AKAME ASSASINATION (66)
The world swam in and out of focus, a liquid smear of color and shadow. Gil knelt in the dust of the shattered hall, every breath a ragged, wet scrape. Blood pattered from his nose onto the polished marble between his knees, each drop a dark, spreading star.
"You seem to be in very rough shape," Nina observed, her voice a melodic, synthetic chime. The digital screen masking her face displayed a cheerful, grinning emoji 😊 that felt obscenely out of place. She crouched before him, a study in casual menace. "Tell me… how do you intend to fight me?"
'Well, this is bad.' Gil's thoughts were thick, slogging through mental mud. His vision tunneled, edges fading to static. 'Is it because I used too much F.E.? No… I can still feel it. It's everywhere, spilling out of me. It has to be something else.'
"It's because you exhausted your technique," Nina said, as if reading the confusion in his glazed eyes. She tapped a gloved finger against the back of her own head. "Human beings are born with a 'black box' here. A little biological vault where we store the blueprints of our sorcery."
'I remember that.' A fragment of memory surfaced—Blake's voice, calm and instructive, during the long ride to the mansion last year. A lecture on the physiology of power. 'He told me on our way to free Akame…'
"When you pour too much Fragment Energy through it," Nina continued, her tone instructional, almost gentle, "the box begins to degrade. The cells there… they die. Slowly. And if you don't give them time to heal, to replenish…" The emoji on her mask shifted to a sympathetic, tilted-face 😔. "A burnout occurs. Tells me you've been fighting battles back-to-back. Using your technique every time, never letting the engine cool. Do it enough…" The pixels morphed into a grimacing skull 💀 for a heartbeat before returning to the smile. "…and that part of your brain turns to charcoal. Your technique? Gone forever."
"!"
The alarm that flashed across Gil's face was primal, total. It cut through the pain and the fog like a lightning strike.
"Oh my," Nina purred, the emoji winking 😉. "I take it that isn't something you want."
'Shit. I need this power.' The thought was a cold fist around his heart. 'It's my purpose. My promise. It's the only thing that's kept me alive, kept them alive. Now, just as I'm learning how to really use it… I could lose it?'
The despair was a physical weight. His abilities weren't just tools; they were part of his identity. The crackling promise in his veins, the electrostatic leap that had saved Catherine, the shocking palm that had felled Jessica—losing that felt like amputation. Like losing the key to the future he'd sworn to build.
"But let's cut a deal, you and me," Nina proposed, her head tilting bird-like.
Gil forced his swimming gaze to meet her screen. Interest flickered, but it was caged in thick, clanging wariness.
"Donovan was going to recruit you," she explained, rising slightly on the balls of her feet. "Said your skills were 'simply amazing.' And after watching you dismantle my niece… well." The emoji became a starry-eyed admirer 🤩. "I see it. You're a natural. Raw, messy, but brilliant. And that's the problem."
"?"
"Being a natural makes you lazy. You rely on the gift. You never learn to work without it." She leaned in, the glowing screen inches from his face. "I said you'd lose your technique, not your F.E. Your technique is just… the canvas. You are the paint. Your Fragment Energy is the brush, bringing the artwork to life. But a painter," she said, spreading her hands, "can always find a new canvas."
Gil blinked slowly, twice. The philosophical analogy drifted past his pounding head, meaningless and vague.
"Ugh, you're no fun," Nina sighed, the emoji rolling its eyes 🙄. "I'm saying you don't need your precious technique to function. Clinging to one trick is so… uncool. Unattractive, really."
Gil could only breathe, a wet, shallow rhythm. Speaking was beyond him. The damage was internal, a system-wide revolt.
"Do you know," Nina began again, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "that chi is enhancement in nature? Pure life energy. You can use it to heal wounds completely. It's far more elegant than brute-forcing it with F.E."
She lifted her hand, and a soft, white-gold light—warm and organic, not the cold gleam of fragments—kindled in her palm. "Your wounds are internal. In the brain. Circulating chi there is… tricky. Dangerous, if you don't know the pathways." The light pulsed gently. "So. A deal. I'll heal you. Stabilize the burn-out, mend the tears. And in return…"
She leaned so close he could hear the faint, digital hum of her mask. Her presence was overwhelming, a mix of perfume and ozone. She narrowed her eyes—or the emoji did, becoming sharp, focused slits 🔍. The playful tone vanished, replaced by a gravity that made the air feel thick.
Gil's heart stammered against his ribs. Sweat, cold and slick, traced a path down his temple. This was it. The price. A secret. A confession. The location of Akame. His true purpose.
Nina's voice, when it came, was low, deliberate, and carried the weight of a world-shattering inquiry.
"What…" she began, each word measured and heavy, "…breast size do you prefer?"
"Huh?"
The sound that escaped Gil's throat wasn't a word. It was the vocal equivalent of a system crash—a short, stunned, utterly bewildered exhale.
The majestic, perilous tension of the moment shattered like cheap glass. He stared, utterly disarmed, into the glowing, expectantly winking face of his would-be savior-turned-interrogator.
CATCHING FIRE--END!