Chapter CCCXXXII: Purging Mortality ~Multehx

Scilas grit his teeth, getting his bearings about him and seizing a tighter grasp upon his sword. He glanced to the fallen body of his friend. Jaded was still out, but breathing.

He looked back over to Ohma-Tin, frown never altering. This thing...the robot that was once his good friend...a hero of Globeston, posessed by an insanely evil spirit.

He had never fought any demons in the class Multehx knew as "extremely dangerous" before this; he didn't encounter such beings as often as they did not seek him out. But here he was, standing not ten yards away from the worst one yet.

How was he supposed to manage this one, he asked himself. No response came to him.

Ohma snickered, looking him in the eyes once more. "So, wanting to throw in the towel, human? There's no possible way a mortal could be any match for me."

The assassin gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. There was no way he could give this jerk the satisfaction of toppling him now. He had to go up to par and even surpass this jerk if he wanted to keep any honor to his name.

So it was decided. No mercy just because this was a friend's body. He pushed off the ground, shooting high into the air. Using an ancient trick he had learned, he bent his leg and braced his foot against the air behind him. With a swift movement he kicked off nothing at all and descended like a shot for Ohma. In readying himself, the robot drew his sword up into a defensive stance. But this had been what Scilas was wanting.

Cutting his aim a little short, the assassin landed on the balls of his feet, knees bent and torso bent forward into a crouch. He used this to spring forward, delivering a crushing punch under the sword and to the robot's shoulder. There was an echoing crash as bone hit metal. Scilas quickly withdrew his fist, holding that hand to him, eyes watering.

Learn to think RATIONALLY, Sci! he castigated himself mentally, NEVER, EVER punch a ROBOT. It just does not WORK

For his valiant, if not foolhardy efforts, Ohma delivered a devastating uppercut that hooked the assassin in the chin, bowling him back head over heels along the ground. In fact, he almost tumbled over the edge of the rock and into the evil mists, but at the last minute he stabbed his katana deeply into the geo-formation. This put a halt his backwards movement and caused his chest to crash against the edge, knocking the wind out of him. He groaned painfully as he scrambled back up onto the rock.

Ohma merely snickered, deactivating his blade and sheathing it within its compartment within his leg. “Doubt I'll be needing this afterall; a simple punch seems to do it quite well for me."

Scilas growled as he got to his feet, replacing his own blade within its sheath. "It would not be honorable to face you on uneven terms," he stated.

"Heheh! Uneven, eh? What's uneven is you trying to fight me at all!" But he folded his arms and grinned menacingly, shrugging his shoulders. "But if you want to go about it honorably, then I'd say you're obligated to continue. So try your best not to die too quickly, as I know you won't retreat, and your end is inevitable with me."

Scilas snorted. At this point, he really was wishing he wasn't as bound by a code of honor in his work. He could really use that katana in this one; as he could carve up the strongest metals and alloys with substantial ease. Well...save metalloy, but that wasn't even in his considerations. But still, he couldn't, so now he'd just have to figure something out. His foe was unarmed, so this was, by definition, to be a hand to hand match.

The first move was made on the challenger’s part. Falling forward, he assumed a sprinter's position and just as rapidly bolted; charging for his foe. The robot simply smirked, cocking an eyelid slyly. For the most part, he didn't move. The two panels near his shoulders did all the moving. Enough to allow a rectangular cannon to protrude from either one and aim themselves properly.

Scilas screeched to a stop, his heels digging into the ground briefly. Round after round of laser fire erupted from the barrels. Two lines of holes were torn into the rock leading towards the man. He barely had an instant to react, but an instant was enough. Moving on instinct, he sprung through the air, somersaulting back gracefully. As he flew through the air, he reached either hand into his outer most shirt and grasping a hold of something inside.

Upon landing, he produced his hands. In each was a steel throwing knife with mahogany handle and gold gilded hilt. He leapt aside avoiding another trail of cannon fire tracking him down. Taking quick aim the assassin let the knives fly. The first left a fair-sized knick in one arm. The second hit the circular shoulder dead on and rebounded, slicing a line through the assassin's pants leg. He winced as the sensation caught up to him, his hand going to the unlucky wound.

Ohma didn't even pay his a second of thought. Scratching an eye with a deft finger, he partially yawned. "You're not faring much above half of what I expected from a human of your professionalism." He yawned again, refocusing his attention on his foe. "Come on, you pathetic waste of lifeforce! Try and keep me from getting this bored!"

Of course, a moment later, he realized something. It was not customarily a “good” thing to piss an assassin off. Majorly so. For, without hesitation, the shadowy man reached into his shirt, producing a knife between each and every finger. And, without skipping a beat, he fired off knife after knife at the robot. Ohma actually had to move his arms about quite skilfully to deflect the hail of steel coming his way. Within seconds, his defending limbs were badly dinged up and had numerous nicks scarring them.

There was an odd pause after a seemingly endless flurry that Ohma lowered his guard. Just long enough for one well aimed knife to spiral through the air and imbed itself dead center in the robot's right eye. The glass and other materials that comprised its lens shattered and fell tinkling to the ground. Black smoke billowed out from around the knife and electricity pulsed wildly through it. Ohma let out a screech of unhumanly, unholy, agonizing pain, hands flying to the knife, shielding his wound reflexively.

Scilas smirked as his foe hunched over slightly, still keeping a hand over the injured eye while pointing at him with the other's index finger.

"YOU..." it hissed in a voice that was beyond being enraged, "You might think you've won this...assassin!! But don't fool yourself! That was quite a lucky shot, and this is quite an inferior body to my own! I shall be going for now, and taking THIS with me!"

It snarled, ripping the Sepalaris from the earth single-handedly. It slung it over a shoulder, wordlessly succumbing to a massive pillar of black fire. It was shortly totally immersed within this flame, which left no wake of he, nor the weapon as it dissipated.

Scilas shook his head, catching his breath. "Teleported..." he muttered, walking over to his incapacitated friend and hoisting him onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Jaded groaned, stirring momentarily. "What...happened?" he murmured.

Scilas sighed. "Don't worry, he's gone now."

Jaded weakly made an affirmative groan. "So...you defeated him?"

"No...I simply got lucky, as he said. A single toss like that out of anger does not change the tide of battle with such tremendous evil. He just wasn't at my level in that body he took."

Jaded groaned again and the man supporting his body walked towards the ledge. Then, muttering something to himself, he took a grand leap into the now dissipating mist.