Relic of the Future: Chapter 112

A third syringe was produced and stabbed down.

A fourth went with it – and a fifth!

"He can do three at once!?"

Hazel screamed in pure pain, blood running down his cheeks and from his eyes, muscles bulging and expanding so grossly that he thought they might explode. It must have come as a surprise to Ozpin as well because he was silent. Jaune was just as shocked. Doubly so when the giant exploded forward like a rocket, kicking off the ground with enough force to leave behind a small crater.

He hit like a meteorite, completely breaking through Jaune's guard, and smashing him back into a tree. His follow up was just as quick, driving a fist into Jaune's stomach so hard the trunk behind him cracked and splintered.

It was like one of those cartoons he used to watch as a child when people could fly and punch through solid rock, where they could move and leave behind huge holes in the ground from the force of their movement. All of that which Oscar had come to understand was impossible and make believe, and yet he was seeing it again now.

And it was horrible.

The cartoons took out the sound of bones crunching. It took out the gasps and the choked gasps. It took out the cries of pain, the splintering of wood and the blood. It took out everything that made this fight the visceral nightmare it was. Jaune's shoulder hit the ground and he skidded along, only just managing to keep hold of his sword as other armaments spilled out over the grass.

His body trembled as he tried to stand. Hazel's foot impacted his stomach with enough force to launch him up like a football. If it weren't for the trees, he might have sent him flying. Instead, Jaune's back bent around a trunk. Somehow, he was still conscious, and cognizant enough to grab onto a branch and hang out of reach. Hazel lumbered up to the base of the tree and wrapped two meaty hands around it, muscles bulging as he pulled back with a horrifying crack of snapped roots and rustling leaves.

"We have to do something!" Oscar hissed.

"We can't. Even if I took control, one blow would snap our body like a twig."

Jaune leapt from the tree before it could be brought down on top of him. He landed, stumbled, and dove out the way as the trunk was swung down like a club. Using the force from it to keep rolling, he stumbled up and staggered away limping on one leg but still determined to fight.

"Hazel is going to murder him!"

"If he can keep this up. Look. Why do you think Jaune isn't running? Using three syringes at once is making Hazel impossibly strong, but it's taking a toll on him. It also means he's down to only one remaining. If he can survive long enough, he can still win. Jaune knows that." Oscar watched the beaten and bedraggled man bring his sword up. "That's why he continues to fight."

Hazel was also panting, though his was more from exertion than pain. Sweat covered him so thick it left his skin sparkling. Gasping for air, he reached down and gripped the final syringe, driving it into his thigh and injecting.

[...]

Last syringe. Jaune gritted his teeth and leaned into the attack, scoring a slice down Hazel's arm, and only just avoiding a blow powerful enough to shatter his ribs. The same couldn't be said for evading Hazel as he swept his arm around, catching Jaune in the chest with the elbow and hurling him away. He managed to get his feet under him, but only just, landing and stumbling back unevenly, digging Crocea Mors down into the mud to stay on his feet.

[...]

Hazel had to be running low. It didn't feel it – his punches still hit like a truck – but the muscles on his arms were shaking and his breathing was becoming laboured. He was used to overpowering and crushing his opponents. No one had survived as long as he had. To be honest, his own body had been telling him to give up for the last ten minutes. Only a little longer, he told himself. This really would have been easier if it were Tyrian. That loon could and would talk for hours on end.

His eyes glanced down to his aura. It was in the red, visibly flickering over his body. Hazel could see and would know what it meant. He was weakening. The hammer blows would pierce through. Pyrrha had once said he had an unusually large aura, and that showed in how long he'd lasted. Six full syringes worth of Hazel's unnatural rage.

—Relic of the Future: Chapter 112