Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was pretty safe to say that Maximos was impressed.

Not only was the room the sort of size and scale which pushed the limits of what he believed conceivable, but Ancalagon himself was something utterly ineffable. There were no words. Where he a statue, the Shadow's mouth would have hung agape and he would have made an amazed gasp or such. Maximos knew how to be reserved, or cold to things, he took more enjoyment however in indulging in a moment. That however, in this case...was rude. And one must never be rude.

Ryugi, a proper draconic representative approached the dragon. His tone was proper, and formal, what words he did speak were well chosen. Ancalagon was impressive.

And then, for lack of proper language, he rebuked Ryugi. And while perfectly, supernaturally, and superbly clean. The Glass Dragon gained a stain in Maximos' book. Immediately, Maximos wanted to step forward and say something. He spoke draconic, he could converse. But Ancalagon's tone, told him that like the thousand reflections of themselves in these glass hallways, the Glass Dragon had seen this a thousand thousand times, and was just about tired of it all.

The Shadow's eyes scanned the vast room. People were dead. But in unique ways. Swords men gored on swords no arrows. Mages not impaled but melted by magic. People died, by their own hands. But not in ways possible via suicide...the gears in his complex mind began to turn. Glass. Relfections....Mirrors.

Death filled this room. Death was the great equalizer. Where Maximos should have been scared, or perhaps uneasy, he felt calm. Death came for everything, even things millions on millions of years old. It was almost relaxing. Max felt sympathy for the poor creature, left here alone in this cave to be visited only by annoying insects wanting pieces of him. And while the Shadow had never seen something like this before, this journey, and many others like it, did make just a tad accustomed to the feeling of seeing things he had never seen before. He was entirely ready to fight the dragon if need be. But, instead of having to face something he had not seen before, Maximos found himself faced with something he had seen before. It was something he saw each and every day in the morning and before bed.

Maximos saw himself. And in return, he would speak to the dragon in a language it had never seen before. He would show it the victory it thought impossible. Max offered Ryugi a brilliant smile, and a nod before the wall shot up between them presenting him with his own grinning face reflected back at him.

I do believe we've never met. Please, forgive my rudeness. I am Maximos Lucillien Dark, and I shall be your sparring partner.

Max's mismatched eyes, met its. He made a formal bow and said.

No, I do not believe we have.

For what man can truly say he knows himself?

The pleasure is mine, there is nothing to forgive.

With a quick flourish he drew Ankokuko from his back. He passed it in front of him as he dipped forward in a formal bow.

I am...M...mmmvery excited to finally meet you.

He decided against the obvious, confusing intro. The reflection took a battle stance, and Maximos did similarly. His right hand rest high on Ankokuko's hilt, offering it toward his opponent. A grin split across his pale face. So this was what his opponents saw? This was what he looked like, standing across the battlefield with cool and deadly intent?

His right eye ignited in a wispy plume of essence. The leather grip of his glove squeaked against the swords hilt, his muscles tensed, essence flowed through him like cool water through a network of pipes. He was ready, willing, and far to excited to stop grinning.

Good luck, my worthy adversary...

Likewise my friend, likewise.

And they were off. Max was going to start this off easy. He wanted to enjoy this most novel of experiences, to test defenses and the accuracy of this replication, not just score hits. A right to left slash across the midsection would do.

It may have been glass, but a massive cave, even divided in two was still a massive cave. The two blades met, and the sound of metal colliding with metal resounded off the walls and filled the room. Ankokuko proper cried out violet and indigo sparks while it sung a tragic and broken melody cast forth from the slices of shadow that splintered in the room opposite the slices of orange and crystal light.

Max wasnt scanning his opponent just yet, something told him that might ruin the surprise. But he was grinning. The two swords were met in true mirror form, an X between two men at close range.

It seems we are evenly matched in technique...

Calm words, spoken by two men skirting death. The similarities were shocking. Max could sense the twist in his opponent which matched the twist in himself. Only he, to date, could stand to talk properly, while knowing that simple slip of his grip meant disaster.

Indeed. Indeed.

He said, delving into how similar this all felt. And then something dawned on him. And suddenly he wondered why he didnt go through more pairs of glasses. Being so proper, so calm, in danger, perhaps that nature...it must have unsettled his opponents.

Because Max, without a second thought, simply lunged his face forward in the big empty space at the top of the X-sword lock. The goal being being to send his head, crashing into his opponents face, his left hand joining his right on Ankokuko's hilt adding just enough force, so that, with any luck, if Mirror Max broke the X, he'd take a sword cut across the chest from the stronger push before he ever got to cut the offending head.

In the back of his mind, something reminded Max, he was known for surprises. He should expect some. The prospect made him grin wider.

Metal screamed, a crashing crescendo against the twin orchestral voices that bellowed up from their dark pits.

Max felt the connect, he felt a dull wave of pain wash over his forehead and down his face, he heard glass chip, and felt his reflection's frames give. And he grinned, devilishly wide. Now he felt the other Ankokuko bite against his grip as he shoved down, drawing a black diagonal line in the air as his opponent retreated back, letting the Caller of Darkness fall. It looked almost like the wet slash of a paintbrush against an invisible canvas. It was punctuated as indigo and violet sparks sprayed from the spot on the cave floor where the blade touched before it came to rest at Maximos' right side. With both hands still gripping the hilt, his eyes, smiling but fierce, rose to his reflection.

For a moment, just an instant, his grin faded to a frown. It had retreated, surrendered ground. Max never surrendered ground during a fight! Perhaps, this reflection was not as novel as he hoped...

You know, I wonder why I don't go through more pairs of glasses...

That, is my point exactly! But that shouldnt be a problem once we're done here.

Said Maximos cheerfully, at least the personality was right. And then his mirror was charging again. Max, for a moment, allowed himself the confidence to believe this match was just about over. Who better could he strategize against than himself? He knew all of his weaknesses and strengths, and most importantly, he knew all of his mov--

Maximos' eyes snapped open. His right eye flared violently, like a gas sprinkled on it. Max was familiar with the black line his sword made tracing every attack. He had used it quite effectively against the Ice Fiends, but...this looked the same. But magically it looked entirely different.

The second Caller of Darkness sliced a line in the air, and while it simply looked like a black streak, it also looked as if it had depth. Suddenly arms were pouring from it, reaching and clawing. Was this, the planar magic the Dragon Monk spoke of? Was this Ankokuko being used as a key? As an extension into...

Max didnt have time revel. The hands were closing and he knew all too well what they were capable of. Ankokuko cut a streak straight upwards. With his right hands holding the sword form, and his left guiding it, and adjusting its force and angle, Max cut. And he cut fast, his arms were blurry black movements, and a burst of square ribbons of black flew from the encroaching wall. But even Max couldnt cut them all. There were too many, and they were moving entirely too fast.

Small hands grabbed Ankokuko, they grabbed his wrists and shoulders, a few snatched at his legs. They were not enough to stop him, but they would be, and soon. It was do or die time. Learn. Or be engulfed.

Ankokuko was between him and the wall. Max, stabbed it forward into the encroaching black mass. Then he jerked the Caller of Darkness back and down to the left, it pulled with it a thread of black and silently cut a black line in the cave floor. With a grunt he pivoted left, turning away so that his back faced the wall as he leapt up and away. Hands snapped and stretched, others stole new grips.

For a moment, he realized his foolishness. People see what they believe themselves to be, not what they are. He saw that he never gave ground, and yet here was doing it without a thought. The reflection was not flawed, it was perfect. More perfect that he realized.

Ankokuko was brought back and up as Max's form twist in mid air until he was facing the wall again, this time with Ankokuko brought around and resting overhead. A jet black line ran in a stylized loop from the wall, back and around behind Max where it met the tip of Ankokuko.

Max saw, in his mind, the thousands of dead bodies filling this place. Each impaled on their own sword, or killed with their own terrible weapons. He saw death lingering on the outskirts of this battle and waiting, and felt the burning in his chest that said such a death was not for him. It was not his fate. He had to focus. Beyond fate and death was creation, existence, and behind that was darkness. Beyond every reality, beyond the thickest and thinnest of fabric, was darkness. Waiting. Watching. Eternal. He felt Ankokuko pulse in his hands. And like calling any shadow, Maximos called to that darkness eternal...he beckoned it to him, he ordered it to press the barrier, to strain the fabric...He felt a darkness purer than any other, inches and yet miles away, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

And then he cut. He brought the Caller of Darkness crashing down in front of himself. Darkness is darkness and cannot destroy darkness, all it can do is join it. If all went right, Ankokuko would fall silent against a sound like a thousand sheets of paper tearing at once, as the black blade sliced a terrible line through the wall of shadowy arms, adding shadows to shadows, inverting the attack and sending a somewhat fatter, wider, and equally vicious line of black soaring back at his reflection.

But after that, who was really reflecting who?

Maximos was, above all else, a strategic thinker. He plotted and planned, and thought out as many stages in advance as possible. He knew his limitations, and the expenditures of his abilities. But, using a new and almost entirely unknown attack mid battle, is simply not strategic.

As it turned out, dimensional fabric was alot tougher to cut with a sword than it was with a magical spell or enchantment. Maximos' arms were screaming at him, and as his feet struck the ground his entire body arched forward as Ankokuko for the moment, might as well of weighed a thousand pounds. His fingertips were pins and needles and simply would not respond. And then Max heard a bang and whirring. His boots. He designed them, he knew the sound like people know the voices of their own children.

Everything in his moment should have been despair. The sight of his reflection soaring over his attack should have been grim. But instead, Maximos was smiling. Not a twisted and masochistic grin, but an honest to Nocturne smile. Maximos couldnt help but smile, there was a warm tingling feeling rushing through his chest and across his spine. It was a sort of pride, mixed with a sort of adoration, and tempered with admiration. Warm, burning, and powerful. Just seconds ago, for a moment, when Maximos slashed his sword he allowed himself something...

Trust. Here to fore, the shadow had been wielding the Caller of Darkness. He had been the conductor guiding the orchestra to create sweet music. But...what is a conductor without an orchestra? What is an orchestra without instruments? Every true conductor must know when to trust that his players, can actually play. He is nothing without them. In this moment, felt an outside source pull a ribbon of shadow and wrap itself violent in it, he felt the violent intent that forged the ribbon into a razor sharp blade. And through his throbbing hands, as blood flow washed away the stabbing pinpricks and slowly returned feeling...Max felt, Max heard, wonderful music. Music that he was not directing. Max felt free.

Maximos shut his eyes.

He was reminded of D. The boy who swung his sword by feeling alone. No thought. The small boy had come home raving about a new game he saw being played. Max expected an attack, or something destructive. Instead the child taught him a game involving hand signs. And chance outcomes. It was so simple.

Paper covers rock!

The boy exclaimed. And Max...with a large cyclone of razor sharp death bearing down on him, felt something like a sheet of paper. Or as if he was about to be shredded by one. But he was stronger than that, he was more than paper.



It was a grim realization. But the moment it sunk in, it was enraptured in another feeling. Maximos felt embraced. He felt an unreasonable safeness rushing through him. It coursed through his hands, giving them a new strength and life, and told him everything would be alright. Even though he could feel air being thrashed and torn, and feel the foe rushing mercilessly. Max felt, there was something he could trust. Like a partner. A friend, always watching your back, if you let them.

He would never see his shadow, a form cut out of black on the ground, suddenly lose its firm edges and spill. It spread across the glass bluish crystal floor like ink dropped in a fish tank. Blackness pooled and thrashed in a tempest at his feet.

Max felt strong. He felt that with this...this entity. He was more that he was before. He was more than just paper. He was sturdy. Unbending. Unbreakable. He was rock. And with that realization swelling within him, he willed his arms up, threads and small paper-thin hands helping his arms rise, as they rose in thin archs and towed the large sword. Maximos alone could not stop this cyclone. Ankokuko alone was no defense but together...



He said, and the shadows thrust the Caller forward straight at the whirring drill. The two Callers of Darkness would barely kiss. And then the shadows poised at Maximos' feet rushed up, arms sailed and soared, ripped and tore through the air. Maximos' could only see that the world around him had gone black. A thousand thousand streaks of shadow raced and met and pooled together at and around the tip of the blade, making Maximos and his immediate area look like a craggy pointed protrusion of rock which suddenly burst from the ground to stab fearlessly into the oncoming drill. It might break, but not before stopping the drill. His arms would be better then.

As a general rule, Maximos like to think at least one move ahead.

The same was likely true for his mirror image, it most likely had a next move in mind, and move to follow that. One of those two was meant to be something new, sudden, or unexpected. Maximos knew this, because that was precisely what he would do. With that in mind, the Dark Cadenza had afforded Maximos something far more precious than any absolute defense. It had afforded him time. With Ankokuko running keeping him momentarily safe, Maximos had time to do other things.

In this particular case, the whirring black and deadly drill was going to crack the shadow shield. Maximos knew that. But what was behind the shell of black? Well, it certainly wasnt light. Shadows, as an element are a community, and unlike most elements shadows can breed. Which is to say that a shadow rising up to block out light creates...? More shadow. And this craggy shell inside the Dark Cadenza, just so happened to be filled, with shadows. Maximos knew that before it even formed, he just did not know what to do with it. Not yet.

His mirror, true to form, was merciless, its drill was ravaging the rocky exterior of Maximos' defense. Impacts shook the entire structure and set spiderweb cracks etching across its surface. Maximos would not have been able to do this so thoroughly while attempting to man a shadow shield and while moving, but with his eyes closed and his hands still firm and motionless, this was far easier. Things were moving inside the blackness though the mirror would likely be unable to see or feel the shadows which Maximos wielded. This was an assumption however. Maximos knew he could not influence shadows wielded by other individuals, it oft broke down to a measure of will and skill in wielding said element, and the element itself became annoyed and denied him, or both. In this particular case, Maximos opponent had will, and skill, clearly equal and mirror to his own....

The shadow took in a deep breath, he spoke softly to someone or something that had absolutely no voice and had actually not said anything.

I know, It's alright...I understand.

And then the enter fissure ridden and utterly devastated surface of the Cadenza exploded, shards of black flew out in all directions. It had put up a good fight, but the effort as a whole was doomed from the start. But, shadows cannot destroy shadows. They can only join them. As the drill bit tore through the carapace, it would find a delicious shadowy nougat. Maximos, completely still very softly said.

You did very good. Thank you.

But Maximos did not move. Because Maximos could not move. This body was not made of shadow anymore, it was made of flesh and blood. He could not merge and meld through the element if it was any thicker than air. And it was...the entire innards of the Dark Cadenza, was equivalent to a pool of tar. Drills sure can smash through rock. But drills, or any high speed whirling device, usually do not agree very well with anything sticky or fluidly thick. Maximos was stuck in place when the drill tore through.

And so, the drill broke through the shadows and into the rocky floor below the feet of the fighters, leaving a massive hole within the earth as it missed Maximos by mere millimeters.

Now, came strategy, as Maximos endeavored to stay one step ahead. With twitch of his brow and a silent command, the shadows...now free of the rock shell, expelled Maximos in much the same way a toaster expels bread. He had no desire to be a sitting, tarry duck. Twin blasts of black ignited in the soles of his feet and gave the shadow a momentary hover. Maximos questioned himself, if he had just drilled a whole into the ground, what would he do? He could come up a safe distance away, but he was too brutal for that. Maximos would come right back at himself, vicious. And sure enough, his mirror image was breaking back through the opening, and Maximos was already in motion.

Ankokuko was flipped back onto his back and into its sheath. He felt it against his spine through the shadow wrapping, as if it were a cold breeze. Maximos arms were ripping out in all directions, snatching, pulling, wrapping, snatching, pulling, wrapping, over and over. And his boots were very slowly bringing him back down to the glassy cave floor.

Now, as has been repeated, Shadows cannot destroy shadows, they can only join them. And Maximos had no sway over the shadows controlled by his double. But, if the Mirror Max had just burst back through the tarry remains of the Dark Cadenza, it just received two coats of shadow. Sticky black stuff that Maximos controlled. Max could not removed or destroy the whirring drill blade with shadows, it was not his. But he could use his shadows, sticky and clingy, which were coated on top of the entire drill, mold and harden them...and effectively dull the blade. If all went according to plan, by the time the drill burst through the ground the second time, it was no longer a drill. Instead it would be a heavy black bullet. Of course, controlling that much shadow from a distance required some assistance, ala Ankokuko and the ribbon like extensions now gathered and wrapped around Maximos' hands and arms.

The Shadows goal, his original strategy, was to attempt to misdirect the drill by controlling his shadows, stuck to its shadows, like a puppet. But now, it was racing toward and now...it was exploding. True to form, Mirror Maximos had surprised him. Countless razor sharp shards, and each one was glowing...the range...he had never imagined the range. It was so similar too...

Their violent and indigo lights reflected in his mismatched eyes as did the honest admiration for what he was beholding. He felt the ribbons on his arms split, not tear, but dividing into several smaller ribbons, far too many, requiring far to many, requiring strength to direct all at once. To make matters worse, some had exploded and shed any vestige of the tarry shadow he had used, and were completely out of his influence.

Maximos wanted, with all of his heart to congratulate his double. But congratulations would have to wait until after he survived this. Right now, he needed to concentrate. He stepped backwards, heaving both arms up and back, the effort putting visible strain on his face, both of his arms went up over his head and back, grabbing Ankokuko's hilt.

With the Caller of Darkness' help, in one whole body motion Maximos slashed a straight line in front of himself. Pulling, with all of his might, and tugging every shadow he had a ribbon on, downwards. It wasnt enough to protect him entirely, but it was enough to send a good number off course, and downed prematurely, and kick up a cloud of diamond dust as glass and sand flew off in all directions from misguided explosions. The ribbons were set free.

But there were more. So many more. His eyes sharpened into mismatched black and white slits. A chill ran up his spine...it was all so similar, was this stage fright? A grin split his face. Sparks ran up and down his arms like live wires doused in water. His right eye ignited in a torch-like plume, a beacon through the dust, for just a few seconds before even that was swallowed. He felt reverberations through his feet, and then the first explosions were upon him.

And it was time to move. Time to perform. Showtime.

It began, as it always did, with one slash. A right to left motion at chest height. Maximos felt the dings, tinks, and chitterings of small things against his blade. It continued with another slash, left to right, diagonally downwards. Maximos felt how heavy Ankokuko was. He felt how strong his arms were, he felt his limitations like burning candles in his mind. Another slash, straight up the middle. Keep a focus, keep a strength. Remember each symbol and its meaning. Thinking of them not as one, but as parts of a motion. Bits of one whole. Each swipe was a brushstroke and a true artist cannot leave a creation half done, no matter what becomes sore. The sound associated with each sword connection was lost to the sound of glass breaking, or shadow shattering.

Soon, there were no slashes that he could feel, just a constant flowing motion. Ankokuko was nothing more than a blur of black. A swatch of darkness drawing violent and vicious lines around him at impossible speeds.

Maximos would slash, and slash, and slash, with every bit of the speed he was acclaimed for. Every time Ankokuko straight a shard of glass or a sliver, a small glowing rune was placed on the contact point. With Ankokuko's long slashes he could cover several at a time. Be they glass, or be they shadow. The force of having a rune shoved on it, and confusion in having two, would cause each of the shards to momentarily hover in mid air, they formed a sort of haphazardly drawn sphere around Maximos. His rune, a violent paint job, holding all the power of one who had adorned the rune himself, and facing in. The others an engraving facing outward.

Listen to the Maestoso march of the damned...

By the time Mirror Max looked back, he would see the large dust cloud, and inside of it was a smaller indigo glow. Like a faded burning core in the middle of glass and sand puffs, lines of black seemed to be slicing through the core at incredulous speeds. Needless to say, approaching was likely not the best idea.

Maximos already had a move like this, though he had never imagined using the Caller of Darkness to give him range. That was a genius addition. His other move, was called the Phantom's Sonata, and in it he would punch and deliver runes on contact. Afterward, he would pose, much like he was now, with one hand up, index finger and thump touching and then...

...hear the Phantom's play your Elegy.

-Snap.

This, was a Phantom's Elegy, played in magnanimous Maestoso. The dust would never have a chance to settle. Instead of it calming falling, as each of Maximos' runes simultaneously exploded, a savage wave of indigo, violet, and royal purples exploded outwards from the core of the cloud, ripping it into nothing in an instant and likely quaking a good portion of the cave immediately surrounding both fighters.

Maximos, suddenly entirely visible was left standing with his right hand raised, with small sparks pouring over his fingertips. Ankokuko in his left hand, its tip biting the ground. His clothes were sporting several tears and cuts and gashes of varying length and depth. Behind some were visible red lines, behind others were blood red streaks, behind still others were nothing but pink near misses. Regardless, Maximos was standing, a certain firmness on his face. His breathers were deep and slow, carefully disguising how his heart pounded away inside his chest.

You should know better. I cannot be felled by that sort of trick.

And suddenly, his lips stretched into a grin that nearly split his face in two. Maximos' white teeth visible at the far edges of the grin. Hopefully his opponent got the joke. Regardless, his twitching right hand opened, and gave a wave toward himself as he said.

...Show me more.

Max matched his mirror image, grin for grin.

It began forming a new ability, and with intense interest the Shadow's squinted and peered from across the field. He wanted to catch every detail of the motion, to inspect the ability from a magical and physical standpoint.

It lift it shadow, it reached its arm through. The arm bulked up and created something that looked shockingly similar to the Twilight Gauntlet. Now, by way of his right eye it was clear this was not a replica of his cursed limb, but something else. Something different.

Maximos' mind would have been reeling with possibilities, but the truth was, it had already done so. Months ago. Days ago, Maximos confessed to Ryugi a desire to learn how to tap that shadowy plane as Ryugi tapped the fire plane. He wished to learn how the dragon manifested such a power. And he had hinted that it was the last piece of something. The polite albeit slightly unsettling dragon monk had given Maximos a clue...small hint to the key. And now, just mere moments ago, Maximos own mirror image had given him the final element.

It had taught him how to use Ankokuko as an extension to tap the shadow plane. But more importantly, it had taught him that it could be trusted to wield shadows outside of his thought, by tapping said external plane it had access to a near inexhaustible resource.

Mirror Max finished forming it gauntlet, and Maximos had a simple smile on his face. He called out.

You know, thats a very good one. But I've already seen it.

Ankokuko was sheathed behind him. His arms extended out to either side of him, his fingertips splayed out wide. His shadow, at his feet, copying his motion began to warble like an overstuffed water balloon, ready to pop at any minute. As the double charge, Maximos' boots began to whir and whine, and spark. He focused on the feeling he had manifested while cutting open that slice in reality. Only now he focused it into his hands. He called at the distant voidant darkness, he summoned it to him, and then his arms began to move forward, toward his front. This would be so much easier, no complex runes, just one straight pull.

How about...I show you one instead?

Slowly His hands drug through the air and left a warble in their wake. As if reality was water and Maximos was disturbing the surface. And steadily the disturbance grew, as Maximos' hands increased speed, strain etched across the shadow's face. Suddenly, the warble gave way, and black was spilling from Maximos' fingertips. It looked as if his palm was bleeding black ichor that spilled between his fingertips and poured backwards in wet streaks.

The Shadow stomped forward, tearing his arms forward and ahead of him. Just a little more, and they could rest. His two palms, both stained in black met in a clap and immediately exploded in black. There was a boom, but it did not come from where Maximos' hands met, rather it echoed through every nearby ambient shadow, as if they were speakers. The area surrounding Maximos looked as a bag of flour might look if it exploded, only jet black. It cloud of dusty shadow churned and swirled in on itself but did not move or fade.

It was very unlikely that Mirror Max had stopped for this. And that was fine. Despite the resounding boom, the high pitched squeal of Maximos' boots had not subsided. A sharp "shing" was heard, the sound of steel on steel. The reflection was a bodies length away when...



...The figure blast from the cloud as an enormous streak of black. It was Maximos' height, but not his shape. Despite being a blur of black it was all sharp edges and hard corners, not the round curves of humanoid. It had four horns spilling backwards from its helm, and a flat mouthgaurd which covered the bottom half of Maximos' face, engraved to look like a fanged grin. Maximos' eyes however were exposed. Intricate carvings and runes covered every piece of plate with a painful level of detail and intricacy. Various runes for various functions. This suit had taken a very long time to construct. Purple glow overtook leylines that ran through its form, as if they were veins pulsing pure essence. Its legs were straight back inches off the ground, and they did not move, holding a straight pose as torrential gouts of black poured out of the soles of knee high greaves focusing that essence.

This, was a suit of armor. Full plate to be exact. It was black and thick and tight enough to Maximos form that it allowed a level of freedom of motion. It sheened in the shadow and appeared dull in the light. Without Ankokuko to manage the energy flow, and to keep the construct in place as Maximos' mind focused on other things, and to provide an unlimited battery, it would never have worked. Maximos did not use muscles, to move the suit. Much like his old shadow form, he simply thought and using Ankokuko and its perfected connection the shadows, his commands were carried through with utmost efficiency and speed thus giving him reflexes as sharp as his mind.

Ankokuko was being held out to the figures right as it rush forward at impossible speeds, beyond what flesh could produce. Its tip sliced against the glass ground igniting a trail of twilight purple sparks. When it met the double, and its large gnashing scraping claw, the sword moved in one clean diagonal motion from right to left.

Needless to say, the suit of armor was heavy and moving very fast, generating alot of force. Runes inside the suit matched runes covering Maximos' form allowing the armor to infuse the shadow with essence and strength and speed and yet more force. When constructing a weapon, one usually tests its destructive capability to ones own standards. If your creating a powerful blade, and you have invincible armor, you test the blade against that armor. Not anything weaker. By that reasoning, and by its design, even should this faux Twilight Gauntlet be made of solid shadow, even should it be made of the same nearly unbreakable material as the actual Twilight Gauntlet...it was very likely about to break.

Or rather be sliced. As designed. The Shadow would not stop there though, once his arms carried through the slash in one fluid motion he would lean in, using left side to slash viciously into the Mirror Maximos at top speed. It would be an effect similar to being hit by a speeding truck, and would likely send his double soaring......With Maximos racing close behind. No mercy. No quarter.

All of this may have been easier and much more vicious if Maximos was using his own Twilight Gauntlet, which the suit had been designed to interface with...but he was not.

The Nocturnis Loricatus, and the Caller of Darkness were enough. He had spent a good portion of this journey trying to finally complete this suit, and now that he had what he lacked it seemed only fitting that he use it during the adventures last leg.

This armor, it took a long time to summon, and normally it moved just slightly better than plate mail would move. When it was first designed, Maximos made it so that if he went into heavy combat he would don the suite before the fight, never during.

But now there was Ankokuko. And the Caller of Darkness made all the difference. It summoned the armor through whatever openings it pulled its shadows from. Now Maximos was engaging his opponent mere seconds after forming the armor, and the Loricatus was glowing with a series of pulsing violet runes. All it required was a few seconds of silent, and completely still, concentration. Seconds he would not allow his reflection to have.

The key wording here being a series. In truth, there were several runes that had yet to be tapped. Glow only ran through a particular set of carvings. The Nocturnis Loricatus was home to several modes. It had defense, in which the plates locked and the thin space between Maximos and the walls of the armor was filled with softer shadows to absorb impact. It had attack, in which energy flooded at Maximos draw to each of the limbs, self-fueling the Twilight Gauntlet, and Maximos him self, in this mode the plats loosened and even softened to supply more mobility and raw power. And it had flight...This was flight.

Flight mode was fast. Incredibly fast. In every way faster than Maximos as flesh could ever be. In the olden days, when Max was made of shadow his actions and motions were dictated by the mind, not by the body. If he thought about moving he moved, and just that fast. Flesh was and inconceivably slower medium. The Nocturnis Loricatus was, infact, that old outershell, layered and enchanted and placed over his flesh. Maximos could move as fast as he ever could. And in flight mode, even faster, for reasons to be shown.

Max felt himself impact his reflection, he saw the reflection soar backwards and he immediately called upon flight mode. In flight mode, the unlimited essence being supplied by Ankokuko coursed through the suit as a whole, not just Maximos' boots. So while in flesh and blood Maximos could halt the flow of his boots and then take off at blinding speeds, the Maximos wearing the Nocturnis Loricatus need only say...



He was gone. The Loricatus was several times heavier than Maximos as a normal man. That meant that it accelerated a tab bit slower, but it much like a cannon ball, once it reached its speed it moved infinitely faster. Its every motion dictated by Maximos' finely tuned reflexes. Before Maximos could say his name, before the Mirror was even half way to the wall, the Dark Knight was on him. Literally. Ankokuko was in his left hand, his right hand was pressed against the rolly polly ball of shadow. Like the goop of earlier, his right hand stuck to the ball. Maximos took a deep breath--

--At this point we should mention the subject of strength. Maximos' right arm was clearly supernaturally strong. It was able to lift roughly 650 to 950 pounds on its own. That was added to Maximos' ability to lift about 300. It could do more if it could feed. But that required skin to skin contact. But as previously mentioned the Loricatus was Maximos body, on top of his body...it was his strength on top of his strength. Giving Maximos twice as much strength as normal, on top of his supernatural additions. Needless to say, the ball was in his control. And Maximos was taking a deep breath.--

--If Maximos' boots alone could be imagined as a storage space, and they alone could hold one ignition. Then, how much more of a storage space would a whole suit of armor be? It really shouldnt have been too surprising, when Maximos slid Ankokuko into the sheath at his back, placed both hands down on the ball and released his breath saying...



There was no sound. Only speed. Terribly blinding speed. And with that speed Maximos arched his suit, and the ball, straight into the ground. If the shoulder slam had sent splinters all over the ball, what would being ground against the jagged cave floor at ridiculous speed do to it? Maximos was assuming it was going to shatter it...hard. And more importantly, it would rob the balls denizen of the seconds of time he needed to armor up. If his calculations were correct, then in a few heartbeats worth of time the ball was going to be a thing of the past, at which point Maximos arms would be grabbing his Mirror form directly and grinding it against the floor delivering it to shards of broken glass and rock, and jagged sand, as well as friction all at scales that exist only in nightmare. And as he banked sharply to side, pulling up off the cave bottom, Maximos opened his mouth and said....

...A note should be made regarding Maximos arms. And how they were, just moments ago, exhausted. Maximos had never been one to instantaneously heal. Now was no different. As has been repeatedly mentioned, the Nocturnis Loricatus was feeding Maximos a constant supply of essence, limited only by Ankokuko's power. In other words, it was unlimited. Runes on the inside of the armor, matched the runes on his skin and fed him energy. But not all energy was meant for attack. A one HonoRaven had educated Max, years ago, in the art of pushing energy through a body to promote healing. Now, Max was no healer, in this suit he could recover no injuries given. But a constant flow of energy kept his breath nominal, and kept his arms and limbs constantly refreshed and rejuvenated. Like this, he would not know exhaustion. Fatigue, was a foreign concept to the Nocturnis Loricatus....



And with an audible, "shing", a jet black visor shot off of his eyes. And Maximos feet slammed into the ground mere feet from the line of corpses against the wall, jet black bursts pooled under him raging and churning, glass to scream as metal tore against it, and he flew straight up and then threw Mirror Max straight down, with every bit of force he had. Needless to say, that was alot of force.

Through his visor, saw light, dark, and shadows. The ribbons called out to him like the hands of beckoning children. He watched his double shrunk, moving farther, and farther down.

He drew Ankokuko, feeling it pulse and writhe with power in his hands. It was what the blade wanted. This was what it lived fore. It was not tired. It was ready. Max smirked and dead...

Lets see what you can really do...

Mirror Max, should, for all intents and purposes be about to crash into a pile of thousand of corpses against the cave wall with the sort of force that breaks limbs should to attempt to move against. That seamed easy enough. But it wasnt. It was easy to do big things. Make a big slash, a big hand, a big person. But it was the little things that were difficult.

Below the falling reflection, were skeletons, and beneath them...were shadows. Shadows that rose like vine and roots from a macabre black plant. Shadows that slipped and slithered line snakes, into and through skeletons of the fallen. Shadows that now made those bodies move like puppets, that made them draw their weapons from their fatal injuries, and hold them up, ready, willing and able to impale the falling mirror.

And if the weapons did not wound him, then the impact against a thousand broken and jagged bones that his fall would create might. And if that did not. Then while dead bodies that were rushing his impact point, each armed and stabbing as vicious as any mob of zombies would. Their were alot of them...as many as Ankokuko could make...they were unlimited...Now that, that was a challenge.

But if that didnt do it...Max, high above, had something else in mind. Something he was preparing even as the mirror fell. He ran his left hand against Ankokuko's blade, and in its wake several runs covered the black blade. He let the sword slip from his right hand, the hilt fell through his fingers and just before it exited its grasp, a long flowing black ribbon poured from the hilt, and gently slipped through his armored digits, until Ankokuko hung a good ten feet straight down.

Max began to spin the ribbon, making large woofing sounds like a helicopter blade as Ankokuko made wide arcs in front of him. Faster, and faster, until it was nothing more than a black blur, and, at just about the time the mirror should have struck the ground, with one swift jerk from right to left Maximos slashed Ankokuko. It was a 4ft blade, with a ten foot ribbon, and made a fourteen foot long gash in reality, and shot forward a wall of grabbing...clawing...reaching hands...each as thin as paper and as sticky as glue...And spread across the fourteen foot attach, were several very large runes...

Even Max couldnt have said how big the explosion would be. But he knew that when he said.

Max, had a look on his face akin to a child who had just smashed a lamp while swinging around a big wooden stick inside the house, when he knew he shouldnt be.

Below him, at first, all he could see was a crater as he drifted down slowly he knew he had overdone it.

The Nocturnis Loricatus wasnt meant for use on one individual. It was meant for heavy combat, it was meant for what Maximos would consider heavy combat. Which is to say it was not meant for a fight, it was meant for a war. To fight armies, like the Million Man army, armies of such that a man, with a gods backing and an unlimited supply of shadow, such as Maximos had defeated. But that was another era, another age. Another lifetime and another Shadow Warrior.

Max was a different man now. He'd never know power like that again. Max's feet touched the ground. He saw the black arm, and sort of embarrassed, returned the gesture. Armor plates were loosening, coming apart in organized pieces like a jigsaw puzzle. He smiled, shaking his head.

Grant me a good sword...

He said, setting his pack down and the sitting beside it, leaning back on it. With a relieved sigh, he laid Ankokuko across his lap.

...And no use for it.

---

Elsewhere, things were not so peaceful. Elsewhere there was about to be conflict and power, clashing steel, and gnashing bone. Elsewhere, it was time to prepare for war.

Just as Mirror Max had stood moments ago Reflection Ryugi stood now. His hair stark and sharp, his eyes steely and determined. His gloves squeaked as his grip on Ragnorok, a sword of true legend, tightened. There was a moment of silence here, a moment of wordless recognition. Reflection Ryugi was in every way, exactly the same dragon as the one before him. But in many ways he was different. There was something more...direct about him. There was a sort of efficiency in even his aura. He took a deep breath and said.

I'm not sure who you are, but we've come too far, and quested too long, across too much of this country to back down now. We will win, and prove our worth to Ancalagon and have our prize. But your in my way. Whoever you are.

And then another breath to fill the void left after the small speech. He held Ragnarok out to his right, and his left hand did an odd thing. He drew Sol Blade in his left hand and he took another deep breath and said.

I'm sorry. I'm sure you have your reasons for fighting, and you've probably journeyed a long way as well. But I wont be stopped. Your journey must end here.

And he was off. Both blades held out to either side like wings, putting a sort of hum in tune with the drum-beat foot falls of his charge. There was a glow in his eyes, and a sort of deep intense gaze. Not anything threatening as much as it was intensely focused, and yet different. To Ryugi's Energy Sense, the Reflection was gathering power, but not for anything...or rather...for anything...it was given no direct intent or focus as of yet.

Within range, with is left foot leading, using his enhanced strength he swung Ragnarok, tossing his hips into the motions so as to make a wide right to left sweeping slash for Ryugi's midsection. He knew where his armor was. He knew he couldnt cut him. He also knew a one handed slash, even with his draconic endowments was not going to be as powerful as any two handed slash. But he did it anyway. His glowing red eyes never once leaving their set gaze on Ryugi's. With a fierce determination he shouted...

Adamant....

There was no surprise in the fact he was preparing a power. He knew Ryugi could see what he could. He was still calling out his techniques name, denying himself none of its power. But while revealing himself, he revealed nothing. What followed could have been any one of several moves, couldnt it? And each would have called for several different kinds of defenses and none of which he seemed poised to launch. But before Ryugi could think about defending against that power, whatever it may be and what openings his defense may leave, he had that slash from Ragnarok to concern himself with...