Chapter Text
A half-elf girl, fair of skin, snow of hair and amethyst of eyes. Dressed in a white dress no less regal than that of any royal blood, and draped over it was a white cloak emblazoned with embroidery that depicted a bird of prey. Emilia, her name, and no title to go with it. Yet in her hand was a shield-shaped insignia, red gem embedded in center, that signified her to be a fitting candidate for the coming royal election.
There she walked, in the streets of Lugunica, amongst the common people. Under the resplendent sunlight, deep blue of the sky, and around such abundant crowd of people, who would've guessed a theft would be dared in such hour?
Like the rush of the wind had the thief came upon her, one moment her insignia was in hand and the next - nothing. Yet the thief wasn't too fast yet for eye sight and she had caught the brazen rogue's appearance to be a short young girl, slender and agile, golden in hair and a dagger sheathed at the small of her back.
"Thief!" yelled Emilia. Yet the people around had hardly paid any mind to such cries and when the words registered to them, the rogue had gone rushing past their catching hands. For it was no business of theirs, the denizens continue on their task of day and let Emilia pursued her burglar by her lonesome.
The thief made a turn for an alley, Emilia punch her hands out, palm facing forward and scintillant lights danced in front of it and clumps of ice came hurling after the rogue like bolts of missile.
The short girl was swift and true in her movement and had been too quick to reach for the clumps of ice, leading them to be imbedded into the wall. She then disappeared into the alley and Emilia followed suit.
At the mouth of the alley, the half-elf stopped her track. No trace of the thief was to be found, instead, there were four men in the alley. One had short blue hair, was darkly-dressed and his collar was snatched by a lean man with a knife in hand, the two man by the lean man's flanks were a fat man and a dwarf.
Immediately, Emilia's sense of heroism flared up and stepped into the alley and punched both hands forward, palm spread and demanded heroically:
"Unhand him now!"
"Eh?" the three men went, while the victim looked at her curiously with a bland expression.
At the looks of the four men, Emilia felt pressured to speak, so she said:
"I don't know what's going on here, but surely you four can solve your differences without resorting to violence."
"Uh, you're not with him?" The fat man asked.
"No, this is first I've seen him."
"Then why are you nosing in our business?" said the dwarf. "Just get on out of here and you wouldn't get hurt!"
"Threatening me, are you?" Emilia wouldn't let herself be cowed down and began summoning shimmering lights at her palm and at a flash, a clump of ice sank like a fist into the dwarf's stomach, sending him flying and tumbling away.
"Hey!" said the lean man. "I got a knife right against his stomach, so don't you-"
The darkly-dressed man stepped forward in to the knife. Emilia gasped, and withdrew her hands unconsciously. The lean man started to sweat and shook, straining himself to stand, as if he had been stabbed and not the other man.
But then, giving a closer look, by the man's still, unwavering and rigid posture, he was definitely unharmed. His hand gripped the lean man's knife-wrist and twisted it and forced him to drop the weapon. It fell to the ground with a clatter and with nary a drop of blood on its blade. It was as though nothing have wetted its edge, as though it hadn't been used against either of the men. Was the man so fast in redirecting the knife unto the lean man that blood was too slow to wet the steel? Had his speed made a fool out of her eyes, tricking it in to thinking that he hadn't moved his hands at all? Or was there something else?
The man in black let go of the lean man's wrist and pushed him away. The fat man came catching his friend by the shoulders and said, "Hey, hey, are you all right?" frantically.
"He... healed me," said the lean man as he touched the red welt on his shirt, by the abdomen. "There's no wound there anymore."
The two then looked at the man in newfound fear.
"W-we should go," the fat man said.
"Y-yeah."
The fat man helped the lean man up and they picked up their dwarven friend and left the alley. Now, it was just her and the stranger.
"U-um," Emilia started, intending to cut away the tension. The stranger turned around, his face was bland and quizzical, his eyes were a cold gray that spoke of an extreme tundra beyond. "Uh," she then chuckled to herself, nervously, "I guess you didn't need any help huh?"
"Oh," said he, "no, your help is most appreciated. If you hadn't distracted them, I wouldn't've been able to pull that off."
Emilia was unconvinced. But that didn't matter, so she said:
"Anyway, did you catch sight of a girl running through here and where she went afterwards?"
"A girl? Up that roof and went down there," he pointed as he said. "She seems like she was in a hurry, did she do anything to you?"
"Um, that would be fine, thank you for your help," she bowed and turned and waved behind her, "take care!"
Despite the man's suggestion as to where the thief had gone, her search wasn't progressing smoothly. All over, and no one could help her more than just giving her I-don't-know, Never-seen-her, You-should-tell-this-to-the-knight, and on and on. Then, she decided to return to the market, where it had the most people that've seen the thief. Perhaps they would recognize and even tell her where she needed to go.
Down the market's street, Emilia saw a little girl, huddled alone against the wall of a building, looking helpless as strangers walked pass, uncertain of what to do.
"Emilia," a pitched little voice had said. It was Puck, a tiny cat spirit, who'd peaked out of her hair and spoke close to her ear.
"We should help her," she said with full determination.
"But the insignia."
"That can wait. This won't take long."
Puck smiled, and retreat back into her hair.
It was a little difficult, as at first in her approach, she had inadvertently made the little girl cry. But eventually, she managed to console her and reassure her that she would reunite her with her mother. And thankfully, she did. With teary eyes, the woman came over with open arms for her daughter, and the little girl had ran into that motherly embrace and the two mother and daughter was unite at last after a short little search. With the little task accomplished, she went her separate way to search for the thief with her mind at ease.
Emilia continued her information gathering in the market, asking people whether they'd recognize her or know where ever she might went. She got a lot of sorry-s and no-s and Please-stay-away-you're-driving-out-my-customers. Exasperated, but yet to give up, she continued her search. Then, that blue haired man from earlier caught her eyes. He was standing before a pottery vendor, seemed to be asking questions of some sorts and more and more the seller seemed to be getting quite irritated with him and had finally sent him away with a shout.
Then he turned around, and just about to do that before the two of their eyes made contact. A twitch of recognition in his eyes, he raised a hand and waved, she returned the gesture, hesitantly. He began approaching her, she stood still, curious as to what for.
When he stood near enough for a dialogue, he said:
"How's it going?"
"Eh? U-u-uh, u-u-u-m, not very well. Couldn't nail down where exactly she went."
"Need my help?"
"It's all right, I can handle it myself. You definitely have better things to do, right?"
"No, I might just as well spend time hunting for her with you. I did some asking around; people said she took something from you. Shouldn't you go to a knight for that?"
"People said that already, and this isn't something I'd want to get to the knights."
"Why not?"
"I-" she almost blurted out why. Red in the face, she shook her head cutely and said: "That doesn't matter! What matters is that I must find her at all cost!"
The man blinked, staring at her oddly, shrugged his shoulders, then said, "All right. I'm Makoto Yuki," and offered her a handshake.
Emilia drew back, looked at his hand, then at his face, then at his hand and then at his face again. "U-u-u-u-u-uh..."
"Is my help not wanted?"
"No, no! It's just, why are you offering?"
"You already know why."
"Because you don't have anything better to do?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm-mmm..."
Now that she gave it a thought, it was odd how comfortable she felt being around this man who was a stranger to her. Perhaps it was the friendly way he carried himself. She wasn't sure, but it was odd enough for her to found him suspect. In a hush whisper, she said:
"Puck?"
The little spirit whispered back: "He doesn't really strike me as a shady guy; maybe we can trust him for now."
The man tilted his head to the side; his hand was still in the air, unwavering, completely still.
Emilia accepted the offered handshake and offered her name in kind, "Emilia. Just Emilia." she trailed off, a hint of longing for things beyond her memories.
"And the little guy?" Makoto asked.
"He's Puck."
"Yo!" the little cat spirit popped out of her hair before coming back in.
The three of them went together then, asking around for information on the thief girl. It went as well as it did previous. Before long, Emilia caught sight of the little girl from before, along with her mother and her father who was kneeling before her, patting her head. Emotions swelled in her heart, Emilia felt compelled to go and greet them. The little girl recognized her and came over with her hands behind her back before revealing the item in her hand: a cute little orange flower pin. "Big sister, this is for you!"
Her mother came over with a smile. "It's her way of repaying you for helping her."
Emilia bent over and accepted the gift and appreciatively said: "Thank you!"
The little girl smiled.
"Hold on," the father came over from his fruit stall, "you know these two?"
"Just the girl," the mother said. "Our girl got lost and she helped her find me."
"I see," the father said. "Well then," he turned to Emilia, "if there's anything I can help, you can just ask - I owe you for this."
Finally, the man revealed some desperately needed lead for their investigation. The thief girl's name was Felt, and in the slums she would be most likely find. So there they went, shoulder to shoulder. The buildings all around were a sorry affair. It was as though a great calamity had swept through the land, tearing and rending walls and opening roofs. The people around weren't any better, they were tired and sullen, and were sitting in the dirt or gazing out the holes of their abode while dressing in rags, dirty and torn and crust with mud and filth as Emilia and Makoto walked down the street searching for this stolen goods warehouse.
At the sight of all the sorry people around, Emilia couldn't help but say:
"This is awful."
Makoto glanced about and said meaninglessly: "Hmm."
It was awkward, this silence between them. So she said again, "Makoto, why are you still helping me? I can find the warehouse by my own easily enough."
"What'll you do with the people there?"
"Huh?"
"Felt wouldn't be the only person there, that's definite."
"I'm sure I can handle it. So you can go and do about your business, you don't have to help me anymore."
"Already said I got nothing better to do," he said, flatly, there was a hint of annoyance in there.
"Is that really the reason? You aren't looking for anything out of this?"
"Do I need a reason to help out a cute girl?"
"Well, of cour-" his words were fully registered, she went red in the ears, she covered them down with her hands and turned away from Makoto.
"Hey buster!" Puck shot out of Emilia's hair, and went right up to Makoto's face. "Just what're you trying to pull, huh?"
Makoto stared blandly, blinked, and then grinned.
"Oh, so it's like that huh!?" Puck cocked his arm for a punch.
"Puck!" Emilia reached out and retrieved the little spirit. "That's enough, he's just joking around, there's no way he's serious."
"Hmm," Puck glared at Makoto. "All right, but I'm keeping my eyes on you," he pointed threateningly.
Makoto didn't take it very seriously.
The warehouse was a two story building with two chimneys on opposite ends of the gable roof, on the roof were grown dense patches of grass. Red-brown bricks were shown through where the building's paint had been worn out by the weather. The windows were barred by criss crossing bars of black iron and the glass panes of some of the windows were broken through. It wasn't the most impressive looking piece of work, but it could've been worse.
Standing before the double door leading to the storehouse, Emilia turned to Makoto and said:
"So-o-o, how should we go about this?"
"I thought you said you can handle this by yourself."
"I- of course I can!" Emilia turned sharply to the double door, took a step forward, coughed into her fist and knocked on the door with a knuckle.
A scrape of wood on wood, distant footsteps, getting nearer and nearer. "Password?" came back the voice behind the door - a gruff and masculine voice.
"An item of mine was stolen, by the thief Felt, and I've been pointed this direction to find her. If you're currently harboring her, please open the door and let me speak to her. If it's anything else, then I wouldn't mind parting with it, but this one item is important. Please, open the door. I wish you no harm and I only want my insignia back."
"Password?"
"Eh? But I just-"
Makoto stepped forward and spoke: "Open the doors or I'll splinter them off of the hinges."
"Is that a threat?" the voice replied.
Makoto wheeled his foot up and straightened it in a powerful kick against the middle surface of the double door, sending them flying off the hinges along with the locking bolt, crashed and splintered against the table further in the room. Makoto stepped inside as though the place was his and Emilia followed bashfully. An old dark-skinned giant jumped back and retrieve a large wooden club from behind the bar that was opposite the entryway. The thief girl Felt jumped out of a barstool and readied her dagger in a defensive stance.
Emilia quickly went ahead of Makoto and tried to defuse the situation:
"Wait, wait! Let's not get ahead of ourselves here! I'm just here for the insignia, nothing else." she then turned to Felt. "Please, I won't hurt you nor report you to the knights, I just want my insignia back, it's very important to me."
"Tough luck, sister," said Felt through gritted teeth, "your insignia's going to be a big break for me, and I'm not parting with it unless you can offer a better price than ten holy coins."
"I... don't have that much money on me. But, if you really need money that badly, then I promise that I'd come back here with ten holy coins if you would please return my insignia. I know that life is hard, and it's especially hard for the people who are born in the slums, that's why I won't hold this against you. We all must do what we have to in order to live another day. So, please. That insignia is very important to me, if it were anything else then I wouldn't mind parting with it. But that insignia specifically, I can't lose it."
Felt's scowl softened, her dagger lowered by just a little. Emilia's words seemed genuine to her ears, but blindly trusting others wasn't the way to survive in the slums. So, while still being cautious of Emilia, Felt said: "How do I know you'd keep your words? Old Man Rom and I are the only ones losing here. Hell, we lose those doors already! But if you can offer something as collateral, of equal amount to what I'm getting out of this insignia, then maybe we can work something out."
"I..." Emilia trailed off, there was no valuable on her personage. She had only intended to come to town on this day to register herself as one of the candidates for the upcoming Royal Election and nothing more, so carrying more than just the clothes she was wearing, coins enough for a meal or a travel back to Lord Roswaal's estate and the insignia that signifies her as one of the candidates, was unnecessary.
Makoto saw her expression, turned back to Old Man Rom and Felt and said:
"She has nothing. Well, so do I. Neither of us can negotiate a better deal that could loosen your fingers on that insignia entirely, except: return that thing you've stolen, or I'll hurt you."
"Not a chance," said Felt. Her teeth gritted and the dagger in her hand gleamed like fire under the setting sun.
The giant Rom looked about a little uneasy, but raised his enormous club in a defensive posture all the same. Felt was family, and he'd protect her with his all.
Emilia sighed; the look of a gentle elven maiden was snuffed after she closed her eyes and reopened them, scintillant with determination and defiance. "I don't want to do this, but if it can't be helped..."
Makoto stood expressionless with his hands at his sides. His cold gray eyes spoke of a subtle battlelust, one born from thousands of fights, glinted like the hunting fanged beasts. Beneath his clothes was a subtle hardened muscle like the cable of ships' anchors, and his slender and lanky frame was that of a gaunt wolf.
The fighters stood with a tense silence, the tiniest of disturbance could set this hair-trigger bunch into a frenzied clash of white magic and blue steel. All were ready to pounce like the starving pack of ma-beasts.
A slightest shift in the pressure of the air, a new presence entered the bout; all went unnoticed except for Makoto. He whirled to his back, and faced the new presence, its speed made a blur in that short instant, zooming in for Emilia; Makoto dashed and hugged Emilia from the back, shielding her from the flashing steel, swift as the lightning strikes.
Emilia yelped, Rom and Felt gasped, two porcelain heels clicked against wood. To the right, on top of a round table among other tables of such likes, stood a woman. Her hair was long, wavy and black, a purple flower pinned in her hair, her eyes were purple, a beauty spot dotted under one eye. A purpled furred hooded cape was draped on her shoulders with gold buttons snapped together at the base of her throat to keep the cape on. Her dress seemed to be strapless and backless, the exposed front flaunted her belly and cleavage provocatively, the slits at each hips exposed her smooth thighs clad in brown tights. Her demeanor and build and apparel gave off the look of a swift and seductive assassin.
Makoto's back was etched with a red stroke from the right shoulder-blade to the left hip.
"E-Elsa!" Felt yelped.
The assassin smirked; a honeyed murderlust glinted in her purple eyes. She flourished a dagger and wet blood splashed on the bar counter, while the drops that stick gleamed redly with the silver steel.
Makoto let go of Emilia and stood himself between her and the assassin. He drew a dagger from his belt, Emilia saw that it was the same dagger from the stick-up earlier in the day.
"You the one paying for the insignia?" said Makoto, his voice flat as always, and Emilia couldn't gleam anything more behind them.
"Scary, scary," Elsa said, singsong-like. "Don't look at a lady with such looks, boy, or she'll get the wrong idea."
"No. She's getting just the right idea."
"Fu-fu~."
"Uh-um," Felt stammered, "I got the insignia, right here," and thrust out the little crest. "These two came over just earlier to negotiate for it, but they don't really have anything for show so it went nowhere, and then they decided to try and take it by force. Let's team up and get rid of them and then I'll give you the insignia and you give me my payment!"
"Ho-o-o-o~, I see. Well, young miss, that's certainly the way to do it isn't it? But, you see... I never intended to pay you ten holy coins for that small little thing."
"E-eh?" Felt was dumbfounded.
"Hmph-hmm. You must be surprise to hear that don't you? Well, don't be, who in their right mind would pay a thief for something so insignificant anyway? So when I have that in my hands, I would've killed you and everyone in the room with you. Now though, I guess I must do the butcher work first. But that's all right, now that there are more of you, I definitely don't mind skipping straight to the main course. I can't wait to open up your bowels and see your resplendent insides!"
Elsa's eyes dilated, her grin stretched from ear to ear, forming a sadistic perverted countenance.
Emilia shuddered at the sight as her words registered, her hair stood on shivering ends. But the young maiden wasn't a stranger to battle, so she steeled her resolved just as quick as when she sensed that it had faltered and raised her hands up in preparation for an attack spell. Her heart beat loudly and flamed with deathlust. But she wasn't so as used to such sensations yet, and that rush of hot blood coursing through her veins left her arms and knees shaky.
Felt, green in her years, and lesser in martial matters. But her hard struggle for survival in the number of her days in the slums as a thief gave her a better tolerance to the red violence throbbing in her heart, but the woman before her was nothing like any of the few fighters she ever fought - all of whom she never even killed - so she decided to let the situation played out for just a while longer until someone else would start the fight so she could plunge her dagger into Elsa's body while the assassin was caught in a clash with another.
The old grizzly giant Rom poised the club at the hip, his eyes narrowed and focused, his arms were like corded steel, rippling with the slightest anticipation, his heart was beating hot but his breath remained cool and composed.
Makoto had one foot forward and one back, stood back-weighted with the dagger held in front of him. His forefinger extended over the quillon block and placed against the flat, held at point as though a rapier. His eyes were dull but focused, hands and knees completely composed, unshaking.
Elsa was dictating the tempo, all could see that clearly. None would dare to make an attack unless it was in response to hers: Makoto, for she would probably make for Emilia first and he was readying himself to be her shield; Rom for such the same reason but with Felt instead; as for Emilia and Felt, they were overwhelmed by the sense of deathlust emanating from Elsa, an oppressing presence that seemed so sharp and deathly that it would snuff the very life out of everything in the room. For an assassin, she made her intentions clear and unambiguous, showed how much she took them seriously.
The table creaked as Elsa's weight pressed on it by the ball of her foot. She was lowering herself in preparation for a dash, her eyes go through each and one of them as though selecting goods in an open-air market, her eyes stopped, she licked her lips, and she found her first target. The table was sundered to splinters by her dash, the glass panes shattered from the explosive force of her speed.
On pure instinct, Makoto whipped his dagger upward for a parry. The two blades collided, a sharp clang rang out piercingly and the sound lingered in the air with the shivering steels. Stopped by the parry, Elsa smirked in contentment; she had found just the right prey that could keep up with her.
Rom roared for the short moment that Elsa was stilled, his club crashed down and cratered the floor, but the woman was swift and she was on his forearm already the moment he completed the swing. Makoto turned and started so he could help the old man. A sharp passing of the dagger and clicking of heels behind Rom and she had finished her attack. For the slightest of moment, the arm was still attach, then, off the shoulder, it fell down heavily like a crashing tree and blood poured out of the stump in a stream of foul red.
"A-a-a-agh!" the giant's cry was strained, his body sweating, his expression aghast. He collapsed on the bar, struggling for the little fight left in him.
Elsa grinned, and licked the blood off of the flat of her dagger.
"Rom!" yelled Felt. At the sight, any fear within her was snuffed by a wrathful child-like passion. It was a girl seeing her father figure being dismembered, witnessing such a thing, her heart throbbed redly and she leaped on a dash to unleash her own knife-play against Elsa's.
The difference between the two was clear as night and day. Felt swung her dagger with fury, heavy and telegraphed; Elsa's parry was light, nimble and casual, as though she was flicking mosquitoes. Felt roared a tiger cub's roar, and dashed in for a thrust; Elsa went in Felt's guard and checked the motion by snatching her knife-wrist upward.
Felt's eyes were wide as Elsa's dagger was raised high, and death's sting was only a bludgeoning blow away.
Elsa's senses went on alert, she released her hold on Felt and had leaped away to dodge the crystal missile that was shot at her and the icicle embedded into the wooden paneling of the wall.
Elsa shot a look at Emilia, and the elven girl swung her arm the assassin's way and had casted another clump of ice toward Elsa. Deftly and nimbly, Elsa dodged the coming crystal and splinters shot out from where the clump of ice impacted. With determination, Emilia continued her battery of ice missiles and hadn't the intent to give herself a moment's rest, while Elsa was making an acrobatic play with the missiles casted her way. She had a casual smile about her countenance as though it was a circus show and had twirled around all the dangers coming her way entirely as though she had rehearsed them a thousand of times.
For each shot of the ice missiles that were a miss, the hits didn't get anywhere proved fatal to Elsa's body, instead, they shattered into cobbles by the sharp impact of her daggers. But still, Emilia was providing a good distraction, though unintentional. So Makoto had went to Rom and said:
"Put that arm where it should be, I'll reattach it."
"WH-what?"
"Do as I say," it came off as sharp and hostile.
The old man did as told and as Makoto touched the wrist of his un-severed arm, a green light shone about him, and the severed arm joined the shoulder stump completely. The veins came together to rejuvenate the arm with fresh life blood, and the cold nerves of the near-dead thing was firing signals of crawling ants on the skin and a white scar girdled where the wound was.
Felt gasped with wonder.
Elsa stopped in her play with Emilia, her eyes squinted, her head tilted to the side. "Hmm? I see, there's more to you than just the toughness of your skin isn't it?"
"Eh?" Emilia said, despite the situation, she turned her head just enough to the side to see that the Old Giant was with two arms again. "That is... Makoto, did you..."
He turned to her, said nothing, then to Elsa, and then he stood by her to face the assassin head on.
Rom bent over and picked up the giant club that had been soaked in his own blood despite Felt's protest.
"Put that down," Makoto said, still facing Elsa. "You're no match."
"She got lucky," Rom turned, and spat. "And I still have some fight left in me."
"Do as thou wilt."
Makoto started forward, standing vanguard for the rest of them.
Elsa licked her upper lip. "Now this just won't do. With your powerful healing magic, their bowels would be inside them again once I cut them out- but wait! That means I get to cut them up as many times as I want as long as you still have the heart and mana to heal them, doesn't it?"
"The same applies to you," said Makoto.
"D'aw, you would heal the wounds on little old me?"
"So I can cut you open all over again."
"My~my~! I might've just found my kindred soul! Too bad you're protecting that girl you're with."
Makoto's eye twitched, he didn't at all felt pleasant being called such.
Elsa sprang forth on a high leap off the ball of her feet, her right shot forth like a stinger, so swift that it was a blur. Makoto parried the attack with the flat of his dagger by flicking his arm up. The two daggers spoke stridently on contact and lit a beam of ivory. Elsa's left came next, shooting for the sternum. Makoto grabbed the blade with his free hand and dragged her forth and rammed his forehead on the bridge of her nose. Elsa tore her dagger free from Makoto's grasp and jumped back.
Two threads of crimson ran down her flattened nostrils and bubbled as she breathed out in a dying wheeze. Her pain turned her on, her grin grew wider and her eyes were glittered with bloodlust.
Emilia was at Makoto's right flank, Felt at his left's and Rom was stalking his way toward Felt, taking careful steps so as not to provoke Elsa into attacking. He stopped when he got close enough to pick her up or shield her from the knives' blow.
Elsa pressed a thumb and forefinger on either side of her nose's bridge and squeezed the bone upright. She rubbed the spot a little, to make sure it was standing straight and then wiped her blood off the back of her wrist and then licked them clean like a cat. It shouldn't be that easy to fix a broken nose, but she'd done it.
For Emilia, to see Makoto be so unwavering in the face of danger, it filled her heart with hope and courage and admiration for the man. So she snapped on a determined look and readied herself to aid him if need be by a battery of icicles with her arms at ready, aiming for the assassin.
Elsa wetted her upper lip, circling to the right. Makoto followed her mechanically, dagger at point like a duelist. The wooden floor creaked and splintered as Elsa bounded, her right slicing through like a shooting star, followed by powerful left thrust. Makoto held his position as rigid as a faithful knight standing on guard at the princess' bedchamber, he snapped his dagger into a parry for the coming right, then stepped his leading foot back as the left thrust was shooting forth and had locked Elsa's wrist in his iron grip. Makoto then ran his dagger on Elsa's arm, from wrist to elbow pit. Red blood burst out from the arm profusely like an overfilled sink, a putrid stench wafted through the air, more foul than any human blood.
Rom lifted his club above his shoulder and lashed down a powerful blow that could flatten a boar's head.
Elsa, unperturbed by her bleeding arm, had simply torn the skin of her hand off at the wrist from Makoto's grip. She then spun out of the way of the incoming bludgeon and then whipped a whistling knife blow past the giant's club-wielding wrist.
He gripped below the cut tightly, double back and crashed on the bottle rack behind him.
"O-old man!"- Felt ran over to him.
Makoto dropped Elsa's flesh; his eyes bore into hers, and said:
"Emilia."
"Y-yes?" she replied.
"Do you know any other spells?"
She got what he meant. "I'll try and-"
"Stabilize him, don't heal him completely."
"Eh? But..."
Makoto said nothing more.
Emilia did as requested and was kneeling beside Rom, conjured a spherical light that from it, emanated a healing glow. If she were to heal him completely, closing all the wound channels, then they wouldn't be able reattach the severed hand, so she only used the spell to ensure the flesh and blood wouldn't rot. Rom gritted his teeth in pain, sweating feverishly.
"C-can't you do anything else?" Felt was growing frustrated by the seconds.
"If you can fetch that hand for me, then..."
Makoto glanced at them, clicked his tongue. They looked to him. Felt hesitated, but eventually went to pry the severed hand's fingers off the club and then went back to Rom and Emilia with the hand.
Elsa chuckled with derisive mirth. "You hold your own well, boy~. What's your name?"
"My name is for friends."
"Aww..." she tossed and spun a dagger and caught its grip. "Well, I am Elsa Granhiert, pleasure to meet you," she did a mock court bow. "Now, prepare yourself."
Makoto said nothing but dashed forth to meet daggers with her.
Emilia watched the fight with wonder as her healing spell was knitting Rom's hand with his wrist. The two fighters were so swift that her eyes couldn't see and predict the movement of their flashing knives. Here was Elsa, her arms were corded like iron, most clearly seen whenever her knives connected with Makoto's, she moved and glided with a supple grace, keeping herself an arm's reach away from Makoto with her longer blades and skillful foot work - something that she was actively doing, for Makoto had proved himself so far to be a grabby opponent who hid his true strength deceptively behind a thin frame. As for the man himself, he was hard to read as ever. He'd struck swiftly and powerfully, their knives clang sharply, lighting flashes and showers of sparks. His foot work was sparse, and rigid, intentionally so, for even if Elsa's knives connected with him, they could only wound him glancingly and nothing more. His skin was like a steel plate. Dressing him in armor would be a redundant task.
Elsa leaped to the side wall and ran along it up to the ceiling. She bounded off the wall and was dropping down hard and fast with her daggers raised high like a guillotine. Makoto's expression was blank, unbothered. A cloud of smoke exploded as Elsa impacted along with a blast of splinters as the wooden floor gave under pressure. In the swirling smoke was a choked cry, a clattering of metal, a hard punch impacted dryly and wet sounds of dripping blood. As the smoke dissipated, the state of the two fighters were revealed: Elsa had both knives at his shoulders, the point failed to penetrate and the daggers had instead cut Makoto glancingly; while Makoto had his left locked around tightly on Elsa's neck and his right was wrist deep beneath her left breast.
Forcefully, Makoto yanked out his right hand and pushed Elsa away and off of him. Elsa dropped to the floor, lifeless. In his right fist, a red thing was pulsing and leaking blood.
Emilia gasped; her hands flew to her mouth.
Makoto turned, there was a crazy look in his eyes, despite the muscles around them never seemed to move to form any such expression. Slowly, his expression had softened and the fire in his eyes died down to a gentler and welcoming warmth. There was a regalness about his silent face, befitting that of a blood-caked knight. Noble and proud, but would ready to do the butcher work upon any villain if the situation calls for it. The beating heart in his hand ruined the effect somewhat; it almost made him look like one of the villains themselves.