GasMaskie
"Wait and Hope"
"Haaaaah. Haaaaah."
The pants of a wild beast echo in the silence of the night. No, to be more accurate - those shallow breaths belong to you. Your grip tightens on the handle of your blade - a large weapon formed from the very same bones that adorn your stained black body. A slight, red glow tinges the edges of your vision as you stare straight ahead at the slowly approaching figure. A mechanical soldier. Ordinarily, something like that would have been no problem. You take a step forward, hoping to use your enhanced speed to launch a counter attack. The distance between the two of you close as it maintains its measured speed and you kick off the surface to build up momentum for your head-on strike. Both hands fly to the two-hander you wield as you quickly bring it down in a diagonal slash - you're well aware of the reach of your weapon.
C R A S H
Your blade meets unexpected resistance and your assault is immediately halted. Your attention is directed to your enemy's armament - a mechanical spear. Possessing a silver blade and a matte black finish, the spear's polished and sleek appearance is a far cry from the rough styling of your weapon. You lock gazes with the machine for a moment - your lupine mask against its scorpionlike mask. Or, in more accurate terms: a clash between a Beowolf and a Deathstalker. That moment ends abruptly as you feel a hard impact against your mask that sends you reeling backwards. As you attempt to regain your senses, you can hear the faint whirring of intricate mechanisms. Pneumatic or hydraulic? This time, your foe charges forth with a calculated confidence. You snap out of that brief fugue just in time to avoid what would have been a devastating thrust from the polearm. Though you prepare to counterattack, you find yourself instead being forced to bring your sword up to block another thrust with its flat-side. The impact is enough to force you to take a step back as the artificial being switches to a slash without missing a beat. It's enough to catch you off guard as you attempt to bring your sword up to block...
"G-Guh!" You grunt in pain as you feel the cold blade bite into your body - marring your armor and unleashing a torrent of black smoke from the wound. Pain lances through your chest as it presses the advantage. Though you rally strength once more to fight through the pain, you end up barely blocking a leaping thrust. Another step back. Your mechanized counterpart suddenly goes low and attempts to sweep your legs - you barely have enough time to leap. But something like that was anticipated - it plants the glaive's blade into the rooftop and spins around it to deliver a downward kick that propels you into the ground. Your back aches as you grit your teeth under the mask and roll backwards in time to avoid what would have been a lethal thrust. Its blade remains lodged there - but you find yourself unable to take advantage of that brief opening. Instead, you force yourself to another side of the rooftop. At the very least, you had managed to remain aware of the limited space.
You cough out a black ichor from under your mask as your mechanical foe pulls out the spear from the crater with little effort. It's finally occurred to you that your speed has been effectively countered - while it isn't as fast as you are, its strikes are nonetheless precise and quick enough to pierce you no matter where you manage to reposition yourself. You can't help but shiver slightly as the pain in your chest takes a backseat to the instinctual fear that is flooding your mind. Just when you thought you had finally managed to get a good grip on your own powers, you're met with something who excels with those very same abilities.
The enemy takes a stance - almost exaggerated and practically telling you that it'll be rushing you down with a straight thrust. A crackling noise drowns out your own panting as yellow energy begins to arc off it. It lights up a detail of the blade that you hadn't seen in the darkness - lines like circuitry running down the length of the spear's blade. You're familiar with this phenomenon - a single strike capable of rending even the toughest armor and something that could easily be called a "sure-kill technique". While visually distinct, it's something you're also capable of performing: a Grimm End. Frankly, you're not that good when it comes to names. You find yourself lost in thoughts...
***
Your name is Niles Xenos, a first-year student at the academy-city of Arcadia. More specifically, you're a first-year student enrolled in Arcadia's Huntsmen Program. Those who fight against the beasts of destruction, the Grimm, and keep the peace of Remnant. In spite of your initial lack of skills and the debilitating handicap as a result of your... unique circumstances, you were admitted into Arcadia without any questions and found yourself assigned to Team MGNO (Magnolia). Though you've had your ups and downs with your teammates within the first few months of your new life at Arcadia, you've nonetheless managed to accomplish much more than you would have honestly expected.
Furthermore, you've managed to gain control of your strange, savage powers. Grimm Awakening, the ability to transform into a warrior that draws upon the very enemies of the Huntsmen themselves. Through the manifestation of masks, you've acquired two forms: one that draws on the speed of a Beowolf and another blessed with the incredible durability of a Goliath. Though you were initially plagued with destructive impulses that threatened the very safety of your partner, you've managed to draw upon the willpower needed to wield this double-edged sword.
One thing lead to another and you found yourself facing down this mechanical being. Though you initially overwhelmed it with the power of Grimm Awakening, you quickly found yourself outmatched when it revealed that it too possessed a similar ability: Grimm Initialization. At least, based on its vocal evocation of the ability.
"Charging complete. It seems my concerns were unfounded. Your termination shall be swift Nicht. The results of those atrocities and the dark history of that project shall come to an end tonight." Its cold, processed voice is one devoid of emotions. Its words confuse you momentarily, along with its constant use of that designation. Could it perhaps be linked to your own, unknown origins? No, this is no time for speculation. You're about to meet the business end of its spear. Its feet leave the ground as it rushes towards you...!
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