Chapter 44: The Vaticinator (2)

Training hall was just opposite to their suite on the same floor. Marcellus had been here before, once.

Reinforced tiles underfoot, white walls, white ceiling, sound absorbing panels running down in vertical strips.

Maeve was in the center of it.

She wore a black fitted training top, tigh dark leggings that followed the line of her legs. Hair pulled back cleanly and light grey sneakers.

She flowed into a long-standing split variation, hands grounded, one leg unfolding vertically with gymnast neatness.

Every movement of her stretches was quiet, elegant, and fully athletic.

Her eyes, however, never left him.

Marcellus was not stretching, he was just roaming the perimeter of the hall in an untucked white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the forearm, dark mud joggers and plain sneakers with his hands loosely in his pockets.

He had never asked to train. He slept through the morning block, treated practice as just optional, improvised under pressure as if he hated physical work.

Marcellus completed another slow circuit of the hall, stopped near the center at last, and looked at her properly.

"You’re very thorough," he said.

Maeve finished the fold, sat up cleanly, and rested her hands on her thighs.

"Warming up is really important. How do you want to train? Or is there any specific thing or aspect you’re trying to focus on?" she asked.

"I’m not sure. But I would love to find out more about my physical limits," he said, tilting his head.

"Are you not sure about your own physical limits, Young Master?" she asked with furrowed brows. The statement he had just made was odd.

"It’s much more complicated, but, something like that," he replied.

Maeve thought for a while as she rose to her feet in one motion.

"Show me a jab, then a cross. Nothing else." She said.

Marcellus considered the request with a nod.

He set his feet, raised his hands, and threw the jab in empty space.

The motion was technically correct in outline, but felt completely wrong. The shoulders did not fully commit, hip lagged a fraction, fist felt weak.

Maeve had seen him fight, so she had a vague idea of what was happening with him. The martial arts was carved into him, but what he demonstrated looked like someone reconstructing from memory instead of letting his instincts or procedural system do its work.

"...Again," she said just to confirm.

He did it again. The same polished incompleteness. Maeve’s expression tightened.

"You’re thinking. But...well you can’t just stop thinking either," she murmured.

She studied him for a moment, then exhaled and stepped back several paces.

"Let’s try a different approach," she said.

"{King}"

Shadow gathered at her feet, and the colour of the black deepened. Lights flickered for a second as a silhouette rose behind her.

It’s height was similar to Marcellus, but it was more than just a human.

A muscular humanoid frame of living shadow. The head of a heavy bull, with twin horns curling outward in thick arcs. Bare upper body, lower body wrapped in long strips of torn scarf-like material that moved as if caught in a wind that did not exist.

Only the eyes broke the black, they were flat grey with depth, fixed on Marcellus.

"I scaled him to match you. He’s one of my close combat types. He will not use full output, but he will also not wait for you to finish analyzing him."

Marcellus looked at King. The creature stood several meters away. Had broad shoulders, slightly lowered, arms handing loose at its sides. Its horns alone were large enough to make getting hit seem like a poor decision.

"Hello partner," Marcellus smirked.

*Hrrfff!*

The bull head snorted lowering his upper body in an offensive prose.

"I guess he’s not much welcoming," Marcellus murmured.

"Oh, and you’re not allowed to use force," Maeve said.

"What?" The moment Marcellus just glanced at Maeve, the King, disappeared.

Marcellus furrowed his brows when he suddenly saw the creature manifesting out of his own shadow, just beside him.

It’s legs were evenly apart with an explosive stance for the punch, with fist locked, and already moving to smash the side of Marcellus.

*Boom*

The punch connected.

Marcellus’s body turned on instinct, his chin tucked, and shoulders rose, but there was nowhere to go.

It’s fist slammed into the side of his ribs, the impact lifted him from the floor, and his body twisted through the air before he hit the tiles hard, rolled twice and stopped barely on one knee.

For a second, his whole senses were stunned.

’It’s not even it’s real form, she just matched him for me,’ he thought.

He pressed one hand against his side, a sharp pain spread beneath his ribs.

Then he looked at the King, or where the creature was supposed to be.

Marcellus’s eyes moved across the room, but he couldn’t see it.

[Executing: Intent Recognition.]

Something changed inside his perception. A pressure gathered somewhere behind.

An existence of something unknown, yet, eerie. It wasn’t sound or movement, he just felt the presence.

He turned left before the shadow beneath him moved.

King erupted from the floor where his back had been, the creature’s fist tore through empty air as Marcellus stepped away, his body just moved before the thought even completed.

King’s head snapped toward him as the creature landed on the floor.

’Oh?’ Maeve thought. ’He adapted with just a single exchange.’

She watched him as he straightened up and rolled one shoulder, testing the pain.

The lights around the hall flickered once again, and the King disappeared.

Two identical forms rose from opposite edges of the room, both carried the same massive frame, the same horns, and the same flat grey eyes.

Marcellus’s brows lifted and he looked at Maeve.

"You can make two?" he asked.

"Apparently," Maeve shrugged her shoulders, and both the creatures disappeared into the shadows.

Marcellus stood still, when two presences appeared at once.

One behind him, one to his direct left.

His eyes shifted toward the left.

He pivoted toward the nearer King, caught its wrist, and pulled hard.

The creature’s arm crossed directly into the path of the second King’s punch.

It was a perfect counter. Two attackers, one collision.

Marcellus had turned their own numbers against them, or that’s what he thought.

The second fist passed straight through the first King’s forearm.

Marcellus’s eyes widened, the same fist continued its original path.

*Boom*

It struck the center of his chest. His feel left the ground, he flew backward, and dragged both hands on the floor until he came to a stop.

The two Kings now stood several meters apart.

"They don’t collide against each other," Marcellus slowly pushed himself upright.

Maeve said nothing, just smiled.

"They recognize each other as part of the same manifestation."

[Observation.]

He reached for anything he could see. The flat floor, the clean walls, there were no pillars, or uneven surfaces. Lights were all on, and their presence did not seem to affect Maeve’s shadows.

There was nowhere to force a mistake, no obstruction to turn against them, or any kind of structural weakness to exploit.

He cannot even use force.

The two Kings disappeared again as the lights flickered once again.

Marcellus’s eyes narrowed.

A third presence has appeared from the darkness behind him.

He felt them before he saw them.

Left, Right, Behind.

He moved toward the space between the first two, a fist passed across his face, another came toward his ribs which he dodged by lowering his body, the third emerged behind him.

He turned and pivoted, evading all three, barely.

The Kings disappeared again, this time, they returned faster. Their movement began overlapping.

One attack created space for another, one force him toward the next.

Marcellus moved continuously.

He blocked one, slipped another, avoided a third.

They weren’t stronger than him, they weren’t even faster than what his body was capable of handling, there was simply too many trajectories.

His eyes narrowed.

[Axiom.]

The world shifted for a moment. The reality itself looked like a moving animation painted of white threads on a black canvas.

Their present positions, weight distribution, foot placement, shoulder rotation, and available movement paths unfolded together inside his perception.

The next movements weren’t shown as fixed events, they existed as consequences.

He was able to determine the consequences of current motion.

If the left king stepped forward, its shoulder could rotate at a certain angle, if it chose the first, the second would lose the line of attack.

Marcellus’s eyes widened when the realization hit upon him.

Axiom was made for structures, their integrity, and their consequences. It wasn’t just a tool for observation, it was...much more.

[Observation Recorded: The Vaticinator.]

[Execution Available.]

[Executing: The Vaticinator.]