The afterglow of the explosion hung in the air, and the wind whipped past the truck. Muzazi looked up at the aurora he'd created, cold misty breath flowing from his mouth.

Had he done it?

No.

As the smoke from the explosion of Radiant Almighty finally swept through, Muzazi heard a loud and unmistakable thump strike the metal surface of the carriage. Even before the smoke cleared, he readied his Radiant, prepared to counter any unseen attack that might come. For the moment, however, that attack did not.

Instead, the smoke just cleared, revealing the figure of Nael Manron. Standing there, unharmed. The only sign that he'd even been hit by the Almighty was some dishevelment of his clothing, and even that just looked fashionable.

The frantic movement of the last few minutes came to an end, and once again the two just stared each other down.

“That's quite the move,” Nael commented, the strings of his Shamichoro tasting the air once more. “No wonder it put King in checkmate.”

“And yet you're just fine, aren't you?” Muzazi replied, pointing his Radiant at his foe. “What's your secret?”

Nael smiled thinly. “Discretion.”

Clearly, the King of Killers had more than a few tricks up his sleeve. To be expected from an assassin, Muzazi supposed, but that didn't make them any less difficult to deal with. From the information he'd been given, he had been led to believe those string attacks were all Nael Manron was capable of -- but that clearly wasn't the case.

Right before Muzazi had used Almighty, Manron had revealed some kind of sound projectile attack and used it to destroy the pillars. That meant his range was much longer than Muzazi had assumed. Before he'd used that attack, though, he'd brought his strings back into the shamisen itself -- so did that mean he couldn't use the sound and strings at the same time?

Best not to assume.

Then, there was obviously some kind of defensive ability at work as well. Radiant Almighty had only been at two-fifths of its full strength, but even so: that had been a direct hit. Judging from the level of Aether infusion Muzazi had observed so far, Manron shouldn't have been capable of withstanding that unscathed.

The King of Killers hadn't used that defense at any other point in the fight, though: Muzazi was certain of that. There had to be a trade-off, then. Was it the same as the sound attack? Could he not use that defense and the strings at the same time?

“You look like you're thinking pretty deeply,” Nael murmured, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his eyes still locked onto Muzazi. “Did I throw you off?”

My best move is to buy time to observe and think.

“You wanted to talk to me about failure,” Muzazi said. “Go ahead.”

Nael hesitated, his brow furrowing for a second. “It's a trick.”

“Regardless of whether or not it's a trick,” Muzazi replied. “It's what you wanted, isn't it? Go ahead. Give me your sermon.”

The pacing stopped, and the shamisen lowered. For the time being, at least, it seemed the King of Killers was willing to talk. Rain battered against both of them, but the words were still clearly audible.

“You've been torn apart too, right?” Nael asked. “Stabbed in the back so hard it feels like you're about to collapse into pieces -- and you do. Like everything you believed in… everything you relied on, just vanished in an instant. Like it was never even there in the first place. And you realize that all of it meant nothing.”

Marie whispered: “█ ████ ███.”

“No,” Muzazi said, slowly shaking his head. “No… I can't relate to that at all.”

“Don't lie!” Nael snapped, raising his Shamichoro back up -- the strings writhing in the air like agitated snakes. “You can pretend, but I see through you! There's no difference at all between you and me, except you're a fake. You pretend like nothing happened, like you're fine, like you moved on -- but people like us don't move on! We can't! You are broken, and you will be broken forever!”

The rain poured over the truck, and another flash of lightning illuminated the city for a moment. Nael's eyes, wide and crazed, glared into Muzazi's placid gaze.

“You really believe that?” Muzazi asked.

“I understand it,” Nael snarled.

“I see…” Muzazi closed his eyes for a moment. “How pitiable.”

Nael roared with the ferocity of a beast, swinging his Shamichoro -- and the strings -- with all his strength. Sparks were spat as the wires scraped against each other. An emotional attack, without the King of Killer’s usual cold lethality. Easily taken advantage of.

Instead of retreating, Muzazi charged forward, dropping onto his knees and sliding under the razor-sharp strings.

He'd seen it back in the museum. Although Shamichoro was capable of fearsome mid-range attacks, its efficacy dropped once Muzazi got right into Nael Manron's face. The Guardian Entity was forced onto the backfoot, using all three strings to deflect just one of Muzazi's swords. In terms of raw physical strength, Manron might have had the edge, but Muzazi wouldn't be outdone when it came to speed.

Or at least… that was how it was meant to go.

A barrage of black spikes pierced the carriage of the truck between Muzazi and his target, forcing him to leap back. As he flipped through the air, he swung his Radiants, deflecting another swipe from Shamichoro’s strings. The jump was risky, though -- he'd had to use strong thrusters just so he didn't go flying off the truck. Not a maneuver he was eager to repeat.

He glanced at the source of the attack. As expected.

“You disgrace yourself, Nael Manron,” muttered Muzazi.

Nael smiled humourlessly, holding his arms out wide. “Look at me, friend,” he said, his gaze lethargic. “I'm nothing but disgrace.”

A car was pulling in alongside their truck -- and from atop that car grinned members of the Crimson Carnival. At some point, Nael had clearly called in backup. Muzazi quickly counted his new opponents: six in all, and Manron made seven.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

As one, they leapt off their car and onto the truck behind their boss. None of them bore any uniform, nothing that would define them as members of the Crimson Carnival, but you could tell. A few scowled, others gave cocky grins, and some even laughed -- but as they stood by Nael Manron, weapons slung over their shoulders, their eyes all had the same look.

A look that whispered two things: they wanted nothing more than to feel his blood on their hands… and they were sure they'd already done it.

Muzazi's frown deepened as an Emerald Eye whizzed by. While a tactic like this would be frowned upon by the public, it wasn't strictly speaking against the rules. By beginning their match outside of the Arena, both of them had basically consented to such dirty moves from the beginning.

Yes… both of them.

I.

The carriage of the truck was illuminated by a series of rapid purple flashes -- and with each flash, one of the interlopers vanished. Soon enough, it was just Muzazi and Nael atop the vehicle once again.

Nael frowned at the muffled voices below -- voices coming from inside the truck.

“Looks like you made preparations,” he commented, raising an eyebrow. “That's surprising.”

Muzazi couldn't resist a smirk. “Whatever Dragan Hadrien has told you about me,” he said, raising his blade. “His information is outdated. I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Wow,” Nael chuckled humourlessly. “Tell me, then. I play dirty, you play dirty. Where's this difference between you and me? You keep acting like it exists, but --”

“The difference between you and me,” Muzazi interrupted. “...is that I am capable of thought. Did you really think this was some random truck I happened to land on?”

Another flash of purple from down below --

-- this time accompanied by a bloodcurdling scream.

Man, Morgan thought, leaping over a hail of black spikes. Atoy Muzazi really knows how to put you through your paces.

To be perfectly honest, Morgan had been expecting two or three Crimson Carnival members to back up Manron -- not six, and certainly not all at the same time. Transporting them inside the sealed space of the carriage with I had been easy, and it had given him the element of surprise… but that didn't mean the fighting was easy.

A!

Morgan spun through the air as he leapt off with enhanced force, his saber lashing out and slashing open the throat of the nearest assassin. The unfortunate fellow staggered backwards, clutching his bleeding neck, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. As Morgan landed behind him, he struck again, cutting the top of the man's head clean off.

One down. He'd never even gotten to use his Guardian Entity.

Another hail of black spikes came from a broad-shouldered Pugnant woman near the back of the truck -- no, from her Guardian Entity, a small lupine creature lurking on her shoulder. Morgan blocked with it a barrier of Amplified Fog before jumping through and driving his blade through her temple.

Two down.

He really didn't understand these Guardian Entity things. These Crimson Carnival guys seemed to believe that, by getting one, they'd developed some sort of extraordinary power. Maybe their leader had something special, but them? They'd developed an ordinary power and put it inside a rabbit. Whatever advantages an Entity conferred, they weren't making use of.

Oh well, Morgan thought, rushing under the arm of a third enemy and slashing him as well. Never interrupt your opponent when they're making a mistake, and never educate them while they're being a fool.

But still… don't they get tired of being so boring?

The truck turned into an alley between two buildings, walls rushing by on either side -- the abyss below seeming to stretch down and down forever. As the sounds of muffled combat rang out from within the carriage, Atoy Muzazi and Nael Manron regarded each other. Muzazi raised his empty hand, ready to receive Manron's attacks. Manron drew his Shamichoro back, ready to unleash them.

Both of their minds rushed with the burden of the moments before them.

Nael Manron has more subordinates than this, Muzazi thought. I'm willing to bet there are more members of the Crimson Carnival in pursuit -- and they'll know not to make contact with the truck this time. I can't worry about that right now, though. The other Phases positioned along the route will deal with them.

He adjusted the angle of his foot, just a tad. Cold rain battered against the back of his head. Slowly, as if too sudden a movement would be dangerous, he blinked.

Right now, he decided. My priority should be whatever defensive ability Manron possesses. It was sufficient to withstand a roughly half-power strike of Radiant Almighty. That's not something to take lightly. If he's capable of that, he'll be capable of taking any of my other attacks. I can't use Almighty again in these close quarters. Should I abandon the truck and try to get some distance? No -- if I do that, I'll have to deal with the rest of the Carnival alone. They'd be a fatal distraction.

As the rain fell, it sizzled off the Radiant coming from his other hand. Steam rose into the air.

I can't think of a way around his shield until I've seen it for myself. I need to force him to bring it out -- to threaten enough damage with an attack that he has no choice but to expose the ability. There are ways I can do that.

Atoy Muzazi smiled.

Nael Manron frowned.

Judging from the noises below, he thought, inspecting the vibrations as one of Shamichoro’s strings brushed against the carriage roof. There's one person inside taking out my backup. One of the Eight Phases, probably. Is it just the one helping Muzazi? I doubt it. There'll be more waiting in the wings.

As godsblood ran across Manron's skin, patches started to pale again, revealing the glowing red veins beneath. It was like he was a repugnant statue. The ugliness outside matching the fifth within.

The sensation grounded him.

From what I recall, vehicles like this need either a human driver or a machine to operate it. Would Muzazi trust a machine for this important task? Maybe, maybe not… but if I assume not, that suggests that there's another of the Eight Phases driving. If things go badly, I may need to fight all three of them at once. That would be difficult -- the quality of Muzazi's reinforcements is far superior to the scum I have access to.

The truck passed through the alleyway, the nightly splendor of Azum-Ha spreading out before them once again. The camera machines continued to follow them in a great green swarm, like flies to the carcass of battle.

Shamichoro was able to withstand that massive attack, but it wasn't at full strength. Under no circumstances can I give him a chance to prepare another one. In such close quarters, that shouldn't be too difficult… but he's more cunning than I was warned.

If that's the case… Atoy Muzazi thought.

If that's the case… Nael Manron thought.

It was a peculiar phenomenon, the moment before two great warriors clashed. They would stare at each other for what felt like hours, running simulations in their minds about how the battle would go, trying to take each and every variable into account. The clash between them occurred a thousand times before reality had a chance to catch up.

At some point, a step had to be taken, though. At some point, a fist had to be thrown. Their resolutions were the same:

I'll have to get in closer!

Thrusters blasted Muzazi towards Nael with blinding speed, and the flurry of Radiant-blows would have been enough to blind a normal human. In this case, though, the strings of Shamichoro were more than a match -- reflexively blocking and parrying each and every attack. That did not dissuade the Full Moon. He continued to press forward, step after step, even knowing that he was putting himself in range for a lethal strike.

If Nael was blocking Muzazi's attacks, then the reverse was also true. Muzazi's defense began to falter as the rate of whipping wires increased. Muzazi was faster than Nael, to be sure, but he was not faster than the strings.

Slowly, but surely, blood began to fall onto the metal below. Soon, Shamichoro was drawing blood with every tenth attack… then every ninth… then every eighth -- more and more holes opening in Muzazi's defenses. If this pleased Nael any, however, he did not show it. He just continued to glare, his expression mildly disgruntled.

Something's wrong, he thought to himself. This guy should be bleeding more than this. Even if the individual attacks are superficial, he should be bleeding out from them. There's a trick.

He saw it immediately -- when Shamichoro's third string struck out and slashed Muzazi's throat wide open…

…for a moment.

In the same instant that the wound was dealt, before more than a few drops of blood could emerge from the gap, there was a flash of white. When it cleared, the wound on Muzazi's throat was sealed shut, closed. Sweat poured down Muzazi's face as he continued his advance.

I see… Nael mused. Despite everything, he couldn't help but be impressed. This crazy bastard… at the exact same time I open up a wound, he cauterizes it by manifesting thrusters inside his own body. The pain must be unbearable, but I guess that's what ‘resolve’ looks like.

Still… I doubt you can cauterize a chopped-off head.

Even as the strings cut into his body, Muzazi continued to advance.

I can't afford to take another hit like that, he thought. I need to focus the damage I take onto less vital areas if possible. There are parts of my body I can sacrifice if it comes down to it… but that might not be necessary.

This should be enough.

Indeed, Atoy Muzazi had not charged forward and taken all this damage for the sake of getting into position for a plan. Charging forward and taking all this damage had been his plan.

If he wanted to force Nael to expose his defenses, he had to trap the Scurrant in a painful and sustained attack. Radiant Ablaze, blasting thrusters from the floor itself onto his enemy, would be suitable -- but Manron knew that too. That was why he was infusing the floor beneath him with his own Aether, preventing Muzazi from manifesting thrusters there. It was first come, first served when it came to infusion, after all.

However…

Nael adjusted his footing, Muzazi's blood covering his boot. White Aether sparked through the shed red. Nael's eyes widened. He realized too late.

It was first come, first served -- and Atoy Muzazi had infused his own blood with Aether long before he'd allowed Nael Manron to shed it. The blood coating the carriage… was now a minefield.

Radiant Ablaze.

Thrusters blasted out of the bloodstains, each and every one aimed directly for Nael Manron's body, buffeting him with heat and force. A blood curdling scream rang out from the King of Killers as the white fires blasted against him, igniting his coat and his hair. Red Aether, insufficient to defend fully, ran along Manron's body.

He had no choice.

“Shamichoro!” Manron roared, his voice cracking from the agony. “Bachigawa!”

The strings moved with sudden and frightening speed, enough to force Muzazi to retreat -- but they did not attack. No, instead they converged, each of them aimed squarely for the body of their master. Crimson Aether ran along their surfaces.

As Manron's scream continued, the strings wrapped around his body, over and over again, so tightly that the gaps between them ceased to be visible. They grew tighter, and tighter, and tighter… until the King of Killer’s fingers were sharpened into metal claws, and his eyes were nothing but a faint red glow behind layers and layers of metal. The body of the shamisen planted itself against his back like an addition to his spine. Looking at the metal man, Muzazi found himself reminded of the Citizen, from back on Taldan.

Nael Manron sighed, voice distorted by his own Aether --

“I felt that one…” he said quietly. “...my turn.”

-- and the King of Killers lunged forward, swinging a fist of solid steel.