AKAME ASSASINATION (61)
You might ask me, dear reader, how fragment combat truly operates—even though we've covered it before. But let's simplify it past even Akame's teachings.
Fights aren't won by the side with the most hax or raw power. Not usually. Sorcery doesn't work on spreadsheet math (unless you're so powerful that reality itself flinches when you enter the room).
Victory isn't about statistics. It's about selfishness.
It's about building a scenario in your mind, against all logic, against all odds, and declaring: "I'll win."
That's the lesson Jessica had unknowingly thrust upon Gil. And Gil, with his adaptive, hungry mind, had caught it mid-air.
So he built a scenario. He simulated a win.
'I've got an idea.'
A sudden, visible flood of Fragment Energy began pouring out of Gil's body. It didn't crackle or flare—it spilled, like water over a dam, swirling around him in a wide, chaotic radius. It was wasteful. Reckless. The very thing both Akame and Koji had scolded him for.
'What is he doing?' Jessica wondered, her expression still a mask of detached curiosity, though a flicker of genuine interest sparked behind her eyes.
'You have terrible fragment control,' the ghost of Akame's voice echoed in Gil's mind. But what if that flaw—that endless, spilling well of energy—was the key?
Jessica began to move. Fast, but not at her earlier, reality-skipping speed. This was a testing pace, one Gil could track with his eyes. He stood perfectly still, ignoring her feints and circling.
'1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9…'
He counted silently. Jessica darted along the edges of the hall, a silver blur against dark wood and glass cases, mapping his perimeter, looking for an opening. She waited until his gaze seemed to drift, his attention swallowed by his own counting.
She moved.
In a blink, she was behind him, fist aimed at the base of his skull—a knockout blow.
"!"
Gil turned. Not in panic, but in precise, calculated motion.
SMACK! CRACK!
Two impacts echoed as one. Jessica's fist grazed his temple. Gil's reinforced fist connected solidly with her ribs.
They both staggered back, surprised.
'He read me? How?' She disengaged, flowing back into her darting pattern, reassessing.
'…16, 17, 18, 19… 22, 23, 24!'
On the final count, Gil spun. Jessica was there, mid-lunge, her eyes wide with disbelief. He had predicted her restart point.
He grabbed her extended wrist, twisted it against the joint, and opened his other palm, placing it flat against her chest.
PALM TECHNIQUE: BLUE ELECTRIC SHOCK!
(To recall: The three basics of Jujutsu-derived martial arts are Fist (raw force), Palm (internal/spiritual damage), and Fingers (chakra disruption/sealing). Gil has mastered Fist and Palm; Fingers remain elusive.)
He channeled his lightning affinity through the Palm technique—a trick he'd unconsciously learned watching Donovan fight the demon void.
The result wasn't a burn, but a systemic surge. Blue current raced through her nervous system, scrambling signals, locking muscles. A traditional fighter would need the Fingers technique to block energy pathways one by one. Gil cheated. He used lightning as a master key, jamming every lock at once.
Jessica's legs gave out. She dropped to her knees, her maul clattering to the floor beside her. Her arms hung limp, paralyzed.
"You make twenty-four afterimages when you move," Gil said, breathing heavily but his voice steady. "Then you have to stop and start over from a slower speed… I think."
He wasn't entirely correct, but he was terrifyingly close. Her technique, Phantom Sequence, did operate on a reset cycle. But how had he tracked it?
The answer was in the wasteful, sprawling ocean of F.E. he'd released. It acted as a sonar net. Every disturbance in that energy field—every displacement of air, every ripple of foreign F.E.—registered to him like a ripple in a pond. No sorcerer with normal control could afford to maintain such a profligate sensor web. Gil could, because his capacity was monstrous, and his control was, ironically, his greatest weakness turned tactical asset.
'Meaning… no normal sorcerer could have done that,' Jessica thought, a strange cocktail of pride and cold frustration mixing in her chest. 'He really did catch me. But this paralysis… I can feel my fingertips tingling. I can break out in a few more seconds—'
BZZZZZT—!
Her entire body seized. A second, delayed wave of blue static erupted from inside her—from the very spots Gil's earlier punches had landed. They weren't just hits; they were timed charges, planted with each blow, set to detonate on his mental command.
Her eyes rolled back. She slumped forward, unconscious, before she could even finish her thought.
'Oh, right,' Gil remembered, wiping sweat from his brow. 'There's a lag between impact and activation.'
He allowed himself one shaky breath of victory.
"Now, I better go find—"
A presence shut down his world.
It wasn't a sound or a movement. It was an atmospheric collapse. The air grew heavy, thick with a silent, choking pressure.
Gil turned.
A creature of pure, swirling white smoke stood ten feet away. It was massive, humanoid, and muscular—a faceless golem of condensed vapor. Perched on its broad shoulder, legs crossed casually, was a woman in a hooded cloak. The digital screen covering her face displayed a wide-eyed, shocked 😲 emoji.
"Oh, dear," Nina Blight said, her voice a melodic, almost delighted purr. "You've really done it now, haven't you?"
She didn't sound angry. She sounded thrilled.
Gil tried to raise his hands, to summon his F.E. for one last stand.
SPLAT.
Blood burst from his nose. A hot trickle leaked from the corners of his eyes. A violent, wracking cough tore through him, spraying crimson across the polished floor. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees, the world spinning.
"Seems you've burned out your technique's circuit breakers," Nina observed, hopping down from her smoke-soldier with eerie lightness. She knelt before him, her pixelated face tilting. "You really shouldn't pour that much power all at once. The body tends to… revolt."
She reached out, not to strike, but to gently lift his chin with a gloved finger, forcing his bleary eyes to meet her screen.
"So," she whispered, the emoji shifting to a playful, curling smile. 😏
"How will you fight back now?"
TO BE CONTINUED!