Chapter 34 : The Second Hunt - Part 2
Der Scharfrichter's scythe descended toward my skull, and I made peace with death for the third time that night.
Then Monroe hit him from the shadows.
The Blutbad's woge was complete—red eyes, extended features, claws that raked across the Executioner's back before the ancient Reaper could adjust. The attack didn't wound significantly—der Scharfrichter's tolerance for pain was legendary—but it bought me precious seconds to scramble clear.
"The traps!" Monroe shouted. "Third position!"
I triggered Angelina's second surprise—a concussive blast that erupted from the factory's support beams, showering the central space with debris and choking smoke. Der Scharfrichter roared, momentarily blinded.
Der Richter moved through the chaos with surgical precision. His blade found Monroe's shoulder, opening a cut that sprayed blood across the concrete. The Blutbad stumbled but kept moving, retreating toward the eastern exit.
Angelina dropped from the rafters onto der Richter's back, chains wrapping around his throat. For one hopeful moment, I thought she had him.
He threw her through a wall.
The impact was audible across the factory—Angelina's body crashing through drywall and rusted metal, disappearing into the adjacent room. I heard her groan, which meant she was alive. Barely.
[ALLY STATUS: MONROE - WOUNDED (MODERATE)]
[ALLY STATUS: ANGELINA - WOUNDED (SEVERE)]
[COMBAT ASSESSMENT: PACK EFFECTIVENESS - DEGRADED]
[STIMULANT STATUS: READY - OPTIMAL WINDOW APPROACHING]
Der Scharfrichter cleared his vision and found me again. His cloak was burning from the concussive blast, patches of flame licking at ancient fabric. He didn't seem to notice.
"Your tricks delay the inevitable." He advanced, scythe cutting patterns through the smoke. "Every Grimm before you tried the same. Traps. Allies. Desperate gambles. They all died anyway."
I blocked his first strike. The impact nearly dislocated my shoulder, the Siegbarste durability barely absorbing enough force to keep the joint intact. His second strike drove me backward. His third sent my sword spinning from my grip.
I hit the ground hard enough to crack concrete.
Der Scharfrichter stood over me, scythe raised for the killing blow. His expression was calm, professional—the look of someone completing a routine task.
"Any last words?"
My fingers found the vial in my pocket. The glass was warm, almost hot, pulsing with whatever Hexenbiest alchemy Adalind had poured into it.
"Just one."
I drank the stimulant.
The effect was instantaneous and absolute.
[HEXENBIEST STIMULANT: ACTIVATED]
[ENHANCEMENT DURATION: APPROXIMATELY 180 SECONDS]
[REFLEXES: +65%]
[PERCEPTION: +70%]
[PAIN SUPPRESSION: MAXIMUM]
[WARNING: MAXIMIZE OUTPUT - NO SECOND DOSE AVAILABLE]
The world crystallized. Colors sharpened to impossible precision. Sound became a symphony of distinct frequencies I could separate and analyze. Der Scharfrichter's scythe descended toward my throat, and I watched it move through air that felt thick as water.
My hand came up. Caught the blade's shaft. Stopped the killing stroke like it was nothing.
Der Scharfrichter's eyes widened.
I drove my knee into his groin, twisted the scythe from his grip, and rolled clear before he could recover. The movements were liquid, effortless—my body responding to intentions before I fully formed them.
"What—" The Executioner staggered backward. "What have you done?"
"Cheated."
I retrieved my sword in a motion that would have taken seconds before the enhancement. Now it felt like I had minutes to spare. The blade came up in a guard position, and I advanced on the ancient Reaper with something I'd never felt against him before.
Confidence.
Der Scharfrichter recovered quickly—centuries of experience didn't vanish because of one surprise. He drew a backup weapon, a short blade designed for close quarters, and met my attack with controlled fury.
But he was slow now. Impossibly, laughably slow.
I read his attacks before he launched them. The slight shift of weight that preceded a thrust. The tension in his shoulder that signaled an overhead strike. The subtle redistribution of balance that meant he was about to feint.
My sword found his arm—a deep cut that severed tendons and rendered the limb useless. He switched hands, adapting, but the damage was done.
[ENHANCEMENT DURATION: 120 SECONDS REMAINING]
[TARGET STATUS: DER SCHARFRICHTER - IMPAIRED]
[COMBAT ADVANTAGE: SIGNIFICANT]
"You're faster than any Grimm I've faced." Der Scharfrichter circled, blood dripping from his wounded arm. "But speed alone doesn't—"
I didn't let him finish. The stimulant wouldn't last forever, and I couldn't afford to trade philosophy while my advantage drained away.
Three exchanges. My blade opened cuts across his chest, his leg, his remaining arm. Each wound was calculated, precise—not killing strokes, but accumulating damage that even a Reaper's conditioning couldn't ignore.
He dropped to one knee. The backup blade fell from fingers that no longer obeyed commands.
"Not... fair..." he gasped.
"I know."
My sword went through his throat.
[KILL REGISTERED: DER SCHARFRICHTER (SENIOR REAPER)]
[XP GAINED: +500]
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: REAPER SLAYER]
[ABILITY EXTRACTION: AVAILABLE - ACCEPT? Y/N]
I accepted without hesitation. The extraction from a Senior Reaper was different—heavier, more complex, carrying weight beyond mere biological capability. Something ancient flowed into me, integrating with systems already modified by four previous extractions.
[ABILITY ACQUIRED: REAPER COMBAT INSTINCT (PASSIVE)]
[EFFECT: ENHANCED THREAT ASSESSMENT, COMBAT PREDICTION +25%]
[NOTE: PARTIAL INTEGRATION - FULL EFFECTS MAY DEVELOP OVER TIME]
[ENHANCEMENT DURATION: 45 SECONDS REMAINING]
The stimulant was fading. I could feel its grip loosening, the superhuman edge beginning to dull. But der Scharfrichter was dead, his ancient body cooling on the factory floor.
One Reaper down. One to go.
Across the factory, der Richter watched his partner die.
For the first time since I'd met him, the Judge showed emotion. His pale face contorted, the mask of analytical detachment cracking to reveal something raw and human beneath.
Rage.
[ENHANCEMENT DURATION: 15 SECONDS REMAINING]
[WARNING: CRASH IMMINENT]
[THREAT ASSESSMENT: DER RICHTER - EXTREMELY DANGEROUS]
"You killed him." Der Richter's voice was barely recognizable—the cultured tones replaced by something guttural, primal. "You killed him with tricks and poison. There is no honor in you."
The stimulant ended.
The crash hit like a physical blow. My legs buckled, my vision blurred, my body suddenly remembered every injury it had been ignoring. I dropped to my knees beside der Scharfrichter's corpse, barely able to hold my sword.
Der Richter moved toward me with murder in his eyes.
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