Level-Up Apocalypse: Surviving With The Assimilation System

["Turn Shadow"] [2:59]

Just as he witnessed the cleaver-wielding man swipe towards him, he sank down into the darkness at his feet. Into the obscure form of the shadows themselves, he moved right past the hostile figure while remaining unseen.

"Ah–?" Crow let out, looking around for the one who suddenly vanished.

Across the walls, the shadow moved as Finn watched from what looked like a veil of darkness, keeping an eye on the confused psychopath as he moved out of the storage room. He used his ethereal form to slip into the vast office space, swerving between the cubicles as he found his lungs throbbing–

"Pyu–" He spat out, suddenly feeling his mass be regained as he was forced out of the shadows.

It was too difficult of a form to maintain for any more than a few seconds, reappearing within the confines of a claustrophobic cubicle. He was knelt down at eye level with a plain, gray desk, glancing at the monitor that was left unpowered and caked in dusk.

What he listened for were the sounds of the murderous figure; any footsteps, breaths, or giveaways of any kind.

'What's my best option here? Using my off hand to fight is like playing a game with inverted controls. If I could get to Charlotte and Magnus, we could handle this guy easily three-on-one. No…That would risk this guy catching them by surprise,' Finn considered while staying within the cubicle.

The situation was one he hardly wanted to find himself in after a night of hell already being lived through. Even so, he didn't feel entirely like a fish caught out of water; he felt ready for something like this–as though it was a natural occurrence now.

As he peeked outside of the thin, square walls of the cubicle, he didn't see anything moving in the labyrinth of the office; the papers scattered along the floor alongside keyboards and pamphlets were unmoved.

That was, except one piece of parchment on the ground just a few meters ahead that he took notice of, with a clear dirt imprint of a shoe on it. Of course, he didn't leave such tracks, leaving him to begin to glance back as his instincts told him so.

"Found you."

The calm, eerie voice of the hunter filled his ears as he witnessed the plain, short wall behind him be split apart by the swing of that harrowing cleaver.

["Hollow Disengage"] [4:59]

Flickering into a momentary shadow, the assassin jumped back as he watched the cubicle be dismantled by the single strike. From behind it, the snowy-haired man with bloodied hands rushed through, not wasting a moment to close the distance.

'Shit–he'll just find me wherever I go,' Finn thought.

He watched as the aggressive hunter closed in with a swing of the cleaver, leaning back as the blade narrowly missed his chest.

"You can't run. You can't hide. All you can do now is die," the cold-blooded hunter said calmly while swinging the meat-splitting blade.

The swings were wild and hardly reminiscent of technique, leaving Finn able to begin deciphering the movements of the hunter.

He watched while stepping back and dodging; left-right, always aiming to eviscerate his torso. That repetitive action led Finn to see an opening as another swipe came in–

["Riposte"]

He used his wounded arm to press against the forearm that held the cleaver, rejecting the incoming motion with precision. The force of the direct counter knocked the hunter off his balance during that moment.

It was a skill that required perfect timing, though allowed one to parry an attack and momentarily break their opponent's momentum. Finn used the opening as the man stumbled back, going for a slash across his neck.

As his blade swept forth, he watched as Crow tilted his head back, causing the tip of the dagger to scrape across the hunter's throat.

Finn didn't let him escape with just that, stepping back before immediately setting forward again–

["Blink Slash"] [2:59]

The immediate slash aimed to finish the job on the hunter's neck was narrowly avoided; Finn watched as his target leaned to the side, causing his blade to instead carve across his shoulder. It wasn't as if he was seen through nor predicted; he could tell by the look in those azure eyes.

'This guy is moving off of pure instinct–this is a "hunter" all right. What a pain in the ass,' Finn thought, flipping back before he could be retaliated against.

Crow didn't pursue him quiet yet, stopping as he ran his fingertips along the bloodied edge of his weapon. In a grotesque fashion as if partaking in a savory sauce, the abnormal man brought his fingers to his lips, licking up the blood of the assassin.

Finn watched with disgust, not surprised in the least after what he experienced against Raven.

"It's bitter, but there's some sweetness there. There's a lot that I learn when tasting someone's blood," Crow calmly claimed. "The state of your mind. The tendencies and biases you'll take. Just what makes you tick."

'A hunter skill? Never heard of one like that. It's more likely this guy is just bullshitting,' Finn carefully thought, taking in the environment along with his enemy as he looked for his next move.

Crow held a look of utter apathy in his eyes, devoid of much human emotion as he parted his lips again, "Like that teleport-strike move of yours. I know that whenever you are about to use it, you step back and tense up, leaning forward right as you spring into it."

As if having his own doubts read, Finn felt his blood run cold; perhaps it was a stroke of luck that the hunter accurately pinned such a thing down, or merely a bluff–but deep down, he knew otherwise.

"Though even knowing you're about to use it doesn't mean I can entirely avoid it," Crow lamented, touching the gash on his shoulder.

If it was possible that the hunter simply possessed knowledge of assassin abilities, Finn knew he had a workaround for that as he slowly breathed out—

"Replication."

The invocation sprouted the unspeaking doppelgänger of himself from his body. It felt like a weight being peeled from his right side, taking a bit of stamina with it.

A twitch of the hunter's eyebrow came as Crow watched with an expression that finally resembled emotion: disdain, curled into a red-hot passion.

"So, you really are capable of such a thing," Crow remarked, witnessing the duplication of the assassin. "You desecrated him and took what was his—but I was worthy of it."

"What?" Finn questioned, not quite getting the spiel.

Crow raised his cleaver with the same apathetic expression worn on his deadpan face, emitting the word that held malicious weight:

"Replication."

As that word that should now only belong to Finn curled from the tongue of the hunter, a chill ran down the assassin's spine.

He witnessed a black mass manifested from the shadow of the snowy-haired figure. It raised itself to a height taller than himself, with a much more lanky, abnormal build—far from a clone of Crow himself.

No; Finn recognized what it was as that silhouette was morphed into.

"Wait, that's…" Finn uttered in horror.

It was unmistakable; what he saw was a picture-perfect replication of the pale, lanky man that wielded that frighteningly large odachi.

"Raven's will does not belong to you. Only I can carry that on," Crow claimed, placing his hand upon the shoulder of the replicated murderer.

What he witnessed was something straight out of a nightmare, making him question if he truly had been stuck in a terrible dream.

It was the worst outcome; one that made his blood run cold and his heart to accelerate.

"You're wondering how this is possible, aren't you? How do I possess the same ability of the one you killed? The one you plundered," Crow presumed.

At this point, if it meant gaining any bit of information he could to help him survive this encounter, Finn welcomed his enemy to speak.

"I am curious, yeah," Finn responded, keeping his eyes locked on the hunter and the doppelgänger of the slayer.

Crow ran his hand down the arm of the replicant as if caressing a loved one, speaking fondly as if reminiscing on a fond memory, "I found Raven after you left him there to rot. So, I took his essence into my own."

As the twisted figure explained the existence of the ability, he moved his hands to his lips. That gesture brought a sickening revelation to Finn as he stood in that dreary office space.

It was enough to break his focus as the replication he invoked crumbled away, losing its form.

"You…Did you eat him? Is that what you're saying?" Finn asked, staring at the ominous hunter as the background of gray cubicles became a blur.

"That look in your eyes is one of disgust. What I did was not some animalistic feeding. I offered him the greatest respect, the dearest resting place—right here," Crow explained with a quiet passion as he placed his hand over his stomach.

It was a disgusting realization for Finn, not caring for the glorified speech of the hunter as he knew just what he meant.

'As disgusting as it is…This is his unique system, isn't it? He can gain abilities from what he eats. I'm guessing it doesn't just apply to people—monsters, too. Like that orc,' Finn analyzed.

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