absolutely not! Exceptional!" Noel exclaimed, complimenting the girl with wide eyes of satisfaction.

"However… don't steal my target next time. Understood?" Jeanne nodded, delighted, skipping off to collect the pair of blades from the damp floor." It can't get more tiring than this, right?" Lance had gone completely white at the sight of the pair he was desperately trying to manage. He could have expected this kind of enthusiasm from Noel, but even Jeanne appeared more exuberant than he. Gathering himself, he began walking toward the strange interference he was detecting.

"Come… Please." He implored, head down. Neither of them understood why Lance was wrapped in that quiet sadness, but they decided to follow him with smiles on their faces. The agents walked for several dozen minutes before encountering a junction lit by a series of mine lamps hanging from a rusted hook. The light was very faint, completely unable to illuminate the far end of either corridor.

"Basically, there is either a nest or someone is messing with this place." Lance concentrated deeply, trying to identify any variation in the Frequency flow. To his right was the interference he had been detecting since before they entered. To his left, an unexpected spike.

"If there was really a nest, then NOIR would have already given us the positions. Their traces are almost impossible to hide." Noel added, watching over the boy, gazing both left and right.

"Right then… we should split up," he said, rising from the floor and looking at the two. Unexpectedly, both Jeanne and Noel were staring at him with peculiar expressions. Jeanne looked almost sad. Noel's face was pulled into a grimace of confused curiosity.

"Can you clone yourself?!" he asked, his eyes lit by the extraordinary hypothesis he'd just formed.

"Noel… what makes you think I can clone myself?"

"You… said we should split up, and there are only three of us."

"Noel… I can also go alone."

"That… Would be... Less safe." Jeanne murmured, moving closer to him, watching him through the strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. Lance sighed and rested his hand on her head over the cloak, patting it in the manner of someone settling a small dog.

"I will be fine… Don't worry, plus it's not the first time we've split up!" He reassured the two.

"But... It happened only once!" She protested while Lance began to walk toward the dark.

"Finding the victims is our priority… I trust you both." He smiled before letting the darkness swallow him. Jeanne and Noel watched him disappear, then looked at each other for an instant, exchanged a nod, and turned quickly, heading in the opposite direction. Lance found himself climbing an unexpected number of steps, drawing him steadily closer to the source of the unknown energy. The damp from the walls was slowly accumulating on the floor, creating unpleasant patches that fed mosses and mould.

The stairs were arranged in a circular pattern, as if he were scaling toward something.

"Finally… a little bit of silence." He murmured, relaxing his shoulders as he inhaled the stale, heavy air, regretting it immediately.

"It's difficult to be in a team… Of this kind." The faces of the people he'd met at the agency were stamped in his mind. He finally reached the end of the slippery staircase, covered in amber-coloured, sponge-shaped plants and fungus. His shoes adhered to the dirty floor, producing a sound like something sticky being pulled free. He had arrived inside another corridor, this one lit by torches. The floor and walls were considerably cleaner and an unexpected pale white.

His ears caught the sound of ventilation above him, making the air considerably less oppressive. Even the temperature had improved." Further ahead…

"Lance's eyes had identified the origin of the spike he'd been tracking since separating from his companions. The Frequency was growing stronger, the coloured threads guiding him further forward, until they began to curve into a wide portal cut into the wall. The rock had been carved in a completely unnatural way. It would have been impossible to achieve a cut so precise in such a confined space. It looked almost as if an incandescent flow had slowly liquefied the wall.

Shhhhhhhhh The loud sound of water echoed in his eardrums, drawing his attention through the portal. A wide waterfall occupied the entire front wall, disappearing into channels at the sides. Fortunately, the water level was unable to exceed a certain threshold, making a leak an absolute impossibility. Lance stepped into the water, surprised to find it pleasantly warm and almost perfumed. As he crossed the shallow mirror of water, he noticed bubbles dotting the surface.

The smell of balm and soap was slowly diffusing through his nose, replacing the damp, suffocating air he'd endured until now. All the energy was flowing toward the waterfall, where an enormous concentration of energy had gathered at its base. An arm covered by a thin layer of bubbles and foam emerged from beneath the heavy column of water. The perfumed layer was washed away almost instantly, while a leg began emerging from beneath the waterfall.

The entire body of the figure stepped out: skin wrapped in a drenched black cloak. A series of long black braids was almost plastered to her body as she drew the cloak tighter. Her red eyes were fixed on him for an instant, dazed for a few seconds.

"I didn't take you for a voyeur." She smiled with deliberate mischief, drawing the cloak tighter around herself. He was almost motionless, but it was not embarrassment he felt at the sight of the woman dressed in a single long rag. Something moved across and under his skin, widening his eyes and begging him to flee.

"You're a Meta, aren't you?" He asked, without removing his finger from Supplicium for even an instant.

"Correct… You must be Lance Klint?" She replied, answering his question with a smile wide enough to half-close her eyes.

"Yes, I am." His gaze remained fixed." Au nom de la dame! Don't look at me like that, it ruins your charm." She said, as if mildly scolding him for his wariness.

"Why do you speak the language of the empire?" Lance said, staying exactly where he was.

"It's a habit of mine that I picked up over the years."

"If you are a Meta... Does it mean that you work for that association?" Laure held her index finger high on her lips, slowly moving her head side to side.

"Shouldn't I introduce myself too?" She smiled with the same note of mischief that had accompanied her since she appeared.

"What is a waitress… And a hotel employee doing here?" He continued without acknowledging her introduction.

"So you have recognised me! Well, it was just a disguise… To keep an eye on you. You see, I was born with different colors in both eyes, so I can change them at will now!" She huffed, disappointed by the boy's extraordinary stoicism.

"They asked me to watch you… He said you were special, but not that you'd also be this attractive."

"Attractive?" Lance shook his head, completely caught off guard.

"YES! It's been a long time since I met someone like you… What a shame you've already been taken!" She huffed again, wringing her damp, dripping cloak.

"I'm not following your line of reasoning." He replied, looking at her with genuine confusion.

"I mean… It's impossible that no one has ever made a move on you. Aren't you an adult enough to figure it out?" She explained, almost as bewildered as he was.

"No… No one, actually." He replied, scratching his head." Young and naive… selfless and loyal… what a waste, that girl already has her eye on him." She thought, biting her cheek from frustration.

"My name is Laure Dela Croi… I work for Changeant." She said it with a smile, masking the frustration.

"So you are here with that man? Roman?" His face had returned to its serious, inquisitive expression.

"Correct again… Roman and I are… colleagues," she nodded, swaying her long black hair.

"What do you intend to do with the kidnapped women?" Lance had fully understood the nature of the girl looking at him with malice-filled eyes.

"An experiment that one of our scientists is working on." She smiled, appearing before him in an instant, running her fingers along his jaw. Lance had been unable to track her movement; only the vibration of the Frequency had signalled that Laure had shifted.

"If you defeat me… I will tell you." She grinned, seizing him by the throat and hurling him to the other side of the room. The water exploded in every direction from the impact. He hadn't been able to react to her grip, and still couldn't track her.

"But… if I win… you'll come with me." Laure smiled, now a few centimetres above Lance. Her long cloak was beginning to press against her body, almost like a second skin. Her foot sank into his stomach, sending him directly into the waterfall. The enormous mass of water exploded violently, flooding the room. He was breathing hard, his fingers already trembling." What is this? She is way stronger than Roman." He pushed himself up using Supplicium, still gripped in his hand.

His abdomen was throbbing, and he couldn't distract himself from all the guttural noise his body was making. Laure was at the centre of the room, watching him with eyes wrapped in a disgusting sense of pleasure. Her clothing had dramatically changed: the cloak had vanished, replaced by a military uniform similar to those worn in Termìe: pale red, decorated at the shoulders with a thick bluish jacket. Her head was capped with a red, forward-folded beret. Wide black trousers covered her legs and hips.

She bit the back of her hand, protected by thick black leather gloves. A violet glow spread across the material of the tissue, growing dense blocks of crystal across the knuckles.

"I like to play on even fields. I am a Stärken. You call them that, don't you? Meta that can enhance themselves, am I wrong?" Laure advanced slowly toward Lance, now upright and fully prepared for combat. A smile of joy spread across the girl's face as a delicate flush moved across her cheeks.

"Entertain me, LANCE KLINT!"

"Do you think… He's all right?" Jeanne murmured, walking behind the enormous back of the figure ahead of her. They had taken the opposite fork from Lance, following his directions. Their objective: find the victims of the kidnappings that had been troubling Arden Ring.

"Certainly… there's something strangely reassuring about that man." Noel smiled, turning while spinning the shotgun along his index finger. Noel had had few interactions with his companion, but his instincts suggested he was decidedly someone outside the ordinary. He had emerged alive from the most varied situations imaginable and had developed a certain ability to read other people's talents, as with Sai, so too with him.

His bearing, his character, and above all, the atmosphere around him, were more than sufficient signals for Noel to say Lance was genuinely unique.

"Probably you have noticed it too, have you not?" Noel said, keeping his gaze forward, training the torch against the dark of the damp corridor.

"I only know… That he's kind." She replied, thinking of how Lance had worked to help everyone, including her.

"Well... You have your uniqueness too!" He smiled, trying to pat her back, but suddenly stopped.

"What do you mean?" She looked at him sideways, slowly getting closer to him.

"You do seem strong, despite how you look. You have some kind of... Aura?" Jeanne looked at him again, this time resting her head on her left shoulder.

"I-I still don't understand..." Noel planted his palm in his face.

"Well, that ain't so important. In the end, only feelings matter."

"You like Lance, right?" Noel said, stopping to look directly at Jeanne. The girl stayed still for a few seconds, fiddling with her hair. She was a difficult person. She had grown up that way. She'd long since stopped caring whether anyone loved her, having always thought that feeling had been lost somewhere in one of the brothels she'd been thrown into to survive. Yet at NOIR, something was different. Monica was kind to her; she hadn't abandoned her and treated her like a sister.

"He… Is my friend." She murmured, pulling her hood almost down to her chin to hide herself from Noel, who was nearly moved to tears by her reaction.

"Ah… You two remind me of Hoku and me the first time we met!" He smiled, drying his eyes with his cloak.

"Were you two recruited together?" She asked, raising her eyes to meet Noel's face.

"Almost… I met him a few months after my landing here in the Archipelago." He recounted, leaning his powerful shoulder against the wall, running his tongue across his lips as he tried to remember.

"Hioku was thin back then, almost malnourished, and yet I never managed to beat him once when he had a weapon in hand." Jeanne listened attentively to his story, leaning against the wall, pressing her hands to her hips to avoid touching the slick surface. They were going deeper and deeper into the facility.

"From that point on, he started following me while I trained, and I did the same every time he slipped out at night to practise with the sword in the gymnasium… Monica decided we were alike and put us in the same patrol." A moment of silence. Noel began studying his metal prosthesis, seeing himself reflected faintly and distorted in the dark iron.

"This wound… Is the proof that I protected him at least once, and I'm proud of it." He finished with a smile, puffing his chest slightly, though it was difficult to hide from Jeanne the veil of melancholy sealed behind those lips.

"You're… A good person, too." She smiled back, arching to look at him better. Noel flushed slightly, turning quickly away while continuing to light the path. Jeanne followed, again confused about why both he and Lance had reacted so unusually to a compliment. After a few minutes, they emerged into a wide room wrapped in mold, fungus, and vine-like plants forming a distorted painting across the walls.

The mouldy, suffocating smell had simply grown stronger, but Jeanne managed to detect another note dancing through the underground's disgusting atmosphere.

"Blood…" She remembered the metallic, violent smell that had caught her nose and palate many times. It was faint but certainly perceptible. Noel nodded, adjusting his pace. As they advanced toward the roots of the great plant that was consuming the wall's stone, the iron smell grew terribly strong. A sinister dripping began to resonate at the foot of the root mass, a gentle pattering of drops hitting the damp earth.

They finally reached the base of the roots and understood with horror what was held by the chains fixed to the plant's great branches. Bleeding bodies, wrapped in the grim, rusted iron of their bonds. The majority were motionless in body and spirit; not even the faint movement of lungs could be distinguished in their stillness. Some, however, appeared to move and tremble, perhaps hoping to fall to the floor, to free themselves, or to crack their heads in search of one last comfort.

Jeanne was horrified, and her disgust only increased when a drop of dark, thick blood fell directly onto the centre of her forehead. She pressed her slender fingers to her skin, staining them red. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Noel said nothing, gripping the vines to reach the clusters of chains. Without effort, he pulled a pair free from the plant. He landed on the floor with both women held under his arms.

His face was relaxed but somehow empty.

"This one… is breathing." He laid the first woman gently on the ground. A young girl with brown hair, cut short to the nape of her neck. Her clothes had been torn in the urgency with which she'd been bound and hung, partially exposing her chest. A large dark birthmark coloured the skin at her sternum.

"She's… Leiva. One of the missing girls." Jeanne's voice had begun to thin under the horror of the scene.

"That one… is Antonia." Her finger pointed to the lifeless body that Noel had just laid down. She appeared slightly older than Leiva and wore her black hair in a braid. Her arm had been brutally broken, but Jeanne recognised the scar. The muscles on their faces flexed, trying to divert the gaze. The victims hung like carcasses on the abnormal climbing plants anchored to the wall. They had hoped to celebrate after rescuing the missing women.

Instead, they had been met with a scene at the limit of disgust: a damp, mould-covered tree, finely decorated by bodies treated like animals at slaughter. Jeanne would have shed tears, but a metallic sound from the top of the plant forced her to look up. Noel nodded, gripping and tearing pieces of wood as he climbed the vines. His forearms contracted every time he crushed branches between his fingers. It took little time to reach the top of the great tree.

Before him, a girl with blond, almost white, hair was faintly struggling, dressed in the remains of a bluish garment. She was bleeding from her forehead and arm, but not in immediate danger. Noel grabbed her chain and tore it forcibly from the branch. Descending from that height was difficult, so he simply chose to jump. His legs vibrated under the force accumulated by the fall, but he rose without difficulty, still keeping the girl's body secure on his back.

He laid her gently on the ground, tearing the chains from her with his arms alone. Jeanne threw herself toward the woman, making sure she was all right. She recognised the girl's face, the girl she had met alongside Mary.

"I had a look at the others… Nothing to be done. We arrived too late." Noel was biting his lip with such force that it had begun to bleed copiously.

"There were way more than what the data described..." Jeanne decided neither to speak nor to cast a second glance at the carnage above her head. She had a deep and genuine hatred for the smell of blood and death.

"It's genuinely rude to break into someone else's home. Didn't anyone teach you?" A voice behind them gave a mild rebuke. Footsteps echoed through the dark of the corridor from which they had come. Suddenly, the sound vanished as a black, viscous patch seeped from beneath the cracks in the floor. First an arm, then another, then a torso, and finally the figure emerged whole from the sludge. A middle-aged man with a long beard, dressed in a long military uniform, bowed before them.

The gold stars on his collar gleamed faintly, followed by the reflections of the sashes at his hip.

"You… You're the Meta who fought Lance." Jeanne said, gripping her frame firmly.

"And you're the woman who nearly killed Maica, am I right?" He asked, ironically, hiding his smile beneath the hair of his face.

"Certainly capable, and together with that agent… Quite the challenge for an old man like me."

"You're talking to me, old man?!" Noel asked, pulling the iron staff from beneath his cloak. It appeared to be merely a guard with a large black cube attached to the end, but the moment it entered contact with the energy irradiated by his body, the thing began to take shape. It extended until it formed a curved silhouette resembling a hook, sharpened on both sides in an almost frightening manner. The most unsettling detail, however, was the dense series of blade-rows resembling sharpened teeth.

Each of those small points glittered with a bluish light. The weapon was even longer than Noel himself, something impossible for a human being to wield.

"Do you like it? This is my own invention! I call it Sazerac." He grinned, sliding his hand from the guard into the cube from which the blade had emerged. His wrist rotated inside the slot, making the entire weapon tremble. Sparks followed, along with a series of puffs of white smoke. The teeth on the blade began moving furiously back and forth, so fast that the inside of the hook appeared pervaded by a blue light.

"Yes… It's a chainsaw, if you were wondering." He directed his gaze at both Jeanne and Roman.

"You must be the Meta who tried to kill Lance… I don't think that's the best way to introduce yourself." Roman was surprised by the entire figure, now attempting to accuse him of barbaric manners. A boy nearly two metres tall, enormously muscular, holding an enormous hook-shaped chainsaw.

"I'd like to stay and chat, but I think it would be completely pointless trying to convince you of anything… The same, I imagine, for my colleague upstairs. She was very eager to meet your friend." He said, pointing a finger toward the ceiling, his eyes narrowing with odiousness and cruelty. A series of filaments spread through the room, building above their heads a thick, shiny, sludgy spiderweb.

The threads vibrated on the walls, beginning to produce the same shadows that had assaulted Jeanne and Lance in recent days, this time more complete, equipped with clothing and a rudimentary arsenal. A group of creatures launched from the ceiling toward the two, hissing and agitating the filaments beneath their arms and legs, like whiskers." Kroonlijst: Sikkel." The weapon in Jeanne's palm snapped open, extending into a long golden rod.

The still-closed end overlapped, extending simultaneously into a curved blade decorated by the white wings that had once served as the crossguard.

"So it can also do this?" In her hand now, instead of a frame, was a golden scythe decorated at the tip by a pair of marble wings. Rotating her body, the girl dismembered the shadows in an instant, sending the masses of black tendrils rolling across the floor with a sludgy, wet sound. Noel looked at her, startled by the speed with which she had neutralised a threat of that kind"I'm sorry… But I'd like to finish this one quickly."

Jeanne said, pressing the pommel tip of her scythe against Roman's face, still smiling.

"Agreed… I'm not very fond of this old man either." Noel joined in, pointing his chainsaw toward the ceiling while maintaining the same stare at the figure before them. Roman brushed dust from his shoulder, wrapped in a thin series of shiny, damp filaments." Dush."

"Not bad! Twenty-three blows to vital organs… And you're still standing." Laure was unlocking her wrist, massaging it carefully, complimenting the gasping, blood-covered boy before her. His clothes had been reduced to a mass of bloodied, wet rags. The water at his feet was taking on a reddish tint, and even his vision was blurred with red. Supplicium had fallen from his hand the moment he'd tried to fire. Laure had kicked it away along with a pair of his fingers. He could not react against her.

He hadn't been remotely able to find an opening to counterattack, only able to parry the heavy impacts of the crystals against his skin. Each time, the woman disappeared, and he found another bone shattered in a mere instant." This is not working… This is not working at all." His mind was forming these phrases in a completely incoherent fashion, without ever stopping to follow that woman.

"Lance, incredibly, you manage to parry my blows. Normally, even a high-ranking Helspawn would be shredded. And yet you have not managed to hit me even once… Perhaps you're a masochist!" Laure smiled, walking slowly toward him. Every breath was painful. The regeneration was beginning to fail because his ability hadn't been activated yet. He could not steal anything if he hadn't first inflicted sufficient damage, and the woman who'd been beating him was unscathed." A plan…

I need a pla—" His thinking was interrupted by Laure's hand, closing around his neck with inhuman force. The air flew from his throat, accompanied by a painful grunt. His vision was slowly disappearing. The only thing he could see was Laure's distorted smile, stamped on that face reddened by malice and perversion." I really despise you… But if you fail here, I fail too." He was in the sea of fog now. Laure had gone, but the grip on his throat hadn't stopped." Can you hear me? It is boring talking alone."

His eyes regained a minimal amount of force, enough to see a new figure. A tall woman in a long white gown, her face covered by a thin, opaque black veil.

"Finally, you hear me… I would advise you to make an effort if you do not want to lose everything here and now." The woman was reprimanding him with coldness. Her voice sharp and harsh.

"Who… Are you?" Lance's voice was faint and kept fading, yet he couldn't lose consciousness.

"Too presumptuous… Even now, when you are about to lose. Doesn't Jude concern you?" The woman tightened her grip, reprimanding him again. The air could no longer enter his lungs at all. His trachea was completely obstructed by the brutal grip of the figure wrapped in the fog.

"HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHY YOU'VE LIVED UNTIL NOW? ANSWER!"

"No… No." He could no longer resist at all. The words left his throat, barely guided by instinct rather than reason. The woman released him, dropping him onto the ground covered in icy water. She leaned slightly toward him, lifting her veil a fraction." Do it for them… Little spark." From her thin, red lips came something that was, this time, an incitement. The fog began growing until it swallowed them both in the eternal void of that place. On waking, he found himself again imprisoned in Laure's grip.

Time had probably not even passed since he'd blacked out, perhaps a few seconds, but something was different now. A tingling moved through his arm, covered in fresh blood, still dripping." Ver… Ghen." Those words were enough for Lance to gather sufficient energy to shape the blood accumulated on his forearm. Laure was shocked when she saw her arm being severed by the fingers of the boy she had been holding immobile until seconds ago.

The colour of his eyes was subtly different: his brown had been stained by an overwhelmingly intense golden reflection. Her arm had been cut cleanly through, as if a blade had sheared through her flesh. She did not have time to assess the situation before she felt a violent force sink into her torso. Lance's knuckles were slowly driving through just below her chest, directly against the solar plexus. The impact launched her away; she landed against the waterfall's steps, shattering them completely.

A rivulet of blood dripped down her face, no longer twisted into a smile. She pressed her blood-covered mouth with her hand. Her lips contracted again into a smiling expression as she licked the accumulated blood away. A faint but unsettling laugh left the throat of the one-armed woman. The roar of the water was loud, but that laugh arrived with far more force to Lance's ears." It gives me chills." He thought, looking at the coagulated blood on his fingers, like thin razors.

With what little strength he had left, he'd managed to accumulate it all on his nails, creating a set of blades that had severed Laure's arm in an instant." Vergehen … Truly a disgusting power." He said under his breath, while perceiving the Frequency in his body surging dramatically as his wounds began slowly stitching themselves back together. He was still shaken from the vision, and the pain in his temples was only increasing vertiginously.

He turned his gaze toward Laure, back on her feet, severed arm still bleeding. Her uniform was now also stained with her own blood.

"Incredible… You had an ace in hand after all. Women like men with a card in reserve." She continued joking, despite having just sustained a wound sufficient to kill one of Roman's major shadows in a single blow.

"But… I have a few tricks of my own, too." She turned to Lance as a brown-reddish glow enveloped her wound. The light only intensified while the Frequency in the air and water seemed to distort around her, generating a vortex. The light dissipated, revealing a new arm. She had lost her glove, which had remained attached to the remnants of her old limb, now reduced to dust mixed with the water near him. She lifted her uniform, revealing an abdomen that was surprisingly toned and unharmed.

Lance could have sworn he'd heard her ribs fracture." It's even worse than Malliard and Roman!" He thought, watching her calm, only minimally tired expression." Resistance … This is my ability." Her face couldn't shift from that malicious smile.

"You and I are opposites; the more you strike, the more you enhance. The more I'm struck, the more I enhance." The explanation that left her lips sent a chill down Lance's spine." The worst possible matchup for me." He announced internally, licking his lips a few times.

"I'm confident… You can entertain me a little longer." She stroked her own chin before disappearing from his sight. Without warning, Laure vanished entirely; the only indication of her movement was the violent water spray that rose from her position, along with a few pieces of floor.

"On the right!" Lance called, managing to intercept Laure's blow this time. Her eyes widened with admiration before she vanished again. He had become able to track her, but she was still too fast for a counterattack. He quickly ducked his head, avoiding by centimetres the heel about to crush his skull. The assault continued relentlessly. Laure appeared and disappeared, and Klint evaded each time, trying to identify an opening to counterattack.

The water at their feet seemed to dance with their movements, swaying and bouncing with every exchange. Eventually, one of Laure's blows connected. The impact of the crystal-covered knuckles unbalanced him, shattering his guard. He could not follow the second strike. Her closed fist was centimetres from his face." Damn it!" Lance rotated his entire body with all his force, accumulating enough rotation to counter the blow. Their knuckles clashed, repelling the surrounding water violently.

Violet sparks flashed in the air as their fists met again with greater force. Their arms moved at unheard-of speed, each trying to drive their barrage of blows into the other's body. At their feet, there was now bare earth, the water unable to endure the enormous pressure generated between the two. Every hit was cancelled by another, following the same movements at the same speed. Suddenly, both their faces were hit at once; both his and Laure's fists had found their mark. The water returned to wet their feet.

Laure's malevolent gaze and Lance's contracted and tired expression briefly crossed before both disappeared again. The only thing making the fight visible was the violent jets of air that shook the walls and the waterfall. At every impact, the next followed with more force. It took little time for the entire room to be reduced to rubble and craters. He stood in the water, his clothes completely shredded, but breathing normally for the first time.

Laure was similarly reduced, but Lance's relentless assault had been unable to extinguish her expression.

"Well… That's lasted long enough. You're not bad!" She indicated him with one index finger, then peeled off her completely torn glove. A glow of mixed white, red, and blue light enveloped her uniform. The energy in the room was losing control, overwhelmed by Laure's. Lance swallowed, trying to hold his nerves, gathering what strength remained." Resistance … Grant me an enhancement as well. Let's see whether this war of attrition is won by my willpower… Or your rage, Lance."

She intoned solemnly, releasing the aura into the damp, dusty air. Lance looked at her hard, tearing off the rags that had once been his clothes. He exposed his body and threw the dirty, soaked fabric into the now-putrid water. He walked slowly toward her, then disappeared, leaving a jet of steam mixed with white discharges behind him.

"Pure instinct, huh?" She smiled, suddenly turning her head back. A metallic roar erupted in the moldy and humid air, followed by the sound of air being cut. Noel's chainsaw sheared through a group of shadows besieging him. The rotating teeth seemed to devour the black threads from which the creatures were composed, dismembering them on contact.

"A Lambdite -reinforced blade… Quite the impressive weapon." Roman complimented himself, perched on the black spiderweb. He had his legs crossed as he watched the fight against the mass of muscle below him. His small army of shadows continued assaulting the agents, but something was out of place, and Roman had understood it. Jeanne had disappeared from the fight, and Roman could not find her anywhere. A golden flash appeared for an instant through the branches of the enormous tree.

Roman threw himself sideways, surprised to find his shield of bones and threads sheared in an instant by the curved blade that had come flying from the tree. The scythe was wrapped in a long white thread, adhesive like glue. A vibration moved along the staff, making it rotate with renewed force against Roman's neck. The weapon had lodged itself through the barrier of skulls and phalanges that Roman had erected. His mind had barely steadied itself before the blade began pulling him forcefully toward the branches.

The moment he was within a few metres, Jeanne emerged from the tree, igniting the paint impregnating her hand. A bright flame swallowed her fist, ready to meet Roman. She rotated her hips, drawing the old man still closer. Helpless, he could only defend against the impact. The paint exploded, lighting the room and hurling him across to the opposite side of the floor, setting fire to some shadows beneath. Jeanne landed in the middle of a group of creatures, her scythe wrapped in a thick layer of dancing fire.

But no matter how many she dismembered, the spiderweb continued generating them, and Roman showed no sign of tiring." Concentrate, remember what Monica said. Remember!" This was the phrase she kept repeating in her mind every time she sheared through the dark threads. Her brain was clouding with the smell of her own blood and the hissing of the creatures.

She swung the brilliant scythe like a paintbrush, painting scenes of death everywhere in the room, under the astonished eye of Roman, just recovered from the impact. His clothes were partly carbonised, and he was losing blood, but his defence had held." So that's why Maica called her the Witch." That was the name they'd given her after the fight with Maica. A girl wrapped in flames, ice, and a disturbing, perverse atmosphere.

No matter how he looked at it, Roman had disagreed with that description, attributing the blame to Maica alone, but seeing it firsthand, he found himself entirely in the wrong. That woman's scythe cut through everything in its path without stopping, whether dismembering or mowing down entire groups. Dozens of minutes had passed, and neither of them was showing signs of fatigue. On Jeanne's face, a distorted, almost sinful smile had begun to form.

She could not stop her fingers from swaying on the staff, rotating the blade accordingly. She drove the blade through the skull of a shadow, lifting it above her head, grinning diabolically. Before releasing the blade, a hand grabbed her shoulder. Noel was holding her back, trying to pull her toward normality.

"Jeanne… you're going too far. It's already dead." He said, pointing to the shapeless carcass of threads impaled on her scythe. Jeanne shook her head and returned to reality, looking at her hands stained with black sludge.

"There are too many… No matter how many you kill, they'll keep coming," he pointed at the spiderweb above them. Jeanne dropped to her knees. Her muscles had begun to tremble, shaken by the intense exertion they'd been subjected to. Noel helped her up, bringing her up to her shaking legs.

"I have an idea… But you'll need to take cover for a while." He smiled, and without notice, he scooped her up and threw her toward the tree.

"AAAAAAA!!!" These were Jeanne's words as she grabbed the damp, soft wood of the plant with her scythe. She remained hanging from the trunk, trembling from exhaustion and panic. Nausea started circling in her body, slowly shaking her vision. Noel gave her a thumbs-up, unconcerned by her desperate attempts not to lose her grip. He removed his cloak with his free hand after driving the still-running chainsaw into the ground, revealing the enormous arsenal attached to his harness.

Beyond the shotgun and submachine gun he'd already displayed, the harness straps also carried a pistol, a machete, and a row of fragmentation grenades with the NOIR logo engraved on the casing. He breathed slowly, pressing his index finger against his chest, further and further. A rivulet of blood began to flow along his sternum and abdomen.

"Jeanne… My ability is dangerous to use. If I go too far, use a dose of the Compound." He called without turning toward the girl still anchored on the scythe.

"Now… We can begin." His skin was beginning to smoke as his eyes filled with blood, changing colour dramatically." EUPHORIE!!!" The veins on his skin swelled drastically, along with his muscles and build. Noel had grown unexpectedly, but the most unsettling thing was his expression. His smile showed teeth, and his gaze appeared intoxicated by the frenzy of a stimulant. With a grunt, he retrieved the blade from the ground, making the sharpened chain rotate with satisfaction.

Roman smiled, wrapping himself in the black sludge without removing his gaze from the smoking colossus before him.

"The frenzied one..." His uniform had re-clothed itself in bones, arms, and threads of black tendrils intertwined.

"RHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" Noel launched himself against the shadows, throwing them through the air as he advanced on the old man.