"You plan on changing that?" Clover asks, and he's walking. Slowly. He grows near at a steady pace, scattered whispers ringing out amongst the crowd.

I unsheathe my sickles, ready, arms positioned in their typical X.

The golden hero is getting faster. Each steps grows his haste, and he eventually reaches a speed that I can't even keep up with. I can hardly even follow him with my eyes, can't see where he's coming from. I can't focus on anything else before my feet are off the ground and I'm being launched through the air.

Will this man please stop throwing me?

Especially like this. I don't think our last encounter helped our dynamic at all, honestly. He grabs me by my cloak and chucks me across the plaza like a baseball. There is not enough room in this place for his strength. I will literally go through a building if I don't stop myself.

As soon as the thought crosses my mind I turn my blades to the cement. Loud cracking noises echo out through the area as I tear a cut right through Solace Square. Doesn't matter since I stop myself before hitting any pedestrians. I'm sure Clover already accounted for that, though.

My utility boots dig into the cement, sickles anchoring me in place as a vague blob of yellow draws near. Slow again. I decide to act weaker than I actually feel so I can use the element of surprise. That seems to be a big weakness of his: underestimating others. Might as well exploit it.

All the cement around me has spidered out. I stay slumped, head ducked, watching him draw near. As soon as he grabs me I'll burst into action, ideally catching him off guard with my sudden energy and wound him somehow.

The man reaches in front of me.

"Tired already?" He inquires, and that one feels too generic. I know he has better quips. Maybe I'm just not worth the effort. Either way I can hear the smile in his voice. I know what he will do next before he does it, since he doesn't seem to trust me to move around on my own. He has to physically position me like a doll. Evidently.

Sure enough I'm right, before I know it Clover is reaching down to grab a secure hold of the front of my cloak. Then, he uses it.

The man hoists me up with not even a little bit of effort, bringing our faces eye level. Or, attempting to. On the way up, when my face is level with his collarbone, I pull my elbows back in an abrupt movement so I can drag my sickles across his abdominal area. Unfortunately, they do not break the ridiculous new armor that he has around his torso.

Dang. I was really I could just reopen his old wound and be done with it. Guess the armor isn't decorative this time.

Clover lets out a short, triumphant laugh at my attempt to cut him again. He drops me almost immediately, but he does it with force. It hurts, sprawling me out right in front of him and even indenting the cement just a bit more. I'm out of breath as Clover towers over me, eyes narrowed.

The sunlight frames him ethereally, his face cast in a slight shadow. Just the smallest bit, since his whole body is naturally glowing. It's kind of hard for any part to be in shadow. Some kind of painting representative of a divine being. An angel. Like the textbook picture of someone coming to save me.

Unfortunately, we don't get along, so that doesn't happen.

Clover kneels over me, reaching down to grab my front again. Specifically the area around my neck where a bunch of my clothes overlap. It's a very secure hold, and his knee is beside my own. His foot is by my hip. I feel gravity shift me back as the hero lifts me from the ground once again by his hold on my collar.

Then, we're face to face.

I can see him in absolutely insane detail. Every pore of his skin, every freckle, the flecks of yellow in his glowing purple eyes. His eyebrows are full, furrowed, gaze hardened as he stares down at me like I'm some sort of caricature of The Executioner. Once again, like I'm not living up to my title. Like he's already won.

"No shot you can kill me. No shot you can hurt me with your power," he begins to list out his already verbally established rules like this is a briefing, the fiery glow of his eyes growing brighter. I just blink up at him, raising an eyebrow, unimpressed. Not that he can see.

The last thing he says is lower. Angrier. Only audible to me. Well, good to know Mr. Charming Golden Boy has a normal side to him. An irritable one. Bitter. Or maybe it's just wounded pride—he doesn't have the undefeated title anymore. That's horrible for branding.

"Zero percent chance you can cut my fucking chest open again."

Oh. Guess he's still mad about that.

Couldn't tell you, considering he could throw me in prison and ruin my life any time but hasn't. What a walking contradiction—are we enemies or not?

As I stare up at him, however, I notice his gaze flick elsewhere. My mouth, I think, or my chin. Somewhere specific enough that I wonder if he can somehow see my face. When most people look at me they just look at the eyes since it's all they can see. If not that they just stare at... nothing. Eyes finding a random spot or constantly searching.

Clover, however, is just... staring. Studying. With purpose. His gaze flicks up and down my face as the harsh expression slowly begins to soften. The examination feels too intentional.

It's then that I realize I'm not usually in direct sunlight. I tend to stick to the shadows, but Delta has forced my hand. She wanted to push me more public. So, right now, due to the way Milan is holding me, my mesh is being hit directly with sunlight. Even though he'd have to be really close—within a couple inches, which he is—my face can be seen. Not super well, but definitely enough to make out the underwhelmed expression on it.

Can't cut his chest open.

Hm.

Just his chest?

Because his legs are right next to my heavily armed hands.

"You should really stop explaining your power to me." I decide to give him a useful pointer before I ruin his day. I don't know how his power works, but I know he doesn't have to say this stuff out loud for it to come true, he's not announcing percentages every five seconds. He didn't verbalize adjusting his immunity to my ability until I asked. He doesn't announce a 100% chance of irritating me every time he gives me that stupid, cocky, annoyingly superior look.

He just wants to show off. Maybe he's trying to impress someone. Or everyone.

I spin my weapons into position. Then, I dig my sickles deep into the area right above his heel. The small spot where two pieces of his suit meet and reveal a skintight bodysuit beneath. Cloth, no armor. Easy. When I dig it in, the snag is secure.

And I tear.

All the way up to the back of his knee, my sickles dig deep into the muscle and tendons and flesh—gory, clean. My blades are very sharp—and rip huge gashes on each of his legs.

His entire body tenses above me. He makes some choked out noise of pain, face beginning to contort, and his arms shake. One reflexively goes down to touch the wounds. It can't seem to pick which one.

And he's off me.

Delta is back to her speech, but not many people are paying attention to her. They're all looking at us in horror and fascination, cameras pointed at me from all directions as the concrete beneath me turns red. There are so many cameras, oh my god. I feel like a movie star. A horror movie, probably. I think this is genuinely my worst nightmare.

Clover's blood's all over the place. All over me, my blades, the square, him.

Clover collapses beside me with a groan of pain, hands shaking as he focuses on the wounds. Which do actually begin to mend themselves slowly—increasingly faster as the seconds tick by—though the fabric stays ripped.

Guess it's only the very fatal wounds that he can't heal. What a dumb power. I guess I'd still take it over mine, though. I wish we could switch. He looks more like a biohazard than I do, anyway—he'd probably have a higher deterrent success rate.

I'm able to slip out when Clover collapses off of me, stumbling a few steps and looking down at his hunched form. On all fours but visibly trying not to be. His uniform is becoming soaked in blood, and the substance is also spreading since the wound is so deep. He's still healing, though, despite the pain likely overwhelming his system.

The next time he looks at me, he's pissed.

As expected. His eyes are glowing more than usual, like way more. His body, too. It's leaning more of a bright purple, though, not the typical yellow he has. Or his occasional pink, which has only shown itself a couple times.

Alright. Am I crazy or is this guy a mood ring?

I watch his body heal as quickly as it can with the help of his ability, and I realize that when he finally does finish up, he's gonna come after me again. Still, he can fly, so I'm not sure how effective running would be. Maybe I should've gone for the arms. Can't grab me if he's too busy regrowing his hands.

I don't have time to sort this out. I just need to stick with instinct, and instinct is telling me to seek shelter. The alternative is waiting around for him to come kill me or something, and I turn on my heel.

Then book it.

I don't look back, tunnel vision narrowing to just the ground in front of me as I don't even think to holster my sickles, sprinting toward a nearby shop. Anything indoors will work, honestly, anything to take away his sky advantage.

Cameras flash as people take pictures of my retreating form. Those who aren't busy filming are talking and cheering.

"Get up! You got this, Clover!"

"Where's he going?! Get him!"

"Come on, Clover, kick his ass!"

Clover is not going to kick my ass. If that man decides to stop messing around one day and actually go after me full force, he will pulverize me into dust. He has not used his full strength on me once since we've met. I don't want to find out what that feels like, especially since I've been antagonizing him nonstop. I don't know, hurting his ego is enjoyable. He's so cocky, it's annoying.

I'm almost to a shop when the crowd goes quiet. Camera flashes intensify. I don't know what he's doing behind me, but if he's catching so much attention that the whole square is quiet then I'm going to assume it's not bleeding out on the ground anymore.

It happens so fast that I don't register it until I'm actually in the air. One second I'm mere feet from reaching a storefront, the next thing I know I suddenly have an aerial view of said store. My sickles are no longer in my hands, but I catch the faint glint of silver on the ground as they grow further and further away.

I shout, glancing around and trying to get my bearings. It doesn't take me long to find Clover's face, focused ahead. All I can see is behind him, and it hits me then that we are flying. Not only that, but he's using his momentum to push me in front of him. I have nothing solid to ground me, and it is beyond disorienting.

I turn my head to see where we're going and find an abandoned warehouse that is growing closer and closer.

My eyes widen in fear, heart practically stopping in my chest. Is he about to throw me through a warehouse? Jesus! Alright, is now too late to say I'm sorry? I'm deadly, but that's only on the offense. Not durable. I'm not made of rocks or something. I will die. I don't—

I don't even try to brace myself, I basically climb him. I grab hold of his arm and use it to slowly pull my way past it. Then, once I'm close enough, I wrap around him like a koala bear.

Sorry, but I'll deal with my body's meltdown later—which I can already feel setting in—because right now I'm just gonna focus on not dying. At least in this moment, especially with all the unknowns, this might be one of the scariest situations I've ever been in.

I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, burying my face in the cloth of his shoulder and trying not to think about all the contact as I hear the wind whip past my face. My mesh is too thin to conceal my ability. I feel the fabric of Clover's uniform beneath my cheek start to deteriorate a bit, which means it likely has cotton in it or flax or some other plant based material. Guess I can still hurt his clothes with my power, just not him.

It's so loud. I've never encountered something like this before, I've never been in a plane or even a particularly high terrace. Monarch doesn't have many windows. This is terrifying, and I can't help the way my body trembles with the fear.

What if he drops me? What if he throws me again? What's going to happen when we finally hit the wall? He could still move me back where I was. Again, I can't overpower him.

I feel a change in the wind.

My hearing whites out for a second.

Then, one hand on my head and his other around my waist, Clover folds himself over me and turns midair, right before we make contact with the structure. Debris bursts out, cracks form, I hear metal clatter. He takes all of the impact from our collision with the warehouse. I can hear chaos in the distance, which is probably the public cheering as it happens, happy that Clover is getting the upper hand.

We are too far away for them to know who took the hit. For them to see us. For them to even reach us within the next ten minutes at least.

We fly through the wall and to the floor, though it's a semi-controlled landing. He doesn't have as much control as I assume he normally would, possibly because I changed the position, but either way we land in the center of the warehouse.

I don't let go of him. Sorry, I know he's trying to kill me—I think? Why would he fly me through a warehouse just to take the hit?—but I'm scared. And I also haven't hugged someone since I was a kid, this is surreal.

We skid to a stop, and he finally breaks the contact by peeling me off him and pinning me. Then once I'm flat on the ground, he eases. Before I know it Clover is standing over me. His eyes are narrowed, and I prop myself up on my elbows.

I stare up at him, unimpressed. "That was dramatic."