Chapter 6 When the Shadow Learns to Bleed
The Silver Alchemist did not hesitate.
Despite his injured leg, he hurled himself at the shadow with a ferocity that did not match his condition. His staff fell to the ground, and with both hands firmly on the hilt, he unleashed rapid, precise thrusts, each aimed at the points where the shadow condensed.
"Show yourself, damn you!" he roared.
The sword sliced through the air with a metallic whistle. Each strike against the darkness met an unnatural resistance, as if he were stabbing something that should not exist. The shadows recoiled, split apart, then rejoined, toying with him.
Kimblee watched the scene from several meters back.
He smiled.
He leapt forward and brought his hands together.
The circles tattooed on his palms lit up instantly, glowing with a crimson light that clashed against the blackness of the shadow. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble.
"Run, you damn old man!" he shouted.
Pride didn't notice him.
Not yet.
All his attention was fixed on the Silver Alchemist—on how that broken, bleeding human continued to attack without surrendering. The shadows swirled around the old man, seeking to trap him, to strangle him.
And while Pride played—
Kimblee pressed his palms against the ground.
The world exploded.
Detonations erupted from the earth, one after another, like a chain of infernal fires. The ground split open in multiple places, unleashing shockwaves that tore through the shadows from below. The terrain heaved upward; the air filled with dust, fire, and fragments of rock.
"What?!" Pride's voice echoed. "Impossible…!"
The explosions struck him head-on.
"Kimblee doesn't have that much power…"
The shadow was violently dispersed, shredded and hurled hundreds of meters away. Darkness dissolved into ragged tatters that crawled along the ground before vanishing.
Silence fell abruptly.
In the distance, atop a barely visible hill through the dust, a small figure observed the scene.
Selim Bradley.
His eyes gleamed with genuine excitement. He smiled.
"Well…" he thought. "Now this is a real fight."
He brought a hand to his face, amused.
"Well, Kimblee… I think you've just earned yourself an enemy you didn't want."
On the battlefield, Kimblee was breathing heavily. His hands still smoked faintly. He stared at the spot where the shadow had been expelled.
"Tch…" he clicked his tongue. "That didn't kill him."
He turned around.
It was time to run.
He had taken barely two steps when something grabbed his arm with surprising strength.
"Not so fast."
Kimblee froze.
It was the Silver Alchemist. His face was pale, slick with sweat; the wound on his leg was bleeding again. Even so, his grip was ironclad.
"Kimblee," he said sternly. "You are a prisoner of war.
Your crimes against Amestris have yet to be judged."
Kimblee looked at him… and smiled.
"And who's going to judge me?" he asked mockingly.
"You?"
The Silver Alchemist did not answer with words.
He pivoted on his heel and launched a spinning thrust, fast and direct, aimed at Kimblee's neck.
Metal cut through the air.
Blood was about to flow.
(End of the Chapter)
I wanted to remind you that this story is 100% my own creation; it's not a translation, so please rate it as such. And here I will answer questions.