[Volume 1 | Chapter 41: The Chessmaster (II)]

They vanished.

One moment, Nemesis and Pandora stood mere meters apart, the next—empty air.

Only the afterimages of their [Fluxes] remained, leaving trails of steam and water marking their passage as they moved faster than mortal eyes could track. They reappeared in a clash that sent shockwaves rippling through the complex. Nemesis's steam-wreathed fist met Pandora's water-shrouded palm in a beautiful clash. The impact cratered the ground beneath them as concrete splintered in a perfect circle. Neither stayed still long enough for the debris to settle.

[Flux] after [Flux], they danced across the battlefield in a deadly ballet. All collisions lasted fractions of seconds before they vanished again, only to reappear elsewhere in new configurations of violence. Steam met water in explosions of force that shouldn't have been possible.

Through bleary eyes, Acacia watched titans wage war. His mind struggled to process their movements. They seemed to exist in multiple places simultaneously as if the laws of physics were protesting their speed.

Where Nemesis struck, steam calcified the very air.

Where Pandora countered, water flowed with stunning grace.

"[Sturm!]" Cobalt blue prana blazed across Pandora's leg as she materialized above Nemesis, bringing her heel down in an arc of absolute destruction.

"[Doma!]" The assassin's counter came instantly, the ground beneath him liquefying and reforming as a shield that caught her enhanced strike.

But Pandora was already gone, [Flux] carrying her through his defense. Water coalesced around her fist as she drove it toward his core, only for steam to erupt between them, forcing her to abort as «Deathblossom» analyzed the liquid's composition in real-time. They separated in a burst of speed, reappearing at opposite ends of the complex.

But Pandora would never allow distance to save her foes.

The air hummed with the gathering of her water as it rapidly split apart, revealing hundreds of water particles shaped like needles. She thrust her palm forward to unleash a barrage of needles. The edges tore through the air like jets, their trajectories warped by the subtle movements of Pandora's fingers. They swerved, converged, and diverged, instruments seeking to cut Nemesis apart.

Nemesis ran through the onslaught. His strides flowed like the water seeking to turn him into a pincushion. «Deathblossom» and Ironhide worked in tandem to protect him, as the moment when one needle struck his shoulder, he had already processed the entire lethal threshold and turned every piercing needle that hit him into nothingness.

Pandora's eyes narrowed as she repositioned herself with a [Flux] to the left.

Even as his metallic skin repelled the water needles, Nemesis pressed forward. Steam erupted around his form as he closed the distance. His enhanced biology had already analyzed the composition of Pandora's water, and now it was time to turn that knowledge against her.

Cascading calculations. Pandora deduced.

She twisted away with a hair's breadth as a fist carved through the space where her head had once been. The air screamed as the shockwave rippled outward. Nemesis's follow-up came almost immediately, an elbow strike aimed at her midsection, but Pandora had always been the faster. Water weaved around her form as she flowed between his strikes, a movement precise and purposeful.

Nemesis's fists came faster and faster as steam trailed his limbs whilst «Deathblossom» processed each encounter with her defenses. Every clash, every graze—his enhanced biology catalogued the composition of her techniques.

A wave of pressurized water erupted from Pandora's palm without incantation. Her Birthright: Aquamarine allowed the liquid to answer her will as naturally as breathing. The torrent threatened to slam Nemesis into a warehouse wall, but his steam had already begun adapting, creating patterns that matched the water's molecular structure.

"Your Base Order spells won't work anymore! Every spell you use just makes me more complete!"

Pandora's mouth thinned. She didn't need words for what came next—spheres of water materialized around her through Aquamarine's gift as she cast [Aqua], each compressed to the density of heavy steel. They shot forward in intricate patterns, but Nemesis moved through them like smoke.

"[Constricta!]"

The Interference spell crossed the distance between them dozens of times faster than sound, threatening to bind Pandora in her own warped perception of reality. But she had anticipated this—combining [Fließen's] enhancement with [Flux's] oscillative momentum to carry her beyond the spell's area of effect.

"Getting desperate, Sieg? A brute like you using Interference Thaumaturgy?" She landed atop a fallen beam as water gathered around her through will alone.

"[Gran Constricta!]" This time, the spell's range and power expanded exponentially as invisible prana shot out in a wave.

"[Claustra!]"

The barrier spell manifested just as [Gran Constricta] reached her, creating a sphere of solid prana that deflected the worst of the perceptual assault. Nemesis was already moving however, as his fist met her [Claustra], «Deathblossom» calculating the barrier's exact breaking point. Cracks spread across the prana surface like spider webs. Quickly, water soon answered Pandora's call, rising around her in patterns too complex for normal Thaumaturge to achieve without extensive calculation.

Water surged through the air in spirals as Pandora gathered her strength. Each droplet moved precisely, responding to her will through Aquamarine's gift.

"[Terrapina!]"

Nemesis replied with another spell as the ground beneath Pandora erupted into stone spears. She flowed between them, water trailing her movements like a living cloak—not a single drop wasted as Aquamarine turned the very moisture in the air into her weapon.

"That cursed Birthright," Siegfried growled before realizing that the ebony woman channeled more water into her hands.

She thrust both palms forward. The collected moisture compressed into lances sharp enough to pierce steel. Nemesis's Ironhide activated instinctively, turning his skin metallic as the projectiles struck. But these weren't like her previous attacks—they carried a weight, a presence that his cells struggled to quantify.

"Your Water Thaumaturgy has evolved, but it's still just water! And water can be—"

"[Gran Nautilash.]"

Cutting through his boast, the blocked spheres erupted into water whips that lashed out from all angles. Nemesis's cells screamed data at him as they tried to process the multiple vectors of attack. His steam hardened into deterrents, but Pandora's control was absolute—the whips curved around his defenses like living things.

One caught his arm.

Another wrapped around his leg.

A third coiled around his throat.

"It's over."

Steam exploded from Nemesis.

"You think this is enough to stop me? I've spent six years preparing for this moment!"

The steam intensified, superheating the water whips until they began to evaporate, but before they could fully dissipate, something changed in Pandora's eyes.

The air grew heavy with prana as she placed a hand on her chest.

"Then I suppose it's time to show you how far behind you've fallen."

The water binding Nemesis shifted at the molecular level. His enhanced senses screamed warnings as they detected a fundamental change in the liquid's atomic structure—a transmutation that shouldn't have been possible without complex formulas and hours of preparation.

"Ars Magna: «Quicksilver»."

Where there had been water, mercury now coiled around his limbs. His calculations splintered as «Deathblossom» encountered an element it hadn't processed before in six years—something that existed between states, neither truly liquid nor metal.

The substance that had earned her the name that armies feared.

Mercutio had returned to the battlefield.

"I was wondering when you'd use it."

His tone held a hint of admiration, even as the mercury tightened around his form. It coiled and twisted in impossible ways, defying his every attempt to process its movements. With her mastery of Aquamarine, Mercutio could command water to take on any shape, any density, any movement—now she wielded it in its ultimate form: a metal that flowed like liquid but struck with the force of a cannon.

She didn't respond to his praise. The quicksilver binding his limbs constricted him like a cobra. Even Ironhide's metallic protection offered little defense against an element that existed between states of matter.

However, Siegfried Eisenberg hadn't survived six years as the world's deadliest assassin by simply giving up.

A bloody cry erupted from him as he tore free from the mercury whips, his microglia dissecting their chemical structure as the liquid metal hissed and spat. Steam boiled from his skin, the sheer energy output of his enhanced biology enough to keep «Quicksilver» at bay—for now.

He charged forward. Craters formed from the concrete. But Pandora merely raised her hand, and the mercury responded. It struck him in waves—first his shoulder, then his chest, then his legs. Each impact carried a city-crushing force that even Ironhide struggled to repel.

"What—" His voice caught as something cold spread through his veins. "What did you do?"

"Mercury poisoning. Your enhanced biology is already trying to process it, isn't it? But there's something different about this particular type of mercury, isn't there?"

Nemesis's eyes widened as his Ars Magna finally isolated the compound's structure. His blood vessels blazed as they developed countermeasures, cells working to neutralize the toxin.

"It won't work twice. I've already—"

Mercury flowed through the air like liquid starlight, droplets shifting at the molecular level. As Nemesis's microglia neutralized one form of toxin, Pandora was already changing its atomic structure.

Isotopes, variations of the same chemical element with different numbers of neutrons, were normally the domain of advanced alchemists. Only through years of meticulous study could one hope to transmute elements between their isotopic forms—and yet Mercutio did it effortlessly.

"Methylmercury first," she explained detachedly. "You adapted quickly to that organic compound. So I shifted to mercuric chloride—more lethal, different molecular bonds for your cells to process. metallic mercury vapor, forcing your cells to calculate gas diffusion rates."

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Nemesis staggered.

Every time his cells developed immunity to one isotope, Pandora simply changed the mercury's atomic structure—from elemental to organic compounds, from simple molecules to complex amalgams.

"The human body, even when flooded with prana, can't process this many variations of heavy metal poisoning. Each new molecular structure forces a complete recalculation. Each transmutation taxes your cells further."

The computational load was overwhelming. Nemesis simply couldn't analyze new compounds fast enough to prevent the previous poison from taking hold.

"Mercuric oxide now," Pandora's voice carried neither malice nor satisfaction. The mercury surrounding him shifted again, its very atoms rearranging into yet another lethal configuration. "Then mercury(II) sulfide. Then mercury(II) selenide. How many more variations can your cells process before they burn out completely?"

Nemesis tried to speak, but another wave of transmuted mercury struck his defenses.

Mercury screamed through the air as he fell to one knee. Each new isotope forced «Deathblossom» to start its calculations anew—from simple elements to complex organic compounds, from stable molecules to radioactive forms. Pandora had mastered the art of transmuting mercury into any configuration imaginable, every shift in its atomic structure requiring complete recalibration of his cells' processing power.

"Dimethylmercury now. One of the deadliest substances known to man. Your body might adapt to it in time, but can they handle mercury(II) fluoride simultaneously?"

Blood vessels ruptured beneath Nemesis's skin as his cells began to break down. The cerise steam writhed around him as even Ironhide's metallic protection offered no defense against molecular transmutation.

"This was your weakness all along," she continued. "You built your entire identity around your perfect adaptability, but no matter how precise your calculations and no matter how quickly your microglia analyze compounds, you can only adapt to one thing at a time."

The ground seemed to recoil from the mercury as it flowed through countless permutations.

"No… I refuse… to accept..."

"That's always been your problem. You never learned when to let go."

He tried to rise, but his legs wouldn't respond. «Deathblossom» had been pushed beyond its limits, trying to process too many variations of the same element far too quickly. Blood poured from his nose as the steam lessened.

"A man so obsessed with control over the present that he turned his own body into a living calculator. You were so focused on adapting to the current situation that you lost sight of the future."

She stepped closer. Mercury coiled around her like a serpent ready to strike, reflecting a myriad possibilities and all a potential path to annihilation.

"So what now, Siegfried Eisenberg? What new analysis will save you from yourself?"

Her saying his name in such a tone struck deeper than any poison. Steam erupted from his form in one final, desperate surge—

Only to dissolve as Pandora's mercury transmuted inside of him once more, this time into something his biological system couldn't begin to process.

"Yield."

The air fell silent. No steam. No mercury.

With a shudder, Nemesis collapsed on his back. The last vestiges of his Ars Magna dispersed in clouds of bloody mist. His flesh reverted to its natural state. He had pushed himself beyond physical and mental endurance, and now lay broken in spirit as well as body.

His breath could only rattle wetly.

"Pandora… kill me..."

Her expression remained unreadable.

"Kill me!" This time, anguish threaded his plea as blood streamed down his face. "I can't... I can't endure..."

She knelt beside him, observing the defeated man. He was a bastardization of what once made him great. A warrior so lost in self-hatred that he sought salvation through destruction, and a man who believed that assassinating his morality was preferable to facing himself. Now stripped of his powers, laid bare before one whom he had called friend long ago, he pleaded for the mercy of oblivion.

But mercy was not something Pandora Kircheisen dealt in anymore.

"Kill me... Dora... I can't... I can't endure this anymore..."

"What would Bianca think, seeing you return to the very darkness she died trying to prevent?"

It was a soft whisper, but it struck Nemesis like a dagger.

"Please..." Tears threatened to mingle with blood on his cheeks. "Let me...let me join her...wherever she is..."

Pandora rose, looking down at the broken man. Once a proud knight, now nothing but a shadow of what could have been. She shook her head.

"I won't give you that peace, because she wouldn't let you either. She would blame herself and become disappointed with what you've become. Not because you fell into despair, but because you've succumbed to it. Instead of healing the world, you sought to indulge yourself in the darkness." She pierced through his soul with only words, yet she only ruthlessly continued.

Mercury coalesced in her palm—but not to strike. Instead, she produced a small vial filled with clear liquid.

"The antidote to mercury(II) selenocyanate," she explained, studying the crystalline container. "It's the deadliest isotope currently in your system. Without this, you have perhaps a day before total organ failure."

Nemesis's eyes widened fractionally. Even now, broken and poisoned, his tactical mind worked.

"The other toxins—"

"Will take roughly a week to overcome, even with how resistant your body is. Three weeks total, if you take this antidote." She held the vial just out of reach. "Of course, you're probably thinking about Jasmine. The Bloodhounds' master healer could surely extract these poisons once you escape."

His breath caught. She couldn't possibly know—

"She was stationed near Ocarina, wasn't she? Helping monitor the Luminance trade routes?" Pandora impassively noted. "I'm afraid she's been… reassigned. Currently enjoying Viceroy Bismarck's men's hospitality in a location you won't find before the toxins take hold."

At this point, Siegfried wasn't mad. At how thoroughly she had outsmarted him time and time again, he only felt shame for underestimating the true monster that lay behind such a beautiful face.

"Now, shall we discuss your new employment terms?"

He stayed silent.

"Three weeks." Pandora rolled the vial between her fingers, "That's how long you have to prove your worth, and to show me that something of the man Bianca believed in still exists."

"...A-And if I refuse?"

"Then you die knowing your last act was to abandon everything we once fought for. Again." She studied him with those infuriating golden eyes. "But first, information. Where, closest to Fiora, are the Bloodhounds currently stationed?"

He remained silent, but another wave of poison swept through his system. His vision blurred as one of the most poisonous mercury isotopes began shutting down his nervous system.

"...Caribbean Colonies," he said through gritted teeth. "Poseidon Base."

"Using the Luminance trade routes to fund your operations." Pandora nodded. "The Centrum Supremum will be quite interested in such intelligence, but knowing that they'll raid the area as soon as I give them that information, it's in your best interests to tell your men to retreat as soon as you can. It'll be a big blow to your strategic positioning, but it's better to save as much as you can."

"...You're building a narrative. Painting yourself as a hero to counter the Bloodhounds' influence to gain more favor with the higher-ups."

"Heroes don't exist in this world, just those who can see further than the rest."

"And what do you see?" His words grew fainter. "What the hell are you trying to create?"

"Change." She held up the vial. "The Empire is rotting from within, but rot can be cut away with a surgeon's precision rather than burned out entirely. That's what you never understood. Revolution is knowing which parts to excise and what to preserve."

Blood trickled from his nose as another organ threatened to fail.

"And you need... the Bloodhounds... for this 'surgery'?"

"There are things an Inquisitor cannot do openly. Lines that can't be crossed in the light." She finally extended the vial. "But an organization of skilled operators, already feared throughout the underworld? One that answers to someone working toward actual reform?"

Her smile held equal parts mercy and steel.

"Take the antidote, Sieg. Three miles south near Straiton's outskirts, you'll find healing supplies—Mystic Gear packs stored with [Sanatio.] There'll be enough to get you and your people back on their feet. Then we'll discuss your role in building something better than this broken hellscape."

Nemesis stared at the vial. This was his last chance. This only opportunity to escape the clutches of a vexing woman who had predicted his every move and countered every strategy he devised. He could refuse, accept death, and deny Pandora the tool she sought.

But he couldn't. Not after everything.

Not for her.

Slowly, weakly, he raised his hand. Their fingers touched, cold and trembling. As he grasped the vial, Pandora's expression softened infinitesimally for a moment.

Even drinking the putrid liquid was a trial. It burned down his throat like acid, and not the good kind he was accustomed to from rum nights after contracts. Every one of his nerves seemed to scream in protest. Blood vessels pulsed, microglia swarmed, cells hissed—his body became a battlefield once more.

"So...what's the mission?" He managed through clenched teeth. "Assassinating criminals? Disrupting supply lines? Toppling corporations?"

She shook her head. "Something more important. Something only the Bloodhounds can help me accomplish."

Nemesis waited, his body still fighting against Pandora's toxins. "Which is?"

She held his gaze upon her gold, gleaming eyes.

"Killing Helen Vessalius."

Through vision assailed by pain and exhaustion, Acacia watched Nemesis gather his catatonic comrades. The fallen assassin's movements were stilted, lacking their earlier fluid grace as mercury poisoning worked through his system. Apollo's unconscious form was draped over one shoulder while Malleus hung limply from the other. Steam no longer coiled around him. They vanished into the night without ceremony or declaration. No grand exit, no final threats.

They were three broken pieces of something larger being swept off the board.

Distant sirens pierced the silence, wails drawing closer with each passing second. The IPA would arrive soon to free the hostages. Even now, he could hear shouts and hurried footsteps as officers converged on the storage building, calls for medical support mixing with the sounds of doors being forced open.

Everything had gone according to her design.

With a groan, Acacia tried to stand, but his body refused to obey. He was a mess of burns, bruises, and cuts from Nemesis's relentless assault, and his legs were barely responding to his commands.

The thought settled in his gut like lead. He'd believed they'd outsmarted Nemesis—he and Leila, working together to overcome impossible odds. But they'd just been playing their parts in Pandora's grand performance. Every move, every countermove, even their apparent victory, had been orchestrated from the start.

Was that why she never visited me in the hospital? …Because she knew I'd end up here anyway? Because I was just another piece to be positioned?

His broken wrist throbbed, a reminder of his powerlessness. Beside him, Leila's breathing remained steady but shallow, her form curled against the bunker wall where Pandora had left her after administering basic healing. The sight of her—the brilliant, fierce Leila—reduced to an unconscious pawn in this game of titans made something twist inside his chest.

We thought we were being clever. Breaking out of the hospital, setting up that trap for Nemesis... but she probably counted on that too. On my tendency to act rather than wait. On Leila's pride that pushes her to prove herself.

She systematically dismantled Nemesis, then used the Bloodhounds to ensure that the Centrum Supremum believed that she and the Bloodhounds weren't working together when the opposite was the truth.

And she'd done it all while keeping him alive.

That was the part that scared him the most. Not the display of overwhelming power, not the ruthless manipulation of events, but the careful analysis that had preserved Nemesis's life. It spoke of plans within plans, of a vision so vast it made his attempts at strategy look like a child's fumbling.

Is that what I am to her?

The thought came with a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with his injuries.

Another broken thing to be reformed? Another piece to be positioned in whatever game she's playing?

His hands clenched, sending fresh agony through his fractured wrist. The pain helped ground him, gave him something real to focus on besides the spiraling thoughts. But it couldn't drive away the fundamental question that haunted him:

Had any of it been real?

The concern in her eyes when she'd saved him from execution, the trust she'd shown by bringing him to Windsor, fury in her voice when she spoke of the IPA and Cagliostro...were they genuine emotions, or just masterfully crafted facades?

Does it even matter anymore?

The sirens grew louder.

Through dimming vision, he watched the first IPA vehicles screech to a halt at the complex entrance. Officers poured out, no doubt another part of Pandora's design. Soon they would reach the hostages, begin the process of revival and rehabilitation. The telecommunications hub would be secured, Windsor's networks restored.

Order from chaos. Control from catastrophe.

But what about him? What role did he play in her grand design? Was he meant to be saved, or simply useful?

The line between the two blurred like his fading consciousness, the distinction growing hazier with each passing moment.

Something wet rolled down his cheek. He told himself it was blood.

It shouldn't matter! I'm alive. Leila's alive. The hostages will be saved. That's what counts, isn't it? Not... not whether she…

He couldn't finish the thought. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision as exhaustion finally claimed its due. The last thing he saw before consciousness fled was Pandora's silhouette against the moon, straight-backed and resolute as she directed the rescue operations.

Beautiful.

Terrible.

Utterly incomprehensible.

Just like the truth he couldn't bring himself to face: that maybe, just maybe, being nothing more than a piece in her game was better than being nothing at all.

His world faded to black.

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