“Let me explain this in a way that even a couple of chimps like you can understand,” Käfer hissed through a scowl. “Any sad, depressing, little four-centimeter mushroom knob of a power you so-called ‘exceptionals’ have, turns into a mighty fucking oak on me.”
He then reached down and plucked a grey object, roughly a quarter-meter long, from the ground. Rearing back up, Käfer inspected the item, rotating it back and forth in his hand. Now, seeing it from multiple angles, the object’s nature became clear to the young knight candidates.
It was the tip of Johanna’s tail, severed by the previous detonation.
Käfer gave the split vertebrae of the open end a final look over before popping the tip into his mouth and snapping through as if it were a carrot. He then crunched the dismembered body part in his jaws, bones and all, and gulped down its pulverized remnants.
Apparently satisfied, Käfer tossed the remainder over his shoulder. “Hmm, that’s new,” he hummed, analyzing something beyond the boys’ senses.
With that, Käfer collapsed the bones in his right arm, allowing the appendage to hang at his side as a loose sack of bones. Unimpressed, the officer rolled his shoulder and set his skeleton back in place.
“Useless…” he groaned, shaking his head.
Käfer then closed his eyes and tilted back his head as if he were listening to the wind. After a pause, his predatory glare snapped toward Sturm. “Mmm, right… Now that’s something. You’re so scared it almost sounds like you have more than one heart pounding in there… Doesn’t sound too good, either…”
“What is this?!” exclaimed Max, his temper flaring. “Fuckin party tricks?!”
“Max…” Sturm answered grimly, “That’s Johanna’s aberrance…”
“You mean…?”
With a nod, Sturm replied, “Yeah, he stole it somehow. That has to be the reason he ate that piece of her tail.”
“For a dumbfuck thirty seconds from his grave, you’re pretty sharp, kid,” huffed Käfer. “So tell me, what am I going to get out of you?”
“Why don’t you just tell us what you’re really here for, ‘Senior Assault Leader’?” challenged Sturm, saber trained on the man.
Scoffing dismissively, Käfer leaned forward with knees bent. “Save it, monkey. We’re past that now.”
“Sturm, what’s he talking about with your hearts? Are you good, man?”
“I’m fine, but… maybe it’s best we retreat for now,” Sturm answered with a troubled look about him. “I don’t like the idea of taking on a Gestapo agent without clearance.”
“Nah, you don’t get it, buddy…” said Max, shaking his head. “This bastard, Käfer… he’s way too fast. If we turn our backs and try to take off…”
“You’ll just die with your backs turned, like a couple of fucking cowards,” concluded Käfer with a grim chuckle.
A dull pain radiated from Sturm’s chest. As Max was the only one with prior experience against this otherwise unknown party, the swordsman was forced to take him at his word. Regardless, if such an assertion were correct, it likely wouldn’t matter whether they fought or attempted to escape.
“Alright,” started Sturm, “if you’re dead-set on killing us now, at least tell me one thing…”
Though Käfer gave no response, the knight candidate took his momentary inaction as a signal to continue.
“The regeneration, the ability to steal our aberrances- you’re a demon, right?”
Käfer blinked in the subtlest recoil- an action that made Sturm realize the man hadn’t done so until now.
Mouth agape, Max turned to his partner. “A demon? There… there’s no way…”
“Yeah…” Sturm replied with a nod, “It’s like Major General Dietrich said; Fiesel could regenerate, and he stole the souls of everyone he killed. A lot of people think he was a demon.”
“Wouldn’t that mean our aberrances come from our souls?”
Before Sturm could answer, he felt a subtle breeze rustle the hair against the back of his neck. Alerted by the disturbance, he looked up to find Käfer overhead, rocketing downward with one foot extended. Sturm rolled forward, barely avoiding his enemy’s boot as it cratered into the ground, obliterating the asphalt beneath it and propelling heavy sheets of road several meters into the air. The boy then whipped around and ducked under a follow-up punch from Käfer, who had immediately shifted direction to pursue him.
Such incredible strength and speed… If I get hit...
Having quickly realized the severity of his circumstances, Sturm retaliated with several swift saber slashes, which Käfer made no effort to evade. Instead, the alleged Gestapo agent allowed the wind-chilled steel to carve through his flesh in exchange for the opportunity to land a blow of his own. While the young swordsman was focused on inflicting as much damage as possible, Käfer shot a powerful jab through the shining blade flurry directly into Sturm’s stomach, sending the latter careening down the street and through a telephone pole, which snapped like a toothpick under the force of the impact.
“Ha!” celebrated Käfer, crossing his arms in self-satisfaction. “Nobody comes close to me! You slackjawed maggots don’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell!”
Enraged by his friend’s sudden defeat, Max charged forward, intent on driving his claws into Käfer’s lower back. Unfortunately, he caught his target’s attention with a guttural, last-second war cry, and was swatted across the road and into a brick storefront wall like a minor inconvenience.
Käfer glanced at Max, who now lay sprawled at the base of the cracked wall, out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll get to you, dumbass. Wait your turn.”
Some distance down the road, Sturm struggled to his feet as he battled the pain ramping in his chest. To fall back on his aberrance at this point would likely bring about catastrophic consequences, but in the face of such a dangerous opponent, he was left with little choice. Sturm gripped his weapon tightly between both hands, his leather gloves crackling under the increased strain. Taking his right foot forward, he leaned into his toe and envisioned his life force flowing around him. The wind soon lashed around him into a spiraling updraft, molding the ambient wind into a turbulent vortex.
“What’ve you got there, kid?!” hollered Käfer, his intrigue evident. “You’ve been holding out on me, huh?! I was starting to think your bitch-ass might not be worth eating!”
To Sturm, it was evident enough that this would be his only chance to defeat such a terrifying opponent. It did not matter to him that his heart shrieked out in agony, as it did not matter whether or not he survived to see the day’s end. As he struggled to keep his breath from being torn from his lungs by the violent draft, the swordsman turned inward to recite a final prayer.
Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.
As he finished, Sturm witnessed a grimace of pain, or perhaps disgust, flicker across Käfer’s face. It seemed the fiend had been privy to his very thoughts.
I don’t give a damn what you are or what you want.
I will capture the Communist.
I will protect my friends.
And if that means my hearts will have to burst to bring you down…
Then I will die to do it.
Any semblance of arrogance was washed from Käfer’s visage. He had no witty rebuke, nor gnashing smile to spare. Facing down the young knight candidate who dared to impede his mission in a display of such bravery, he was filled with one raw emotion;
Overwhelming, blood-boiling rage.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
