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Would do nothing. What Ira failed to realize was that this heat was under Ryugi's control, and he was protecting it from being absorbed. This meant that the armor would continue to heat up and melt as Ryugi had originally planned, and Ira would be stabbed. As for Ira's sword, Ragnarok might not have been as long, but since Ryugi would be right up next to Ira since he'd dodged in, the hit from the blade would be negligible as his harmlessly bumped Ryugi's mail armor hidden under his thick jacket. The strike would go through...

One blast is all it would take, and you'd be in pieces. It's your decision if you decide to continue this fight.

((Your post makes no sense. Reason why is included in a PM that will arrive to you shortly.))

...I remember falling... I remember a dream that felt more real that my own life. My own reality...

Roland appeared in a long hallway, looking much like an underground corridor in old churches. This particular one, however, had a peculiar if not disgusting scent. And it became apparent why very quickly. The pillars all had glass windows on the insides of the hall, and in each pillar was a corpse, hung with slit throats and wrists. What's more, they had blood fountain spells put on them, making their hearts never stop. Their throats went raw long ago from screaming, so most of them can only whimper in their torment.

Here lies Roland on an offering table. His back was set to a stone table, and his wrists and ankles bound to the corners. Despite the feeling of it, the crushing reality of this disgusting place, Roland felt a sort of serenity, as though he new from the begining that this was not real. With that realization, he looked to his right arm, the hand, which softly pulled itself free of the bind, slipping through it. He then repeated with his other limbs before standing, walking through the hall of blood. About halfway, he heard the sound of a cackling laugh.

~~~

"You can tell the difference from the real world and the dream one. Hilarious. You've done in one appearance what most take years to learn!"

"I'm flesh and blood, and all this is in my mind. Like you are."

The man stood tall on the offering table, his hands at his sides, splayed out wide, his fingers tense. He was tall, at least seven feet tall on his own, but as thin as he was, he might only be pushing 180. "In your mind? And yet I find it amusing that you knew it was a dream."

"You're a part of my imagination. You don't exist."

"But I do."

"Only in my head."

"What more is there? There is a belief that human beings only come into existance if we believe they exist. But here I stand before you, so then I must be real."

"But you can't scare me. I know you're fake."

"Do you now?"

"Mm."

"Then what will I do next?"

"It's pointless for me to answer that. Logicly, I'll say what I expect you to do, but then my mind can come up with another series of events to play out. It's just a dream."

"It is just a dream. One you'll be joining into for a long time, my little project." The man was then gone, and the slides of glass all shattered at once. The slits of flesh that had once tormented the people were no more, and they began to shamble forward, their eyes on Roland. "You might not know this, Roland, but when a person comes to be in a coma, or dies prematurely, their soul will often travel to a place called the void. Where you are now. Often, people with outstanding energy or power can break through the void's power, often without knowing it. They wake up and never realize what happened. What's best? Is that they become less and less of themselves the more they come here."

Roland didn't even listen to the freak man's rant. When the zombie people had begun their attack, Roland had no qualms slamming his foot right into one's chest, sending in backwards into a set of three others. Another grabbed his shoulder, but it soon found itself being flung over Roland's head. When it hit the ground, it exploded like the old school puddies. Roland then spent a good half hour demolishing them all.

This harkened the beast back down from the cathedral's cieling. "Now... this is where you see just how flawed your pink fleshy human bits are. Roland." The man slammed his fist into Roland's stomach, and something happened. Something happened inside Roland. With a scream, he was sent back into a wall. His body lined up perfectly with the spires on the wall, a spike through each shoulder, hip, palm, foot and one through his chest.

Roland lay there on the wall, his body too wracked with pain to scream, too pained to even curl up. His eyes were wide open, and blood seeped from every wound.

"There now! Where is your reality now? Where is your dream world, you little punk?!" The man stepped forward, his face coming into light for the first time. And Roland reckognized him right away. "Yes, young man. You know me. You know me well." He raised his hand, and Roland's body was lifted off the spires and flung across the room, landing square on the table. "You will prove more useful to me than I had entirely planned, back then... I've found a use for you, Roland. One that, if I know anything... will make me a ********?" He looked down, and for a moment, his black hair almost fell out of place out of shock. "Still got enough fight in you to be defiant?" he grinned a freakish little grin before raising his arm, which actually morphed into a blade, which he punched into Roland's chest, who didn't even scream. "...Heh."

Roland looked up at his 'opponent', struggling to breathe. For a place in his dreams, he was bleeding hard. His throat was raw. "...Why... aren't I...--"

"Dead? Hahah. Such a release is something you'll not be allowed for quite some time now. For the time being..." His second arm shifted into a blade, and he grinned. "Now, Roland, prepare." Roland would be slammed into the wall, and hours of torture ensue.

"Now, my little project. Prepare to go back to where I began."

A hand reached out and grabbed hole of Maximos' turning shoulder. A face coming close towards his ear. Lips moved in the formation of words as harsh words traveled through the ear canal.

You don't know what I want... and this is not a case of wanting or not wanting something. This is a case of needing to do something or not, and I really need to get the hell out of this place.

Festus back off a few feet. Her eyes still holding that determined look.

So if you could so kindly share your information.

This wasn't a question or a request. She demanded the information.

And with a sudden poof, Ryugi Kazamaru was spat back into the void after the conclusion of his last fight. It seemed that this strange place had yet another test, another challenge for him. And so, he looked around the battlefield to see what it had given him this time, and found something interesting. There was no ground to speak of, well, other than thousands apon thousands of platforms floating about in a sea of nothingness.

The platforms seemed to be about ten feet across, and about six feet thick. Well, in the center anyway. It seemed the center was pointed, and bent upward to the sides to form a stange sort of upside down cone shape. On the top of the platforms was solid stone, with an ornate carving in them that pulsed with a faint blue light...

Ryugi then looked around to see who his challenger was.

Ryugi grinned and pulled in his first turn of energy into his body...and glanced behind him for a split second...

It seems we are...

And then he fell backwards...

As soon as Dame came over the edge of the platform, Ryugi's voice echoed across the void and a tiny condensed ball of flame shot across the small distance between the two to explode as it neared Dame.

While Ryugi's attack was indeed unique, it put him at a slight disadvante for the moment. He was falling. He has assumed there'd be a platform underneith him relatively closeby, but he was unlucky in that respect. There was indeed one below him, but it would take a while for him to get there. In the meantime, he gathered another turn of charge and fell towards the lower platform. (2)