Because you folks may or may not enjoy this, I'm reposting this meh-ish piece of work of mine to get it out of my system.
-Chapter I -
Unfamiliar
________________________________
Failure. It was a concept that Homura Akemi was intimately familiar with. Much too intimately familiar.
Walpurgisnacht.
Kriemhild Gretchen.
One begets the other. The arrival of the former induces that to happen - the fulfillment of that wish, the establishment of thatcontract.
Familiar. All too familiar.
How many times had it been? How many times had she suffered the tastes of defeat, of hopeless inevitability - of failure? They were numerous, nigh countless.
And they were all failures.
~/'\|/'\~
The Witch desired her 'heaven'. Her 'heaven' was something that she wanted to share with everyone, because if it is her 'heaven' it must be a good thing, because it is hers. If, maybe, perhaps, she could take all of the grief in the world and feast upon it, then there would be none left...and that...was a good thing...right? Yes, because it is her 'heaven', then everyone would be happy in it, right?
But the world already existed...how could she achieve her heaven' when it was already there? in order for her 'heaven' to exist, she must take everyone into it.
That's okay, they'll love her 'heaven! She was sure of it! They would be happy, and there would be no more suffering and despair, and they would be happy, and no one would get hurt anymore, and they would be happy, and no one would shed tears for whatever reason anymore, and they would be happy,
and they would be happy, and they would be happy...
Because it was her 'heaven'.
~/'\|/'\~
She stood impassively amongst the ruins, the ankle deep waste-water soaking her tights and shoes. The gears in the shield on her arm whirred idly, ready to once again reknew the cycle of despair in yet another attempt to set things right. Just as she had always done when her big gamble came through, she was ready to leave and try once more, ready to abandon this loop just like the rest.
But...
Perhaps there was something to be gained. From each and every other failed timeline she had gained a little more knowledge - a little more experience, a little more something, anything that she could use to aid herself in her endless crusade, previous failures notwithstanding.
In order to do this, to fulfill her wish and achieve happiness and avoid the despair that was fated to be...She would subject herself to a burden the likes of which none other had ever known, even in comparison to feeling the heavy and full weight of all of her other mistakes.
Homura Akemi decided to bear witness to the end of the world, and the birth of her 'heaven'.
It was surreal, indescribable, fantastic - surely, this thing that used to be Madoka Kaname was to Witches what God was to humans. A being of incomparable, incomprehensible power, there was little doubt that at the rate it was going it would most certainly achieve her heaven'.
Time was meaningless. Inconsequential. Whether it took minutes, seconds, hours or days, her 'heaven' began to spread throughout the world, ready to bring all to her promised salvation. Surely it would be beautiful, sad, happy, pristine, and perfect. Because it was supposed to be her 'heaven', right?
If it were allowed to manifest, that is.
Streams of blazing objects soared towards the most powerful Witch in existence, piercing into its aether and exploding with achaic power. Pillars of purest energy swung like a massive sword slammed into the mountainous Kriemhild Gretchen over and over again. Waves of magic buffeted its sides, and the howls of inhuman beasts echoed in the distance of the ruins.
The massive Witch was fighting...fighting with those that would oppose her 'heaven'.
Figures leapt and dashed around the one that had surpassed the Walpurgisnacht, their godlike strength tangible even from the far distance away from them that she was. But she detected no passion from the strike team, no burning desire or determination to serve as executioners for her former best friend. She could tell, they were cold, emotionless. It was as if they were programmed, programmedfor exactly just such an act.
Were they other Puella Magi, teaming up to take down the largest threat to life ever known?
No.
They were something beyond even that. They were gods amongst the ruins, gods sent to battle a god.
They were like the stuff of legends.
And they were an anomaly, the biggest one that she had known in all of her repeats.
It was curious. How could she explain their appearance? Was it perhaps because she waited far longer than she normally did after she failed, and that this was simply meant to be? Or was it because the nature of Madoka Kaname's wish itself had changed?
All so curious.
Suddenly, a bolt of light barreled from a great distance towards her. It was fast. Too fast! Impossibly fast - faster than even godspeed itself - and much too close to her for her liking, the streak cut through the air and seemed to warp the very space around it.
Instincts honed by years of timetravel-derived experience brought her into action faster than even her own mind could process it. An instant became eternity as the gears in the shield on her arm spun wildly. Homura Akemi willed reality to come to a halt - and time had stopped. The air had stilled, the downpour of rain froze in place.
A Puella Magi grows used to dealing with the impossible wonders and phantasmal nature of magic on a regular basis. And yet in spite of this exposure to these miracles, Homura Akemi's eyes widened with shock...and fear.
Her magic was surely activated, and yet the projectile still flew forward. It was by no means unaffected by her power, and it flew as if passing through a watery wall. The current speed almost belied its true nature - in spite of appearances the missile was by no means any less deadly than it was before, and was still brimming with magical energy to the point of being volatile.
Even with her ability, she would still need to dodge it.
The searing explosion of burning magic was greater than she had anticipated. Even with her magic, she underestimated the sheer size and output of the blast that the drill-shaped object would have when it detonated after she shut off her magic. Even though she removed herself far from the impact zone, the force was still enough to catch her on the fringes, throwing her from the blast like a rag doll and causing her schoolgirl-like costume to smoke with burns.
Another distant twang, another thunderous roar. The very next moment a second arrow - for this one and the one before were both indeed arrows of a sort - aimed right at her. This arrow was different from the one before; it was visibly slower than its precursor, but was no less dangerous.
Homura Akemi took to the sky. If this projectile was anything like the first one then she did not want to be anywhere near it when it unleashed its magical payload, and she meant to avoid the shot entirely.
Just as she evaded into the air the arrow altered its course and went right for her, as if it were responding to her actions.
The new arrow was a seeker.
Twists. Turns. Rolls. Brakes. The arrow twisted and spun at her in response to each of her movements. Like a game of aerial tag, the dogfight continued as she threw out every single maunever that she knew in order to shake it off and the weapon unerringly trailed her with the sole purpose of taking down the girl from the sky.
In less than the blink of an eye the tables were turned. In less than an instant she flanked the glowing arrow and had shot it down with a concentrated burst of machinegun fire that tore it apart in a blast of magical energy.
Having finally adjusted to the flow of battle past the initial surprise, without skipping a beat she discerned the location of the enemy sniper.
...there!
Experts will vouch that in a professional battlefield it takes a remarkable amount of skill to succesfully countersnipe an enemy that is actively trying to gun at you from a distance as well.
However, Homura Akemi had all the time in the world.
Stop. Start.
Each .50 caliber slug fired from the Barret M107 sniper rifle brutally slammed into the red-cloaked figure. Legs, arms, crotch, throat and thorax - and each bullet squarely hit the mark, and each impact was either fatal or incapacitating.
But a subordinate of the will of humanity was made of far sterner stuff than what a few Puella Magi-enhanced rounds were capable of. By grace of the contract it had taken up, a warrior of the World would not be allowed to go down that easily.
The red-cloaked figure's attempt to counter the gunshots was answered with a series of thunderous explosions. A single step forward, and the figure ended up right into the middle of a field of claymores mines. Clouds of oversized pellets tore into his body - one, twice, six times! Combat knives of all sizes dug into him from all angles, and an entire clip from a M32 Mikor MGL was expelled right at him, continuing to obscure his battered form in ash and smoke.
Hovering above the billowing pillar of debris with the grenade launcher in her hands she waited for the next move, anticipated. After all, things rarely ended up the way they were supposed to be, and no one knew this better than Homura Akemi did.
With cracks like gunshots a swarm of swords shot towards her from the smoke. But she was prepared. The numerous swords flew at her high, so the girl dropped some height in order to dodge the attack.
Just the way the guardian wanted.
No sooner had she done that did whirring twin flashes of ebony and ivory carve deeply into her sides. The injuries were sudden, brief, and intense - enough for her to lose concentration enough to fall to the soaked rubble with an almost sickening crunch.
She lifted herself up from the wet puddle of red that was pooling beneath her. The body of a Puella Magi would not be allowed to die that easily.
The clashing din of battles not their own rang in the distance. Kriemhild Gretchen soundlessly roared in questioning defiance as the other beings continued to attack.
For the briefest fractions of a second, they stared down the other.
Both man and girl had sustained several injuries. His outfit was torn in many places, ripped by shrapnel. Daggers large and small were still embedded in his shoulders, chest and sides. Her own clothing was blackened in several places, still warm from the release of heat when that strange arrow had exploded, and large gashes on the left and right above her hips bled profusely.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Purposeless blood - vestigal reminders of their past lives long ago back when their bodies were simple flesh. Back when the crimson fluid used to be an indicator of life, as opposed to serving no other purpose than to merely exist and fill a void, to imitate the true life of a human being.
Their blood was the same. Red.
For the briefest fractions of a second, they continued to stare down each other. The silver-haired tall figure garbed in a mantle of vermillion and shadow. The petite young girl with the long dark hair.
Their eyes were the same. Weary.
After an eternity compressed to an instant, their battle resumed once more.
The FN-P90s in her hands angrily spat molten lead in the direction of her foe. A rain of steel from his side flew at her going at speeds comparable to that of modern-day rifles. Flicks of his wrists, movements capable of dodging bullets after they were fired - deflected away any stray gunshots. Her own contstant movement kept her out of the way of the oncoming storm of metal which would have no doubt eviscerated her where she stood. Sidestepping and trying to flank the other, claim the advantage, the most decisive one the fight could offer, and seize it. That was the way they were dueling.
And there was sharpened steel each time she tried to move. Every moment there would be more swords. All she was forced to do was avoid being skewered by those many blades, those endless weapons streaming at her whenever they came into existence.
"At the rate things are going right now, even Kriemhild Gretchen's Revelations that she wants to offer to the World would even be put to the sidelines for an event such as this." The one known as Kyubey mused while as he bore witness to the events before him. "Is this thechance that has finally come for you, Homura Akemi, or is this just another failure in a long list of losses? Regardless..." 'he' tilted his head back whimsically as he resumed to watch the conflict between the girl and the man, "The consequences of these actions shall prove to be most interesting."
The swords continued to pour down, like silver and golden bullets of sharpened steel. The pair of falchions with the Chinese motif he held in his hands swung with the sole intention of killing calmly, deliberately, with mechanical ease.
Swords vs. Guns.
Guns vs. Swords.
Brutal, unrefined weapons completely unbefitting of one known as a Magical Girl. The cold, harsh, distant nature of firearms added to that allure. Yet those swords of his were also unbefitting of the man. They were elegant-looking, yet somehow empty-feeling. But regardless of their methods, both were far too used to taking life and struggling endlessly in order to care for critcism of their methods. Their tools were their own, and they got the job done no matter how detestable or frowned-upon it was.
As the duel continued the girl would warp away for the briefest of instants, either attempting to slash out his throat or have grenades periodically detonate right in the face of the man. His swords were always there for him a split-second later, appearing and disappearing to deflect the impact.
A flash of dark and light, and the twin-blades he wielded flew towards her like boomerangs.
Divine Skill, flawless and firm...
-strange words come to her mind-
The whirring swords struck an imposing image of oncoming death. But they were easily avoided and she rolls right out of their path.
Strength moves mountains
-they continue to play out in her head, heard and yet unheard to her mind-
A different pair of black and white scythed through the air for the girl. Again, these were nowhere near as fast as the bullet-like blades that he was firing at her all this time. They were just as easily sidestepped.
Again and Again and Again. Darkened metal and its polar opposite would reappear in his hands, ready to slice at her.
Blade cuts water
-they fortell something-
-they fortell: her fate-
Something however, was indeed amiss. Her soldier's intuition screamed at her from deep within that something was indeed very wrong-
Life approaches the Imperial.
-Something fatal.
That was when it hit her like a steamroller from the heavens.
She was flanked on all sides. Whirring blades spun 'round and 'round like litle planets, orbiting her, ready to slice and tear through muscle and bone. Before she knew it, she was completely encircled, trapped in the eye of a storm of steel.
Time stopped once more. However...her gambit did not come through. Even when paused, there were simply too many surrounding her - the spinning swords left no openings, no space to escape from before the blades closed in and shredded her to pieces.
From the maelstrom of tempered steel the red blur that she was fighting rushed for her with deliberated intent...intent to kill.
A sword - scarlet as the blood it had spilt countless times - with a handle as long as it's blade appeared in his hand. The curse of death emmanating from it was so tangible that it nauseated her just to look at her. The sword welled, pulsed, throbbed with a force that burnt the falling raindroplets into steam.
When the sinister looking sword at finally filled to the brim with power, the man thrust the impossibly sharp tip at at her with all of his might like a duelist's rapier -
-or a spear.
The curse was unleashed! - The blade bent, nimbly snuck past the spinning swords and turned around at impossible angles to get to her.
Her submachine guns clattered harmlessly when she dropped them, when she was lifted off the ground by the force of the blow. The crimson blade shafted into her chest, snuck in-between her ribcage and violently ruptured into her heart, making it virutally explode from the impact. Homura Akemi felt pain. Even with the resilience provided to her by her inhuman body, Homura Akemi felt pain like absolutely none other she had ever felt before. Tears streamed down from her eyes in silent pain, the pain that made her feel like a helpless young girl once more.
And she was still alive.
Cause and effect were reversed. Her death was guaranteed to happen, because her heart was already pierced before the blade even made contact. Because this was not just a sword that unerringly sought death when its power was called upon. It was because that as soon as this sword was used death was surely guaranteed.
While crimson bile that she had vomited up upon impact dribbled down her chin, she realized it: the other swords that had trapped her had no other purpose than that. They were not meant to shred her into ribbons where she stood, but rather hold her in place so that this trump card of sorts could be used against her while she was pinned.
Forcing her still and utilizing an attack that was a sure-fire hit. This man had taken no chances.
A jarring force shook her entire body as she was skewered on the vermillion sword that had once again drunk of blood, and Homura Akemi was slammed into the ground with unforgiving force. She let out a breathy gasp of pain as the impaling hardness sliced through her body into the wet rubble beneath. Through her tear-fogged eyes she saw the man that pinned her down stare at her with utmost unfeeling, totally remorseless, his gaze betraying absolutely no sympathy whatsoever.
He lifted his left arm so that it was parallel to the bloody, soaked ground. Power once again coalseced in his open palm. One flash of power a moment later, he held in his hand an absolutely gargantuan sword with jagged teeth on the edge, looking for all the world like it must have been carved from a single grey boulder. He methodically, effortlessly began to lift the massive sword above his head. She had no idea how on Earth he held such a hefty weight with one arm, but she certainly knew one thing - he was preparing to mercilessly bash her into a bloody mush. No matter how many blows it would take, he would keep on doing swinging that sharpened slate until she finally died for certain. If she had to be reduced to a pulp before her Soul Gem was shattered by his actions, then that is what it would take.
She would die. This time, she really would die.
It never even occured to her that he hadn't spoken a single word to her throughtout their entire fight.
Kriemhild Gretchen roared in the night.
The rain pattered on the hunks of asphalt, concrete, and exposed foundations of the ruined buildings.
Incubator wryly watched from the corner of his eye, thoroughly interested in the outcome of recent events.
Gritting her teeth and mustering all of her strength Homura Akemi feebly raised her arm, pointing it upwards - towards he enemy, towards the falling rain, towards the sky, towards infinity.
The clublike sword swung downwards like a bolt of judgment.
The next instant she awoke in her hospital bed.
___________________________________________
A/N:
Sure is Jojo's Bizarre Adventure up in here.
-Chapter I -
Unfamiliar
________________________________
Failure. It was a concept that Homura Akemi was intimately familiar with. Much too intimately familiar.
Walpurgisnacht.
Kriemhild Gretchen.
One begets the other. The arrival of the former induces that to happen - the fulfillment of that wish, the establishment of thatcontract.
Familiar. All too familiar.
How many times had it been? How many times had she suffered the tastes of defeat, of hopeless inevitability - of failure? They were numerous, nigh countless.
And they were all failures.
~/'\|/'\~
The Witch desired her 'heaven'. Her 'heaven' was something that she wanted to share with everyone, because if it is her 'heaven' it must be a good thing, because it is hers. If, maybe, perhaps, she could take all of the grief in the world and feast upon it, then there would be none left...and that...was a good thing...right? Yes, because it is her 'heaven', then everyone would be happy in it, right?
But the world already existed...how could she achieve her heaven' when it was already there? in order for her 'heaven' to exist, she must take everyone into it.
That's okay, they'll love her 'heaven! She was sure of it! They would be happy, and there would be no more suffering and despair, and they would be happy, and no one would get hurt anymore, and they would be happy, and no one would shed tears for whatever reason anymore, and they would be happy,
and they would be happy, and they would be happy...
Because it was her 'heaven'.
~/'\|/'\~
She stood impassively amongst the ruins, the ankle deep waste-water soaking her tights and shoes. The gears in the shield on her arm whirred idly, ready to once again reknew the cycle of despair in yet another attempt to set things right. Just as she had always done when her big gamble came through, she was ready to leave and try once more, ready to abandon this loop just like the rest.
But...
Perhaps there was something to be gained. From each and every other failed timeline she had gained a little more knowledge - a little more experience, a little more something, anything that she could use to aid herself in her endless crusade, previous failures notwithstanding.
In order to do this, to fulfill her wish and achieve happiness and avoid the despair that was fated to be...She would subject herself to a burden the likes of which none other had ever known, even in comparison to feeling the heavy and full weight of all of her other mistakes.
Homura Akemi decided to bear witness to the end of the world, and the birth of her 'heaven'.
It was surreal, indescribable, fantastic - surely, this thing that used to be Madoka Kaname was to Witches what God was to humans. A being of incomparable, incomprehensible power, there was little doubt that at the rate it was going it would most certainly achieve her heaven'.
Time was meaningless. Inconsequential. Whether it took minutes, seconds, hours or days, her 'heaven' began to spread throughout the world, ready to bring all to her promised salvation. Surely it would be beautiful, sad, happy, pristine, and perfect. Because it was supposed to be her 'heaven', right?
If it were allowed to manifest, that is.
Streams of blazing objects soared towards the most powerful Witch in existence, piercing into its aether and exploding with achaic power. Pillars of purest energy swung like a massive sword slammed into the mountainous Kriemhild Gretchen over and over again. Waves of magic buffeted its sides, and the howls of inhuman beasts echoed in the distance of the ruins.
The massive Witch was fighting...fighting with those that would oppose her 'heaven'.
Figures leapt and dashed around the one that had surpassed the Walpurgisnacht, their godlike strength tangible even from the far distance away from them that she was. But she detected no passion from the strike team, no burning desire or determination to serve as executioners for her former best friend. She could tell, they were cold, emotionless. It was as if they were programmed, programmedfor exactly just such an act.
Were they other Puella Magi, teaming up to take down the largest threat to life ever known?
No.
They were something beyond even that. They were gods amongst the ruins, gods sent to battle a god.
They were like the stuff of legends.
And they were an anomaly, the biggest one that she had known in all of her repeats.
It was curious. How could she explain their appearance? Was it perhaps because she waited far longer than she normally did after she failed, and that this was simply meant to be? Or was it because the nature of Madoka Kaname's wish itself had changed?
All so curious.
Suddenly, a bolt of light barreled from a great distance towards her. It was fast. Too fast! Impossibly fast - faster than even godspeed itself - and much too close to her for her liking, the streak cut through the air and seemed to warp the very space around it.
Instincts honed by years of timetravel-derived experience brought her into action faster than even her own mind could process it. An instant became eternity as the gears in the shield on her arm spun wildly. Homura Akemi willed reality to come to a halt - and time had stopped. The air had stilled, the downpour of rain froze in place.
A Puella Magi grows used to dealing with the impossible wonders and phantasmal nature of magic on a regular basis. And yet in spite of this exposure to these miracles, Homura Akemi's eyes widened with shock...and fear.
Her magic was surely activated, and yet the projectile still flew forward. It was by no means unaffected by her power, and it flew as if passing through a watery wall. The current speed almost belied its true nature - in spite of appearances the missile was by no means any less deadly than it was before, and was still brimming with magical energy to the point of being volatile.
Even with her ability, she would still need to dodge it.
The searing explosion of burning magic was greater than she had anticipated. Even with her magic, she underestimated the sheer size and output of the blast that the drill-shaped object would have when it detonated after she shut off her magic. Even though she removed herself far from the impact zone, the force was still enough to catch her on the fringes, throwing her from the blast like a rag doll and causing her schoolgirl-like costume to smoke with burns.
Another distant twang, another thunderous roar. The very next moment a second arrow - for this one and the one before were both indeed arrows of a sort - aimed right at her. This arrow was different from the one before; it was visibly slower than its precursor, but was no less dangerous.
Homura Akemi took to the sky. If this projectile was anything like the first one then she did not want to be anywhere near it when it unleashed its magical payload, and she meant to avoid the shot entirely.
Just as she evaded into the air the arrow altered its course and went right for her, as if it were responding to her actions.
The new arrow was a seeker.
Twists. Turns. Rolls. Brakes. The arrow twisted and spun at her in response to each of her movements. Like a game of aerial tag, the dogfight continued as she threw out every single maunever that she knew in order to shake it off and the weapon unerringly trailed her with the sole purpose of taking down the girl from the sky.
In less than the blink of an eye the tables were turned. In less than an instant she flanked the glowing arrow and had shot it down with a concentrated burst of machinegun fire that tore it apart in a blast of magical energy.
Having finally adjusted to the flow of battle past the initial surprise, without skipping a beat she discerned the location of the enemy sniper.
...there!
Experts will vouch that in a professional battlefield it takes a remarkable amount of skill to succesfully countersnipe an enemy that is actively trying to gun at you from a distance as well.
However, Homura Akemi had all the time in the world.
Stop. Start.
Each .50 caliber slug fired from the Barret M107 sniper rifle brutally slammed into the red-cloaked figure. Legs, arms, crotch, throat and thorax - and each bullet squarely hit the mark, and each impact was either fatal or incapacitating.
But a subordinate of the will of humanity was made of far sterner stuff than what a few Puella Magi-enhanced rounds were capable of. By grace of the contract it had taken up, a warrior of the World would not be allowed to go down that easily.
The red-cloaked figure's attempt to counter the gunshots was answered with a series of thunderous explosions. A single step forward, and the figure ended up right into the middle of a field of claymores mines. Clouds of oversized pellets tore into his body - one, twice, six times! Combat knives of all sizes dug into him from all angles, and an entire clip from a M32 Mikor MGL was expelled right at him, continuing to obscure his battered form in ash and smoke.
Hovering above the billowing pillar of debris with the grenade launcher in her hands she waited for the next move, anticipated. After all, things rarely ended up the way they were supposed to be, and no one knew this better than Homura Akemi did.
With cracks like gunshots a swarm of swords shot towards her from the smoke. But she was prepared. The numerous swords flew at her high, so the girl dropped some height in order to dodge the attack.
Just the way the guardian wanted.
No sooner had she done that did whirring twin flashes of ebony and ivory carve deeply into her sides. The injuries were sudden, brief, and intense - enough for her to lose concentration enough to fall to the soaked rubble with an almost sickening crunch.
She lifted herself up from the wet puddle of red that was pooling beneath her. The body of a Puella Magi would not be allowed to die that easily.
The clashing din of battles not their own rang in the distance. Kriemhild Gretchen soundlessly roared in questioning defiance as the other beings continued to attack.
For the briefest fractions of a second, they stared down the other.
Both man and girl had sustained several injuries. His outfit was torn in many places, ripped by shrapnel. Daggers large and small were still embedded in his shoulders, chest and sides. Her own clothing was blackened in several places, still warm from the release of heat when that strange arrow had exploded, and large gashes on the left and right above her hips bled profusely.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Purposeless blood - vestigal reminders of their past lives long ago back when their bodies were simple flesh. Back when the crimson fluid used to be an indicator of life, as opposed to serving no other purpose than to merely exist and fill a void, to imitate the true life of a human being.
Their blood was the same. Red.
For the briefest fractions of a second, they continued to stare down each other. The silver-haired tall figure garbed in a mantle of vermillion and shadow. The petite young girl with the long dark hair.
Their eyes were the same. Weary.
After an eternity compressed to an instant, their battle resumed once more.
The FN-P90s in her hands angrily spat molten lead in the direction of her foe. A rain of steel from his side flew at her going at speeds comparable to that of modern-day rifles. Flicks of his wrists, movements capable of dodging bullets after they were fired - deflected away any stray gunshots. Her own contstant movement kept her out of the way of the oncoming storm of metal which would have no doubt eviscerated her where she stood. Sidestepping and trying to flank the other, claim the advantage, the most decisive one the fight could offer, and seize it. That was the way they were dueling.
And there was sharpened steel each time she tried to move. Every moment there would be more swords. All she was forced to do was avoid being skewered by those many blades, those endless weapons streaming at her whenever they came into existence.
"At the rate things are going right now, even Kriemhild Gretchen's Revelations that she wants to offer to the World would even be put to the sidelines for an event such as this." The one known as Kyubey mused while as he bore witness to the events before him. "Is this thechance that has finally come for you, Homura Akemi, or is this just another failure in a long list of losses? Regardless..." 'he' tilted his head back whimsically as he resumed to watch the conflict between the girl and the man, "The consequences of these actions shall prove to be most interesting."
The swords continued to pour down, like silver and golden bullets of sharpened steel. The pair of falchions with the Chinese motif he held in his hands swung with the sole intention of killing calmly, deliberately, with mechanical ease.
Swords vs. Guns.
Guns vs. Swords.
Brutal, unrefined weapons completely unbefitting of one known as a Magical Girl. The cold, harsh, distant nature of firearms added to that allure. Yet those swords of his were also unbefitting of the man. They were elegant-looking, yet somehow empty-feeling. But regardless of their methods, both were far too used to taking life and struggling endlessly in order to care for critcism of their methods. Their tools were their own, and they got the job done no matter how detestable or frowned-upon it was.
As the duel continued the girl would warp away for the briefest of instants, either attempting to slash out his throat or have grenades periodically detonate right in the face of the man. His swords were always there for him a split-second later, appearing and disappearing to deflect the impact.
A flash of dark and light, and the twin-blades he wielded flew towards her like boomerangs.
Divine Skill, flawless and firm...
-strange words come to her mind-
The whirring swords struck an imposing image of oncoming death. But they were easily avoided and she rolls right out of their path.
Strength moves mountains
-they continue to play out in her head, heard and yet unheard to her mind-
A different pair of black and white scythed through the air for the girl. Again, these were nowhere near as fast as the bullet-like blades that he was firing at her all this time. They were just as easily sidestepped.
Again and Again and Again. Darkened metal and its polar opposite would reappear in his hands, ready to slice at her.
Blade cuts water
-they fortell something-
-they fortell: her fate-
Something however, was indeed amiss. Her soldier's intuition screamed at her from deep within that something was indeed very wrong-
Life approaches the Imperial.
-Something fatal.
That was when it hit her like a steamroller from the heavens.
She was flanked on all sides. Whirring blades spun 'round and 'round like litle planets, orbiting her, ready to slice and tear through muscle and bone. Before she knew it, she was completely encircled, trapped in the eye of a storm of steel.
Time stopped once more. However...her gambit did not come through. Even when paused, there were simply too many surrounding her - the spinning swords left no openings, no space to escape from before the blades closed in and shredded her to pieces.
From the maelstrom of tempered steel the red blur that she was fighting rushed for her with deliberated intent...intent to kill.
A sword - scarlet as the blood it had spilt countless times - with a handle as long as it's blade appeared in his hand. The curse of death emmanating from it was so tangible that it nauseated her just to look at her. The sword welled, pulsed, throbbed with a force that burnt the falling raindroplets into steam.
When the sinister looking sword at finally filled to the brim with power, the man thrust the impossibly sharp tip at at her with all of his might like a duelist's rapier -
-or a spear.
The curse was unleashed! - The blade bent, nimbly snuck past the spinning swords and turned around at impossible angles to get to her.
Her submachine guns clattered harmlessly when she dropped them, when she was lifted off the ground by the force of the blow. The crimson blade shafted into her chest, snuck in-between her ribcage and violently ruptured into her heart, making it virutally explode from the impact. Homura Akemi felt pain. Even with the resilience provided to her by her inhuman body, Homura Akemi felt pain like absolutely none other she had ever felt before. Tears streamed down from her eyes in silent pain, the pain that made her feel like a helpless young girl once more.
And she was still alive.
Cause and effect were reversed. Her death was guaranteed to happen, because her heart was already pierced before the blade even made contact. Because this was not just a sword that unerringly sought death when its power was called upon. It was because that as soon as this sword was used death was surely guaranteed.
While crimson bile that she had vomited up upon impact dribbled down her chin, she realized it: the other swords that had trapped her had no other purpose than that. They were not meant to shred her into ribbons where she stood, but rather hold her in place so that this trump card of sorts could be used against her while she was pinned.
Forcing her still and utilizing an attack that was a sure-fire hit. This man had taken no chances.
A jarring force shook her entire body as she was skewered on the vermillion sword that had once again drunk of blood, and Homura Akemi was slammed into the ground with unforgiving force. She let out a breathy gasp of pain as the impaling hardness sliced through her body into the wet rubble beneath. Through her tear-fogged eyes she saw the man that pinned her down stare at her with utmost unfeeling, totally remorseless, his gaze betraying absolutely no sympathy whatsoever.
He lifted his left arm so that it was parallel to the bloody, soaked ground. Power once again coalseced in his open palm. One flash of power a moment later, he held in his hand an absolutely gargantuan sword with jagged teeth on the edge, looking for all the world like it must have been carved from a single grey boulder. He methodically, effortlessly began to lift the massive sword above his head. She had no idea how on Earth he held such a hefty weight with one arm, but she certainly knew one thing - he was preparing to mercilessly bash her into a bloody mush. No matter how many blows it would take, he would keep on doing swinging that sharpened slate until she finally died for certain. If she had to be reduced to a pulp before her Soul Gem was shattered by his actions, then that is what it would take.
She would die. This time, she really would die.
It never even occured to her that he hadn't spoken a single word to her throughtout their entire fight.
Kriemhild Gretchen roared in the night.
The rain pattered on the hunks of asphalt, concrete, and exposed foundations of the ruined buildings.
Incubator wryly watched from the corner of his eye, thoroughly interested in the outcome of recent events.
Gritting her teeth and mustering all of her strength Homura Akemi feebly raised her arm, pointing it upwards - towards he enemy, towards the falling rain, towards the sky, towards infinity.
The clublike sword swung downwards like a bolt of judgment.
The next instant she awoke in her hospital bed.
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A/N:
Sure is Jojo's Bizarre Adventure up in here.