The weight of the situation was finally sinking in. My muscles were screaming, and the sheer physical effort of swinging a slab of iron like Rebellion was draining my tank faster than I liked. Evan stood there, looking almost bored as the last of the bullet holes in his chest vanished, leaving nothing but ruined silk and a smug grin.
"Is that the limit of a human?" Evan asked, his French accent smooth and mocking. He raised his blood-saw, the crimson crystals beginning to vibrate with a high-pitched, lethal hum. "A few swings, a few shots, and then... exhaustion."
I wiped a mixture of sweat and grime from my face, my hand trembling slightly. I thought about the 100% success rate. I thought about Nannie. And I thought about Roland.
'I can't lose here,' I thought, my grip tightening on Rebellion's hilt. 'Not in a dump like this.'
Deep inside, something shifted. It wasn't magic, and it wasn't tech. It was that raw, localized distortion of reality—the manifestation of a soul pushed to the absolute brink. I felt a cold, sharp pressure building in my chest, a desperate need to protect my pride and fulfill the contract.
"Limit?" I whispered, a low chuckle bubbling up despite the pain. "You haven't even seen the bill yet, Monsieur."
Then, it happened.
The air in the alleyway turned frigid, and a blinding, clinical white light erupted from my center. It wasn't a explosion of fire; it was a surge of pure, crystallized willpower.
The light solidified around me. I felt a surge of strength that made the heavy sword feel like a feather. Huge, spectral white wings—jagged and translucent like shards of broken glass—erupted from my back, glowing with an ethereal luminescence.
My coat shifted, turning a stark, pristine white, and a spectral, armored arm manifested over my right side, crackling with white energy.
It looked like a ghost of a demon, a shimmering white knight born from the filth of the backstreets.
Evan stepped back, his smugness replaced by genuine shock. "E.G.O? In a place like this? Who... what are you?"
I didn't answer with words. I moved.
There was no "trick" to it just pure, unadulterated speed. I cleared the distance in a single stride, the white wings on my back flared out to stabilize my momentum. I swung Rebellion, and this time, the blade trailed a wake of shimmering white light.
CLANG!
When our blades met, the force didn't just rattle his teeth it shattered the blood crystals on his saw instantly. The spectral arm over my shoulder reached out, grabbing Evan by the throat with a grip that felt like a hydraulic press.
"You like to eat, right?" I growled, my voice echoing with a strange, metallic resonance.
I slammed him into the brick wall, the impact cracking the masonry. The white E.G.O. energy hummed through my veins, dulling the pain and sharpening my focus to a razor's edge.
"How about you try a mouthful of this?"
I jammed Ivory against his ribs the spectral arm holding him pinned and pulled the trigger. The blast wasn't lead; it was a concentrated bolt of white light that tore right through his regeneration, cauterizing the wound before it could even think about knitting back together.
Evan screamed, a high-pitched, desperate sound. For the first time, he looked terrified.
"Your 'gourmet' days are over," I said, my white eyes glowing behind the shroud of my E.G.O. "I'm the one setting the menu now."