Cross and Conflicts

CHAPTER XXXI: One on One

Plap! Plap! Plap!

He was walking barefoot to her north while she, with the gun in her right hand and with brooding internal disquiet, followed behind.

Cross and Noumenon both left the bloodied room without then uttering a single word. The former is naturally taciturn while the latter, though an occasional conversationalist, found nothing worthwhile to say to him. What was one supposed to talk to with the person she is to shoot? Yet then, she had thought about it--not a topic to discuss between the both of them, but the idea of aiming the gun to the back of his head. She instantly dismissed this since it was absurd. She already admitted to herself that she has no chance of killing the infamous master murderer; also, as dreadful as it may get at times, her sense of fairness even in a situation like this would never allow her to act as a dirty cheat. Furthermore, if she does not get lucky--which will be very likely--he'd terminate their match before it would even start, and she'd be dead by then.

They were trailing in a direction perpendicular to the hallway. The vigilante was leading her far away from the center of the house and to a desolate area without a single ornament to decorate the stillness of what seemed a less frequented place. The walls here smell old that with a single whiff, one would inhale the dusts that linger here for far too long.

Cross halted while Noumenon was a second late to notice that they had come before a wooden door. He twisted the knob. Next, he was slowly and seemingly swallowed downwards. The novice proceeded on her feet and saw that right after the door are stairs that descended to an obscure room deep below.

She didn’t say anything. Rather, she ingested whatever unease that wanted to escape her mouth, and she shook off the discomfort that tugged on her feet. There’s the option of turning back and running away; howbeit, it’s explicit that it’s not available since, apparently, she’s dealing with none other than the man whom, moments from now, will either obliterate all her hope or backstop her to ruin her father in the future.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

The vigilante continued to traipse along the lusterless space. Noumenon who’s tailing him stopped to imbibe the semblance of the surroundings to the setting of her previous fateful encounters with him. From what she has observed, he appears to prefer the gloom that this world can offer. The electric lamps nailed above them are too weak to illuminate the entire area and erase the translucence which enveloped not only this place but also their intentions.

The basement, as she came to realize, may be about the size of the bungalow’s living room, but it’s quieter and less appealing. Pillars twice the thickness of their frames supported its solid ceiling and the walls here are of strong gray. Other than those, there’s nothing else but the two of them to fill in the plausible emptiness.

It was gradual that Cross would pause on his track. Without completely turning around at that point, he glanced at her.

Bragh!

Abrupt and brutal, she was suddenly slammed to the wall. She gasped. This signified the commencement of their match. The impact sent jolts of pain to her spine, and she dropped to the floor along with broken pieces of concrete. It was an introductory blow, but she almost already fainted. She looked to her front through the strands of hair that partly covered her face. Cross—emotionless and ever apathetic—watched her struggle to get up.

She lost grip of the gun. At the same time, vigor temporarily deserted her legs. Even still in her earnest to get back on her feet, she wasn’t given any room to recover from the shock. She was flung aloft then in a swift motion was floating towards the vigilante who received her with a cruel grip on her neck.

“Kaah!” She tried to break free, but her hands couldn’t peel off his fingers which have sunk tighter around her airway.

Although it felt unfair that he employed his divinity and how this match quickly turned out this one-sided, she didn’t want to raise a complaint. He’s only showing her his reality, and he was taking this seriously by giving her a great dose of what he’s capable of doing.

He smirked as she was suspended in the air and with her face turning redder. He, as she definitely knew, is intent on ending her life. She clenched her teeth; she won’t ever approve of dying this pathetically.

She placed most of her weight to the lower half of her body. She wriggled her feet—a bluff she devised as if she wanted to land a kick on him. In the brief moment of getting caught in her wile which made him loosen his clasp on her neck, he felt her forefinger on his pinkie.

“Nnh!” she grunted.

It was a smart move, and it stunned him. She managed to draw his hand away. And as soon as she tumbled to the floor, she propelled her right foot to target his shin. He evaded this and stepped back while she scrambled to get away from him.

Noumenon coughed violently while she carefully held her neck. A remnant of his oppressive force stayed, and they weren’t even halfway through their match.

Taking advantage of the disorientation she was immersed in, Cross dashed towards her and delivered a kick to her face.

Bwiiiiing! She heard a painful ring in her left ear as her body twisted in the air before she collapsed on the floor in a loud thud. This time, she blacked out.

The master murderer had predicted this beforehand. She, of course, didn’t stand a chance against his might, yet since she asked for it, he unleashed his generosity. He stared down at her and concluded that she looked battered enough to die. He raised his foot; crushing her ribs will be her ticket to the afterlife. At that instance, Noumenon dwelt in the realm of unconsciousness, nescient of her impending imperilment.

Get up, Anak. You're not supposed to die here. In this deciding moment nonetheless, a familiar voice whispered to her.

She could just have imagined it, or in her longing, the heavens granted her a miracle. It was Sister Lita, and her words rescued her from premature doom. She suddenly opened her eyes and rolled over before Cross could drive the fatal blow.

Bwagkh! The spot where she lied was torn in cracks.

Alert on her feet, she rushed to take refuge behind the pillar nearest to her. She sat down and peeked over to her opponent. He certainly didn’t look happy.

“You’re lucky, you know,” his statement reverberated in the corners of the basement.

Indeed, she was, in this match, especially because he hasn’t set a time limit. This meant that albeit slim, she can grab the chance to win for as long as this dragged on. She’s prepared to carry on with this until the following morning if needed; she just has to avoid getting caught by him again. Surely, if that does happen, her death would be a guarantee. Now then, she needed to get the gun back. The trouble was: she’s half the floor away from it.

Cross was an additional problem. He got the gist that her goal this time was the firearm. It’s a given that he’ll do everything to stop her.

Noumenon, on the other hand, knew her obstacles, and she hugely took into consideration that he will resort to using his divinity again. It’s unsettling since he can move anything without physical intervention, and this includes human bodies. She recollected the instances wherein he made her glide in the air and the times that she saw how he manipulated the movements of several objects. “Telekinesis”—she deduced—is what he’s capable of. She read about this in a book before. It’s a divinity or an innate extraordinary ability said to be God-given. Someone endowed with this can move things with his mind. He will simply have to concentrate on an object, and it will move without him touching it. She never thought that she’d live to meet a person with such terrifying gift, and just her luck, she challenged him to a one-on-one.

Whatsoever, she readied herself. Then, as fast she could manage, she sprinted towards the next pillar to her twelve o’clock.

“Hmmm,” her opponent mused as he observed her move again to another post. He’s surprised that she still has the energy to run around like that. He smirked. At last, she chose to make this entertaining for him.

She convinced herself that she wasn’t completely helpless. Though telekinesis makes the master murderer invincible, he can’t manipulate the things which he has no clear view of. The novice ascertained this when he seemed to calm down as she hid behind the concrete post. If it had been otherwise, he could have dragged her out and pulled her towards him—but he didn’t. This could only mean that she just needed to steer clear from his line of sight, and she’d be safe.

Cross didn’t know what exactly was on her mind, but he opted to find out. In gusto, he ran towards the column of pillars to his left.

Noumenon sensed his presence abaft her, so she picked up the pace and made sure to remain concealed from his eyes. This has become the hide-and-seek that neither of them thought about before arriving here.

The master murderer noticed how she was hiding herself. This started to irk him. This woman is surprisingly observant and analytical—a total contrast to his initial impression of her. She was only supposed to be a cloistered nun in the making and trained solely in solemn prayers.

He conjectured that since she will never be his equal when it comes to physical or supernatural strength, she opted to analyze the extent of his capacity. On that note, he already has an idea that she might have figured out that his signature divinity isn’t totally invulnerable. It somehow unnerved him that if, for example, she knew most of his imperfections, there’d be a lucky probability of her to beat him using pure wit.

In this match, she only needed to plant a single bullet to him, and she’d be the winner. Though he deemed it far-fetched considering how nothing in this regard could be counted as her advantage or his handicap, he disliked the thought that she might actually be able to pull it off.

He looked towards the shards of concrete to his northeast—to what stuck around when he crashed his opponent to the hard wall. These were lifted to the air and like a raging blizzard, the sharp pieces were thrust to where he estimated Noumenon would be.

Shzing! Shzing! Shzing! Shzingk! Shzingk!

She was prompt to elude as the shards moved past her head. These then were implanted to the floor like seedlings sprouting near her, except that these can cut through her skin. She thought that these would settle there and leave her alone, but the author behind their biting motion has a supplement plan up his sleeve.

Aggregate and in sync, the pieces of concrete were extracted, and these hovered in midair. Now this turned worse for her. She had to get out of there; on the contrary, she would finally have to expose herself in accordance to the vigilante’s calculation. He, likewise, didn’t underestimate this chance, so he strode forward while he threw down the shards to her.

Noumenon leapt away from there and dove with an arm first to a spot close to the gun she possessed earlier.

“Gah!” she growled. It wasn’t just because her arm became sprained; there was also that stinging wound on her back that wasn’t there before. A big shard pierced through her flesh.

She didn’t bother to look behind her. After all, the hasty footsteps belonged to the man who’s eager to cease her existence. So, on she pushed forward and grabbed a handful of broken concrete along the way.

As soon as he saw her, she was sucked towards him. But as she grew accustomed to this, she expected the same and shifted her body to hurl the pieces of concrete in her palm to his direction. Startled, he dropped her as he froze the few shards which were thrown at him right at his face. Noumenon, on her end, rolled over towards the weapon she was aiming for and expeditiously collected it before she ran over to a pillar to hide once again.

This is going to be a long night. They thought the same.