In the blue-lit corridor, a relaxed and pressing whistle rang, and the sound of steps intensified as the walls tightened.
Klint, arms crossed behind the nape of his neck, walked while humming a quick and energetic tune.
His mind was wrapped in the excitement of having taken the first step, his first margin of progress in his new life, and full of this satisfaction was ready for his next challenge. The lights began to shed more until a strong white blaze made him realize he had arrived at his destination.
Crossing the gap, Klint found himself in a curved room, with the front walls completely transparent and welded with strange black iron bars, the same one he saw in the hangar. Turning his head, he saw white seats with padding arranged in raised rows, all facing the windows.
Looking out he was able to notice the panorama outside the room: a lush clearing with grass and flowers but perfectly maintained, however, there was an element that considerably attracted his attention. The trees in the clearing were completely black as if charred, while their foliage was a dark purple, identical to what Klint had learned to recognize at NOIR.
As he was enraptured by the view, he felt timidly tapping on his shoulder, turning around he saw Arte, the maid who had almost crushed his hand an hour earlier.
As he was enraptured by the view, he felt a timid tapping on his shoulder, turning around he saw Arte, the maid who had almost crushed his hand an hour earlier.
He felt it with a smile on his face, but his tone was not as supportive and shy as he had known, this time he was sad almost gloomy while talking to him.
The girl pointed to the dressing room and handed him the combat uniform: A completely black suit decorated with some purple and white lines, which formed a rhombus where a stylized N in gothic character was inscribed. Klint nodded and went to change, with rapid strides, through the ravines left free from the chairs.
He managed to notice Net, wrapped in a gloomy aura and disappointed while he was furiously biting her thumb, Klint would swear that there were drops of blood dripping from her lips but did nothing and did not try to arouse her from her nervousness, aware that he was the cause of this.
The sliding doors of the dressing room opened, revealing the white interior full of lockers and benches in the room. The floor composed of rhomboidal tiles gave a quite futuristic tone to the dressing room. Klint took off his clothes quickly and started wearing the suit, noticing that it was awfully tight.
It almost looked like a second skin but it was so elastic and resistant that it did not hinder any movement of his body.
Klint carefully stored his clothes in an unmarked locker, which as soon as it was opened was slightly remodeled, transcribing on the small plate all its features. Suddenly the doors of the room opened, revealing a subtle female figure. The light brown hair swayed over her shoulders covered with the thick white sweater.
Klint recognized the thin cut of the eyes, the pinkish and fine lips, the small and slightly raised nose, and that sharp and elegant face.
He asked, closing the cabinet with a confused expression. He disappeared behind the end of the row of furniture, looking at her while sticking out only his torso. She nodded quickly with her head, swinging her hair almost hypnotically.
That’s the only thing the girl could pronounce in front of Klint.
She tried everything to make an apology but she couldn’t, while Klint had noticed with disgust the bandage on her wrist. Lance took her by the shoulders and gently shook her, forcing her to look at him in the face, his blue eyes filled with tears.
He thought, avoiding making too much strength and regretting never having engaged in a social relationship.
He answered smiling and loosening his grip.
She asked shyly staring at him.
He answered with a smile and began to walk towards the door
He concluded, visibly embarrassed by his boldness, very unusual for someone who had never had long-term relationships with anyone but his landlady.
Jeanne was left stunned and embarrassed as she watched the boy leave. For a second she seemed to see a shining aura around his shoulders.
. Jeanne thought, getting left alone in the room.
He heard from a voice behind him pointing to the red area of the floor. It was Arte, who was kindly transporting him to the platform.
She said to him right away, without changing her dark tone. Klint felt no malice, only resignation, and cynicism.
The girl continued, not even deigning to look him in the face, perhaps out of sadness.
This was what the boy said to the maid as the elevator began to light up and disappear into the floor with him.
The corridor crossed by the mechanism also had a completely transparent vertical wall, that allowed Klint to see in the center of the clearing a figure wearing the same black suit but attached with a long cloak and a thick leather glove that covered his right arm. It didn’t take him long to realize it was Maliard, the boy who had brutally slandered Jeanne and Net.
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened, releasing a small blanket of white steam. Klint emerged from the light smoke and began to walk towards the center of the clearing, maintaining an empty and serious expression.
He thought as he squeezed the grass under him. Lance Klint had always been a quiet person and perpetually opposed to the use of violence, however, there had been more cases where, reluctantly, he had to get his hands dirty.
Maliard looked at him for a moment, noticing his heavy gait and his gaze so full of challenge and vigor.
He said while tapping on the fabric of the glove nail.
Klint replied, cracking his neck, shouting at him. Maliard became deeply angry but did not say a word, he smiled only narrowing his eyes.
A flare exploded over the clearing, followed by a powerful mechanic echo that marked the beginning of the challenge. In a moment, the ground beneath Klint tore, turning into a series of extremely sharp spikes and pikes.
With an athletic movement, Klint managed to lean away, cutting himself on the shoulder. A trickle of blood slid down the suit but stopped almost instantly.
Maliard smiled snapping his fingers nervously. A shiver crossed the back of Klint’s neck, his body had moved instinctively to dodge the rock blade behind him.
The barrage of sharp stone continued incessantly, forcing Klint to the defensive.
He thought while concentrating on the feeling he had felt before in his legs.
He yelled at himself, feeling his legs explode with vigor. Like a shot, Klint had disappeared, leaving a fuss in his place. Maliard was baffled, unable to locate him anywhere.
A few minutes passed, and the clearing was completely surrounded by silence, only the breath of the boy gave that disturbing silence a minimum of reality.
Klint squeezed a pebble of rock and earth in his hand, flexing his body with all his strength.
A severe pain resounded through Maliard’s body, from his shoulder to his bowels, and a gush of blood filtered through the grass beneath. He turned his gaze to his right. Some of the flesh had leaped away, torn by a bullet.
He laid his hand on the naked bleeding skin. A white light enveloped him completely and after a few seconds, his shoulder was as good as new, but Maliard’s breathlessness implied that the trial had shaken him.
A strange rustle caught his attention, leading him to dodge a second bullet from the side. The dart ended up breaking a tree behind it, causing it to collapse with a deaf roar.
He said with a whisper, without the intention of being heard by Klint.
He pointed the index finger of the glove-covered hand towards the origin of the sound. In an instant, the area was completely torn by a series of sharp pinnacles of rock and wood, amalgamated with each other like snakes.
The sound of a broken branch changed Maliard’s attention, and he began to snap his fingers. A barrage of pikes and pillars began to tear the forest apart, stabbing the trees and tearing the ground.
Finally Klint emerged, snapping towards Maliard. In his hand a rock of the size comparable to a golf ball. With a lightning gesture, he stopped his run and hurled the pebble at Maliard, who erected a wall to stop him.
The stone shattered the wall, stopping his run, but to his surprise, he realized that was not Klint’s strategy. With a new dash, Lance found himself face-to-face with Maliard, giving him no time to react.
His fist sank into his abdomen, transmitting all the strength accumulated in the race. His skin swayed under the suit and thick, transparent saliva erupted from his mouth.
His body was thrown away, tumbling over the grass like a doll thrown on the floor. Klint gasped, his arm trembling and full of wounds but still tight, strong, and firm.
He said as he caught his breath, his legs seemed completely lost, and he could only feel the ground below.
While he was running it seemed to him that someone was guiding his movements, helping him in his undertaking. Suddenly, a trickle of blood came out of his mouth, causing him to cough and yearn for the pain.
Maliard told him, getting up, his suit completely open where his fist had been sunk. His abdomen, however, was unharmed and still overflowing with strength.
He yelled as he pointed at Klint again. A series of white flashes piled up on its tip, before vanishing.
He smiled, manifesting the lights under Klint’s legs.
The ground beneath him opened like a chasm, letting out a thick series of sharp thorns, which completely tore his body, piercing his flesh and blocking his arms.
Monica whispered as she watched the scene from one of the seats, Jeanne refused to look, keeping her eyes on her hands, placed on her lap.
Behind him she heard Lautre’s voice, intent on scolding her.
He explained, indicating all the tears on his suit, but free of any reddish residue.
Klint broke the blades of soil that penetrated his flesh, the screams started to fuse with the crumbling of the stones. With an inhuman effort, he managed to dash again into the bushes.
Said Maliard while at his feet were generated tentacles of rock, that began to chase Klint in the thick forest like hounds. To his surprise, he noticed that Lance had appeared from the opposite side, charging him from the front.
His stride quickly covered the distance between him and Maliard, who was not worried.
He pointed his middle and index finger at the ground, squinting his eye as if he were aiming.
He advised him, shortly after Klint felt a soft spot on the ground with his foot.
Almost instantly the earth glowed white, detonating and tearing apart a portion of the clearing and raising a thick blanket of dust.
With a snap of his fingers, a series of blades and pillars rose from the cloud to erase any trace of Klint if he survived the explosion.
Maliard smiled as he gave his back to the thick smokescreen.
Suddenly, a shadow completely covered his body. He looked up and turned his head, only seeing five knuckles a few inches away from his face.
Klint muttered, pushing all the muscles in his body against his opponent’s face.
The impact was atrocious. The pressure of the blow was such that the man bounced a couple of times before stopping against a tree, which broke almost instantly.
Klint gasped again, but this time his wounds began to heal, his breath and pulse slowly starting to adjust to that new urge.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
He opened and closed his hand several times. Before he was hit by the explosion, he had detonated a small sphere, throwing himself upwards.
Maliard tried to get up, but his legs trembled terribly, preventing him from moving.
whispered, while a white light enveloped him entirely. She finally got up, her nose had stopped bleeding and she had finally regained a normal shape.
For the first time in a long time, someone can make me say the name of my ability. > He began laboriously, the white light had dissipated. He began to pull the leather glove from his arm, slowly loosening the ties that held him firmly to the limb.
The lining fell to the ground, revealing a dark black and red armor that completely covered his forearm and two fingers. The parabraccio shone in the sunlight, decorating the shadows with the purple and red reflections of the gems embedded in the knuckles of black iron.
Maliard asked, pointing severely at Klint with his black arm.
He replied by stroking his forehead and walking towards him.
He bounced his shoulders, feeling smooth and still healthy.
Maliard maintained a detached attitude but his thoughts were shrouded in dismay and a touch of wonder.
This rumbled through his head as he watched Klint approach.
A round of applause echoed through the clearing, the event being so unusual that it momentarily stopped Klint from his approach. He looked at Maliard confused, frowning and stepping back.
He couldn’t help but think that most of the people at NOIR were particular.
He grinned in the shadow created by the leaves.
Klint felt a shiver behind his head, a feeling of danger had taken over his body, forcing him to duck to the side. He quickly realized that his gesture had been made within the limits as he watched his leg open to pour a long red gush on the grass.
He said while kneeling on the ground, the cut was deep and the blood didn’t stop. Another thrill, Klint threw himself sideways, this time avoiding the blow of a few centimeters, observing with horror the ground to his left being quartered by an invisible blade.
Maliard replied, catching his breath and wiping his lips.
With a second snap of the fingers, Klint found himself blocked by thick, heavy rock walls. He stretched his index finger, mimicking a gun while a pinkish light was pouring into the nail.
With a second snap of the fingers, Klint found himself blocked by thick, heavy rock walls. He extended his index finger, mimicking a gun as a pinkish light poured into the tip. Smoke began to form around his finger, pointing to the cage where Lance was locked.
A violent flash developed from the nail. It took flight towards the rock cage, investing it completely, generating a deafening roar while rock scales were hurled into the forest and against the windows of the terraces.
Monica tried in every way to look away from the massacre that had just occurred but was stunned by the force of that blow. Jeanne covered her mouth with trembling hands, a tear was forming in her eyes.
Lucas pronounced, projecting a small hologram from his bronze ring, showing all the characteristics of Maliard.
"Weight: 76 Kg - Height: 182 - Age: 20 demonstrated - Chronological age= 95 - Ability = Farbern, Hel manipulation of Hybride class - Rank= Zwei"
Monica looked at the flames burning in the purple leaves, while Maliard’s glove shone in the lights with a dark black blink.
Clerc ruled while sipping a glass of red wine, poured by Arte moments before the explosion.
< Klint..... Will he be okay?> Whispered Net, feeling guilty for the boy.
Clerc answered before sipping the crimson fluid from the chalice again. It was hard to take him seriously since his blood was more alcohol than anything else.
Maliard was tired, on the tip of the index there were flaps of burned skin, and by now his ability was beginning to give adverse effects.
He reminded himself while shaking off the dust.
He thought as he turned his back, heading for the elevator, the charred grass and the slight black snow resting on his suit.
His pace was slow and tired, the clash had exhausted him, squeaking as he held his shoulder, sore from the recoil of the explosive ability.
A sound, followed by a dull stench, forced him to turn in shock. To his right Klint was inches from him with his arm tightened like a spring and his hand closed like a hammer.
His suit was partially torn, revealing the burns and cuts below while his face was covered in ash, but he still had a grimace of pain and anger.
Instinctively, Turner swiped his torso, blocking the blow with his forearms, but it was not enough to mitigate his strength. His bones fractured as he felt the pressure of his fist coming from his arms to his collarbones, throwing him off.
However, even before he could touch the ground, Klint grabbed him by the ankle, throwing him brutally on the scorching ground. Maliard tried to scream, but the shock was enough to stop his breathing. Lance threw himself beside him, lifting him off the ground and throwing him towards one of the rock pillars scattered throughout the clearing.
Maliard was about to faint from shock, but his instincts forced him to dodge as he watched Klint soar over him holding a tree trunk with his hands.
The stone and wood collided, destroying each other as both Klint and Maliard met their eyes full of fatigue and pain, but also enthusiasm.
He murmured Maliard, pointing his palm at him and holding it as if he was trying to crush something. A gust of wind pushed Klint upwards, leaving him stuck in an air bubble, unable to escape.
Klint’s lungs struggled to not let even a breath escape, while he pushed against the walls of the sphere.
Maliard gasping, began to squeeze something between his hands, the grain on his skin and the trembling of his flesh made the effort of the gesture shine through. Klint immediately felt the pressure around him. He started pressing on the bubble walls with even more violence, trying not to get crushed.
The force continued to intensify, as he perceived his bones cracking under the fury of the air, which was slowly enveloping him tighter and tighter. His sight only blurred, sinking into the thick of his conscience under the effort.
A voice echoed in the dark, pushing him from the back. A shiver ran over his brain as if a nail was slowly digging its way into his flesh. Lance could not speak, he was only able to follow the voice that was bringing him back to consciousness.