210 Overcome It
He met him halfway, going for a quick one-two set of slashes, though the killer slipped between them with ease. Without his sense of hearing, all he could rely on was sight. He locked onto the man, flipping his hold of his dagger, bringing it down preemptively. The movement of the nameless one was predicted; a low dash for his midsection. He saw it coming, yet— Clang. As he brought his dagger down upon the back of the man's head, his arm stopped short. It was seen through; his wrist was grasped in the enemy's hold. He attempted to yank himself free, though the man's fingers were like iron grips. ["Orcish Boost"] His forearm bulged with a tremendous flash of strength as he yanked himself free, though immediately finding a silver line gliding across his vision. That streak of metal snatched away his vision, turning everything to black. Only then did he realize it was the edge of the heinous knife, having eviscerated his irises. Total darkness; that's what he was left with. 'I can't hear. I can't see–he just wants to break me down. He can try,' the resolution was thought by him. There was only a second up to him to adjust to the absence of his two most pivotal senses when it came to locating his enemy. ["Superior Sense: Smell"] Against his nostrils, the thick stench of blood infiltrated; the scent of the killer. Further distinguishing the smells in the air, the metallic aroma he found was unmistakably the knife coming for him. He could smell it coming for his neck, bringing him to duck down while engulfed in the senseless darkness. All he could do was confirm by the fact his throat wasn't split that he made the correct find with his nose. The enhanced sense of smell seemed to have elevated itself to a greater degree with his higher level, granting him an incredibly nuanced sense. 'The aged air trapped in the basement, like the pages of an archaic book, layered in dust...The metal shelves, metallic with the chalky scent of paint. That stench of blood and death, I can smell it, moving, pulsating–that's him, no mistaking it,' he analyzed. In that total, silent void, that scent manifested itself as a smear of red in the shape of a man, sprinting towards him with a glint of silver in his right hand. He stood still, looking aimlessly into the distance of nothing as the scent of blood approached. It was a purposeful tactic; feigning the inability to sense the killer. —Right then, he moved. As the silver streak came for his neck, he countered it with his own blade, moving forward as he drove his second blade down in retaliation. He moved to stab the enemy's thigh, seeking to burst the femoral artery, though he only felt it slide against the side of the target. 'Another slash is coming—move back,' he thought. 18:57
Knowing the aggression of the nameless killer, he leapt backwards, landing his feet on a giant box for the higher ground. Just as he got his footing, the streak of scarlet rushed him as he moved to the side. An overhead slash of the knife completely bisected the box, surely doing the same to him if it had hit. As he landed back on the concrete flooring, a strong intensification of the stench of blood brought him to lean back. The silver silhouette of the unseen knife passed no more than centimeters from his face. 'I can smell it. Every time he goes for an attack, the scent of blood thickens. Like a sea of copper, flooding against my nostrils—I've got it,' he realized. Even realizing that, a problem presented itself as that stench of blood began to move rapidly around him; it smeared in circles, forcing him to spin around before the enemy pivoted away, dashing in then out. An attempt to overwhelm his prime sense with quick movements? He figured as much, holding his ground, knowing that knife would come for him either way. That stench intensified– n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
["Supercharge"] ["Magenta"] –Again, as it felt his entire body might explode from the extensive strain, he ravaged his enemy with merciless force. With that final release, the knife fell from his body; he felt nothing at the end of his dagger. ["Major Arcana - The Devil defeated."] ["Anarch Coin x20000 obtained."] [Experience points: +500,000] [Level fifty-eight reached!] [155,000/400,000]
[Assimilated ability from ["The Devil"]: "Stalk"] [Assimilated weapon from ["The Devil"]: "Hunting Knife"] [New skill(s) obtained: "Reflex Counter"] Fading in from the darkness, the sight of the dim interior of concrete walls and steel shelves returned as his ears rang lightly, though listening to the remnant sparks of lightning. "...Hfff..." He breathed out slowly, finding his senses returned as his body was recovered in full. Glancing down, his right arm was returned to his side, though the same fate could not be said for the heinous man. In front of him, all that was left of the nameless killer was a splatter of red, burned into the concrete like crimson chalk. For a moment, he looked at the vague residuals left of the man before turning away, stumbling back through the maze of a basement. Bits and pieces were left scattered of Nikko's robot, still buzzing lightly by a stack of pallets as he walked by. A few corners were turned before he found himself back to the sight of his companions; Jasper was sat up, rubbing his throat with a cough, while Charlotte was up to her feet, brushing her knees off. "Finn!--You did it...Are you alright?" Charlotte worriedly asked, rushing up to him. He didn't quite know how to answer that, still feeling the wounds across his body, even if they were recovered and no longer hurt. Being cut up and maimed like a piece of meat and brought back to full, it was a sensation that almost felt dreamlike. "I'm fine...How about you both? I almost thought I wouldn't make it in time...Good thing it was enough for a level for all of us," he said with relief. Jasper picked himself up, placing his hand atop his own helmet as he shook his head in clear shame, "Shouldn't have had to leave you to it, mate...Sorry. I slipped up and before I knew it–"
"Stop that. That man was something else–I was the only one who could match well against him. That's it–that's really why I didn't want you both to face him, but–I'm glad you were with me," Finn assured the two. "Yeah," Jasper gave in, though it hardly seemed to wash away his guilt.