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Disorientation. It had been a while since he had been whisked out of reality and into the ethereal void. Of course, he had no recognition of what had transpired, but he seemed to instinctively KNOW what the place was. One could say that he had a serious case of Deja Vu.

The terms of combat this time around were certainly... different. The first thing the man noticed was his apparent lack of arms. There was no wound or pain that suggested any sort of an attack; they were simply gone. He also felt considerably... weak. His arcanic abilities didn't seem to function at any sort of capacity. He also felt his movements restrained, as though he were surrounded by thick molasis.

Cursing to himself, he would finally notice the stage of combat. The cause of his lack of mobility was not that he was physically hampered. Rather, he found himself waist deep in what appeared to be multi-colored, plastic spheres. He was in a twisted sort of ball pit, and an infinately vast one at that.

Needless to say, the man was not amused.

The man was floored with an audible OOMPH, being completely buried under the young rabit girl and a sea of multi-colored balls. He's had some pretty ******** up dreams, but this unreality took the cake.

Apparently she didn't fall from such a height as to seriously injure either of them, so she must've materialized a couple feet above him. Well, no matter. He knew where his opponent was, from whom he was currently hidden. Instead of making his way to his feet, he aimed to knock her legs out from under of her with a simple right sweep kick. He couldn't see, but he obviously knew where she was now.

It should be easy, seeing as his opponent was unaware of his presense.

Immediatly after he felt the rabit girl go down, the man recoiled back and sprang to a crouching position. Staying floored would have meant being at her mercy; without arms, it would have been relatively easy for her to just stomp him into submission. Instead, he would just stay low, trying to hear something rustle through the balls. Mostly because the author has writter's block and can't think of anything else to do.

It was cold.

But snow always is.

Lost amongst a thousand tears of white stood a single figure clothed in solid black. His silhouette stabbing out at the eye as it entirely opposed what surrounded him. He was at home here, caught between life and death. Trees seemingly barren and lost though quite alive and asleep. A forest alive, yet silent.

This snowy land stolen away in winter's icy grasp would be there battleground.

And here with both arms at his side, he waited. A single white glow cutting through the shadow cast by his hood taking in all there was to see.

He turned around slowly, his head leading his shoulders, then hips, with his foot finally making a gentle crunch as it landed. The first thing visible would be the glow piercing the shadow of his hood, projected by his white right eye.

Damrius...

He let the name roll off his tongue. The bottom half of his face clearly visible as it pronounced it. The sound reverberating through his brain until it pulled up a memory.

Ryugi's friend. A pleasure.

His words were somewhat cold, likely because he was. Maximos was an island boy, born and raised on the coast. Though while that was his youth, this sort of weather did seem to carry a sort of appeal.

I've heard a lot about you...I hear your getting better everyday.

His left hand slid behind his back, while his right hand drooped down loose at his side.

Care to show me?

Maximos watched the mans approach. He could see alot, but he said so little. His posture was strong, and confident, and yet realistic. There was hesitation, but there was also expectation. He could not rate the skill of the man, but he could see he had the potential.

As Damrius finally reached him Maximos' right index finger rose in between the two fighters.

It was not at all an attack, instead a pausation.

I have one request for our 'bout.

He said calmly. A tuft of white drifting from his lips into the cool night air.

The average battle starts off small...

A swirl of black formed a small ball above his finger.

...as we trade blows the battles intensity and strength grows...

The ball began to spark and quiver growing larger, from the size of pea to the size of a small super ball.

We push and push, until we are at our breaking points and beyond!

The ball grew larger and larger, its surface coursing with violent flame,and ebon sparks that lashed down Maximos' like a small tempest about the size of a softball.

I want none of that.

His hand rose up, snuffing out the ball, crushing it in his fingers. Lashes of black, essence poured down his right arm, quickly vanishing into his sleaves, leaving only a few sparks dancing across his knuckles.

Fight me with everything you have, or not at all.

Excellent, Damrius agreed whats more he spared no time breaking into attack. It appeared in his time with Ryugi he hadnt picked up the dragon's flare for exceedingly long dialog, instead he jumped straight into action.

Maximos smirked. His punches were quick, and while the first right wide swing was a feint he hadnt been privy enough to this mans style to recognize it just yet. So safetly he leaned back, letting the punch swoosh by, his head lifting as he followed suit to avoid the uppercut.

While spending this time defending attacks that werent draining his stamina, Maximos balled his right fist, sparks dancing down his arm.

Next came a kick, the boy was quick, but as of yet hadnt caused the Shadow to surrender any ground. The snow smacked against the side of Maximos' hood harmlessly. But it connected, and with any sort of connecting hit Maximos was prepared to jump forward into action, when the boy nimbly spun around.

He had to defend quickly, but fiercely. He ducked is head, bringing up his left arm, hand open. With a smack his hand impacted the heel of the oncoming kick, stopping it for the second it took for Maximos to move under the leg and inside its range, immediately delivering a straight punch punch from his sparking right arm, directly to Damrius' chest.