Chapter 34: Episode 32

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Bakugou flexed his biceps to shake away the numbness that had spread over his arms. He couldn't defeat Ikamaru, not in a real fight at least, that much he knew. The Five Grand Defensive Formations had its roots in many Buddhist sutras. It was created by a nameless monk who abhorred violence, the same monk that would later create the Formations as an Art focused solely on the defensive aspect of combat. The First Form, also the most basic and powerful of the method was based on the principals of recoil, sprinkled with a dash or two of the surface tension formula.

The bigger the practitioner, the easier they could disperse the force behind attacks aimed at them. The rebound of their skin would then leave their assailants numb as their attacks were, essentially, returned to them. Bakugou's Ki balls already left his limbs under immense pressure, coupled with the recoil from striking the bastard's belly, his arms were starting to throb in pain. Indeed, a prolonged battle would not be in his favor, but he could fight in unconventional way... Not many people knew, everyone always thought Bakugou was a hotheaded idiot, but he wasn't stupid.

He wouldn't just blindly jump in a fight he couldn't win, not when the odds were stacked so high against him, and certainly not when his opponent's Martial Arts so directly countered his. The only thing that kept him from leaving this very instance was Okamoto. The girl hadn't been able to recover from the short exchange she had with the balding fatso, he doubted she could even walk right now, and there was no way he would ever leave her here, alone with Ikamaru– The perverse creep. Unfortunately, in order to get to her, he would have to get through said pervert first.

In the millisecond that Ikamaru made to continue with his evil monologue, Bakugou shot forwards like a humanoid cannon-ball. He charged at Ikamaru, leg lashing at the grinning traitor, but his aim wasn't to hurt him. Instead, Bakugou twisted his foot against Ikamaru's gigantic arm, using the momentum to push himself in Okamoto's direction. The fat bastard clearly wasn't expecting this maneuver of his, mouth cracking open in surprise as Bakugou used his forearm like a spring. "You little fucker!" Mere moments after, the explosive blonde was next to Okamoto slumped form.

"Ka‐ Katsuki-chan! Wha– Waaaa!" He didn't wait for the girl to finish, hoisting her up on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes in spite of her protest as he fled into the slum. Shibuya, similar to any other city in the World, also had its ugly side right beneath its sparkling, glimmering exterior. Japan as a society was extremely xenophobic, in the sense that most hard-working, normal members of society feared, if not outright hated anything and anyone different from them. These outcasts and rejects, without jobs or future prospect would then be thrown to the desolate parts of Shibuya, left to fend for themselves.

Eventually, they built a sort of Land for themselves, just outside the sight of those who were normal. This very Land would then be taken over by gangs and criminal organizations. It's a place where laws were cheap and anything, as long it existed, could be bought or sold, even lives were a mere fraction of what it should be… Then again, were lives ever as precious as we liked to pretend they were? Regardless, it was the perfect spot for Bakugou to unleash his full-power. Unlike the Red-Light district, nobody would bother to investigate an explosion going off.

Any who would was either mentally-disabled or already left to rot in a ditch somewhere. There was a saying: 'In the slum, curiosity doesn't just simply kill the cat, it kills humans too.'

And thus, their chase began. Ikamaru was slow, his defensive stats were off the fucking charge, but he was horrible in every other aspect of Martial Arts. In fact, acupuncture Masters could likely dispatch him in minutes, if not seconds. Sadly, Bakugou's offensive method was terribly inefficient when faced with the bald bastard's thick skin. Even his trump card couldn't guarantee his victory against Ikamaru, but it was Bakugou's only chance before this adversary. No matter how durable Ikamaru was, there must be a breaking point, a weakness to his defense.

Bakugou refused to believe the bastard could tank the sheer force of hundreds Ki explosions simultaneously going off in the face and escape unscathed. Not even a Grandmaster could accomplish such a feat, let alone this untalented, creepy waste of oxygen. "Katsuki-chan, you should leave me and escape on your own…" The sack on his shoulder muttered weakly. Clearly, his companion thought he was on his last legs, which would explain why he would have so much trouble fleeing Ikamaru. Hell, he had been dodging the bastard's grasp by a hair's breadth, it was all a deliberate act in order to lure Ikamaru in a false sense of security, of course.

But, Okamoto didn't know that… Normally, Bakugou would blow up at her for thinking he would ever leave his comrade, especially one in need, yet as he looked back and met her clear, innocent eyes darkened with worry, Bakugou Katsuki– The brash, hotheaded teenager who would curse and rant at his mother, couldn't muster up the anger to do the same to her. Okamoto Chika was an idiotic airhead of the highest caliber, still, she was a kind person, too kind for this sort of life, it had always made him hesitate to scold her, and this time was no exception.

Bakugou grinded his teeth in frustration, whispering in reply as he tightened his hold on her small, thin waist. "Just sit still, I can deal with that fatso…" He didn't plan on saying anything else, yet something stirred in his chest when her brown, does eyes met his, and he added. "Do you trust me?" They didn't speak as the World seemed to fade in the background. For the slightest instance, it was as if only them existed, nothing else. Finally, Bakugou turned away, Okamoto also settled down in his grasp. "T- Thank you…" The girl spoke. "Thanks for not leaving me, Katsuki-chan."

Bakugou clicked his tongue. "What kind of person do you think I am?" No one said a sentence afterwards, letting the scenery fly past as they approached the dreaded slum, where all kind of criminals dwelled. Briefly, he wondered who won in that skirmish of theirs, Kiyoshi's Eighth Division or the disciples of Inu-Kami Temple. Well, it didn't matter as long as Ikamaru lied dead at the end of the day. Not like Inu-Kami Temple would dare complain if their disciples lost anyways. Hell, with their reputation on the line, they might even choose to bury the matter entirely. He would definitely do it were he in their shoes…

And if the disciples triumphed over those bunch of traitors? Good for them. It's not his problem to deal with, and he doubted Sasaki would mind either, Kiyoshi could just announce those guys had defected and it would be no skin off their collective back. Besides, Kiyoshi as a whole was far less prestigious in comparison to the Temple, which had existed for a millennium now, give or take a year or two, maybe a few dozens? As opposed to Kiyoshi's four short centuries. It would not be outside of his expectations if those defected members lost, even against mere outer disciples of the Temple.

Finally, they reached somewhere quiet. Desolate would be a better description. The buildings were old, broken down with cracks lining their walls. They were in even worse condition than the dilapidated shack Sasaki used as his personal hideout, but it was the perfect spot for him to unleash his full might. "Can you move?" Okamoto nodded, face still twisted in a slight grimace. Bakugou instructed her to use her wires to swing to a safer space while he stayed to fight their fat pursuer. There was no room for protest as he threw her straight out the nearest open window.

Okamoto screamed, threads shooting at different objects to arrest her momentum, but she was thrown out still. "Katsuki-chan!" A glimpse of his back was all she could see before Ikamaru charged in, his large frame plus movements causing the very foundation of the already shaky building to become further unstable, making the upper floor shake, before crumbling right on top of the two, leaving nearly all the exits blocked by tons and tons of steels and concretes with the sole exception being the door that Ikamaru had entered through, the door which seemed nigh nonexistent behind Ikamaru's ridiculously huge body.

"You fucker, you've finally stopped… Ready to die?!" Bakugou ignored the taunt, launching a preemptive strike as he threw a Ki ball at Ikamaru's head. As long as he didn't touch the fat bastard, the recoil wouldn't hurt him, yet sending singular Ki balls wasn't the solution either. Bakugou was a powerhouse in Ki volume, but even he couldn't keep throwing those out all willy-nilly, he would be exhausted long before he managed to deal any sort of long-lasting damage to the defected Eighth Captain. "So impatient to die~!"

In mere seconds, dozens of blows were struck, dodged and fended off. Although he had tried his best to avoid getting into CQC with the bastard, there were still situations where Bakugou was forced to use his fists and legs. His bones rattled from the impacts. 'Let's do this.' Bakugou began to quicken his breaths, compressing the Ki particles in his Dantian as the time it took for him to finish each Cycle grew less and less. Their battle raged on, leaving only smoldering ruins in their path. The building itself had almost collapsed completely, but both of the combatants were either too fast or too durable to be injured by a wandering debris.

When Bakugou felt his trump card was ready, his muscles ached like never before. It was the first time he was in this bad a shape, but it was all worth it as he cupped his hands together and slammed his open palms at Ikamaru's ribs. At some point during the battle, their tattered shirts had been blown to smithereens, which made the frown on Bakugou's face tighten as his hands came into contact with the bastard's sweaty and oily skin. Thankfully, the feeling was short-lived. Bakugou pushed all his Ki and more into his cupped hands and…

Out came the biggest explosion he had ever seen. It's almost as if the Ki in his palms had seized to be just heated Ki and changed into pure plasma. His eyes caught the glimpse of yellowish orange sparks that danced slightly above his hands, sparks that felt like lava inches away from his skin. Then the plasma began to consume the entire room they were in, steels melted, concretes burnt bright red due to the sheer heat as Bakugou was knocked through several walls onto the street thanks to the following shockwave. Luckily, his broken form was caught by Okamoto's threads.

"Katsuki-chan, are you alright?" Bakugou just groaned in reply, eyelids growing heavier and heavier as blood seeped from his torso and wrecked hands, pooling on the ground like puddle of crimson rain. Even Okamoto's sleeves had been dyed dark red in the few seconds she had held him, and had this been any other time, she would definitely feel uncomfortable. Right now, however, all Okamoto worried about was the health and wellbeing of her friend. She was ready to leave, when Ikamaru came bursting out of the pile of smoking rubbles.

His face and body had been burnt charred black, skin; flesh and muscles all melted together. How he was alive, she had not a clue, but he seemed angry. He roared, his voice while a garbled mess, could still be easily made out thanks to the simplicity of what he was trying to convey. "YoU! FUCk, I'MMa KiLL YOU bOTh!" Okamoto Chika was a good girl. She had never hated anyone, never hurt anyone who was undeserving of the pain she inflicted upon them, which was why she didn't hesitate, didn't waste anytime putting the heavily injured man down for good.

Her threads, wires coiling to make a pointy shape, before being driven straight through the gaping hole in his torso, shredding his innards in a gruesome, gory and brutal display of Martial Might.

"I- I'm sorry." She muttered weakly as she limped away with Bakugou in hands. If Ikamaru had been at his peak, there was no way Okamoto's threads and wires could pierce through his defense, but now that he skinless, literally, it didn't even cost her too much Ki to kill him. That was how Ikamaru Choji died, in a dilapidated, burning ruin, despised by everyone and mourned by no one. Meanwhile, his killers left, unbothered and indifferent to his demise… Just his father had predicted the day Ikamaru made up his mind and decided to slit the older man's throat in his sleep.

Even sadder, the World would only ever remember him as the ugly, lustful and talentless fatty who never managed to make anything of himself. Such tragedy…

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

Despite her words, Dr. Elizabeth did not return for our morning session. No one visited me during my first two days in this shitty Nightmare either. The only human contact I had gotten were the nurses bringing me my food, but none stayed for long, seemingly frightened by my presence. I didn't blame them, I had beaten up two guards the moment I was roused up from my sleep, then proceeded to threaten and insult anyone that had the audacity to approach me, nurses and guards alike. This morning was the calmest I had been in days, and it wasn't just a façade. After all that crying and outbursts, I was emotionally exhausted.

However, this did leave me with an opportunity… I was no longer driven by fear, paranoia and confusion, which helped me think my situation through and plan out my next move a lot easier. Whatever this place was, it couldn't possibly be real. I had noticed several inconsistencies in the building structures, I had even caught it shifting like malleable clays and sometimes the nurses' faces would… Morph? Now, it could all be explained by admitting I might be insane, maybe sprinkled in a dash of delusional, but I knew I wasn't crazy.

I had never been diagnosed with any mental problem in the past, and as far as I was aware, no one in my family had a history of mental illness either, moderate depression and slight suicidal tendencies not counting. Not to mention the whole situation reeked of Magecraft interference. I refused to believe that in those supposed five short days I was out cold, I could imagine up such a detailed and realistic World, I was imaginative, but I wasn't that imaginative. This meant there could only be two ways to explain this debacle: First, the Mages somehow sucker-punched me back into my old body.

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Which, if I had to be honest, was not very likely. Seriously, that was some True Magic-Level shit, they wouldn't have bothered trying to negotiate with me if they were so powerful. Second, I was in a false Reality. I had tested all my senses, and they worked properly, so maybe a Reality Marble? Or just an Ultra-Realistic Simulation the Mages were able to develop, similar to the Moon Cell… Regardless, this was a better explanation than some scrub-Mages with Insane Difficulty managing to blow my dumb arse through Space and Time.

What bothered me was how they did it. While I was pissed, I wasn't pissed enough to ignore obvious Mana fluctuations, and a Spell as advanced as whatever this was should, would leave extremely clear signs of its existence. 'Then how in the World did it escape my senses?' It was completely fucking illogical… I wracked my brain but couldn't find anything reasonable to explain how they were able to blindside me so hard when I had my guard up to my neck. "One struggle at a time, Leo. One struggle at time." I reminded, the most important thing was to find a path out of this situation I had found myself in.

That explanation could wait until I had the Mages' throats in my hands.

Words couldn't describe the sheer unrelenting, overwhelming fury that was dwelling in my core. I was murderously angry when they sent their dogs to attack and kidnap Rin, I was indignant when they thought a bunch of half-assed, drugged-up Martial Artists could defeat me, but this? I didn't even know I could get this furious at someone or something. They had dragged up memories, emotions I wanted buried forever, and were probably laughing their fucking asses off in a room somewhere at my expense… They would pay for it, I'd make regret ever encountering me.

I never thought the day I needed to put in practice all those torture techniques Kotomine taught me would come this soon, but I didn't exactly mind either. 'Practice makes perfect', and who was I to reject test subjects that had basically been delivered to my doorsteps? They had even given me the perfect reason to torture them too. I chuckled darkly, tensing as sudden footsteps reached my ears. 'Weird…' During my stay here, it was my understanding that no one, literally none would ever visit my room unless absolutely required.

I supposed I had my charming personality to thank for this. Though, in my defense, I was disoriented, confused and perplexed due to the situation I had quite abruptly found myself in. I quickly regained my composure, sitting politely on bed in spite of the leathery restraints that still dug painfully in my flesh. There wasn't much to do in the asylum, but I only had a few ways to make my stay enjoyable, and one such way just happened to be messing with the workers. While I'd admit, it wasn't a very nice thing to do, it wasn't like they were real people anyways. Their existence would probably end the moment I figured out how to escape this shitty Reality.

There was no point being nice to them. I kept an expressionless face as the footsteps stopped at my door, mouth already preparing to hurl jeers and insults at whoever that would come through. But, that was when my face went slack seeing the person who had walked in. It was my mother. Mine, not Leonis'. My teeth clenched 'till they nearly cracked as the impersonator entered, worry painted clear on its features. "Q***, I- You–" I cut in harshly before she spout any sort if nonsense, tone even as an unsettling calmness washed over me. "Don't call me that, don't be so familiar either, you are not my mother."

I stressed, poison under my tongue and it flinched at the tone I was using. I could see it was trying to put on my mother's signature resting-bitch face and failing as tears welled up in its dark, black and soulless eyes. It was another difference I had discovered in these things, whatever they were. They were extremely realistic, but they weren't as quite as convincing when it came to replicating emotions thanks to those lifeless eyes. It's like watching advanced androids trying to act natural, it was disturbing to say the least…

"Son, I- I don't know what to say, I just want to know: Why? Why did you do it?"

I scowled at the eavesdropping guards, which sent them fleeing from the room. As the saying went: 'Appearance is often deceiving'. These guards might be mountains of muscles, but they had never dealt with a patient as crazy as I, and it showed. I burst out laughing as the two fought to get away from me like I was the Devil Incarnated. 'Considering what I plan to do to them, I might as well be the Devil himself…' I leaned back on the tough, square-shaped pillow as my laughter slowly subsided. The thing impersonating my mother had on its face a disturbed look, mixed with traces of concern.

I wanted to say it looked fake, that its acting wasn't getting to me, but then I'd be lying. My mother wasn't an expressive person, and the few precious times I had gotten to see her worried, she would make this exact face, minus the scared look currently mixed in. This, this hurt. I wasn't going to pretend it didn't. It stung worse than Kotomine's blows and ached almost as bad as the bruises that would form after one of our sparring sessions. I gritted teeth. I'd kill the Mages regardless, perhaps this would be my last chance to speak to her, even if it was just to a cheap imitation… The question was: Should I even bother?

I gazed into its eyes, there was no life there, no spark of emotions, yet I felt the urge to confess anyway, to let loose for once. I slumped back, the storm of feelings I had put a lid on in order to continue with my new life as Leonis rushed out in waves. "I did it because I–" I choked, unable to come up with a reasonable excuse. I knew I did it because I was sad, but the deeper reasoning? The driving factor that pushed me to take my own life? I had no idea. I had run from those feelings for the longest time, which made it so much harder to construct into words.

"Because I didn't want to disappoint you guys anymore…" That's what I told the faux Doctor– Elizabeth. It wasn't the truth, not entirely. "At least, that's the lie I told myself and others. I did it because I was selfish, I didn't want to disappoint myself. Back then, every time I looked at my reflection, all I saw was a waste of a man."

I sighed, my breathing pattern all messed up from the sobs that threatened to bubble out of my mouth. Depending on the circumstance, I didn't mind displaying my weaker emotions, but I would never allow my parents to see it, even if this thing was merely impersonating her, its face was still that of the woman that had raised and nurtured me. My mother wasn't a good person, looking back, she had never been happy with her life. She had married my father for wealth, and when that wealth dwindled with my father's deteriorating health, she was already past her prime.

"My future was bleak, it was so dark and hopeless that I could do was despair over my situation. All I had were regrets that kept piling on and on, and I couldn't deal with it, I didn't want to. I'm selfish like that. I just wanted it to stop, for the anxiety, the fears, the changes to fuck off somewhere else…" I chuckled dryly. "As you can see, it didn't work out quite as planned, but I'm happy with where and how I am at the moment." I stared at my mother's doppelganger square in her eyes as she jumped on me, draping over my shoulders like a protective blanket.

For a second, I was reminded of happier days when my sister and I would watch horror movies in the dead of night, shivering at the gory imagery. We sat there, together, for nearly an hour. I basked in her warmth, knowing this would be the first and last time I'd ever get the chance to have an emotional, touching moment with her. "Mom?" She patted my back. "Yes, sweetie?" I muttered an apology as I untied the cheap necklace hanging to her neck. "I'm sorry, but I can't go back to that. I won't." I wrenched my hand from the restraint, using my own blood as lubricant.

She opened her mouth to scream, but I was quick, too quick for her to react.

I jabbed the piece of jewelry at her exposed throat under her fearful gaze. Moments later, I was alone in the room again, the corpse inches away from my bed, having disintegrated almost completely, leaving blood pooling down the floor and splattered on the walls. It stood in total contrast with the white, sterilized environment, spreading, seeking, tainting the ethereal Reality I was residing in. "Farewell, mother." I averted my eyes, turning towards the camera on the ceiling and giving it the middle finger.

"Kill the boy, Leo." I let out a shuddering breath. "Let the man be born."

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

"Are you sure he is knocked out, lil' sis'? Seems kinda anti-climatic, don't you think?" Andre lazily approached the motionless form of the young Magus. Leonis Magnum was a First-Gen, but the tale of his achievement had spread far and wide in the Clock Tower. How could it not? An 8 years old child had basically hunted an Apostle all on his own, even supposedly burning the decades of knowledge said Apostle had amassed due to ethical reasons. It would be odd if the news didn't spread.

Andre had expected many things when the young Magus came knocking, or rather bursting down their door. He had anticipated a battle worthy of an Epic, he had even expected to lose fair and square against the boy, but he certainly didn't expect him to be caught up in the Bounded Field Annette– His sister had set up… Although it wasn't the most disappointing experience Andre had had, it was close. In all fairness, the Bounded Field was quite tricky. The first time Andre had walked in on it, he didn't even notice and he had had a firm gasp on both theories and practical experience concerning Illusion Magecraft at the time.

"I'm sure, brother. His readings are fluctuating rather erratically, so you better hurry up before he breaks out." Andre sighed, playing with the collar in his hands. It was an ugly little thing, a Mystic Code capable of connecting itself to its wearer's neurons and inflicting unto them unimaginable pain. Weaved inside its enchantment was a weak 'Notice-Me-Not', just so the Artifact didn't draw attention to itself in the mundane World, but any Magus worth a dime would be able to see it quite clearly. It wasn't meant to be long term solution, having been outlawed two decades ago.

It was only supposed to ensure the young Magus' temporary cooperation until they managed to persuade him into signing the Geas they had prepared prior for him to his arrival. Andre didn't want to win like this, neither did he want to enslave the promising young Magus. Sadly, since things had escalated to this point, they had no other option. In hindsight, Andre should have put a stop to Annette's decision to try and kidnap the Tohsaka Heiress, then they might have been able to negotiate and resolve their issue peacefully, but what's done was done.

Andre gingerly clasped the collar to Leo's neck, mouthing his apology. This victory, obtained through mere tricks felt like ash on his tongue. Rationally, he understood that as Mages, it didn't matter how they won, fair or foul. Still, he couldn't help feeling somewhat upset. They hadn't wished to fight another Magus, so they had unintentionally caused that very same Magus to turn on them. "What a bloody mess…" Andre whispered beneath his breath, raising the walkie-talkie to his mouth about to report to his sister, but he paused seeing the twitches on the young Magus' eyelids.

'He has already broken out of the Illusion?' Andre's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Incredible…" He barely spoke when a fist was launched at his face. Andre jumped, back-flipping to avoid the punch that, if he had been hit with, would have likely shattered his skull and splattered his brain all over the floor. Andre readied several offensive Spells, shooting them at the Magus with bloodshot, murderous eyes. Every shot was dodged by a hair's breadth, those that the young Magus couldn't were slapped half-heartedly away.

'What kind of fuckin'–!' Andre hastily backed off, hand rummaging through his pocket to find the remote connected to the collar. He let out a sigh of relief when he finally found the damn thing and activated the Mystic Code with a flare of his Mana. The rapidly approaching Leo fell on the floor, his nervous system blackening, visible to the naked eyes. Andre made to speak, to negotiate. "Whoa, let's talk, as you can see, we have you–?!" He swallowed rest of the sentence as the boy Magus got to his feet, albeit with great difficulty. He didn't groan, didn't make a fucking peep.

He didn't seem to be in pain at all, his expression stone-cold. Andre didn't even know a child could make such a face. Andre could barely react to his attacks before, but now he couldn't even see them as punch after punch, kick after kick landed on him. He felt his teeth shatter, his bones crack and his organs turn to slushy inside his body.

Obviously, that wasn't true, else he would be dead, but at this point, Andre wouldn't mind dying in the slightest. At least then the pain would stop… "H– *Gasp*– How?" Leonis Magnum gazed down at him, blood dripping down his lips and replied calmly. "How am I ignoring your little trinket? Or how did I break out of your Illusion?" Andre nodded, genuinely curious about the answer. "I'm not ignoring it, it is quite painful in fact, but bearable all the same." Rumbling heartbeats began to echo across the silent hallways.

"As for that Illusion Spell, from Destruction comes Creation…" The young Magus muttered cryptically, then smiled. His expression hauntingly wretched, yet happy, as though he had been freed of a burden weighing on his shoulders. "I broke out by killing everyone in it–"

The young Magus smirked, tapping on his own chest as he leaned forth, whispering in Andre's ear with a soulless, mischievous grin. "Including myself."

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