The battlefield froze at Jet's words, the cold air billowing between the buildings that encompassed the abandoned street, the metallic surface of her threatening glaive shining in the moonlight. Kurt gritted his teeth as he sank further into the ground, ready to pounce like a rabid dog.
Now, he stood reinforced by four echoes, horrors taken from the spell and into the assassin's possession.
A twisted mummy with long humanoid forelimbs.
A scorpion the size of a truck, black as the void.
A grotesque hybrid of centipede and man, limbs clicking unnaturally.
And finally, a marionette with knives sewn into its wrists, dancing on invisible strings.
The backup was intimidating, to say the least, especially the mummy, an echo of the fallen rank. All of them plus Kurt were a deadly force, yet Kade, Dawn, Leo, and even the cameraman felt at ease.
Because the reserved nature of the stern jet put them at ease.
Sure, Kurt was one of the most terrifying awakened Kade had ever witnessed, yet he was just awakened.
Jet went further beyond the mundane people and was something greater.
An ascended.
Kurt roared forward, his disgusting echoes following behind, each one preparing to skewer, crush, and bisect Jet. At least, Kurt should be mentioned with his despicable shadow daggers.
Yet Jet didn't charge forward to meet their advance; instead, she slowly paced down to meet the battalion of terror, her footsteps echoing out hauntingly. Kade and Dawn opened their eyes wide, watching a master at work.
Kurt arrived first, growling with rage, striking out with his two daggers, his form obscured by the shadows entrenched in late-night embrace; his blades struck twice, one blade struck from Jet's left. The other rose from the ground on her right.
Jet moved with eerie precision. She caught the left strike on the shaft of her glaive, sparks flashing in the dark. Then, in a blur of motion, she spun the weapon—its arc clean and perfect—and deflected the second dagger with a sharp, resonant clang.
Her icy blue eyes stared into the shadowed veil that cloaked Kurt. The awakened assassin felt death whisper against his skin. In a flash, he launched himself backward, narrowly escaping the cruel edge of Jet's returning glaive.
His echoes surged forward in his stead, their grotesque forms enclosing her in an instant. Kade lost sight of Jet entirely, the swarm of distorted flesh and nightmare limbs blotting her from view. Stinger, limb, and blade lashed out in unison.
Even Dawn, with her enhanced sight, could only track a blur of cold blue weaving through the chaos — and the occasional glint of moonlight flashing off pale metal.
She emerged from the echoes, with not a single scratch, her weapon forever in a motion to cut, cleave, and destroy the paltry monsters sent to fight her, and with agility and skill, she danced around imminent death with no concern.
With even a slight smile now that her glaive tasted blood.
-------
Not far away from the massacre that was unfolding were Kade, Dawn, Leo, the cameraman, and the bonus of the APC driver, who emerged from the confines of his armoured behemoth; despite it being pitch black, the government official wore shades, watching the chaos that Jet was sowing.
A slight glow of a cigar in his mouth attracted Kade's attention, and before he tried to get his mind off the familiar taste on his tongue, he shook off the urge and instead lent a helping hand to the deeply injured Leo.
Although soul-wise, Kade was brutally injured, the pain that he had once felt didn't go away; it was just that he had lost the shock that occurred from its arrival, with the use of [Never Ending Fury] to wash away the sensation in other stimuli granted by the aspect.
It was cancelling each other out in a way, but he knew that soon enough the stockpile of energy that had been built up would end. And once that did, he was most likely back on the floor again. He ignored the consequences of the future and continued with the present.
Saying hello to the awakened that stalled Kurt.
"Good job...Leo, right? If it wasn't for you, I'd be six feet under."
Leo spared him a glance; Kade couldn't tell if he reacted positively or not at all; his face was a rare mix of consumers yet to beat up and scarred to tell. But from the tone, Kade thought he meant well.
Leo spared him a glance. Kade couldn't tell if it was positive or indifferent—Leo's face was a strange blend: too young to be this scarred, too beaten to show much expression. Still, from the tone, Kade assumed it was meant well.
"In a sense, I guess. I'm glad you seem okay. I was… concerned when I saw you collapsed under the girl."
Kade nodded, the conversation settling into silence as the group quietly watched Jet work her magic.
Kade's eyes drifted over to the cameraman, who seemed torn between filming his employer—the fallen broadcaster—or the violent clash unfolding between Jet and Kurt.
Kade made the decision for him. He walked straight up to the lens and stared into it, his expression calm but curious, almost testing.
His face filled the screen for a brief moment, earning a sharp glare from the cameraman before he finally turned away from the young brawler.
Just in time to see Jet use the broken body of the half-centipede humanoid to shotput spin throw it into the scorpion, sending both of the arthropod echoes tumbling together down the paveway, managing to make the bold throw somehow graceful.
'Masters are something else, aren't they?'
Dawn, on the other hand, wasn't watching the fight with nearly as much interest as her compatriots; she had grown up around strong awakened all her life. Soul reaper Jet was a figure that did surpass most of what she had witnessed, yet the songs of saints were the bigger fish in that pond.
Instead, she had managed to see the pistol holstered by the APC driver to his left, the sleek modern pistol resting ready for any danger that came. A powerful weapon that would be effective on mundane humans and somewhat on dormant beasts.
Yet pitiful when it came to the memories of an awakened.
Dawn pondered quietly, an intense curiosity burning inside her as she wondered.
'Can I [Memorise] it?'
It was a dangerous thought—to steal a firearm right from its wielder. But Dawn couldn't shake the question that had gnawed at her ever since the spell had branded her aspect as supreme.
If all it could do was pitifully replicate the spell's own memories… what made it so special?
The very idea of turning a firearm into a memory defied logic. That impossibility only made her hunger for it more.
While the driver's focus remained fixed on the distant clash, Dawn reached out, fingers glowing faintly with blue light as they brushed the pistol's grip.
The weapon shimmered—and then vanished, dissolving into ethereal motes that curled back toward her hand.
[You have received a memory: Pretty Boy's Pocket Pistol]
She retracted her hand to her side, clutching close to her heart as the moment weighed over her. Silently a wide grin emerged on her expression, as with this now in mind, she would always have a use.
----------------------------
Kurt dashed across the fractured concrete, narrowly evading the gleaming arcs of Soul Reaper Jet's blade. Her calm, indifferent expression—as if she barely needed to try—rattled him with every near miss.
Three of his most cherished echoes lay in ruins, their forms dismembered to fade away in regretful essence. He had tried everything to kill this murderous bitch, but no matter what trick or tactic he deployed, she always had a way around it.
She was faster.
She was stronger.
And, to his fury and shame, she was more skilled.
All that remained was his twisted mummy echo, and with it, the realisation crept in like rot:
He was going to lose.
'I cannot lose. I CAN'T.. I CAN'T!'
Jet of all people was going to upstage him. He could not allow it.
Then he saw them.
Off to the side stood the group of ignorant spectators—watching as if they were safe, as if Jet's arrival meant salvation. As if her power guaranteed their survival.
Even the girl – the one Song had hired him to kill. She had been there the whole time, but he had been too distracted by all the other fools; they were so much more fun to break.
That's it. I'll kill them.
Right in front of Jet.
He would stain her streets with corpses.
Let the world see her fail.
The objective of no witnesses had long since been discarded.
And Kurt liked it that way.
----------------------------------------------
Soul Reaper continued her calculated slaughter, her strikes chipping away at the last remnants of Kurt's resistance. She could see it—the breaking. His form was faltering. His will buckling.
Soon enough, she would break his soul.
But then, his eyes changed.
Where once there was fear… now burnt something dangerous.
Excitement.
Jet rocketed toward him with a single step, ready to end it here and now.
But the ragged mummy moved.
It intercepted her path, letting out a ghastly shriek. Its arms twisted backward with grotesque energy, its stomach swelling—before it detonated, a burst of noxious black vapour swallowing the street.
Jet's vision vanished. She felt the mist corrode her skin and instinctively backpedalled, leaping into the open air where she could see again.
And to her alarm. Kurt was gone.
He was already sprinting, faster than she'd expected, every ounce of madness in his stride as he barrelled toward the civilians.
"Shit!" Jet cursed, forcing her legs into overdrive. The wind cracked around her as she gave chase.
She wasn't fast enough.
"DON'T THINK YOU'RE SAFE, MONGRELS!"
Kurt's voice cut through the battlefield.
The group turned, startled, unready. Shadow daggers gleamed in his hands, already mid-swing.
Kade leapt forward.
[Vigilance] surged through his battered frame like a divine spark, and [Never Ending Fury] roared in his veins, forcing strength into ruined muscle. With a cry, he caught Kurt by the wrists, halting the deadly arcs inches from flesh.
[Rings of the Ravaged] coiled around Kurt's arms, biting into skin, trying desperately to bind.
But Kade was breaking. The shadows loomed closer.
Kurt's malicious grin tore his cheeks wide.
In one second, he would have it—their blood. Jet's failure. His victory.
He had won.
Until—
BANG!
The shot echoed through the world like judgement.
Dawn stood behind Kade, shaking, the [Pretty Boy's Pocket Pistol] still raised. Smoke coiled from the barrel.
Silence.
Kurt, held in place by Kade's grip, now had a bullet hole clean through his forehead.
All the rage. All the fury.
Frozen on his face.
Just before he understood what fate had dealt him.
Shadow Blade Kurt fell dead.