Chapter 46: Sein Blut ist mein Blut
Ace wished Faust had died when the Merlion bit his head off. Disdain and disappointment flooded through him, bitter and impossible to hide. It was too late to lie about knowing the law left judgment to the Elders. The sticky warmth of Oliver’s blood clung to his skin, and no amount of effort could make it go away.
Dante lifted Faust’s head. He was still screaming it off. “Make him shut up,” Dante commanded his Regalia, which snaked its slender black tendils around Faust’s mouth, and eventually, his entire head.
Even then, they could still hear muffled curses hurled at them. “Can’t Obscure Scarlet like… zap him?” Ace asked. “Electrocute him? He’s stupidly loud for a murderer.”
There was a crackle, and the world fell silent. “Finally.” Ace let himself go, crashing onto his knees. The vomit surged up his throat next. He turned his stomach inside out there and then, until there was nothing left but spit. A feverish chill swallowed his body whole, leaving him trembling on the ground.
Ace reached into himself, trying to rekindle the inferno of rage that had consumed him to keep him warm.
There was nothing left except the embers of indignation. The catharsis from seeing Faust’s head ripped off had extinguished most of it. The smell of bile, Oliver’s flesh and blood stung Ace’s nose. He could still feel the sensation of Oliver’s body becoming lighter in his arms as he fell apart. The warmth of the boy’s skin to the wet heat of his blood. The soft sniffles to silence.
No amount of justice could bring Oliver and the rest of his family back. Ace knew this—knew it—and yet he could not stop himself from believing in justice anyway. He clutched onto his armoured arm as a little voice spoke in his mind.
They let you live. The Elders let you live.
Warm fingers pressed into Ace’s shoulder. The world swam back into focus. Ace quickly put his own hand over Dante’s. “I–I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “I can stand.”
Ace staggered to his feet, but Dante remained on one knee, looking up at him. He had set Faust’s head on the ground next to him, one hand resting atop it. “It’s not your blood, is it?” Dante asked.
Ace shook his head. “Oli–”
The words died in Ace’s throat. He tried again, taking in as deep a breath as he could. His blood-caked nails dug deep grooves into the flesh of his palms as he tried to stop his body from shaking.
“You don’t have to explain yourself.”
Ace looked into Dante’s eyes. They were just as small as his voice. His eyelids looked as though they were going to shut over his eyes any moment. A ring of Essence pulsed from the apex of the barrier down to the earth.
Reality hit Ace like a truck. Dante was still maintaining the barrier, and his friends were in it. “Oh. The rest are here.”
Dante’s eyes widened into saucers. There it was, the usual razor sharpness. “The rest are here?!” he echoed.
The beads of the bracelet clacked as Ace snapped his wrist. A heat rushed to his cheeks as he confessed. “Tracker in the bracelet.”
Dante gnashed his teeth together, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “That little girl!”
“There you are!”
Leonhart’s bright voice came from above. Ace and Dante looked up to see her, Jude and Kazuya clinging onto Gauss’s legs as the mechanical dog hovered over them, descending slowly to the ground.
Leonhart dropped down first, sauntering forward despite the dirt smudged across her cheek and the fresh tear in her jacket. Kazuya and Jude followed, largely unscathed. The metallic tang of blood clung to all three of them, their weapons slick with darkened blood. Finally, Gauss landed with a metallic thud, kicking up a dust cloud. It immediately started preening itself, hosing down its crusty paws with a water jet that poked out of its mouth.
“What did we miss?” Leonhart asked. “Did we win?”
“Yes,” Dante answered flatly.
Leonhart cheered. “We must have! The corpses just collapsed by themselves!”
“Obviously.” Dante narrowed his eyes at Leonhart and approached her, handing her his bracelet that he had retrieved from his pocket. “Take the tracker out.”
“Can I say no?” Leonhart asked, sticking out her lower lip.
Dante blinked at her slowly and tilted his head slightly in clear disapproval. Leonhart stuck her tongue out and snatched the bracelet. She tipped her watch against the bracelet, and there was a small hiss. A tiny compartment popped out of a bead, and a pinhead tracker fell out “There,” she said and ground her heel on the fallen tracker. “It’s gone.”
“As it should be.” Dante slipped the bracelet back into his pocket. “I will have a word with Felix about this.”
Leonhart shrugged and stuck the tip of her tongue out. Ace could see Dante biting his tongue to stop himself. She was clearly Felix’s little gem and had never known the taste of punishment.
“Eeeeeew!” Kazuya was crouching over Faust’s headless body. “You chopped off his head?”
“Get back.” Jude tugged on the back of Kazuya’s shirt. “Don’t touch the crime scene with your Essence.”
“This is exactly why none of you should be here!” admonished Dante as he held Faust’s head away from them. “It’s dangerous–”
Obscure Scarlet convulsed.
One second, the Regalia was docile, wrapped around Faust's severed head like a macabre ribbon. The next, it came alive, thrashing with vicious intent. Dante shouted, trying to force it back under control, but the black whip tore through the air with razor-sharp cracks that echoed like gunshots. Everyone else scattered as it lashed out blindly, carving gouges into stone and earth alike.
A scream tore from Ace's lungs as he watched the black whip slash clean across Dante's neck. Red electricity crackled along the Regalia's path, flickering for a heartbeat before blood poured from the wound.
Dante collapsed as Faust rose.
From the ragged stump of Faust’s neck, Cursed Essence oozed forth—dark and viscous, like oil seeping from a wound. His black threads moved slowly, deliberately, reaching downward to form the beginnings of a throat, then shoulders. They wrapped around each other, forming black bones, muscles and skin blacker than pitch. Faust's torso took shape inch by inch, ribs forming like a cage of shadow before flesh wrapped around them. His legs shot out, feet slamming into the ground.
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Faust towered above them, sneering as he flexed his new body.
Ace’s feet were rooted to the ground. His mouth hung open, his screams deafening himself. Beside him, Leonhart's hand had frozen halfway while summoning Gauss as her weapon. Even Jude stood paralysed, not believing her eyes. Kazuya’s hands sprang in front of himself, the first lights of his shield pouring from his open palms.
“Behind me!” Kazuya screamed.
“I won’t allow that, young boy!” Faust lunged for Kazuya. His fingers stretched into threatening spikes aimed for Kazuya’s eyes.
Sparks flew. Faust's fingers glanced off Hollow Sparrow.
Dante.
He towered over Faust, the gash across his neck still pulsing, barely held together by a thin pink layer of regenerating flesh. Blood speckled his lips as he strained against their enemy, somehow finding the strength to shield Kazuya in the nick of time.
“You live! You still stand over me!” Faust’s body stretched and expanded, his grin widening. “But I must thank you for reminding me that I’m no longer trapped in the confines of my old body!”
Faust’s form swelled, growing taller, darker. He rose above Dante, towering over him like a living shadow.
A black spear shot out from Faust’s torso. In one motion, Faust wrested it free from his body and drove it through Dante's midriff with sickening precision. He then hoisted Dante up, displaying him like a fish on a line. Dante hung there, suspended and gasping, blood running down the shaft as Faust held him aloft for all to see.
The road to freedom had finally opened for Faust.
Faust's eyes slid past his trophy, locking onto Ace. “Your turn.” His eyes darted to Leonhart, then to Kazuya, and finally to Jude. “The girls next.”
The tendrils lashed out, impossibly fast. Ace could not move, could not breathe.
Dante cut himself free with his sword, the spear’s shaft splintering with a single blow. He threw himself between them, Hollow Sparrow blazing in his grip. The sword burned so bright it hurt to look at, a white-gold radiance pouring from the blade like the sun itself.
All of darkness met all of light.
Hollow Sparrow shattered, and the last thing Ace saw was a blinding flash before everything spun into darkness.
***
“Leave the young Aberrant alive.”
It was an order from Gretchen. Faust wanted to know why he had to spare a couple of extremely irksome sorcerers when his eyes fell upon the younger Aberrant’s armoured arm. What was his name again? Ace, was it? Faust thought as he stretched, adjusting to his new body.
Ace’s arm peeked out from under Dante, whose body was sprawled atop the four young sorcerers. There had been a valiant attempt to protect them, and it had worked as they were unharmed, save for the bespectacled girl who was bleeding from one eye. She was the only one who was still conscious. Faust took one look at her and decided that she was not worth the hassle.
Faust raised an eyebrow when he saw Dante’s finger twitch. How was he still alive?
Perhaps being an Aberrant came with a disgustingly strong will to live.
There was a loud thud as Dante punched the ground. He eased himself off the sorcerers, staggering to his feet. One hand clutched his injured torso, and the other grasped the handle of the shattered sword. There was still a spark of fire burning behind his eyes, a desire to protect his students.
“You look gassed, Mr Higashino. How are you feeling?”
Faust took a leaf out of Dante’s book by warping behind him. His strike slammed into Dante's back with crushing force, driving him into the ground so hard his legs flipped over his head. “I forgot,” he gloated. “I cut your vocal chords.”
A wet gurgle left Dante’s mouth as Faust yanked on his hair, wrenching his head back. “I thought you wanted to die!” Faust slammed Dante’s head into the ground over and over. “So why–” BAM. Dante's body jerked. “Do you–” BAM. Still, he moved. Still, he resisted. “Still persi–”
A loud bark interrupted Faust’s sentence. A mechanical dog charged towards him with bared fangs, but he paid no mind as they sank into his arm. He would feel no pain. He need not lift a finger to restructure the dog. The metal warped and shattered, drawing out a scream of naked fury from the girl with the injured eye.
“I’d say it belongs in a modern art museum,” Faust remarked as he flung away the wreck. “Restructuring and recalibrating my body… Had it not been for you all, I’d never have gotten the chance to show what I was truly capable of.”
With a sharpened nail, Faust nicked the new flesh that had grown over Dante’s neck wound, ripping it just enough so that he would be alive to watch, but if he made any attempt to save them, he would bleed out first.
Just for fun, Faust stuck a finger into the widening pool of blood under Dante. He sucked on it, relishing the taste of an Aberrant’s blood.
Boring. Plain. Normal.
It tasted like any human blood—sharp and metallic. Faust scoffed and wiped his finger on his clothes. An Aberrant—a sorcerer—was still just human after all.
“His blood is mine, Higashino.” Faust picked the unconscious Ace up by the collar like a stray puppy and dumped him onto one of the beds lying around. He had more than enough time to poke around for a bit before making his grand escape back to Gretchen’s side. His threads spread out around him, pulling debris into a brand new surgical theatre.
“Now let’s see what colour that arm bleeds.”
***
“How are you feeling?”
Blood stung Dante’s taste buds. He moved. Barely. His shaking fingers somehow found his neck. The wound closed. Barely closed. He was not like Felix, who could heal instantaneously.
“How are you feeling?”
Dante’s fingers dug into the earth, nails scraping dirt and blood. However, a sudden numbness overcame his body, and his arm gave out. The numbness gave way to a crippling pain that radiated from his lower back down to his legs.
Not… now-
Faust had severed the reforged connection, one that connected his legs to his body. It felt like someone was branding his spine, skewering through his back and slashing it wide open all at once. He slammed his fist into his thigh weakly, trying to force feeling back into the lifeless limb. It was a miracle that he was able to stand earlier.
“How are you feeling?”
That stupid question was at it again. Dante had lost count of how many times he had been asked that question. The garbled voices that occasionally crept into his dreams were back in full force.
“How are you feeling?” Dante was no longer in Yokohama. He found himself in a sterile white room. Dr. Lee was hovering above him. The doctor shone a light in his eyes, and Dante instinctively closed them, only for another voice to emerge.
“How are you feeling?” This time, a figure scribbled over with something resembling thick black crayon strokes was speaking to him. The screeching sound of metal against stone grated on his ears as it dragged an instrument across behind itself. Dante could not tell what it was, for it had been scrawled over with yellow strokes this time. “Are you feeling what he felt? Answer the question.”
Dante wanted to scream, but could not.
“His blood is mine, Higashino.” Faust's words tanged with those of the figure covered in chicken-scratch scrawls.
A soft scream reached his ears, and Dante’s blood curdled. The vandalised figure faded away from his vision, allowing him to snap back into reality. He felt his body go cold, then hot, then cold. His stomach twisted, and his insides felt the rush to escape from his mouth.
Pitch-black emotions Dante had restrained in the shadows of his soul for a long time burst forth. A harsh cry ripped his throat apart as the addictive strength coursed through his veins.
His hatred for Johann Faust burned as bright as his hatred for all.
His resolve to kill Johann Faust was equal to his resolve to kill everyone who once stood in his way.
His conscience, once upright and stainless, transcended into eternal darkness, into fire and ice.

