Chapter Text
“Vrrt! Vrrt!”. Heavy smoker grimaced as his cellphone vibrated, a groan of annoyance creaking from his throat. Opposite of him stood three heroes called to his aid.
“Is that all of you?” He questioned, visibly disappointed at the sight before him. “Not even half, I see…”.
“How many people were you expecting?” The hero in the middle flatly replied. “We were busy too, but we decided to come anyway.”
“Sharpshooter’s right.” Stonefist affirmed. “The 17th division is relatively small, so isn’t it common practice for others to move to other divisions?” Stonefist cracked his knuckles, a cocky smirk dripping on his face. “Well, anyway, this is a pretty big deal–so it looks like it’s gonna be fun!”
“Fun? What are you talking about? This is just a nuisance.” Sharpshooter replied–obviously annoyed.
“If we’re talking about the Smiling Man, wasn’t he a pretty big deal back in the war?” Stonefist retorted, his smirk now a grin. “I’ve got the opportunity to take him down myself!” Stonefist clenched his fist, jagged stones materializing through the length of his arm. “How exciting is that?”
“I guess it’ll be good target practice.” Sharpshooter uttered, looking off to the side.
“That’s enough.” Claymore became more impatient by the second. “If it’s really him, we need to stay alert.” His tantrum behind a mature facade was quickly shut down by a slap on the back by Stonefist.
“What are you so afraid of Claymore? He’s basically a ghost from the past!” Stonefist jugged an (somehow) even cockier grin. “Hey, Heavy Smoker, tell him! You were in the war, weren’t you?”
Heavy Smoker took a long draft from his fat ass cigar, pausing only to reply. “You idiot.” Heavy Smoker looked past Stonefist’s wavering confidence, turning to a figure, separated from the 3. “Yuna, what about Chaos?”
Yuna turned at the sound of Chaos’ voice, not much her own. “He’s severely wounded, he won’t be able to participa—” Yuna was crudely cut off by Sharpshooter “Chaos? Viper’s dead, how did he survive?” Sharpshooter adjusted her sharpshooter with a loud click. “Maybe he doesn’t have what it takes to be a hero.”
“Watch your mouth sharpshooter.” Yuna retorted, aggression dripping in her usually stoic tone. “He’s more of a hero than you will ever be.”
“Huh?!” A bright orange hue filled the room as a bolt constructed from Sharpshooter’s est sizzled to life. Yuna had barely reacted as Sharpshooter aimed her crossbow just centimeters from her head. “Are you trying to start something!?” Sharpshooter had completely abandoned her composure, only for a substantial rumble to echo through the building.
Sharpshooter jolted her head towards Heavy Smoker with brief panic. “You said you sent everyone away except for the regular footsoldiers, that doesn’t sound like fighting–” Sharpshooter was silenced from speaking further as multiple detonations clustered through various parts of the edifice they’re inhabiting.
“I knew they’d be here soon.” With unshakable composure, Heavy Smoker took another drag from his still-fat-as-fuck cigar. “I’ve been expecting them, no need to be alarmed.” The old man looked at each of the heroes in front of him. “Get ready, it’s going to be a tough fight.”
The 17th division..
…Will defeat the smiling man!
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Too expensive!! Was the first thought to pierce Hekate’s thoughts as she skimmed the prices on the menu. Ahead of her, Victoria had stepped onto the stage, where various other musicians were playing. Plopping herself on the piano’s bench, Victoria gently skimmed her fingers against the keys, only for her to play so hideously and aggressively, the entire fucking piano shattered. (??? this is probably important to the plot)
Hekate cautiously eyed the stage. I’m not a music expert, but one thing is for sure. This performance is violent. She thought. Victoria graciously climbed from the seat as if she didn't just destroy a 5k grand piano, calmly walking towards the table where Hekate resides.
“You’re here early, Hekate.” Victoria smiled, speaking over the applause.
A bead of sweat dripped down the side of Hekate’s face. “I-I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing, Victoria. I was a bit surprised.”
Victoria picked up a menu, and without sparing a breath, scoured through the pages. “Oh, this? It’s a good way for me to practice controlling my strength.” Victoria picked up a fork, and with the effort equivalent to squashing a grape, compacted it into a tiny metal ball. “If I don't pay attention, then that happens.”
As their orders arrived, Hekate’s nervousness eased with the warm embrace of food coiling around her tongue. Her brief moment of bliss was crushed by the sound of Victoria’s voice. “Anyway, Heavy Smoker…I wonder why he’s not answering my calls.”
Hekate perked up, raising a hand in the air, index pointed to the ceiling. “You’re talking about the manager of the 17th division, right?”
“That’s right.” Victoria rested her head on her hand, mixing her red wine occupying her glass. “This definitely means something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t think any of the other divisions know what’s going on.” Victoria set down her glass, palming her hands together. “He’s usually one to take care of himself—first and foremost.”
I can see what’s happening. Thought Victoria, memories of that girl with silver hair and crimson eyes filled with the alluring scent of revenge had flooded her mind. It’s probably got something to do with that newbie. The image of her gift, the pillar of black and red darkness that had attempted to swallow the star whole, although pitiful, had created the tiniest flutter within Victoria's stomach.
Victoria stretched her arms out. “If something blows up, I hope it’s before my leave is over…”
“Uh, Victoria..? Speaking of blowing up, I think it’s already happening…” Hekate pointed to the district view outside their window, one of the buildings bursting in flames.
Victoria stared, eyes slightly widening, before her lips tightened into a smile, filled to the brim with iniquity.
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“Chain..looks like he screwed us over. What’s the plan?” Ihwa gazed upon the building currently engulfed in flames. Chain had promised explosives potent enough to wipe out the entire district, but these few barely destroyed a building.
Ihwa turned her head to a man sporting a large black coat, and with a hoarse voice he answered– “We go in guns blazing.”
Let the Hero Clan know…
That the Nameless are here!!
Engen opened his hand, an orange beam of est slowly licking the air in front of his palm. and with a quick slashing motion, the lower parts of the building were almost completely obliterated. Engen, having lived for hundreds of years, had racked up a massive stockpile of powerful gifts, Ihwa had gotten to see that first hand, she had been looking for a chance to see what makes him so strong during their planned assault. The building rumbled, and the seams of the building bursted open.
“Woah woah woah, is he for real!? Is he trying to take down the whole building?” Stonefist was met with a mix of amazement and fear, watching that man take down the rest of the building hes in, all with a swipe of his hand.
“Move over, blockhead! You’re in my way!” Sharpshooter pushed Stonefist aside, shattering the window, and aiming her crossbow at the head of their attacker. The bolt pierced the air and wailed as it was sliced in fours by the silver haired woman, wielding only a red-handled Hwando. Ihwa glared down at the bolt she split in four, its imprint in the concrete very noticeable. Is the bolt infused with est..? Ihwa watched as the bolt fizzled into nothing.
“Hmph.” Sharpshooter grunted, wether she was impressed or annoyed, not even I could tell you, and I’m the one writing this.
Heavy Smoker lit a new cigar, holding it with his teeth. “We just need the capture the Smiling Man. You few, handle the rest.”
“Okay.” Stonefist and Claymore said in nigh-perfect unison, the only difference being their enthusiasm.
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“There. Bring her down...” The Smiling Man had ordered, his threats wandering on the sight of Sharpshooter. “..John.” As soon as his name left the scarred man’s lips, John had charged forward, planting his feet into the side of the building and charging up the building–only to be met with a pillar of stone planted through his face. The force of the punch threw him back into the ground, as Stonefist gripped John’s arm, tossing him into a nearby building.
Claymore jumped down to slice John’s head off his shoulders, just for his blade to be met with a saw blocking his sword’s path. Claymore slashed forward numerous times, each time being met with a slash of his adversaries own. A blade shot towards Claymore’s face, which he dodged just in time–but not fast enough to leave unscratched, as blood started trickling down a cut lodged onto his cheek. Ihwa had gripped the Hwando, slicing through the wall as she cut at Claymore. Claymore threw himself forward, grabbing onto Ihwa’s collar and throwing her over himself, letting her abdomen meet his feet with a kick that had launched her directly into the aim of Sharpshooter. Rachel threw her arms out, and numerous branches shot through her sleeves to desperately block the bolt's path. Ihwa caught herself mid-air, jumping off the branches and back down next to Rachel.
“Which one do you want to take down, Ihwa?” Rachel asked gleefully.
“I’ll take Claymore.” Ihwa replied with a chilling indifference.
Ihwa plunged the blade of her Hwano into the ground, running forth and carving into the concrete below her. As soon as she got into reach, Ihwa sliced upward into a full arc, black and red darkness spilling out of the ground and fountaining towards her target. Claymore parried the initial slice, then infused est into his blade to dispel the darkness. When he set his blade downwards, he had realized Ihwa was gone, just for the wire of a grappling hook to coil around him, throwing him into a nearby building. Claymore pressed his blade against the wire, and it began to corrode upon contact. Stepping out of the ruined building, he was met with a slash directly to his throat–which he had blocked last second. As soon as Ihwa’s Hwando made contact with Claymore’s blade, the Hwando’s blade began to corrode. Ihwa ducked under one of Claymore’s slashes, grabbed the top part of the-now-destroyed Hwando’s blade and plunged the blade towards the swordsman’s heart.
“My gift allows me to corrode metal, you won’t be able to use conventional weapons against me.” Claymore blocked her attempt to skewer him, and slashed downwards–before getting blocked by Ihwa holding up what remained of her Hwando. Ihwa jumped back as the rest of the Hwando corroded.
“Then I guess I’ll have to use non-conventional ones, such as…”
Ihwa reached her arm out, her gaze upon Claymore burning with a passion, unmatched.
“..a blade entirely made of darkness.”
HELL
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