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272 - Hexenmesser [Cherno]
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 22:28:37 +0000 UTCContrary to what she had claimed earlier, Favonia actually took them to a shrine some distance from the safehouse, circumventing two shrines that Krahe knew for a fact had underground seclusion-gyms. The shrine was large enough to be in some ways considered a small temple, but lacked some of the design elements that Krahe had noticed throughout all “proper temples” of the Twin Churches. There was an elevator, a stone platform atop an enormous screw pillar that descended at least twenty if not thirty meters into the ground through a shaft whose walls were covered in a scrawl of carved patterns.
As they stepped off and walked through a decidedly un-gymlike corridor, Favonia spoke: “I misspoke, back at the safehouse. I failed to account for the fact the nearest shrine’s seclusion-gym wouldn’t suffice for our purposes. This is the nearest one that will.”
A mix of heavy doors and sealed doorways dotted the passage’s walls, and at its end awaited slab doors twice as tall as even Favonia, and Krahe realized that she had seen this construction style — in Jas’raba. The dark stone, defaced and stripped of its original imagery, moved soundlessly as they approached, and closed behind them in the same manner. Beyond, there was a cathedral. Despite the modifications that had been made to convert it to serve the function of a gymnasium, it was unmistakable. Many of the statues that lined the walls had been allowed to remain. Perhaps the decision of which to remove had been put up to whether they held a direct link to whichever Outer God the Jas’raba Civilization had worshiped. Favonia wasted no time in giving Krahe a quick tour of the facilities, which included everything one would need for prolonged isolation training. The main floor, the Jas’raban equivalent of the transept, provided abundant space, and had a fairly deep layer of large-grained black sand, likely in place of the original floor since the doors hadn’t seemed to be out of alignment.
Here, in this place, beneath the eyes of ancient kings and sages, the two crusaders faced one another.
“I will lay out this path for you in the manner in which I wish it had been laid out for me. Know that whatever takes place here, it is solely to your benefit,” Favonia said, her voice carrying as if she was speaking right next to Krahe. She raised her left arm, the jewel at the back of its palm shone, leaving in its wake a slowly-shifting trail of dark light that almost resembled blood. Krahe once more began to feel the unsettling weight she had sensed when she first saw her.
“Hexenmesser: Airgetlamh,” the banisher uttered, tensing the fingers of her left hand.
Krahe somewhat expected a bombastic Mamon Knight transformation, but it wasn’t nearly so overt. The already unnaturally-bright red of Favonia’s hair took on an actual, literal glow, turning pink towards the middle, and her hair began to move and shift as if it were underwater, or perhaps alive. Favonia opened her third eye just as her irises began to glow, but that was where the visible changes ended. Krahe was certain she sensed something akin to a Mamon Knight transformation, but this clearly wasn’t one. Perhaps some method of drawing out only some of the transformation’s power.
“Launch thaumaturgy at me,” Favonia said, her voice reverberating in the same manner as the effect of a Mamon Armor. “Strike me, shoot me, do whatsoever is within your power to force me to move from this spot or actively defend myself. As it stands, I will not lie, I don’t think you possess the ability to seriously harm me.”
Favonia’s jovial and well-humored tone from before had completely disappeared. The oppressive, predatory aura that she exuded also seeped into her voice. Feeling no need to wait, Krahe drew the Pattner and shot Favonia in the head. The bullets never reached her — her hair swatted them out of the air. The Tracers that Krahe attached to those bullets met the same fate, their detonations leaving behind ravenous pyroclast that briefly ate away at the red-pink burning mass. However, even this made no headway, as anything missing from Favonia’s hair just grew right back.
In this manner, they continued for some time. Krahe alternated between going down the list of every thaumaturgy in her arsenal and taking out her frustration. Favonia seemed amused, if not impressed by the ingenuity behind the Six Trees Killer. Perhaps it was the name. One by one, Krahe ran down her list of thaumaturgies that she could cast with natural thauma-burning only. Anathemism came next, starting with Cinder Gatling, which properly grabbed Favonia’s attention. She left out Cinder Armor-hunter, given its extremely limited range. Mentally shifting gears, Krahe once more went down her list, this time employing every thaumaturgy she knew of that benefited from Implosion-Burning.
From the moment Krahe began making an earnest effort to force Favonia to dodge, things took a turn. Favonia started fighting back. Not truly, of course, but enough. Enough that it was a threat, enough that Krahe felt the need to dodge, even employing Afterburner a fair few times over the course of only two exchanges. The most remarkable thing taking place here was the precision with which Favonia was pulling her punches, both figuratively and literally.
Even faced with every permutation of Lasher and Cinder Flash, Favonia wasn’t satisfied, and neither was Krahe by how far short her own offensive capabilities fell. They continued on for some time, with Krahe attempting a wide variety of tactics, even employing theurgy in the form of two Wandrei Fausts, both of which were shot down — one before and one just after firing in standoff mode. It was enough to buy Krahe a direct hit with a high-powered Cinder Flash, but even this wasn’t enough to pierce Favonia’s absurd hair-barrier. It behaved like an autonomous defense, but it didn’t exhibit any vulnerability to energetic, or kinetic damage. Lasher worked better than most, seeing as this was almost exactly what it was designed for, but still not well enough. As they clashed, they also spoke, with Krahe taking intermittent breaks to rethink her approach. In this manner, Favonia came to know of what Krahe had been doing since the raid, and in turn, Krahe came to know some smatterings of Favonia’s exploits. The fire-haired banisher made no attempt to embellish or soften what she said, and she spoke freely of slaughters undertaken by her hand over the past several decades. Most notably, however, Favonia spoke of her and Casus’ quest to recover the Silberblut Coupler from its burial place, which had been swallowed by a moving, subterranean Hazard Zone. The Casus described in the tale was significantly different from the one Krahe knew, something that was explained early on by the fact this had been Casus prior to his awakening, merely acting upon the quest given to him upon incarnation by the Wheel.
As Krahe sat, considering angles of attack, Favonia finally broke the silence of several minutes.
“Come now, your strongest thaumaturgy, show it to me already! I refuse to believe this is all you possess!” the banisher cried out in a frustrated one. She wasn’t truly frustrated, that much was obvious, but Krahe was irritated enough that it struck her regardless.
“Alright, fine. It’s still slow. You’ll have to just let me charge it.”
And indeed, slow it was, but with a scream of red, nearly-invisible threads tore forward, riding the hateful solar flare as they sought to rip into the paragon of violence for the sake of righteousness before her. And… She blocked. Favonia didn’t dodge, but she did raise her arm.
“And you’re using this on street thugs? You know, animal cruelty is a crime,” Favonia said, sounding almost insulted.
“Fuck off with that. It’s not ready for use against an opponent that fights back. Besides, I already told you I got a lead out of those small-fries,” Krahe rebuked. This wasn’t the real conversation taking place. Favonia had questioned Krahe’s confidence in her own abilities, and Krahe’s retort was nothing more than a statement of fact — it had nothing to do with her confidence, it was half pure practicality and half coincidence that she hadn’t gone against a near-peer adversary since the mansion raid.
Favonia, unsatisfied, redoubled her efforts: “Is this the objective of your crusade? To root around in the muck, pulling out weeds and catching leeches? Where’s the ambition? You know as well as I that killing gangsters and catching petty serial killers doesn’t satisfy!”
Krahe knew better than anyone that Favonia was just provoking her, but her words still carried truth. Nothing worked better as provocation than the truth doused in vitriol. For all her efforts, she couldn’t make Favonia even dodge in place, let alone budge from where she stood. Thrice now, the monstrous woman had swatted her away, waiting exactly long enough to let her harden the impact zone, and never striking hard enough to cause a real injury. Even so, the force was enough to send her skidding across the sand, and to leave her ribcage ringing for a few moments. Krahe was certain that the very first punch had bent three of her ribs, ever so slightly, before they snapped back into shape. It was never a physical punch, of course, Krahe never came that close. The first two times, it was the hair. The third time it was indeed a left-handed punch, but one that landed several meters beyond its physical reach, marked by nothing more than the brief flash of that scarlet jewel on her hand. Krahe couldn’t see more than a vague flash of light, but she was certain there was some kind of construct that came into being just long enough to send her tumbling head-over-heels.
