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The Gamer Chapter 686 – Hudson Brawl 10 – Foul [Metra POV]
🕑 Added 2020-01-20 09:23:50 +0000 UTCThe first rule of every battle stance was that it had to threaten something. Usually, this was achieved by pointing the tip of the weapon, whatever kind that was, at the enemy. The best way to discourage a charge was to present the chance to get impaled, after all. So, too, did Metra take her halberd in both hands, holding it at the back half to gain the maximum range advantage as well.
Normally, she favoured the fittingly named wrath stance. Unlike other stances, the weapon was pulled back over the shoulder in that pose. The threat was being greeted with an overhead strike. Somewhat risky, to leave oneself open like that, but it could end a fight in a single hit. However, there were three things about that stance that made it unfit for the current situation.
One, she was using a halberd. The wrath stance was much more fitting for a sword. When executing a strike, a blade just had more surface to cause damage with. Getting hit by the shaft of a halberd could be painful, but the arm was still on. As Metra was equally a fan of the brute force approach to things and had the self-confidence that she could aim the oversized axe blades on Qiada, this didn’t normally stop her.
Two, she had been ordered by her king to fight carefully. When she had seen him as John Newman, that order would have gone right out the window, as she would have applied her own definition of careful. As it was and with her acceptance (or perhaps projection) of his sovereignty, she did take the loyal approach.
Lastly, and this was the purely pragmatic reason, her opponent’s skin was entirely metal, and the spike of a halberd was better at punching through armour.
Jeremiah brushed some remaining glass and microchips off his shoulder. Both parts of the door he had charged through moments earlier. “You look like you had fun,” Metra said, her voice distorted as it vibrated out from the helmet. Technically speaking, she wasn’t wearing armour. It was more accurate to say the armour was her skin.
The form she normally had in this contract was still underneath, but that was more like a layer of rock under a vein of metal. Her eyes, more a flicker of green energy bound to a location than actual parts of her physical body, at the moment, looked out unobstructed by the fact that she was wearing a helmet.
“I never had such a hard time climbing stairs,” Jeremiah responded, stretching his arms and legs in the meantime. He didn’t seem hurried whatsoever. “Who planned this building? The hallways make no sense and you have security barriers EVERYWHERE. I had to climb elevator shafts to get to some fucking places.”
“We just took the place over.” Metra shrugged, wondering what her best course of action would be here. If small amounts of Astrotium were lost to scratches and such things, they would be naturally recovered by the chaotic powers of Tiamat making up a large part of her origin. Should the Art Eater be able to eat a chunk of her though, that piece was likely lost and bound to his body instead. Something that she could not allow. Regardless of John’s orders, her body was itself a sacred thing, forged by creator and king Sargon and blessed by Mother Chaos. “If you don’t like it here, I’ll gladly guide you to the afterlife.”
Under other circumstances, she may have considered retreating. She would have hated doing so, but even Metra knew to pick her battles and her structural integrity was worth more to her than her own pride. She had maintained this body for millennia; she wouldn’t give it up now just because she didn’t feel like ceding some ground.
However, she was protecting the IBMA on the order of her king. As it was, she chose to just take the most careful approach to this fight she could while also fulfilling the command given. It helped that Jeremiah seemed so lax about this whole thing. He even checked his phone.
“I guess you’re tasked with destroying this thing at a certain time?” Metra asked, slightly tilting her head. The small segments her spiky armour was made out of stretched and bent like rubber to compensate. Living metal was convenient like that. “Gotta say, it’s not the worst emergency escape plan ever made.”
“Seems like I got lucky too, having you as my opponent,” the Art Eater declared. “Scratch that, I am just lucky that your asshole master even has you. I would have put away the Metracanas as a myth even if I had somehow learned about you without this coincide-“ He barely dodged when Qiada came flying for his head, then charged at his now disarmed opponent.
Although Metra didn’t remain without her weapon for long. Spell Storage allowed her to imprint a dimensional cut into Qiada before throwing it. As it was, the golden, hieroglyph covered halberd flew into a tear in space, rather than over the edge of the flat roof, and emerged again in a tear behind Metra. With meticulous timing, she caught the weapon as it flew by her. This whole manoeuvre left her in the same stance as before the attack and Jeremiah too committed to his charge to stop.
Qiada rushed forwards, the spike going through the shirt, but sliding off the bronze Baelementium skin of the Art Eater’s shoulder. While it failed to produce a wound, the gap between spike and the back of the axe blade was wide enough for Jeremiah’s arm to get stuck in. Greedy teeth snapped half a metre away as the charge came to a forced end.
“How many people do I have to teach this over the aeons?” Metra growled and then raised her voice into a shout, “DON’T INSULT WHO I SERVE!” just as she raised Jeremiah. Through the use of the proper angle and momentum, the lodged shoulder became enough of a secure grip that she could whirl Jeremiah through the air.
The Art Eater sailed towards the edge of the roof. Not on Metra’s design, his shoulder had simply become dislodged. With a bit more force, he would have fallen down the entire skyscraper. Even if that hadn’t killed him, it would have set him back for a while, and something good for Metra was bound to happen in that time.
As it was, Jeremiah managed to catch the railing and pulled himself back up before Metra could threaten him in any way. What followed was a quick exchange of attacks. A back and forth of unsuccessful swipes, strikes and blows. Blocked, dodged or simply missed, the two of them moved back, fourth and sideways. All Metra cared about was to always be the closest to the IBMA.
Although Qiada was too low quality a weapon to hurt Jeremiah, the fact that she was using a halberd versus a man utilizing fists put her at an advantage. Especially because she was the defender, range had immense value. That Jeremiah didn’t use martial arts helped as well.
It was a raw slug fight and it was clear that Jeremiah was skilled at those. The majority of his wins he must have gotten because he outlasted his opponents. And it was true, he was stronger, quicker and more enduring than Metra. The range and the First of Wrath’s expansive battle experience were what equalized the field.
At least, that was when she was relatively calm.
‘I hate fights like this,’ Metra thought, letting her irritation and anger flow free. ‘Boring, stalemate shit.’ “How is this even a battle,” she stated while raising Qiada high with one arm, “when nobody GETS HURT!?” It came cracking down, the blade descending on Jeremiah’s head like a guillotine.
Jeremiah tried to catch it with one arm, a self-assured smile on his face. It got wiped off as quickly as his conviction when he, despite successfully catching the weapon by the shaft, only slowed the descent of the attack. “What the fu-?” he gasped, bringing his second hand to help, successfully stemming the tide.
Metra’s empty left darted forwards, vanished in a tear and reappeared at Jeremiah’s side. The clawed gauntlet dragged across his ribs down to his waist. Metal screeched as it was violently cut open. Qiada may not have been hard enough to cut through that plate, but the Metracana’s own body doubtlessly was.
“You, BITCH!” Jeremiah screamed, finding the power of anger in himself. The rush of adrenaline gave him the little boost required to rip apart Qiada’s shaft. Wood splinters and the bladed head flew to the sides. Metra’s push became the force that caused her to drop forwards, towards the smaller man’s teeth.
‘Shit,’ Metra thought, having too much force in that movement to reverse the course. Lowering her chin, she went for a headbutt, at least her head was too wide to take a proper bite out of. Which was why Jeremiah didn’t go for her head. With no regard for how it looked, only desperate to turn the tide of battle, he dropped to all fours and snapped at her ankle.
Pain, proper pain, rushed up Metra’s leg and filled the rest of her body, as the Art Eater’s teeth went through her Astrotium plate like it was nothing. A second bite, way quicker, severed her entire foot and ruined all balance she may have had. She managed to guide her fall away from Jeremiah, at least, and rolled away. In a stroke of ‘luck’, Jeremiah concentrated on devouring the rest of her foot before going after her.
It gave her enough time to regenerate a sort of stump and get back up. As seldom as she was actually harmed, she still possessed the regeneration speed of an Artificial Spirit. Just the materials she had to that end were limited. Astrotium flowed from everywhere to regenerate that limb, as did the ‘softer’ mix of Mother Chaos’ scales, among all the other things.
Those, the Art Eater could make little use of, but all of that metal soon appeared, covering his own fists in the dark grey colour of lead. “Oh yeah,” Jeremiah grinned as he got up, “that hit the SPOT!” Another charge, much quicker than before. Having ingested a piece of the first ever Artificial Spirit increased his powers tremendously. Enough to actually make Metra feel the impact when she blocked his strike with crossed arms. “You taste fucking foul by the way!”
But just because he was more powerful now didn’t mean the First of Wrath was suddenly hopelessly outmatched. The green flickering in her helmet had grown to two flowing streaks of energy, rising like long candle flames. “You desecrated what Sargon created.” Her voice was calm on the surface, but the strain under it was easy to notice. Jeremiah may have strengthened himself, but the ancient weapon was now as pissed as she possibly could be. “Consider yourself lucky we aren’t standing in Tiamat’s domain.”
“Whatever you want to say to make you feel better, bitch!” Jeremiah laughed and brought his second fist up to her stomach. Metra took the impact, even though it dented her armour, and pushed Jeremiah back. He took a large step back, put his balance on the backfoot, allowing the First of Wrath to quickly set after him.
In a series of punches, she pushed him back. The thorns on her knuckles punched holes into his hide, but he just shrugged it off. In a euphoric rush of adrenaline and power, Jeremiah just freely laughed, as he regained his balance and went back at her. Metra dodged his attack, then tore a hole into the fabric of space, sending a straight punch through it that hit Jeremiah’s head from the side. Following that up, she tried to kick away his legs through another portal, but he dodged that with a swift series of steps.
Space was created between them, space that Metra used for a charge on her own. Except that she, before reaching Jeremiah, dove with her entire body through a portal to appear again behind her enemy. Raising both fists, joining them together, she struck at his open back. It smit him to the floor, tiles shattering and cracks spreading for several metres. Quickly, Metra grabbed him by a foot and flailed him around.
Concrete dust rose, more every time the metal body hit the floor, until Jeremiah managed to kick Metra in the face. It forced her to release her grip, but her armour also cut his foot open in the process. Only his fists were covered in Astrotium.
The dust settled as both of them recovered into standing position, but, somehow, the surroundings didn’t clear up. A damp mist set over the area, Metra only realizing what it was when an almost invisible creature of steam split into four of John’s elementals. “Don’t interfere,” Metra let out a warning shout, as they got ready to do exactly that.
It wasn’t some sort of plead for fairness. Metra’s wrathful self-empowering only worked if she was fighting alone. Right now, it was more important to have the raw power to counter Jeremiah than the numbers.
Jeremiah grinned widely, looking at something behind Metra. “What the fuuuuuck?” Salamander’s voice caused the First of Wrath to dare a glance as well. Together with everyone else, she saw the rising volcano on the Guild Hall.
“Lakamun finally got his preparations done,” Jeremiah boasted. “He is a demigod, you know? No idea who he descended from, some Mesopotamian guy, but more than strong enough to reduce your little island to ash! We just had to buy him the time and space!”
“I’ll give you all the space you could ever want,” Metra returned and their fight continued. The First of Wrath had to act more conservatively, her mana pool almost empty. However, she also didn’t need more tricks. Sealed by his metal skin or not, underneath the shiny exterior, Jeremiah had numerous injuries.
They were somewhat evenly matched. Metra thought herself to still be the stronger one, but she had to be wary of those teeth at every moment. As it was, the fight entered another stalemate where neither could get an edge. Jeremiah continued to grin, especially as a massive pillar of lava rose into the sky.
“That’s the power I am talking about!” he shouted and, extremely suddenly, backed off from Metra. In her anger, that confused the ancient weapon for a moment, then she remembered what the true objective of the Art Eater was.
She couldn’t risk a desperate jump into his way, that would only get more of her eaten, so she focused her remaining mana into two more portals. She reached out and the green light in her eyes dimmed away, as a series of elemental attacks showered Jeremiah. If she had managed to take a hold of the Art Eater even with her raised Stats was one question, but now that the elementals had gotten involved, Metra was most definitely too slow.
Just like he had done in the tournament, the Art Eater shrugged the attacks off without any meaningful damage. He smashed through a wall that Gnome erected, ran through the grey-gold fire and smacked Siena aside without a problem. Then he slammed into the pyramid-esque anchor.
It didn’t take much to ruin the IBMA. In the first place, it had been a hastened product, but just one segment getting bent out of shape had cascading effects on the rest. As concrete was turned into dust and rune-inscribed metal broke, bent and shattered from the impact, the sky cracked all around them.
By some miracle, or perhaps Magoi’s extreme talent, the Hudson Barrier did not fall immediately. Although imposing the web of refracting light that spread from above the skyscraper outwards was all that happened. It was, however, enough.
“See you later, losers!” Jeremiah grinned and raised his hand to the sky, immediately vanishing.
Metra felt like screaming. Gathering her breath, either to mindlessly roar her lungs out or start screaming at the elementals that had been just as useful if they hadn’t been there, she was interrupted as an entirely different sound reverberated through the landscape. Distorted violins, forming a melody of death.
More worried than angry, Metra hurried to the railing to see what was happening with that.
