[I'm engaging the Dead Apostle.] I told Lancer.
She didn't respond, and I didn't expect her to.
She knew as well as I did that I didn't have the capacity to carry on or recognize a conversation happening while I was fighting.
I knew the next time I heard from her; I wouldn't have to hesitate if I were in a bad spot.
I was happy the courtyard outside the cafeteria was rather large. It was a huge mess of littering and graffiti on the walls, but for the first time, I was genuinely happy to be here.
The bricks from the caved-in wall moved.
I took a stance.
Left foot forward, right foot back.
Followed by the left fist extended first and right fist back.
I turned my body to minimize my surface area.
The Dead Apostle burst out of the rubble; the faint red glow of his eyes gleamed through the dust as I jerked my head ever so slightly to the right.
His elongated nails passed by, barely missing me, but still cutting across my cheek and nicking my ear. Even several strands of hair went floating off as his spear-like hand passed by my head.
My heart pounded in my chest as I narrowly avoided death.
But this was exactly what I had trained for, had beaten into me, by Bazett.
One step forward with my right foot.
I stomped on the ground as it echoed across the courtyard.
"Uruz" The Rune stitched onto the back of my left glove glowed bright as I threw one of my most practiced punches, a cross counter.
Using his own forward momentum, stepping into it, and actualizing the Rune on my glove to increase my strength severalfold for a split second.
My fist landed on his jaw, and I felt it crack and shatter.
His head jerked and twisted unnaturally from the force.
His feet left the ground, and the air exploded, and his body went shooting through a trash can and shattered a stone bench until he bounced against the ground and hit a metal pole.
The metal pole that was supporting an overhead pavilion had caved in, and the top shook before collapsing on top of him as well.
I let out a breath.
From a pure 'strength' standpoint, that was the most I could do.
Reinforcement, Uruz, to enhance my strength for that strike, and I even calculated his own momentum to use against him as he leapt at me.
The Rune on the back of my glove burned.
These weren't my normal gloves; they were much cheaper, meaning the materials couldn't withstand the continued use.
I could feel the Rune burning into my skin from the use, the faint heat radiating off it after the first use.
The material was already starting to fray around the edges. I had maybe one more use of it before my glove would become completely unusable.
The Dead Apostle let out a noise that sounded like anger as the collapsed pavilion was torn apart and pushed away.
His shattered jaw visibly healed; his head was also forcibly corrected by some invisible force.
Did he cast the Curse of Restoration again?
Once more, I didn't notice it.
He must be an expert in using that spell.
It wasn't something I was familiar with; while we had plenty of curses in our archives, I never touched them much. And the Curse of Restoration was basically the bread and butter for a Dead Apostle.
As a technically non-living entity, normal healing methods generally don't work. A literal Curse that 'heals' is what they generally have to use, and it forcibly restores their body to a 'fixed' state.
For a living being, though, it can be just as debilitating as the wounds you're suffering from.
My hand trembled; it felt like I had punched a steel plate. I think I broke some smaller bones in my hand on that.
I didn't immediately charge in for a follow-up.
My physical abilities were a clear notch below his as a Dead Apostle. Bazett taught me that aggressiveness is a good strategy for experienced Enforcers, but for the inexperienced it can lead to easy openings to exploit.
Even my first stance was meant to take advantage of the Dead Apostle's overconfidence. The same trick wouldn't work twice; I had tried my best to get a good blow on him, but it seems like he healed all the damage easily.
Though, I did manage to draw a bit of blood, which is bad for him.
I needed to be ready for what spells he would cast. Frankly, I couldn't be aggressive, because I needed to be ready to turn around and run if needed.
What's his Thaumaturgical specialty?
What preparations had he made?
Are there any Bounded Fields around?
There were a lot of questions that made me hesitate to immediately follow up.
So, the wait-and-see approach it was.
He was angry; that was both good and bad. An angry opponent made mistakes, but an angry opponent also came with the caveat that they were more than willing to gouge my stomach open at their own expense.
I shifted my weight onto my back foot and momentarily paused, and my expression turned into a frown.
My right shoe was about the same as my left glove. The material was fraying, and it wouldn't last much longer after using it as a medium to cast a Rune.
At this moment, I could tell he was taking it more seriously.
His arrogance had been curbed, and he wasn't going to look down on me anymore.
Half a step back.
He hand-swiped the space a hair's breath in front of me, leaping at me from where he was a moment before.
I swung my elbow at his face, but he caught it and stabbed at me with his long and sharp nails. I twisted my body to avoid it as best as I could, but he still caught part of my chest, slicing up my shirt and digging into my flesh.
I grit my teeth. "Load." I intoned; Magical Circles swirled around my free hand as I pressed it against his chest. "Trajectory set—Compress, Sun, release."
I fired several Magic Bullets, point blank, through his chest.
The visceral reaction was immediate; his flesh, bone, and organs were blown apart as my Magic Bullets tore through him and into the side of the school, shattering the brick and concrete on impact.
I didn't know if that was enough even as his body stumbled backwards and his eyes rolled back.
I jumped up, wrapping my legs around his arm that still held my wrist in his grasp, and I twisted it, hearing the confirmation of a broken bone as he planted his face into the ground.
I rolled over him to thoroughly snap it and break free from him, pushing myself up a few feet away and catching my breath.
Bazett said that Dead Apostles were hard to really put down.
It wasn't always a matter of destroying the heart, cutting the head off, or destroying parts of their body.
And this one definitely lived up to that kind of reputation.
He stood back up again, gasping as he was, but I could see his flesh knitting itself back together.
The holes in him I blew open, the flesh grotesquely reconnected and regenerated. His broken and snapped arm jerked and realigned itself.
"I knew it; you're a wizard! Fantastic! To think I'd run into one of you in a backwards place like this!" The Dead Apostle opened his mouth.
My brain came to a screeching halt.
Not from the happiness in his voice; that was certainly concerning.
But what he called me.
"Did you just call me a Wizard?"
The Dead Apostle frowned as I responded. There was a look of annoyance, for some reason. Like a flash of disdain, but I don't think it was specifically directed at me.
"You're a Magic user." He smiled still.
And it wasn't lost on me that he had ignored everyone else before but actually responded to me directly.
I couldn't help but have my eyes widen, because just as he said that, everything slotted in place.
Was he…not a Magus!?
"Are you just a random guy that got turned into a Dead Apostle?" I blurted out, knowing full well that talking was frowned upon in combat. "Are you even capable of casting any spells?!"
It suddenly made sense.
Why were there no Bounded Fields anywhere, not even at his safe houses or experiments around the city? Or why I hadn't sensed him casting the Curse of Regeneration. Or his shitty use of his Mystic Eyes. And a million other small things that made me question what the fuck was wrong with his head. And he hadn't even used any noticeable spells so far in our fight.
He's not even a fucking Magus!
No one would call me a Wizard. Nor would they call what I was doing as Magic in this context.
From the flash of anger across his face, I'm one hundred percent sure I hit the nail on the head.
He's a random fucking mundane person who got turned into a Dead Apostle, and he's been stumbling around trying to figure out how to be a vampire so far.
He charged at me again.
I quickly took another stance, dodging a swipe of his. Despite not being a proper Magus, his physical abilities were superhuman, and he could easily skewer me if I let my guard down.
He was still faster and stronger than me.
I ducked and dashed to the side as he was pushing me towards a dead end; literally, my back was nearly to a wall before I got away.
I slid across the concrete ground as another of his extended claws scraped against one of the metallic eating tables out here in the courtyard. It was torn to shreds with barely any resistance to be had.
My stance switched; instead of a boxer-esque anticipation, I switched to a different martial art Bazett taught me, focused on counter attacks.
Both my hands remained open as I held them up in front of my chest, my right foot sliding back behind me.
He grabbed a piece of the metal table, throwing it at me.
I breathed out and took a step forward, using my palm to slap it away. But my eyes didn't leave him as he immediately jumped at me again as I expected him to.
At this point, I could tell he had very little actual combat experience. Maybe even I had more than him with all the sparring I've had in my life.
His right hand reached out to me at my throat in a grabbing motion.
I anticipated this.
"Uruz." My left glove seared hot, and the seams burst as I cast it one last time.
My left palm hit just below the elbow of his extended hand, and my right—the "Sowilo" The Rune on my right glove—actualized as well.
My left-hand palm strike shattered his elbow; my right hand ignited in Sun's Fire, and I grabbed onto his limp arm as I sent the flames into it.
His arm bubbled and ignited. His blood was set aflame as it climbed up his arm. Sowilo wasn't just representative of the sun and fire, but of cleansing.
The Dead Apostles were undead.
The Dead Apostle screamed again.
Both my gloves literally crumbled away on my hands, but I paid no attention to it.
"Fehu." I activated the Rune on my right shoe again, one last time, as the rubber on the sole noticeably deteriorated and crumbled.
Instead of using it as a burst of speed to move, I used it to send my knee upwards into his chin in one swift action.
However, before it could connect, I felt something wrap around my leg, stopping me.
His right arm was unnaturally wrapped around me, like a coiled snake. As if no bones existed inside of it.
Before I could even think of a response, he lifted me up and swung me through the air like a discarded toy.
My senses became jumbled, and vertigo set in as I went flying through the air until I finally hit something solid.
I felt the shock through my body, even with the adrenaline running through me.
The pain was immediate, but I was used to pain.
It took me a moment to reorient myself, and I could see that I had crashed into the cafeteria again, nearly collapsing one of the side walls.
That was going to leave a spot.
On me.
My back was going to be one giant bruise.
I looked up, and the Dead Apostles' shrieks still echoed across the courtyard, so that gave me a tiny bit of breathing room.
But to my surprise, he ripped his own arm off completely before the fires could climb further onto his body.
His bloody stump trembled and spasmed as the missing arm began to regrow in real time.
What the fuck is that?
I may have missed an important detail, understandably, considering I was fighting for my life. But it was a detail that really shouldn't have been missed when I realized he wasn't a Magus.
How was he healing?
I came to one logical conclusion.
"You're a Parahuman." I looked at him in genuine surprise.
He snapped his head at me, furious, maddened.
How?
Could Parahumans be Dead Apostles!?
Why had I never heard of this before?
Regardless, it needed to die.
His powers were some kind of flesh manipulations that lent themselves to self-healing, if I had to guess. The way it distorted its own to wrap around my leg.
"I'm not one of those mortal creatures!" The Dead Apostle let out a roar. "I am more! I am better! They're nothing but food to feed my ascension!"
His chest bulged and his flesh twisted, grotesque and disgusting; hands began to push out, growing longer and longer until they were fully formed arms.
And without a word of warning, they shot at me like bullets, elongating dozens of feet in the blink of an eye.
The first one pierced right through the side of the building, as if the brick, stone, and steel meant nothing.
I had to dive to the side and roll across the ground as two more had narrowly missed me.
The next has sliced my arm, and the fourth has slashed across my midsection.
There were many more, all coming at me.
My Circuits were beginning to burn slightly, the dull ache increasing due to the frequency of spellcasting and continued usage.
But I had no time to consider that either.
My eyes strained as I focused; my tools were running out, so I took a risk.
"Time Alter – Double Accel."
Blood flowed out of my nose and down my eyes.
My brain felt like it had been set on fire.
But the world around me slowed.
I barely had time to study this spell the past week, and it was a hurried cast. I knew I hurt myself casting it, but I was in a tight spot.
I took a step forward; his extended arm was about to reach me. I carefully sidestepped it as it passed in nearly slow motion.
And the next, I dodged with ease.
Several times, I avoided all of them.
Every action of his, every twitch, and movement, I could see it clearly and react accordingly.
I tilted my head as one more claw passed by and narrowly missed my face by precise calculation. In this state, I could understand why the Emiya Crest was such a sought after item by the Clock Tower.
However, I felt the Spell start to waver as the world around me flickered, so I charged at him, grabbing a Black Key from my belt.
I injected Magical Energy into it, and the red 'hilt' of it vibrated, and the Conceptual Blade emerged.
I wasn't exactly skilled at the 'techniques' that came with their use, the way they're meant to be 'thrown' between the knuckles. At best, I could 'aim' it as I threw, but the stopping power wasn't anywhere near that of a seasoned Executor of the Church. But even without that, they can be used to an effect.
The most simplistic and brutish method, I grabbed it with my fist and jabbed it into his chest at full speed.
My Time Alter wore off as a wave of pain and exhaustion washed over me.
The Dead Apostle let out a strangled gasp as the Black Key pushed through his heart, and I continued forward until he was fully impaled into the side of the school.
He finally went limp, and I nearly collapsed to the ground with gasps as my legs all but gave out.
My shirt was torn apart, and I was cut, bleeding, and bruised, but I won.
My Circuits were on fire.
That last use of Time Alter, my Circuits were burning bad enough that they became visible under my skin from overuse. The ethereal teal lines of magical energy surged through my body as steam began to waft off me.
I took out the last two Black Keys, and I stabbed them into him without hesitation.
One right through his head, the other through his neck.
I wasn't going to leave it there and just hope it's truly dead.
Even as that took the last bits of energy from me, I felt it was worth it.
If I had even the smallest amount of energy left, I would have set him on fire, but I was struggling to even turn my Circuits off at the moment as my body swayed left to right.
Everything was blurry, and it was hard to focus.
He twitched.
I think he twitched.
I couldn't tell.
That was until his eyes opened.
His whip-like arm, even from his impaled position, slashed at me.
His razor-sharp nails slashed across my chest as it slapped me away. I hit something hard again, and the disorientation set in. I don't know what broke my momentum, but it hurt.
The pain was substantial, the most I've ever felt in my life.
I don't know if I could stand up.
I tried, but I slumped against whatever was against my back.
The Dead Apostle, it was pulling itself off the Black Keys.
No, it's like the extended limbs of his were free from the conceptual weapons that were binding it. They flailed around and tried to touch the weapons, but they were immediately repelled by the weapons of the Church.
Instead, they pressed against the building and began to push against it until the Dead Apostle's body ripped itself apart to free itself.
Its body fell off the wall.
However, its brain, parts of its throat, and even its heart remained impaled there as its body spasmed on the ground.
It took several moments before it stood up again, eyes glazed over, half mindless, but somehow still focused on me.
Ah.
This wasn't good.
I stood up against my body's complaints.
[Master]
I smiled and held up my hand as it glowed brightly.
It leapt at me.
"By the Power of this Command Spell, overturn Time and Space and appear by my side, Lancer!"
An astronomical amount of Magical Energy erupted for a split second. It didn't make use of my own reserves nor my own circuits. It was all provided by the Command Seals on my hand.
It was bright, maybe from the magical energy surge, or Lancer's own arrival carrying with it a burst of light.
All the tension in me had escaped at that moment.
I could fall onto the ground and relax if I wanted.
She didn't say anything, barely even touched the ground as the glowing spear in her hand thrust forward, and with it, the Dead Apostle was destroyed, the majority of its body utterly disappearing as what remained fell to the ground.
This time, well and truly unmoving.
I'm fairly sure I heard sirens pulling up.
Better late than never, I suppose.
Well, this was a gigantic clusterfuck if I've ever seen one.
Maybe if I pass out, I can pretend this was all a dream.
[Line Break]
A/N
The Dead Apostle is dead, but things are far from over.
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