The blink of a human eye takes about two hundred milliseconds on average. A particularly skilled but otherwise normal human's punch; one hundred milliseconds. A bullet fired from a C96 handgun will impact a target four meters away in roughly ten milliseconds.
Gustavo never could have hoped to react to such a projectile.
By the time Sturm laid eyes on the boy, he was already mid-collapse. Whether Magnolia's ensuing shriek came from a place of sudden shock or genuine, terrified grief toward losing a comrade could be open to debate. One thing, however, was certain; the apparent murder served to immediately remove any inhibitions Max had left. At once, the young warrior sprang forth, claws at the ready. Not to abandon his ally, Sturm pushed aside any thoughts of the horrific event that had unfolded before his eyes and aided in the charge against his captain.
Though the two candidates were undoubtedly quick on their feet, their earlier melee with Grizzler had taken a severe toll on their stamina. As such, Scharf was capable of taking retaliatory action despite a strong likelihood that, under normal circumstances, he'd have had no such chance. Before the boys were able to close the short gap, the captain forcefully dragged the toe of his jackboot across the turf in a semi-circle fashion, kicking up dirt and grass which subsequently flew directly into the eyes of both attackers. Blinded by the projection of debris into their faces at high speed, Sturm and Max failed to notice the captain ducking downward as they swung their weapons in unison. With a loud clash, the swordsman's blade met an ossified claw just centimeters above Scharf's visor cap.
Through squinted, stinging eyes, Sturm caught the shine of a rifle's polished butt plate just before it was thrust into his nose, knocking him clean onto his back. In a fraction of a second, Max was then jabbed in the stomach with the firearm's muzzle before cracked over the head with the stock and falling onto his stomach.
Where the hell did that come from? contemplated Sturm as he clutched his bloodied nose. I saw his back before he jumped down from the rock... he had no rifle.
Max's skull throbbed, yet still, he pressed his palms into the damp grass in an attempt to rise once more. Tenacious as the boy was, his exhausted and battered body was no match for the force of Scharf's boot crashing down onto his back. Sturm, remaining on the ground, watched as the captain's hollow right sleeve wrapped behind his back.
Wait... the captain is missing his left hand.
Just then, Scharf's right hand seemed to rematerialize, clutching a bayonet in hand. Curiously, an intricate silver right adorned his index finger, the likes of which Sturm hadn't seen until this point. The captain then swung his hand forward and affixed the narrow blade to the rifle. A look of horror washed over Sturm's face as his captain thrust the weapon down and through Max's coat, leaving it standing vertically. The distinct noise of steel piercing wool and burrowing into the softness beyond drilled into the swordsman's eardrums and rallied a fury in his sore hearts. He sat up and clutched his sword with killing intent before promptly catching Scharf's boot in the jaw.
The captain glanced back and forth between his motionless students, satisfied with their condition. After a brief pause, Scharf swiveled, alerted to the sound of feet stomping through the field toward him. He quickly removed his cap, tossed it atop Magnolia's head to obscure her vision, and sidestepped a forward thrust of her palm. With minimal effort, the captain then tripped the girl face-first into the wet turf, careful to snatch his cap back as she fell.
Holding its visor between his fingers, Scharf placed the cover onto his head and worked it back into proper position. All four of the Third Hunter Team's knight candidates were down.
It had been two hours since the readiness examination officially opened. Unknown to his Sturm and his friends, their captain had been watching them closely from the very beginning. It was Scharf whose blurred figure dashed across the view of the dormitory window under the faint light of the early morning, as it was Scharf who defeated the team of candidates that Max and Emmy located on the second floor.
Ironically, while the captain's students cursed his apparent absence, he was never far.
Scharf lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, glancing up at the sun-drenched canopy looming ahead. The rays poured down onto his body, warming him against the cool air. Though the fog had dissipated, some humidity lingered.
"Captain..." a voice spoke up from behind Scharf.
He turned to see Gustavo standing unharmed.
"You missed."
Scharf sighed and dropped his cigarette before stamping it out. "Is that what happened?" he inquired despite obvious tired disinterest.
Standing anxiously before his opponent, Gustavo removed his ski cap and tossed it into the grass between them, revealing his dark, messy hair. "Even though I know you're our enemy, I still didn't expect you to shoot me."
The captain shrugged. "You don't expect to get shot at in war?"
"I..." Gustavo paused, considering his words and the situation as a whole. "I didn't realize we were at war."
"A war starts long before the first shots have been fired," Scharf explained coldly, "That's why we must always be prepared."
Gustavo's eyes narrowed. "Prepared for betrayal?"
"Prepared for anything," replied Scharf, "Just as I was prepared for you to toss your frogs at me under the cover of that hat and distract me while they closed in."
Taken back by his captain's quick deduction, the boy's mouth fell ajar and he began to sweat. He had been found out immediately.
"I've taken the liberty of coating the tops of my boots with lucibufagin- a toxin found in fireflies," Scharf elaborated matter-of-factly. "My research suggests that should your frogs make contact with this poison, it will be absorbed through their skin and kill them."
"Damn it..." gasped Gustavo. "Stay there, you all! Don't attack him, he's poisonous!"
With his concern drawn to the cap that covered his amphibian allies, the boy was caught off guard when Scharf suddenly rushed toward him, striking him across the face. Gustavo stumbled back but planted his boot firmly against the ground to avoid falling over. When the captain swung his left elbow downward, the young candidate blocked the attack with his own forearm and used his opposite hand to punch Scharf in the stomach several times. Though winded, the captain was not deterred and swiftly retaliated by driving his knee up into the bottom of Gustavo's ribcage. Winded, the boy heaved for his breath before being impacted in the side of the face twice with Scharf's fist. Though he had put up a fight, the trainee was ultimately no match for his instructor and collapsed into the dew-coated grass.
This time, before Scharf could wind down in triumph, he was tackled from behind. He stumbled forward a meter but caught himself, refusing to be downed. Magnolia, having recovered, had taken advantage of the captain's complacency. She wrapped her arms around his torso, dug her fingers into the wool of his tunic, and projected high-frequency vibrations deep into her target's ribs.
Scharf let out a pained growl as the terrible sensation gripped his core and began to radiate to his extremities. He knew that he had to act quickly or risk his very ligaments coming undone. Stomping forward, the captain dropped down and bucked Magnolia up over his back, sending her crashing onto the ground before him. Quickly, he grabbed the girl around the neck and wrenched her back up to a standing position. With Scharf's left arm pinning her own back, and his right wrapped tightly around her windpipe, there was little Magnolia could do to escape.
Some distance away, Sturm had just awoken. The light pressed into his eyes with ethereal weight, building an agonizing pressure in his skull. Recovery would be slow, but even now the swordsman's instincts flew into overdrive. Upon taking in the sight of Magnolia's desperate struggle for breath, a peculiar gleam beckoned for his attention; Scharf's ring. Sturm was absolutely certain that the captain wore no such jewelry, nor was he the type to. If he was to be wearing it now, there was a reason.
A spark of enlightenment flashed in the boy's eyes. He could not have been mistaken. Scharf's hand disappeared before returning with a bayonet. Never had the captain displayed such an ability before donning that ring. There had to be a connection.
"Half a man, was that right?" Scharf scoffed as he lifted his student from the ground, leveraging her own weight against her throat. "Even half a man is stronger than a girl."
Although Magnolia's awareness began to slip, Scharf's words ignited a fury in her heart. With every ounce of energy left in her weakening body, Magnolia twisted her head to the side and sunk her teeth into the captain's fingers. The bite drew blood almost instantly, but Scharf showed little response. Instead, he resolved that Magnolia's helplessness would best be reinforced by allowing her desperate defense to fail. However, the grating of enamel against bone soon made it clear that the girl's audacity could not be ignored.
Magnolia's strained pupils shrunk to pinpricks against the emerald backdrop of her irises. The blood running from Scharf's wounded flanges onto the enraged blonde's jaw only exasperated her crazed look. Defeated in his self-imposed test of resilience, Scharf tore his hand from Magnolia's mouth, allowing her to fall forward. Unfortunately, before the girl could retaliate, the captain slammed the stump of his left wrist into the back of her neck with such force that she was knocked unconscious. As Magnolia's limp body dropped into the grass, Scharf wiped his blood-soaked hand across the front of his tunic and tested the movement in his fingers.
It was then that movement caught his eye. Max had removed the bayoneted rifle from his jacket, which had pierced through and into the ground rather than his flesh, and now had the weapon trained on Scharf.
"You coulda killed me, Captain Scharf... but ya pinned me down instead."
Though initially surprised, the captain's expression quickly cooled to one of ambiguity. "Perhaps your body twitched at the last second."
"Nah..." said Max, standing up slowly but keeping the rifle's aim true, "I don't think so."
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