Chương 76: CHAPTER 75 – Noble and Solitary

"I really don't know what's in her head! She only talks to us and doesn't seem to have any friends." Monica sighed, sipping her drink as the late afternoon sun reflected off her dark lenses. The faint breeze that wrapped Steelhaven caressed her bright pink cardigan, in strange accord with her green shirt. She began toying with the hole in her paper straw, casting a few glances at her companion: a man with a bristly red beard and a most elegant red suit.

"Who knows, seeing how she treated August and Aline, I'd say she's downright starved for company." He laughed, pressing his lips to his coffee cup, densely black with thin wisps of pale smoke.

"How can you drink that in the sun? You're not right in the head, Eddy." Monica pointed her finger at him, then raised her gaze to the great sun. Edvard wiped his lips and laid his hands on the table, drawing a deep breath.

"There's a nice wind today. It's wonderful." Monica stared at him oddly, returning confusedly to sipping her concoction of slightly fizzy fruits. The colour of that drink was a vivid blue, and the bubbles only made it ever more luminous.

"Too many sugars will make you fat, Monica. Everyone knows that the nuts of the White Palms should be consumed sparingly." The girl blushed, slamming her fist on the table and grinding her teeth.

"I ONLY EAT THEM IN SUMMER, EDVARD!!" He laughed, murmuring some excuse to calm her nascent fury. Monica settled herself again, nervously sipping the rest of her concentrate.

"Going back to earlier… What do you think of Lexa?" Edvard set the cup on the white saucer, carefully letting the spoon drip before laying it on the rim. His expression was typical of those people who dislike talking about others: furrowed and hard.

"From what you've told, she carries a rather significant trauma, and her transformation must have been quite unexpected, so I don't think it's strange that she's shy or hides behind that diva personality of hers. But she strikes me as a very lonely and tired woman." Monica set her glass on the table, adjusting a lock of hair on her forehead.

"You're right! She goes around finding occasional lovers to shake off the fatigue but doesn't have a single person to share anything with except me… I'M PART OF AN ANTI-PARANORMAL ORGANISATION! I CAN'T ALWAYS KEEP HER COMPANY!!" Edvard quickly grabbed the little metal napkin box before it slid onto the street. Monica sprawled completely over the table, stretching toward the straw only for an occasional sip.

"A funny way to describe the work of NOIR and your sister… In any case, Lexa is one of the most influential women in the country, and with the arms race far from over, I'd say she will be for quite some time." Edvard murmured, gently stroking his reddish beard.

"Well, what do you think we are? Freak show performers scraped together during a near-genocide and gathered to fight the forces of evil…" Edvard laughed, moving his cup aside and stroking her blonde head.

"If you put it like that, we really sound like a very poorly written novel!" A smile moved a bluish drop caught between Monica's lips, forcing her to clean herself. Monica got up from the table, buttoning up as soon as the wind began to shake the trees along the street. She took a step toward the road, pausing at a mother crossing the way. Her clothes were dirty and full of patches, yet her face radiated happiness as she stroked the hands of her children.

A carriage obstructed her view, and immediately after, the beating of a flock of black birds was heard, vanishing far into the sky.

"How long has it been since you heard the swallows?" Monica turned toward him, smiling and pointing at the street. Edvard turned, polishing his pair of black glasses. Before him, among the leaves lifted by the breeze, he saw the happiness that had been lost over the last fifteen years.

"Since I heard the first bombs." Edvard smiled, pointing his finger toward the clear, bright sky. Monica resumed watching the street, turning her gaze to the tower on the horizon. A monolith of red and white rock, so tall as to rival the architecture of old Bayork.

"It was Lexa's father who fought for peace, carrying the people's will on his shoulders, and he died for it…" Monica returned to her seat, snapping her fingers to catch her colleague's attention.

"I believe the daughter of such a man can't be bad." Edvard stared at her dazedly for a second, then nodded in satisfaction. He stood up to pay when his watch vibrated faintly.

"Hey Edvard, it's me… August!" A faint, timid voice made its way through the mechanisms of that peculiar device. Edvard smiled, bringing it immediately to his face.

"We hear you, August. Everything alright with Lady Lexa and Miss Aline?" A weak groan rose from the watch as soon as that question was received. Between one sigh and another, the young man began to speak.

"Not at all! They took me with them to so many shops, and now I'm full of boxes and bags… NO NO NO!" Rapid and relentless, a series of faint thuds followed one another, concluded by a larger one.

"I fell, Mr. Ross…" Defeated and disappointed, August spoke, while little yelps and coughs dirtied his voice. Edvard and Monica grinned weakly, making no sound. The smile on Monica's lips grew more intense and bright.

"Auggy! What do you think of our dear Lexa?" Monica grabbed Edvard's wrist, bringing the watch close to her lips, trembling for an answer.

"Well… She's a peculiar woman and should show some decorum, especially with males!" Monica pulled away, chuckling and making a gesture of sealing her lips.

"However…" Monica raised an eyebrow, pulling Edvard's wrist near her ear. A sigh escaped August's lips, followed by a faint laugh.

"She's a very kind and capable woman, and I'm sure she's a good person." Monica smiled, and that led Edvard to let out a laugh, before all the sunlight grew dim and the smell of wet earth soiled their nostrils. The good old days ended, while Edvard felt a tentacle embedded with iron thorns slash at him.

"Hey, Ross scion, see that you stay focused!" Edvard stared at his hand, with two fingers missing. From the wounds, a dense white smoke danced, coiling upon itself in a complex set of shapes. Lexa grabbed his shoulder, removing the pieces of metal still embedded.

"What's the situation?" Edvard murmured with a hoarse voice, trying to adjust what little remained of his equipment. Among the leaves, he saw purplish sparks, followed by sudden movements in the air.

"That fatso managed to tear you away from the mist. My copies are holding him back." Lexa stood up quickly, gripping the golden rods firmly between her fingers.

"I remember, I remember… In any case, I think I've understood his ability." Edvard snapped up, moving the new fingers born from smoke. He rolled his shoulders back and tightened his shoulder blades, drawing a long breath.

"Dealing with some unknown aspect of your ability, Mr. Nightmare?" Edvard nodded, opening his palm and wrapping it in a dome of smoke, which immediately assumed the shapes of the greenhouse.

"Anything enveloped by my mist transfers part of its information to my brain. Obviously, it depends on dozens of factors, and in most cases it's of little use, but he inhaled a considerable dose before putting on the mask." He grabbed his cane from the ground, snapping it open to reveal the segmented, sharp blade.

"Enlighten me then…" Lexa slammed her weapons into the ground, fracturing it. Despite their normal size, the skeleton of her batons was heavy enough to smash through a wall with minimal force. Ed smiled, cleaning his face and letting his suit turn back to smoke.

"He's not a Kontrolle but a Hybride who uses his body's fatty tissue to produce, control, and enhance his own frequency and that of the surrounding environment. Despite being like that, he can also use external frequency and amplify his physicality." Lexa smiled, pointing at the figure in the thicket.

"Now I understand why he's lost weight!" Edvard nodded as he straightened his dirty, bloodied shirt, then aimed the steel tip in the same direction. The two launched themselves among the plants, spotting Lexa's copies being torn apart one by one.

"Why must you ruin something so beautiful?" Ed's figure spoke, grabbing Lexa's yellow clone by the back and tearing it into two clean halves. The yellowish slime coated the mandibles on his face, making them snap nervously. The tentacles on his shoulders spasmed, beating furiously on the ground. Dark tendrils crawled from under his now-loose clothing.

"SHOOT, LILAC!" Lexa and her lilac clone planted themselves before him in an instant. A purplish glow erupted from the double's palm, striking Ed's face. One of the mandibles embedded itself in a tree trunk a short distance away. A spurt of blood sprayed out, piercing the pale mist.

"Despite your gifts, you've remained beasts incapable of appreciating beauty." Ed's face carved its way through the halo of smoke, revealing bloodied fangs and torn flesh. His dark green eye threw her a terrible glare, as the trembling remains of his tentacles squirted blue blood onto the ground.

"I hope you're not talking about yourself…" Lexa ducked sharply, avoiding the violent claw swipe. The ground behind her was split into three clean cuts, each of a different depth. Lexa sprang up, striking Ed square in the chest with her baton. The weapon shortened, trembling violently and beginning to hiss.

"This is for what you did to my employees!" The golden mass snapped forward, extending like a spring and stunning him. Ed's ribs were shattered on impact, and the rest of the jaw that had been torn off fell at his feet, rolling in the mud. Ed lowered his head, staring at her with an even more inflamed hatred on his face. His clothes had become even looser, and new tendrils were wrapping around his flesh and torso. Lexa tried to withdraw, but numerous roots had coiled around her ankles and arms."

The plants both protected and regenerated him? Damned green-thumbed bastard!" A halo of smoke cast his shadow over both of them, and Lexa's lips moved to form an almost amused smirk.

"All yours!" Lexa shouted. While Ed was distracted, a fragment of her double coiled around his tendrils, fraying them with its small, sharp extremities. Lexa threw herself backward, shielding herself from the crimson spray of blood. Edvard's blade impaled his shoulder and a tentacle, then drove into his flank, as if it were a grotesque piece of crochet work.

"If you hadn't gotten agitated, I'd have already taken your heart…" Edvard murmured, continuing to bear his body's weight on the blade, pushing it ever deeper.

"Is that your reference point? I'm sorry, but you can't see the pattern as a whole!" An instinct made the agent stretch his arm to his left, immediately feeling something sharp pierce his fingers. A halo of smoke pushed the long thorns from his flesh. Edvard spun around, parrying in time Ed's powerful swipe, which shoved him into the thicket.

"Plants don't have a heart, yet we consider them alive." A series of creepers emerged from his shoulders, first wrapping his wound and then diving inside his chest, burrowing into flesh and bone. Edvard stared stupefied as the plants emerged right from the heart, while Ed sighed and stroked them.

"So what makes you think a Meta needs a heart to live?" Ed laughed, tearing off his bloodied sleeves to clean the blade, dirty with mud.

"And what makes you think you can afford to get distracted?" A flash of violet light crossed his palm, wrapping it in flames. Quickly, Lexa's double materialised before him, sinking her sharp fingers into his knees. Ed turned slowly, finding himself face to face with a golden cylinder. His body flew against the trees, shearing trunks and tearing branches. Lexa threw the cylinder to the ground, completely broken from the centre to the bases and sparkling with violet lights.

"Completely spent now, huh?" Lexa lifted the second cylinder, signalling her copies to disappear into the thicket. She stroked her abdomen with her hand, superficially incised by one of the tentacles. She stared at her blood and smiled, nodding to Edvard.

"You've become strong, Lexa. Monica would be happy." Edvard stood up, snapping his blade, breaking the bonds and making it fluid and free. The woman smiled, resting the heavy cylinder on her shoulders and pointing ahead of her.

"Thank you, but let's focus. That thing is far from dead." A flowery field coloured the earth, extending to the tops of the leaves of the intact trees. A light, floral scent reached their senses, so unnatural it closed their stomachs.

"Your cruelty knows no bounds…" Ed rose from the ground, letting petals of blue, covered in granules of dark soil, run through his fingers. His arms had become gigantic yellowish beaks, curved and sharp. The chitinous mandibles on his face had thickened and multiplied. The tentacles had vanished, leaving room for dark, slender appendages covered in fine blonde fuzz.

"HOW DISGUSTING!!" Lexa and her copies withdrew sharply, hiding behind Edvard. The agent stared at them dazedly, exchanging a glance with his opponent's luminous eyes, locked in an empty expression. Now that the fat was beginning to disappear, he noticed his lanky and unsettlingly thin features.

"He's just a little spider lexa…" Edvard smiled, vomiting white smoke from his lips. Ed stared at him attentively, resting his hands on his legs. In an instant, the plants plunged into his flesh, and the fat between his thighs was almost sucked out. With a greenish glow, his appendages transformed into something dark and pointed. His knee curved unnaturally, and everything below it became sharp and slender." Are those cricket legs?" The thought concluded, leaving room for the sensation of emptiness at his left.

Ed had vanished, leaving behind a cloud of dust. Jets of smoke were being born from Edvard's missing flesh instead of blood, and Lexa watched him pale.

"Crickets can't fly despite having wings, so they've found other means to survive. Their legs have evolved to exert as much force as possible to launch themselves out of danger, but imagine what could happen if they weighed in kilos rather than grams." The voice echoed through the greenhouse, all around the duo. Ed turned toward Lexa, only managing to process the violent impact that had struck him. In addition to smoke, a jet of blood sprayed from his mouth.

"Fast! Too fast!" Edvard tried to get up, but a new blow came down on him, crushing him to the ground and breaking the atmosphere. A blast of smoke exploded from his hand, launching him out of Ed's trajectory. He gripped his blade between his hands, trying to intercept the strike. The tip of the sword shattered, while all the force gathered in his wrist, breaking it." Lexa nor I have the capacity to intercept him… The only way is to limit his movements!"

Edvard's bones snapped back into place, and from all his pores, a thin mist began to emit. In a few moments, the entire greenhouse was filled with it. Lexa reached him, keeping her copies in a triangle around him." Paranoia …" The noise of the leaps became muffled, replaced by the sound of the gears in Lexa's baton and the hisses of her copies.

"Edvard, I only have one chance to hit him. I don't know what you have in mind, but see that you…" Edvard raised his hand, silencing her immediately. Every sound made his pupils ripple, as if they were mirrors of water.

"The mist isn't simply a catalyst for information. It functions as a custodian. The information remains inside the mist as long as it exists and is constantly updating." A black shadow emerged from the mist, taking away part of his flank.

"EDVARD!" Lexa tried to arm herself, but the man stopped her suddenly, placing his index finger on her lips. An atrocious sound of torn flesh echoed through the haze, while his flank bled and sprayed smoke." This space free of the mist is a circumference with a radius of a good thirty metres. The mist loses the signal for way less than a second. So his speed is sufficient to break the sound barrier… Incredible." The sounds of the mist quieted, and this time it was Edvard's shoulder that was slashed."

However, the direction of Ed's body does not change once he re-enters the mist, so that means he can't sustain a higher speed or a sudden change of course in his current state. He's bouncing to find the next foothold!" The blade snapped again, turning back into a sword with a shattered tip.

"Lexa… I know where he'll strike! Keep the copies ready, because we have a single attempt." The woman nodded in silence, lifting the heavy golden piston above her head, supported by the doubles. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

"He's gotten ever closer to my head with his attacks, and now the only point where it's possible to reach that speed and that angle…" Edvard spun around sharply, impaling Ed directly in the throat. The brutal stop caused the ground beneath Edvard's feet to fracture. Ed stared at him stupefied, as spurts of blood stained his shirt.

"You had to limit yourself, right?! All those attempts brought you to this, Ed Guin!" A yellowish blade impaled him in the stomach, lifting him. A series of violet darts tore off his claws and appendages, reducing them to a fountain of dense whitish sap.

"You're a madman, Edvard Ross… A GREAT MADMAN!" Lexa leaped at him, charging all the force into her piston. The impact echoed through the vegetation, making the air in the greenhouse vibrate. The mechanism triggered sharply, releasing all the force in a single instant. Golden splinters rained to the ground as Ed's pierced body smashed through the greenhouse glass.

"Go screw yourself… Ex-ball of lard!" Lexa smiled, collapsing to the ground. The blood had no time to fall to the earth before it was immediately absorbed by the flowers inside the wound. An expression of disgust painted itself on that bestial face, mutilated and greased with blood and sap.

"Perfect, we've wounded him enough! Get ready for the rest." Edvard immediately grabbed Lexa, launching her away from the swarm of spines. The darts bypassed him, leaving only smoke in their path. Now black, membranous wings rose from his back, blocking out the moon with every beat.

"I'd say we lure him outside…" Edvard nodded, launching into a run together with his companion. The leaves were pierced by quills, similar to bullets. Ed launched himself in pursuit of them, gliding among the leaves and the glassy remains. His speed was reduced, but his agility had doubled, allowing him extremely tight turns among the branches. He stretched his hand, ever closer to grazing Lexa's neck. One last beat, and his nails grazed her white skin.

His eyes flashed when the woman turned to smoke, and a violent discharge of energy burned his back. He tumbled onto the beaten road outside the destroyed dome. Long claws grew from his nails, gripping the ground.

"You won't get out alive…" Ed rose, towering over them, now almost entirely lean. Edvard and Lexa, smeared with blood and mud, emerged from the greenhouse, together with the copies.

"We have few chances to kill him…" Edvard murmured, reflecting himself in what little clean remained on his sword. Lexa nodded, stretching out her hand to touch one of her knee-guards. Ed pulled his claws from the earth, aiming them at her throat. All three exchanged a glance, instantly interrupted by a tremor strong enough to shake their bones.

The space containing Machinamentum seemed to twist with disgust, and soon they understood why: Edvard immediately brought a hand to his mouth, while Ed and even Lexa knelt with tears.

"What is this Frequency?! It's so dense it feels like it's forcing its way down my throat!" The doubt lasted relatively briefly, supplanted by fear. Their faces paled when a silvery, malevolent laugh, almost ethereal, resounding through the whole space, reached their ears.

"It can't be... Is it that thing?!" In the underground facility of the tower, Lautre Clerc danced among the pipes of the cells, dodging sparks and lances. A shadow planted itself before him, immediately exorcised by the sound of his tuning fork. The metal on which his feet rested vibrated, snapping.

"You're really a pest!!" Sparks rose from the iron of his weapon as he smiled at the sight of Maica, halted above his head in her attempt to strike him. Maica's key was unable to penetrate his defences, and it was already visible that the vibration was invading her phalanges. Beneath the agent's feet, tendrils of a greenish colour, covered in slime, erupted.

"Focus, Lautre Clerc, or you'll die…" Maica vanished, leaving in her place rocks unnaturally coiled upon themselves like spirals. Lautre threw himself sideways, feeling the metal screech and spark. He had an instant to rotate his torso and intercept the rapier wrapped in thorns and bones. Roman smiled, continuing to push the tip of his blade forcefully against the agent's face. Clerc grinned, gripping the blade with his fingers.

The blood and metal began to vibrate furiously, so much so that a few drops splattered in the air.

"Me, die? By your hand, moreover?!" His laughter was swallowed by the increasing vibrations, while Roman kept making creepers and limbs emerge to support his physique. Silence arrived for a brief moment, followed by a very violent snap. His blade broke and shattered, falling among the holes in the pipe. In that moment of distraction, Lautre grabbed him by the throat, raising the tuning fork above their heads. The metal vibrated furiously, at times reflecting the glow of his red eyes.

"Do you ever turn your brain on before spouting this crap?!" The air was compressed and shot downward in a tremendously violent shockwave. Lautre smiled, turning immediately toward Maica, hanging from a lump of iron and rock, together with Roman.

"You… Are really annoying." Lautre smiled, throwing his weapon into the air and bringing his outstretched arms closer toward the duo. His eyes flashed, and suddenly everything fell into silence. The flowing of water, the hiss of the freezing currents, and the tremor of the machines had all vanished around them." Bang …" The Tuning Fork began to fall, and it was at that moment that Roman and Maica were swept away together with the pipe where Lautre stood.

A wave of wind so strong it fractured the centre of the arena and tore apart the space with an eruption of sounds. The noises returned to populate the air, as the vibrating instrument returned to its owner, now seated on the remains of bent metal.

"You're fast, Roman…" He smiled, pointing the weapon at the old man who emerged from the debris, wrapped in a suit of slimy, black bones. Between his hands was clenched a long dark pitchfork, its prongs made of thick, bony fingers.

"You don't want a battle of attrition? Right." Lautre laughed, diving down from his little seat. The tuning fork scraped the ground, producing sparks and vibrating forcefully. The two found themselves a few steps apart, staring interminably at each other. Roman took the first step, widening Lautre's smile. The sounds vanished again, and the room filled with blood and sparks. Amidst the clashes and splashes, Roman managed to sink his blade into the agent's shoulder.

The soldier remained stunned for a second, grinning malignantly a second later. His legs coiled around his neck, making him vibrate together with his opponent. Lautre threw his arms and the blade to the ground, accumulating all the tremors beneath them. The ground and Roman's arms were torn apart, splitting open, unable to withstand that energy." Superposition." Lautre sprang up, swinging his tuning fork against Roman's flank, still bleeding and disarmed.

The impact raised a gigantic cloud from the ground, moved by the immense pressure released by the vibrations.

"Damn, little girl." Lautre smiled, staring at Maica beside Roman, her hands wrapped in that strange slime and a greenish vial clenched between her teeth. The woman panted and bled from her trembling fingers.

"Your ability is a form of audiokinesis… That earlier was a pressure wave caused by the vibrations in the air." Lautre stared at her wide-eyed, bursting into laughter and stomping the ground with his feet, hopping left and right.

"What did you call my ability?! Audiothinghy?! I just play, and the air at that moment had such a loud sound it was a shame to waste it!" He stopped, aiming the two rounded tips at them, smiling.

"Maica… Hold him still. I'll make sure to finish him definitively." Roman stretched out his hand, and suddenly dozens of shadows rose from the ground, each armed with various rural tools: sickles, hammers, torches, pitchforks.

"Listen, old man, this isn't the polenta festival, so see that you get serious! Otherwise…" Lautre appeared before them, grabbing Roman's throat. A few moments later, a violent boom and a white cloud formed behind him. Maica turned against him and was kicked away, with foam forming in her mouth.

"You're starting to bore me…" Lautre stomped his foot down, launching Roman to the other side of the room. The shadows coiled around him, attempting to impale and slash him. Amidst the jumble of bodies, Clerc stared attentively at Roman, back on his feet, smiling from ear to ear." Pleurant." Again, the air fell mute and sterile. The man failed to hear the metallic screeching and the grim slithering of his shadows, but this only brought him more anxiety.

It was then that his ears hissed in pain, as a feminine scream swept away the room together with the shadows, hurled aside.

"I've fought against Edvard Ross, but he wasn't this…Ferocious." Roman whispered, gripping the tendrils shaped like a sword with force. Lautre took a step, vanishing and appearing to his right.

"I'll tell you more. Edvard and I were in the platoons… And the vast majority of the kills were on my account." Roman turned, being struck full in the face by his knuckles. His skin vibrated and lacerated as he was flung away." Dush! Pyrnut'" Roman grazed the ground with his hand, anchoring himself to the wall. Enormous black tendrils emerged from the arena, splitting the ground and taking the shape of long, thin lances, all aimed at Lautre.

The man smiled, dancing among the clouds of dust and refuse, shooting into the air and quickly returning to the ground. The sharp hiss of the blades ceased for a moment. Roman threw himself into the wall, vanishing into a pool of shadow. Lautre lunged at that exact spot, sinking his arm into the wall. All the cement, the iron, and even the paint began to tremble, exploding in a terrible landslide of greyish blocks.

"People who think all the time are quite boring…" A gigantic hand emerged from the ground, grabbing Lautre and launching him to the opposite side of the arena. He landed on the wall, driving his tuning fork between the metal beams. He sharply kicked the cement with his foot, raising a heavy square block. Dozens of twisted metal and rock darts embedded themselves forcefully, shattering it.

"NOW THIS IS GETTING EXCITING!" Lautre saw Maica constantly grabbing material from the ground, mutating it into strange geometric combinations. He launched himself at her, making the air explode beneath his feet. The gigantic hand of skeletons and tendrils reappeared, crashing down upon him. The agent smiled, sliding under the enormous fingers and striking them with the tuning fork. A rain of bones and slime battered the room, while Lautre continued his offensive.

He flexed all the muscles in his arm, hurling the vibrating rod into the centre of the greenish palm. The weapon embedded itself, proceeding to transmit all the energy to the base, submerged under the rock.

"Now for the two of us…" Lautre turned his smile toward Maica, raised on a strange circular form a few metres above the ground. The girl smiled, gripping an iron rod emerging from her platform. Once touched, it began to contort and break, becoming a swarm of small pyramidal splinters. A snap of fingers, and the volley of darts battered the wall, striking Lautre instantly.

"Interesting ability, but if I close the gaps it's not so useful." Maica raised her head, staring at her opponent, his flank wrapped in red and his forehead cut. He vanished from her sight a second time, grabbing her by the shoulder." Distortion!" The ground of the platform twisted, extending in the form of thin points of rock and iron. Maica spun around sharply, trying to intercept him, but nothing but the breeze caressed her face.

"What are you looking for?" Lautre grabbed her shoulders, squeezing them with enough force to make her kneel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the wide smile on that pale skin, petrifying herself. He raised his hand, pointing it at Maica's face, completely immobilised by the vibrations. Lautre released his grip, seizing with his now-free hand a dart of bones and greenish creepers. Roman ground his teeth, reloading the gigantic crossbow between his hands.

"Where are you looking?" Maica turned again, this time being struck full in the face by an iron rod with a twisted shape. The iron pressed against his cheekbones before all the force launched him off the platform against the wall. The impact was nothing to him, yet something didn't add up.

"It doesn't hurt, but all my senses are going to shambles." The blurred ground had turned from greenish to yellow, with a strange circular motif in perpetual mutation. His legs were weak, and when Lautre tried to touch them, he felt a strange slimy sensation on his fingers.

"I'm not drunk… Am I?" He got up with difficulty, holding what he thought was his hand to his mouth. He recognised in that jumble of colours and shapes the silhouettes of Maica and Roman, left completely unaltered. Lautre smiled, slapping his face with both hands.

"You're under the effect of my ability. Whatever your perception, it will remain distorted, and you'll be incapable of reacting." Maica took a step forward, grabbing a pistol from the large pocket on her overalls. It was a weapon of a grim greyish colour, poorly kept and dirty with oil, so much that it would be a miracle if a bullet ever emerged from its crusted mouth. She fired, piercing Lautre's leg. A spurt of blood splattered on the wall, while other bone darts tore at his exposed skin.

"It's been a while since I've felt this badly off… When was the last time? Maybe right against that monster…" Lautre tried to stroke his side, being brutally struck by a second bullet, losing his right index finger, but not his grin. The shots ceased, leaving him trapped in that pool of blood.

"Let's finish this here…" Roman swung the blade before him, stretching it along his flank and slowly approaching. The agent was motionless, with laboured breathing and with that idiotic smile still stamped on his face. He raised the blade above his head, rotating his wrist to aim it directly at his face.

"Who do you think I am…" Roman immediately retreated as soon as he saw his body begin to vibrate furiously. The wounds spat out more spurts of blood, beginning to move and close due to the vibrations. Lautre reopened his eyes, swinging his limp arms.

"Impossible… His frequency is still altered. He shouldn't be able to move this well!" Lautre smiled, pointing his regenerated fingers at his eyes.

"These… Are more of a hindrance than a help to me." Lautre slowly clenched the tuning fork, grinning and vibrating ever more. He took the first step, aiming his fist directly at Roman." Compas!" A violent vibration crossed the ground beneath their feet, followed by a lighter one. Lautre smiled, opening his hand and drawing a long sigh. Roman took a step forward, finding the agent before him, dripping with blood.

"What?!" Lautre's fist sank into the rapier, fracturing it instantly and making him tumble across the entire arena with a violent boom. Maica aimed the barrel of the weapon at his temple, but as soon as she applied force to press the trigger, the pistol vanished from her hands.

"Here you go." The pistol was now pointed at her cheek. She tried to turn, but Lautre sank his shoe into her stomach, sending her flying. All this lasted barely an instant, unleashing a tremendously violent boom. Maica spat blood and mucus as soon as she returned to the ground, stopping her fall with localised distortions on the floor.

"I listen to sounds with my heart… I don't need eyes to understand the environment that surrounds me." Lautre's figure appeared and vanished through the room, letting his voice echo continuously. He appeared before her, holding his tuning fork, wrapped in slimy tendrils. His wounds were sealed, and now only dried blood stained his white skin.

"His wounds have already closed? The dossier didn't report he was an Evolved Anderung …" Maica murmured with a hiss, making Lautre's ears prick up, and he smiled confusedly.

"I'm not so magnificent as to use free frequency to heal myself… I was born with a bone problem, and my reckless lifestyle certainly hasn't improved it. Over time, I devised a technique to help my body sustain the pain. It consists of manipulating my body's vibrations to move small portions of frequency around my system. At first, it was really a bore keeping it active constantly without shattering my bones, but now it's completely natural to me!"

Maica stared at him, pale, her mouth slightly open, and her breath quickened.

"You're a monster." Lautre turned toward the origin of those words, splitting a shadow thrown at him in mid-air. The halves of the slimy body slid past his shoulders, leaving behind a dark trail. Roman advanced against him with a new blade, this time thicker and more massive.

"You're not the first to think so." He smiled, dodging Maica's dart and materialising right at the centre of the arena. She and Roman regrouped closely, with him helping her support herself." She won't last long if she takes another hit like that." Roman thought, shifting his gaze to the purplish skin on the woman's abdomen and her fingers, broken and almost splintered. Lautre stroked the tube on his shoulders, spitting blood and a strange greyish liquid onto the ground."

The nanites are leaving the bloodstream faster than expected. I need to finish this quickly." Lautre gripped the back of the pack forcefully, but something stopped him. He perceived their eyes, laden with a mixture of emotions so varied it left him compelled to smile.

"You speak of war… But do you know what war is?" That question shook Maica and Roman together, who stared at him with even more spite. In Lautre's mind, the images of trenches and large cement mounds loaded with explosives and ammunition materialised.

"In musical terms, I would define it as a glorious cacophony… And many learn to appreciate it, while just as many tore out their ears to stop hearing it, even in the world of dreams." Lautre took a step forward, pointing his finger at Roman.

"In your opinion, which category do I belong to? The tolerant audience or the tormented?" Roman pushed Maica away from his side, lifting his shoulder above hers, curving slightly. A shadow perched on his shoulder, holding a heavy three-section crossbow, each with a human limb as ammunition.

"Neither of the two…" The man replied, leaving Lautre frozen in a smile of pure satisfaction. His laughter resounded through the whole complex, unhinged and at times grim and mad. He doubled over, washing away the tears between one nod of his head and another.

"Excellent!" Lautre brought his hand back to the rear of his equipment, this time gripping something with force.

"I was the musician who birthed that cacophony." A blue flash extended beyond his shoulders, as a metallic silhouette continued to emerge from the white iron box. Lifted above his head, a second tuning fork, black in colour. Its length was almost triple that of the first, becoming taller than Lautre himself. He let it fall onto his shoulders, fracturing the ground beneath his feet.

"And now I've finally understood…" Lautre's eyes lit up, and his pupils mutated slightly, elongating and twisting until they became musical notes. Roman took a step forward, swallowing and smiling.

"... WHAT MELODY I WANT TO PLAY FOR YOUR FUNERAL!!!" A thundering boom was heard through the room as the ground exploded and fractured, under the song of an unsettlingly seductive feminine chant, slightly distorted.