[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/HWXJapd.png[/img]
[h2][b]Cerzelium Orchelas[/b][/h2]
[i]Outside Apartment Workshop, Core District[/i]
[@Phonic][@ManyThings][/center] 
[hr]
"...I see."

In the moment before that curse came bearing down on him, he spoke, feeling those threads of karma start to wind together- as an Orchelas, whose family was steeped in the karmic arts beyond all else, it would be remiss if he was not capable of noticing that condensation of [i]En[/i]. The sorrow that laced the words was evident, as if the magus's heart was audibly breaking. His eyes moved from the battle between his Servant and the opponent, from that beautiful display of inspiration, to the Workshop before him, as if trying to verify something. 

His heartbeat pounded in his head, his mind raced with a harsh lilt of panic. A moment later, the curse bore down on him, the full brunt of it crashing down upon him.

Hemlock could not activate the curse and take physical actions such as opening a window and launching a separate magical attack simultaneously. In that sense, there was a delay between the first action and the later ones. However, this will not be an issue; the delay is incredibly minute, and moreover, Cerzelium will not be able to respond due to shouldering the curse's burden. As he falls from the curse, he will be helpless to stop the attack that comes for his life a mere moment later. 

And yet, he did not fall.

The space before him rippled as that paint shot forwards. In front of the elderly man, a 'gate' formed, a pure black hole in the world that acted as a wall. The paint-cum-lightning that had aimed for his body merely met that hole, vanishing into its depths. 

The veins that preceded the vanished hand bulged out, as if the hand itself held something in an unseen white-knuckle grip. 

[i]'Rider, thank you. You are nothing short of inspirational, and I am certain you could defeat this opponent. However, an attempt was made on my life. I must respond in kind, before a more successful attempt follows.'[/i]

As the enemy's attack had been negated, then, he had been forced to react.

In the world of magi, a curse is a dangerous weapon, and is in fact looked down upon by much of the western Mage's Association for this reason. Whenever a magus curses someone, they curse themselves in the process; it is for this reason that the mantra exists- for those who embark down the path of curses, dig two graves. That resentment and karmic backlash boils up, and eventually, the user will fall to the weight of their own curses. 

At the same time, cursing someone opens up a weak point. In leveling a curse, one establishes a line that connects caster and target. By firing a bullet, one exposes their position. In other words, one becomes vulnerable to a counter-curse. It is for this reason that high-ranking magi of the Clock Tower have created automatic systems that detect when a curse has been directed at them, and return fire indiscriminately.

However, in this moment, there was no sign of magecraft being used. This is only reasonable- after all, in the first place, this was not magecraft. Cerzelium Orchelas does not know of magecraft theory, of counter-curses and the defenses of Lords of the Clock Tower, of Jigmarie research or the precise nature of the curse that had assailed him, only warded off by a bout of luck on his part.

Yes, while a magus would call what came next a counter-curse, what Cerzlium Orchelas could accomplish was not something within the world of magi. It was more akin to the imposition of a primal law, something born from will rather than cognition.

[i]'I apologize, my partner, but I will be the one to take this victory. May God forgive me.'[/i]

He had to hold back tears for what would come next. The power of that unseen 'thing' gripped in his vanished hand, the trump card he had been sent to this city with, became manifest. Against this unseen enemy who could very well have great defenses, or already be in the midst of preparing a second killing blow, he could not afford to use anything other than this trump card. 

"...I'm sorry."

[i]I had hoped that I would not need to. I had hoped that you would be kind. I do not blame you, for after all, this world is possessed by evils. However...[/i]

For violating the agreement, the other party would be paid no quarter. Unlike the curse that had been levied against him, that which struck at his opponent would bring forward an unquestioned end. There would be nothing more than a simple, painless snuffing out of life. That was all he could do at this junction. 

[center][b]「Smite」[/b][/center]
And so, Cerzelium Orchelas took his first life.