Talking is a Waste of Time

Gettan finally let go of Yukime’s neck and stood up.

“John-han…” she gasped, her voice thick with pain as she called out my name.

“So, you’re John Smith,” Gettan spat, staring at me with those empty, ruined eye sockets. “You have the gall to say I stole from you? You’re the one who’s been stripping everything away from me!”

I just stared back, maintaining my cool, mysterious facade. Honestly, I don't really care about his life story. I just want the cash back.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’m just here to reclaim what you took. That’s all there is to it.”

“You mean this woman? Hah! As if a piece of trash like you could ever take her back.”

“I don’t ‘try.’ I just do.”

“You arrogant brat… I’ll be the one taking back what’s mine. Everything you’ve stolen!”

He leveled his Long Sword at me, striking a dramatic pose.

“Taking back from me? What are you even talking about?” Seriously, did I take something of his? I’ve been so busy with the counterfeit gold scheme I might have forgotten a side quest or two.

“Don’t play dumb with me, you lowlife…”

Gettan clicked his tongue in irritation.

“That’s my line, you dog,” I shot back, mimicking his click perfectly. Ten out of ten for style points.

“Clearly, we’re done talking,” he growled.

“Total waste of time,” I agreed.

I deployed my Steel Wire, the thin filaments shimmering in the cold air. We glared at each other, the tension thick enough to cut—and then we moved.

“GETTANNNNNNN!” I yelled, really leaning into the vengeful protagonist role.

“JOHN SMITHHHHHHH!” he roared back.

We collided.

His Long Sword whistled through the air, aimed straight for my throat. I didn't even bother to move. The blade surged forward, then jerked to a violent, shivering halt just inches from my skin.

“Wh—What?!”

Gettan’s face went pale. He yanked his sword back, completely bewildered by why his attack had hit an invisible wall. I watched him with an air of practiced nonchalance.

“Did you do something just now…?” I asked, my voice dripping with feigned boredom.

He clicked his tongue again. He was doing that a lot. “You… what did you do? No, wait—wires? You’re channeling Magic Power through ultra-fine wires to catch my blade?”

“Hoh. Not bad, considering you’re blind.”

“I see things precisely because I lost my sight! My Spatial Detection Ability has evolved far beyond yours!”

Gettan started pumping out Magic Power like a broken fire hydrant.

“I see them! I can see every single one of your wires! I’ll admit, your technique is impressive, but you’ve picked the worst possible opponent!” He twisted his face into a sneer. “I’ve got your number, Smith! This is a bad matchup for you!”

He lunged again. I backed off, parrying his Long Sword with my own movements. He was right about one thing: none of my Steel Wire attacks were landing. He was weaving through them like he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Useless! I told you, I see everything!!”

I kept retreating, letting him chase me through the snow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Yukime watching us, tears streaming down her face. She was looking at me like I was some kind of tragic hero fighting a desperate battle.

Wait, does she think I’m actually struggling?

I realized she’d probably never seen me act this "angry" before. We hadn't known each other that long, but I usually kept things professional and chill. Now, I was putting on a masterclass in "bottled-up rage."

She probably thought I was absolutely livid because Gettan had hurt her. I could practically see the gears turning in her head: “Oh, John-han… why would you go this far for me? We were just business partners!”

I could feel her heart racing from all the way over here. She’d probably kept her heart frozen and isolated since her tragic backstory began, thinking no one could ever melt her icy exterior. But now, seeing "passionate" John Smith fighting for her sake, that ice was turning into a puddle.

She’s totally falling for the act, I thought. Nice. This is peak roleplay.

“John-han…!” she cried out.

She probably thought I was at a disadvantage, but she clearly believed I’d pull through for her in the end. I couldn't let my fans down.

“Is that all you’ve got…?” I asked, letting my voice drop to a cold, menacing whisper.

“Guh…”

Gettan was huffing and puffing now. He’d been chasing me for minutes, but he hadn't touched me once. Meanwhile, his own body was covered in a lattice of tiny, stinging cuts.

He thought he’d seen through my wires. That was his first mistake. Because he could "see" them, he was too terrified to actually commit to an attack. My Web of Steel Wire was laid out like a literal spider’s web. One wrong step and he’d be wrapped up like a Christmas ham.

I’d predicted every move, sealed his paths, and trapped him in a perfect kill zone. He knew that if he pushed just a little too hard, he’d be shredded. He was stuck swinging a sword that would never reach me, caught in a stalemate of his own fear.

“Why… how do you have this kind of power?!” he groaned.

I walked toward him, my footsteps heavy and deliberate. My wires had already closed off every single exit.

“Talk,” I commanded. “I’m sure there’s something you need to say.” Like, for example, where you hid the gold?

He flinched, glancing toward Yukime for a split second before shaking his head violently.

“I have nothing to say to you! Nothing!!”

“I see.”

I flicked my wrist. A spray of blood erupted from Gettan’s chest as the surrounding wires carved into his meat. He writhed in pain but kept his glare fixed on me.

“I gave up everything for power! I sacrificed my soul for this!! I can’t back down now!!”

He reached into his coat, pulled out a handful of Red Pills, and shoved them into his mouth like they were candy. It was way over the recommended dosage. Like, "instant heart failure" levels of over.

“I won't let anything be taken from me again… If I have to lose it, then I’ll just…!”

He looked at Yukime one last time with those dead eyes, as if searching for something he’d lost a long time ago. Then, his body began to change. His skin turned a bruised, sickly black. His muscles swelled, distorting into something monstrous and grotesque.

A hurricane of Magic Power exploded from him, vaporizing the falling snow in an instant.

“I don’t care… about my life anymore.”

Gettan’s ruined eye sockets tore open. In place of eyes, there were two throbbing, crimson spheres—literal Blood Masses.

A single Blood Tear rolled down his cheek.

Whoa, I thought, genuinely impressed. Now that is a mid-boss transformation. The aesthetic is incredible.