Alonso locked eyes with the malformation on Henri's face; the crimson pupil flashed subtly. As soon as the brief flash dissipated, Alonso felt a blunt object slam into his chest with unprecedented power, yet could not see the weapon before him. It was like a baseball player striking the ball with all their might, almost breaking the bat in the process.
He let out a barely audible wheeze as saliva involuntarily exited his mouth. The force kept pushing and pushing until Alonso could no longer keep his feet on the ground. He felt the invisible object leave his body as he was thrown through the apartment window.
His mind was in a haze: what just happened… I'm… falling… but what hit me? Everything seemed to be moving slowly whilst his mind played catch-up on the quickly escalating series of events. The falling shards of glass around him told him that he must act now, or death would soon meet him below. The windowsill was on the same level as his eyes: it was now or never.
Instinctively, Alonso's projection came out. He was thrust forward with enough force to send his uncombed hair spiralling in all directions in the wind. Shooting his arms out desperately, he just managed to grab hold of the protruding window ledge and pull himself back up and into the apartment.
The crunching of glass came from under his feet, followed by Yogi's urgent steps towards him. The old man helped Alonso regain his mighty posture; perspiration began to fall down his rugged face, getting intertwined in his stubble. He clutched the left side of his chest: the surprise of this attack had started his heart at a rapid pace.
'B-bastard… we never should've followed him here!' Alonso huffed under his breath.
'I was quite surprised too,' Henri said. He covered his mangled face with his hand, encapsulated in a black leather glove. 'I was sure your suspicions would cause you to act against me. Yet, here we are… neither of you will leave this place alive; that is Master Gero's wishes.'
Master Gero? So even this guy, someone who looks down indifferently on those below him, has a master he obeys…
Alonso cast these thoughts away momentarily and regained his vertical stance. He channelled his spirit into his fist, which visibly sparked around his knuckles like tiny bolts of lightning. Henri was quite surprised at this: never before had he seen another's spirit bleed out into an actual, visible manifestation. Alonso would most certainly prove to be an unusual opponent…
Alonso kicked off the ground and began launching towards Henri at an incredible speed, yet his legs didn't seem to articulate at all: was this the work of his projection? He flew across the room, almost unnoticeably, until Henri suddenly removed his hand from his face and revealed his demonic, crimson eye to his opponent. Then, the same blunt force as before struck Alonso's side. He felt one or two ribs shatter upon impact, and he was sent into the wall, destroying the writing desk as he landed. Small drops of blood ran out from his mouth as he coughed in pain.
What… what hit me? I was looking straight at him; he didn't attack or even move from that position. And, how did I reach the wall so soon? Was his attack that powerful that I flew so quickly? No, it can't be that… then, how did I hit the wall almost instantly?
Yogi had watched as his partner was hit across the room; he saw his clothes wrinkle at the sides, and his body contort into a curved shape. Although Henri was blocked by Alonso's large frame, the old man quickly drew the assumption that he had not attacked Alonso directly, but rather used a projection to do so. Closing his eyes, he whispered 'Central Introspection' and began looking at the room through his projection.
A massive crash and gust of wind followed Alonso as he kicked off from the rubble of plaster and pieces of wood. It was like teleportation: one moment he was lying down defeated, the next he was within proximity of Henri, only mere steps away. This mighty blitz of speed left only a small window for Henri to react to; he barely managed to keep up with the speed by following the flashes of lightning-like spirit emanating from Alonso's fist. Yet Alonso's focus wasn't on his enemy's face but on his open torso; and so he struck it, with his stance low and wide, and he transferred his spirit into Henri's body.
Just as its appearance alluded to, it felt like hundreds of bolts of lightning struck him at once; they shocked his body continuously, causing his organs to spew blood and his nerves to tingle with immense pain. As he was thrown backwards, Henri pondered deeply on the unusual nature of this spirit: as far as I know, a projection cannot manipulate the spirit of its user, not like this. His spirit output is almost… unrefined… uncontrolled. Its 'rough' texture causes it to be a lot more damaging and painful, yet I wager that as a result, his consistency in producing such power is unreliable…
It seemed to Alonso that Henri had been travelling a lot further across the room than he had imagined. Furthermore, he did not come anywhere close to hitting the wall; he stopped in an open space in the room. Whilst planning his attack, Alonso was sure that his spirit-embued fist would strike with enough force to pin his opponent into the wall, which seemed to be only a few feet away. So, why did it feel like the wall was now further away?
Still twitching from the spirit attacking his body, Henri stammered to his feet. He covered his face once more as he began to speak. 'You have quite a strange handle on your spirit, Alonso Mancha.'
Alonso gritted his teeth together. 'So… you know my name. Then, I'd be right in assuming that this was planned from the very beginning, every last step?'
'Oh, of course, I'm a professional after all. Only those of the highest division, such as myself, would be picked for such a contract as this; it requires methodical thinking that those below us do not possess.'
'Divison? Then you must work for someone higher up… Gero, I think you mentioned earlier-'
'Don't mention that name!' Henri suddenly snapped, wearing an expression of distress. 'I would say forget you ever heard it… But no matter, you won't be leaving here alive anyway.' With this, he removed his hand, and Alonso made contact with the sickening amalgamation.
He couldn't help but look directly into the blood-red eye; it was almost natural and instinctive, as if his body reacted to the movement of the hand and kept its gaze on the mystery that was revealed. The booming of a footstep crushed the wooden floor before the familiar blunt force was thrust into Alonso's stomach. The momentum of the force continued upward until Alonso was launched into the ceiling, cracking his spine in the process. The sound of snapping wood came from the overhanging wooden beams.
It was at this moment that Yogi saw through the mystery of Henri's attack. A man stood under Alonso, with a cane in hand that was reaching for the ceiling. At the tip was a round metal handpiece, large enough to severely hurt an adult if applied with force. It bore rags for clothes and donned an oversized hood which completely concealed its face. It was not Henri; in fact, it seemed to be the complete opposite of him, appearance-wise.
Even with Central Introspection, the figure was difficult to fully make out due to its transparent appearance. A faint red glow lined its frame, and its body was like a warped, foggy window; Henri's outline was visible through the figure, although it seemed to be more like a blur through squinting eyes.
This was a great revelation! Although difficult to truly follow, Yogi could now see the source of Henri's projection. Yet, he couldn't decide whether it was inherently invisible to the human eye due to the projection's ability or whether it moved so fast that light simply could not paint its moving figure. Then, it disappeared. He did not see it move, only that it had vanished and no longer stood in the room. If it were true that its speed was the main source of its appearance, then it would surely be impossible to fully counter…
'Alonso, I saw it! I saw the projection! It's hitting you with a cane, but I don't know where it went, so keep your guard up!' Yogi found himself yelling louder than expected; it seemed as though Alonso was further away than before.
The old man, I almost forgot about him… It seems like he saw through my projection somehow: that is a true pain indeed. In that case, I'll deal with him first.