Scarlet’s POV
My fist had never felt this heavy before. Was it the murderous energy radiating from the woman in front of ? Or maybe the weight of the blows she’d landed on over this long, brutal hour.
We’d been clashing for what felt like forever, and neither of us showed any signs of surrender.
I panted, wiping gri off my face—a gift from her last kick that had nearly knocked off my feet. But despite the damage I’d done to her, she barely looked fazed. Her body was battered and bleeding, bruises spreading across her skin like dark ink, yet she just kept coming, a crazed grin splitting her face. She had more screws loose than I’d realized—maybe every last one.
"Hahaha... This is amazing... This is making cum!" she sneered, eyes wild.
"You’re fucking crazy," I shot back.
"Heheheh! Co on, give more! Make cum more!" she laughed, launching herself at again with that dented glint in her eyes.
I braced myself, blocking her blade with my arm. The collision echoed around us, sharp and brutal, reverberating through the space.
"I’m gonna break that arm of yours and make a stew out of it!" she howled, darting forward again. When I blocked her, she just sprang back, only to hurl herself at with even more force.
Her reflexes were almost unnaturally sharp, her movents unpredictable. But as strong as she was, I knew I was stronger. Just as she leapt toward again, I drove my fist into her side, feeling the shock ripple through her. She staggered, stumbling back until she crashed against the side of a building, leaving cracks in the wall.
"Hehehe..."
Even with all the pain she must’ve felt, she kept that smile, that deranged, broken smile. I’d never t anyone like her before. If I had to asure her level of insanity, she’d be just a step below the infected.
I thought that last punch would be enough to end it, but sohow, she started moving again, shoving herself upright like she didn’t even feel the pain.
"You still wanna fight?" I growled. "It’s obvious you’re done for. Why don’t you just stay down?"
"Are you jesting?" she sneered. "There’s no winner if neither of us is dead yet. Either I kill you, or you kill . That’s the only way to settle it—the conqueror and the conquered, the glory and the fall. That’s why you haven’t won yet."
"You’re completely insane."
"I’ve heard that a lot," she laughed, licking blood off her chin as her eyes blazed with twisted excitent.
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She was truly out of her mind.
She lunged at again, and I blocked her dagger with my arm.
"Got ya!"
My eyes widened as I felt the blade slice right through my tal arm like it was nothing. Before she could revel in her strike, I drove my other fist into her solar plexus, pouring every ounce of strength into it. I felt sothing crack beneath my tallic knuckles, and she coughed up blood, flying back and slamming into the wall once more.
This ti, she didn’t move at all. No twitch and no breath. Was it finally over? After everything, it felt almost inevitable. But then, slowly, she started twitching, then straightened back up, pushing herself onto her feet without a single ounce of hesitation.
"Are you serious? She’s still can fight?"
How much could this woman take before finally breaking? Was she even serious? I only had one functioning hand now, my other arm sliced clean through. Luckily, with the right tools, I could repair it later. But for now, I had to make do with one arm. She was already at her limit, and with just a bit more effort, I’d win this.
Just as I tightened my grip and braced for another clash, she sank to her knees, then collapsed, sprawled lifelessly on the ground.
"...She’s down?" I moved closer, nudging her body, watching for even the faintest reaction. When she didn’t stir, I finally exhaled, then turned to assess my cut arm and Gabrielle, lying unconscious a few feet away.
Around us, a silent sea of onlookers had gathered, hollow-eyed, watching with unnerving stillness.
I huffed, pulling Gabrielle up before launching us both into the air. Below, the view stretched out—a human tide spilling across every street, people packed shoulder to shoulder. The sight clawed at , flashing back to Earth, to campaigns of smoke and screams as we fought infected hordes. But this was different. These people weren’t monsters. They were human, fully alive. The idea of dropping a missile on them was almost instinctive, but… they were still people.
As I drifted, Gabrielle’s eyes cracked open, glazed but focused enough to lock onto . Her voice, strained, managed to rise above the wind.
"Take … to the center of the city," she murmured. "I have to go to Master..."
"You’re not going anywhere," I said, my voice sharp. "You’re bleeding out. I won’t let you go back like this."
Gabrielle was hanging on by a thread herself, barely conscious and bleeding everywhere. I had to get her to Natasha, fast.
"N-No... I need to go… to Master," she whispered, her voice desperate, pleading.
I sighed, frustration brewing. "If you keep this up, you’re going to bleed out, you know? Like it or not, I’m taking you back to Natasha. You’ve got to take care of yourself first."
"B-But... Master..." she stamred, eyes filling with raw panic.
"Master, Master, Master! You’re getting ridiculous," I muttered. "Is your Master so helpless that you have to throw yourself at him now?"
She looked beyond desperate, like she was on the edge of breaking down. It wasn’t about him at all—it was about her. She looked like she’d shatter if she couldn’t see him, her mind reverting to so kind of childlike dependency. I understood, though. She was seriously hurt, bleeding, and barely holding it together. In monts like this, people called out for those they relied on the most. She was panicking, and he was her anchor.
"Master… I need to see Master," she whimpered.
I sighed, softer this ti. "Alright, alright. I’ll go and bring him back to you, but first, I’m taking you to Natasha. You’ll let her patch you up, okay?"
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