Cross Conviction

Sturm was right to suspect Captain Scharf's ring as the source of his exhibited aberrance. By channeling a mysterious energy, the intricate piece of jewelry allowed its wearer to reach through the very fabric of space, potentially retrieving items at a great distance. While such an ability wasn't directly combat-related, Scharf capitalized on his team's hesitation and lack of respect for his physical prowess to catch them off guard.

"Tell me the truth, captain..." said an anxious Max, his voice cracking slightly, "What the hell is going on here?"

Scharf's one-eyed gaze bore down on his student's face. Held at gunpoint, his hand twitched with anticipation of what was to come. He would not yet divulge the reality of the readiness examination.

Resolute, the captain answered, "It's just as it seems. I am under the enemy's employ."

The boy's eyes narrowed as he sized up his target through the rifle's iron sights. "Employ? So you're a mercenary then?"

"Of sorts," Scharf answered. "But then, is a soldier who fights for pay alone any less of a mercenary just because he proclaims some half-hearted allegiance to a flag?"

"I-I don't really get what you're saying..." Max stammered, "I guess it sounds like you're not a red, at least..."

Tilting his head downward, the Scharf's eye was covered by his cap's visor. "And does it make any difference to you whether you're killed by a red or not?"

Max quickly brushed the question aside, clutching the rifle firmly. "No... 'cause there isn't going to be any more killing today..."

"Is that so?" Scharf inquired as he nodded in feigned understanding.

"Mhm," Max hummed, "Ya coulda put one in me and I thought ya did to Gustavo, but... clearly not, so..."

"Max!" shouted the captain, derailing his student's train of thought, "The safety is on!"

The boy glanced down at his weapon for a split second, inspecting the toggle attached to its bolt, but found it shifted to the firing position. By the time Max realized he'd been deceived, Scharf was already on top of him. The captain snatched the barrel of the rifle, forcing it to the side. Max flinched, pulling the trigger and letting a shot off into the ground with a deafening crack. Within seconds, the candidate was disarmed and knocked backward.

"You lack confidence!" hollered Scharf as he swung the rifle like a club, striking Max in the side. "You lack conviction!"

Reeling, Max stumbled back and hunched over in pain. "Shut up..." he growled, "Just shut the fuck up!"

Before the captain could react, his cheek was torn open by one of Max's claws, having been launched through the air at high velocity. The boy's frustration had rapidly come to a boil and even Scharf was taken back by such a quick pivot to raw aggression. Pressing his significant speed advantage, Max hastily replaced his jettisoned claw and rammed the substitute into his captain's chest, causing the calcified blade to disappear into Scharf's woolen tunic.

Fully believing that he had been impaled, the captain looked down through his strained eye. He was surprised to find that the biological weapon had merely crumbled against his chest, having disintegrated into a fine, beige powder.

Max had run out of calcium.

Gritting his teeth, he looked up at Scharf with an expression of equal parts terror and rage. With his stamina depleted and mineral reserves dry, Max had finally reached his limit. The captain grabbed him by the shoulder and forced his head down, delivering a powerful knee to the boy's nose before hoisting him by the throat. As sapphire blood ran from Max's nostrils down to his chin, Scharf examined his dazed prey.

"I've often wondered if this unique blood of yours has any special properties..." Scharf pondered aloud, "Have you considered any such possibility?"

Glaring down from behind bruised eyelids, Max answered with an indistinct grunt. Combined with the agony shooting through his sinuses, the salty taste of his own ichor pooling in his mouth overwhelmed the young candidate's senses.

It was the taste of defeat.

"I see that look in your eye..." Scharf spoke up once more. "You're angry at yourself for failing, is that right?"

Though Max couldn't respond, he turned his nose up and away in a clear sign of resistance. Even beaten down, he refused to abandon his pride.

Sensing this, the captain gave Max's wreck a firm, one-handed wringing. "You're burning up inside because you went down without figuring out what my aberrance was. That's the first step to conquering any exceptional opponent, and you couldn't even get that far."

Weakly clasping Scharf's wrist with both hands, Max was unable to mount any significant struggle. Just as the boy felt his hands start to go limp, he was released and came crashing down onto his back.

Max clutched at his neck as he writhed in the grass and, through a violent coughing fit, managed to spit out, "W-what's the matter... captain? Couldn't... couldn't bring yourself t-to finish me off?"

"Hardly," Scharf scoffed, "I just needed to free up my hand..."

Wheezing, Max let out a pained chuckle. "Seems to me... you already had it right where you needed it..."

The boy rolled over onto his stomach and attempted to push up off the ground before faltering and collapsing once more. Though he clenched his eyelids in preparation for the perceived inevitability of an impending coup de grace, a shallow grin persisted on Max's bloodied lips.

Suddenly, a guttural scream erupted from afar. "Captain!"

Scharf turned to see Sturm's blade whirling through the air him like a buzz saw. Partially blinded by the scimitar's gleam, the captain attempted to utilize his ring to pull an object through space that he might use to defend himself but was stunned to find his powers inoperable. With a fraction of a second to spare, he pulled through the unwelcome surprise and ducked down. The blade struck the captain's visor cap clean off his head and knocked it several meters away.

"Sturm! You-"

Before Scharf could finish a thought, Sturm's fist slammed into his jaw, throwing him backward. When the captain hit the ground, the young swordsman was already on top of him, pounding his face and chest relentlessly. Scharf put up his forearms to defend but, due to his disadvantageous position, had his guard swiftly broken. Another sharp blow impacted his mouth, splitting the inside of his lip against his incisors. Completely overwhelmed, the captain again attempted to use the ring- this time to retrieve his handgun, but was unsuccessful.

After it fell to the side, Sturm took note of the position of his captain's hand. His hooked index finger displayed his clear expectation to have grasped a firearm. Accepting Scharf's inability to retaliate as a sign of defeat, Sturm temporarily paused his assault. For a moment, both student and instructor gasped to fill their lungs with the morning air.

"It's over, captain," said Sturm, breathing deeply. "You're out of tricks..."

Scharf might have challenged this notion, but his focus was quickly redirected by the knight candidate's finger, pointing off to the right. Slowly and with some pain, the captain turned his head through the grass toward Magnolia's unconscious body. Her face was tilted somewhat to the left, displaying the extent of the damage she had caused Scharf in the form of a fair amount of blood coating her lower face. While the captain didn't understand the relevance of this redirection at first, a tiny sparkle in the grass soon caused his eye to widen in realization.

There, held between Magnolia's lips, was his ring. The girl had bitten it off of his finger during their struggle and, due to the immediate intervention of Max, had never been the wiser. Scharf stared in disbelief. Renowned for his extreme attention to detail, such an error would normally have been beneath him. There was no clear communication between the knight candidates in regard to the piece of jewelry or its abilities. How had they synchronized such complex efforts without the simplest exchange of words?

That is, had he not been suffering from methamphetamine withdrawal.

Indeed, after his previous standoff with Major Krieger and subsequent conversation with Sturm, Scharf had made the difficult decision to administer the readiness exam without the stimulants that he regularly abused to cope with his pain and trauma. It was only a matter of time before the captain made such a decisive error.