It, now a towering mountain of muscle draped in the borrowed skin of a warrior, stood at the corner of the inn's shattered extension. Opposite him, Noa remained as still as a predator in high grass, his purple eyes dancing with a wicked, violet intensity that seemed to outshine the morning sun.
Behind Noa, the chaos of the room was a mere backdrop for Vionette; she walked with a leisurely grace toward a seat Rose had prepared for her, settling down as if she were about to watch a particularly engaging opera rather than a duel of monsters.
Around them, the customers were a sea of trembling shadows, their fear a palpable scent in the stagnant air.
"Looks like you can copy their skills and stats as well," Noa said, raising Acheron. The sword's teeth-like edge caught the light, gleaming with a hunger that matched his own. "That makes this a lot less boring."
"Shut up!" It roared, the sound less like a human voice and more like the grinding of tectonic plates.
Clang!
The collision was a physical weight. The impact didn't just ring; it screamed, tearing through the inn's remaining walls and sending a shockwave that tossed the onlookers aside like autumn leaves in a gale.
As Noa held Acheron with both hands, his muscles coiling like iron springs, the muscular man before him suddenly flickered. Like a reflection in a disturbed pond, the warrior vanished, replaced by a lithe woman wearing a mask of porcelain indifference—It had changed its very essence in the span of a heartbeat.
Step-step.
It accelerated with a fluid, unnatural speed, its footsteps sounding like the agile crawling of a giant snake against the stone. As it blurred around the perimeter, Noa didn't chase; instead, he flared small spheres of gathered energy born from [Echo Reclamation].
The purple orbs hissed through the air, punching jagged holes through the walls and even whistling through the frantic crowd, indifferent to the lives they grazed.
"Damn… that's fast. But," Noa started, his legs glowing with a faint, violet hue as he amplified his movement with pure energy. "I've never been much for being second place."
Thud!
His boot connected with It's cheek, a strike that carried the weight of a falling star. But It was a creature of a thousand deaths; before the impact could shatter its skull, it had already shifted into a hulking, armored form designed to tank a blow from Noa.
The kinetic energy sent the entity spiraling backward, crashing through the inn's walls and finally skidding out onto the cobblestone street.
"This will do," It hissed, its form stabilizing into that of a master swordsman.
Clang!
Acheron met the entity's blade the moment it regained its footing. The sharp, jagged edge of the dark sword clashed against the knight's steel in a rhythmic, violent percussion. One strike, then another, then a dozen more in the span of a single breath.
"Kyaaa!"
Cling-clang-shrrmm-thang.
Dhooom!
The two combatants moved through the streets like a localized hurricane. Their eyes were locked, a pair of storms reflecting each other's malice. Inside the ruins of the inn, Vionette watched through the gaping hole in the wall, leaning her cheek against her palm while Rose and Kaelen stood like silent sentinels at her side.
"What is that power, human?" It shifted again, its body shrinking and darkening into an assassin-type figure that seemed to swallow the light. "Why does your energy feel so strangely familiar?"
Grab!
Using the skills of its new body, It slipped into the shadow of a nearby building and reappeared instantly behind Noa. It wrapped a cold, spectral arm around his neck, pointing a jagged blade at his throat.
[Blink]
The air rippled, and the figure It held vanished into a puff of violet static. Noa reappeared a few feet in front of the entity, already mid-swing with a vertical slash that threatened to split the world in two.
"Well, you've gathered so much negative emotion, right?" Noa's voice was a playful rasp as he shifted Acheron into a stabbing posture. "I guess we just have similar tastes in décor."
Swoooosh…
The sword rushed through the air, a violet streak of judgment. It instinctively shifted into a massive, shield-bearing juggernaut, bracing for the impact. Even with the shield, the force was enough to level a manor; blood sprayed from the entity's borrowed mouth as the sheer pressure of the hit rattled its stolen bones.
Why are they so powerful? It questioned, its internal logic fracturing.
In a desperate bid for air, it transformed into a demon—a malevolent figure with sweeping, bat-like wings and a crown of grey hair.
"Water Blade!" It shrieked, launching a razor-thin crescent of pressurized water toward Noa.
"Magic now? You really are a Swiss Army knife of misery," Noa laughed, parrying the liquid blade with a casual flick of Acheron's wrist.
The demon form was too taxing to maintain. It plummeted back to the earth, its skin rippling until it settled into the form of a knight in polished, silver armor.
Noa came screaming down from the sky like a meteor, Acheron's purple edge leading the way. A new row of clashes erupted, but the rhythm had changed. The entity was losing ground—a slow, deliberate erosion orchestrated by Noa's relentless pressure.
"AHHHH!" with a primal scream, Noa launched a heavy, overhead strike.
The silver armor buckled, and the chest of the man It had become was slashed open in a spray of crimson. The entity was launched backward, flying through one building, then another, until it was a broken heap buried in the rubble of a merchant's shop.
As it struggled to rise, its body covered in its own spilled essence, It shifted one more time—into a man wearing a tattered robe and clutching a staff. As Noa rushed forward, a red fire erupted at the tip of the wood.
"Flam—"
[Blink]
Dhooom!
A punch filled with the concentrated force of a collapsing world landed squarely on It's cheek, shattering the jaw and sending teeth flying like morbid confetti. Noa had teleported into the entity's personal space, his left hand still casually gripping Acheron while his right fist did the talking. The mage-form was sent tumbling over the ruins once again.
"Goddamn idiot, didn't you see I could teleport before?" Noa muttered.
Step-step-step.
As the entity struggled to rise, Noa closed the distance with a speed that defied the morning's lazy light. He leapt from a nearby roof, Acheron's tip pointed directly at the entity's flickering heart.
"Let's see you block this, motherfucker!"
Dhoooom!
The impact broke the ground into a spiderweb of craters, the screams of the citizens rising anew like a choir of the damned. Noa landed squarely on the entity's chest, but as he looked down, he saw the face was glitching—flickering between a dozen different identities in a desperate, strobe-light agony.
I can't find my 'self' if I die here… so I'll use every self I've ever gathered!
As Noa jumped back, the entity's body dissolved into a viscous, black fluid. Faces—men, women, children—drifted within the tar-like substance, their eyes wide with eternal agony. The fluid pulled itself into a human shape, but it was still a losing battle against its own instability.
"GHAAAAA!"
The pure black human-like figure, a hollow echo of a living thing, screamed at the sky. The sound was a predator's malice, echoing through the city-state like a death knell. It had entered a state of pure, mindless berserk—a monster without a 'self.'
"I guess it's time to end this drama," Noa said, his voice dropping into a somber, cinematic tone.
He held the tip of Acheron toward the black mass. Slowly, the purple energy gathered into a single, dense point—wicked, dark, and heavy with the weight of [Echo Reclamation]. Just as the energy reached its peak, the black fluid ran at him, ready to take him down with all the sacrifices done.
— Formless Sword: Trace (Lingering Afterimage) —
The sword cut through the air like a final judgment. The purple energy overlapped the sunlight, a dark violet smear that seemed to hang in the air long after the blade had passed. It, mid-lunge, felt its momentum die. The world seemed to slow as it watched the dark sword rush through its very chest.
What… is that?
Acheron pierced through the center of the black figure and flew forward, the physical blade continuing its path to demolish the buildings behind the entity and scattering the fleeing civilians. The impact was delayed, a poetic silence following the strike.
Then, after several long seconds, the bricks of the street roared upward in a straight line—a ghost of the sword's path—before finally reaching It and blooming into a massive, hollow hole in its chest.
Thud.
The black figure fell to its knees, looking at its own unstable form. It wasn't a physical creature that could be hurt by steel, but the 'selves' it had used as vessels were gone. Every defensive skill, every armor, every fast-moving body had been shredded by that single, lingering strike. With its collection destroyed, its original essence was bound to evaporate.
Step.
Noa stepped closer. He extended his hand behind him, and Acheron flew back into his palm, its sentient will humming in satisfaction at its master's touch.
"At least once… I… I wanted to be 'myself'," the entity muttered, its voice a thousand whispers at once.
Noa pointed Acheron at the entity's heart. The purple energy began to swirl again, hungry to finish the job. He offered a small, carefree smirk, the kind that didn't reach his eyes.
"I don't really care much about your backstory," Noa said, lowering the blade. "Let's just end it her—"
Swooosh…
"!!?"
The gathered energy around Acheron suddenly flickered and died, like a candle snuffed out by a sudden draft. Noa looked up, his brow furrowing. Above the city-state, a massive, shimmering barrier of golden light had manifested.
This was the Aureate Silence—a high-level barrier that required a group of people to maintain. Its function was simple and suffocating: it suppressed all negative emotions and forced a state of calm-mindedness upon everyone within its reach.
Noa's expression of surprise slowly curdled into a dark, entertained grin. He rotated his head over his shoulder, his lips curving upward in an uneven, wicked smile. His gaze was half-lidded, genuinely amused by the arrival of the new players.
"Saint Jain," he said, turning around with his arms stretched out to his sides in a mocking welcome. "How was the old man? Did he have a lot to say?"
Standing before him was Jain, her face a mask of cold, vibrating fury. Her knuckles were white as she gripped her spear, her eyes filled with a disgust so thick it was almost physical. Behind her stood Nill, his hand on his sword, while the knights could be seen in the far distance, maintaining the golden cage they had placed over the city.
"You… you evil thing," Jain whispered, her voice trembling. "Why? Why would you do that to such an innocent man?"
"What are you talking about, Jain?" a firm, melodic voice interrupted.
Vionette walked into the center of the street, her crimson eyes dancing with amusement. She tilted her head, looking at the Saint with a terrifyingly beautiful curiosity.
"If that monster just killed that man and framed us, would you really just turn against us like that? Do you not trust your 'dear friends' at all?"
"!!?"
Jain's expression faltered for a fraction of a second, her eyes widening. She was a woman built on faith, and for a moment, she desperately wanted to believe that Vionette was right—that this was all just a cruel trick by the shapeshifter. But she had missed the most important part of the sentence.
Vionette stepped closer to Noa, her fingers brushing lightly against her own lips as her smile deepened. Her eyes remained fixed on Jain, half-lidded and radiating a quiet, cruel entertainment, as if she were holding back a laugh at a joke only she and Noa understood.
"Well, that is if that had happened," Vionette purred, her voice a silk ribbon around a throat. "But this time… the monsters really were us."