Who The Hell Is Main Character?

Three generations ago, the Brandts did not matter.

They were just a minor name, a footnote for families like Bishops, Severans, Satos. Until someone in their bloodline found a way to take something as mundane as water, or any liquid, and turn it into a blade sharper than anything smiths had managed in centuries.

That discovery bought them recognition which Bishops noticed, and handing them an opportunity to own a seat in The Austerity.

Alliances followed, and now Brandts were no longer just a footnote. Their name started to carry weight.

Kell Brandt leaned against the corridor wall outside the Royal Wing’s east suite. His arms were crossed, watching the numbers on his phone tick past midnight without much interest.

Dario had insisted that he’d got this one. Told him just to watch the door.

Kell did not argue. He thinks that there’s no point in arguing with a man trying to earn his own reflection back.

’Bring that woman?’ Kell scoffed. That’s the kind of job you give to someone who needs a win to prove his name, and a kind of job you can only get from heirs of powerful families like Bishop.

"AHHH---"

Kell jolted, and put his phone in the pockets, hearing the scream coming from beyond the doors.

He took out a standard keycard that had been rugged, and quickly unlocked the main door, entering it.

"..." He had no words for the situation presented to him.

Dario Brandt rolled on the floor, clutching for blood gushing out on the floor.

His right shoulder and arm had just turned into pieces of torn flesh and bones scattered everywhere.

To his left was the famous Marcellus Severan.

Hair black as jet. Rose-coloured eyes. The black robe hung completely open, hanging off his shoulders and doing nothing to cover him.

His cock was out, hanging against his thigh as if none of this concerned him in the slightest. He was staring down at his own hands like they had just done something mildly unexpected.

Marcellus lifted his eyes, and snapped them open, changing his expressions into complete shock.

"I don’t know what happened," Marcellus raised both of his hands.

"His hand just burst open!" he said.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Kell screamed in confusion.

"D-Don’t fucking scream at me! Help him, he needs to reach infirmary!" Marcellus pointed at Dario, struggling to hold his life.

"Right-" Kell realised, and started approaching Dario.

’Something’s odd,’ he thought, while walking forward, moving toward his downed partner.

Marcellus moved at the same time.

He stepped in as if to help, with a concerned look on his face. His one hand was already reaching out for Kell’s shoulder.

Dario’s remaining hand shot up, his finger jabbed weakly towards Marcellus.

"Kel---!" Dario grunted his name.

Kell realized the warning in an instant.

The exact instant, a blood-red dagger of pure, faceted crystal materialized in Kell’s right hand. The edges of that dagger caught light of the room in cuts.

Kell swung without hesitation.

*Swush-*

The crystal blade swung in a fine arc toward Marcellus’s reaching palm and forearm.

Marcellus stepped back hard and to the side, his robe flared open in sudden jolting movement.

He came to a stop as his bare legs skidded on the polished tile.

"Oh..." Marcellus looked at his palm as a fine arc of blood formed on the fresh cut.

"Coward!" Kell screamed at Marcellus.

On the floor, Dario was barely conscious. The pool of his blood rippled, then began to rise.

Kell opened his free hand

It started taking a shape of long red dagger, similar to what he had in his other hand.

The blood started taking a form of crystal, freezing moment by moment has his closed his fist.

"Are you seriously saying that when you’re attacking me in my own suite while I’m naked?" Marcellus scoffed.

Kell snapped forward with his crystal blade in low diagonal arc meant to open Marcellus from hip to ribs.

Marcellus’s feet moved before he could think of anything.

His lead foot picoted, weight shifted onto the back leg as his forearm came up in a tan sau, deflecting Kell’s wrist just enough to send the blade past his ribs instead of through them.

[Executing: Oscillation, Rate: 9%]

"Woah!" Marcellus was impressed with himself, "Okay that was very nice I’m genuinel---"

As he was finishing his sentence, his centerline weight shifted, a southpaw stance dropping low and a short ugly cross into Kell’s exposed ribs.

*Crack-*

"Guh!fuck!" The impact was oddly detonating.

"---impressed!" Marcellus roared under his breath.

"You fucker! Just because you’re a Severan doesn’t mean I won’t kill yo-"

"Wait!" Marcellus suddenly showed both of his palms, one still bleeding from the fine cut.

"Wait wait wait wait wait!"

"Did you see that?"

"See what?" Kell was suddenly confused.

Then Marcellus gestured vaguely at his own body.

"I didn’t even decide to do that, my body just moved on its own like it was some sort of muscle memory, this is INSANE! I’ve watched so many fights of UFC to know how hard that pivot was!"

"..." Kell was just...out of words.

’Crazy! All heirs are Crazy!’ he thought.

Behind them, Dario made a wet, despairing noise from the floor, the pool of his own blood was starting to gag him.

Kell’s brought his arms together, with each blade’s hilt facing each other and joined them.

More blood poured in them as the took a shape of a crystal red staff.

He moved again, swinging the staff high, and Marcellus’s arm rose on instinct to meet it, tan sau again.

But...it met nothing.

The staff unmade itself a half-inch from his skin, crystal collapsed back into blood in space of a bling, and formed a sturdy shape beyond his guard in an instant, forming a staff again.

As is it went through his hands.

*Dhrrr*

The staff hit Marcellus’s face at full force across his cheekbone.

*Tiinnn*

The world turned white for a moment, then a strange ringing quiet gripped him.

Marcellus hit the floor on his shoulder. His robe finally fell off entirely, and for a moment he just lay there, blinking, and staring up at the ceiling with blood running warm from his nose.

"...That’s cheating," he mumbled.

"That was a technique!" Kell replied and grunted.

"This is a sleight of hand but what good is it explaining a rich runt like you," he shook his head.

Marcellus got up, supporting himself with his hands.

The dazed, punch-drunk brightness had made him come back to his senses, he gained his usual calm once again.

He looked at Kell once, and then at his staff.

Then he looked at the blood on the floor.

’Crystallization under directed intent,’ he thought, as his fingers ran on the pain in his cheek.

’Phase transition with no thermal or pressure signature. Whatever’s driving lattice formation isn’t physical, it’s a direct force conversion.’

’Instead of touching atoms directly, it’s touching binding energy.’

’He’s altering the energy landscape blood exists in, locally and temporarily, such that the crystalline solid state becomes energetically favourable instead of the liquid state.’

[Axiom]

The rose colour in his iris turned bright and deep with a slight touch of flames.

[Executing: Observation.]

[Observation Recorded: Blood-Crystal Conversion.]

"A sleight of hand huh?" Marcellus murmured.

Kell didn’t wait to hear more, he came in again as his staff whistled in the air, aimed again at Marcellus’s ribs.

Marcellus stepped inside the arc instead of getting away from it.

His palm met the staff head on.

[Executing: Blood-Crystal Conversion.]

*splash*

The staff converted back into blood the moment it touched his skin.

Blood splattered harmlessly across his forearm, and on the floor.

Kell stopped.

The staff in his hand just turned back into liquid, and he couldn’t do anything of it.

But what came next was more horrific.

Marcellus’s hand hadn’t dropped, it was still raised with palm facing up.

Blood began to pool in it.

It climbed in the air, tickened, drawing itself upward along his forearm in a lattice that caught the light exactly the way Kell’s had.

It took a shape, which was unmistakably the same solid and glistening red staff Kell had.

And Marcellus gripped it.

"..." Neither of them said anything for a second.

"...That’s...that’s not possible..." Kell mumbled.

"No...no it cannot be possible at all costs!" His voice rose in horror.

’This took my family three generations, half of them dead trying!’ he thought.

"No...no..."

’It takes generations of geniuses, an astronomical amount of resources, and the a unimaginable luck to create a force control that is not just a power, but the whole identity of families, and organisations.’

"You---"

’Awakeners could trade their souls to the devil, sacrifice their love, a part of themselves just to understand the force of other families...other powerful families.’

"YOU!" Kell screamed.

’Because there had been no way to accurately map the control of force and how the core moves it.’

"YOU CAN COPY FORCE CONTROL!" Kell Screamed.

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