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[8] Okay, the opponent was finally not playing around. In fact, he was heading straight into a nasty punch to the stomach, and from the looks of it, it was going to seriously do some damage. So, in traditional fashion, Sutiiven decided to make Cris go down with him.



With a burst of energy, Sutii blitzed straight at Reinhart with full intent to ram into him and blow him back with a nasty strike. The sheer speed of the attack would cause one of two things - either he would hit Cris and stop the attack from working, or he and the attack would collide and cause a nasty combination of two attacks in a devastating cocktail of energy.

Of course, there was also the chance that Cris could prevent him from using the ability or outright dodge it, and then they'd be back to square one of the combat equation.

And charge he did. However, Reinhart didn't stop his attack, he'd hit Sutii's side instead of his abdomen, more than likely somewhere along the rib area. While Reinhart took the tack square in the chest. Yes they'd both be blown back and set back to square one but one had to wonder where the damage was.

Unless Sutii had armor on he'd taken an explosive punch to the ribs. As for Reinhart, wellhe wore armor under his cothing, a breastplate being one of them. Though the tackle thrust him back his armor took the blunt of the blow. Stumbling back he clutched his chest watching for Sutii to either be floored or back on the offensive.

Let's keep going the thought though he felt a bit of blood trickle down the side of his mouth as he waited for the effects of his attack to resolve.

[5] ...OW.

Sutiiven was thrown back by the blast, and skidded across the ground for a distance, kicking up dust and the other random debris on the ground of the void. When he came to a complete stop, Sutii grunted as he assesed the damage taken.

Wait... thats odd... other than the shrapnel, he didn't hurt that much... weird.

He placed his hand over his chest for a second and felt a hard substance beneath his jacket. It was the special chainmail like armor that Damrius had given him a while ago. Apparently it was good for concussive blasts, but shrapnel cut through it like a hot knife through butter. Otherwise, the light mythril like armor was barely noticeable by the wearer, and while he could only vaguely remember equipping it before getting sucked into the fight, he wasnt gonna complain. Although another attack like that would probably render it useless.

Returning to his feet, Sutii brushed himself off a bit and faced Reinhart.

"Nice hit."

"Likewise."

There was a moment of silence following Reinhart's words and a smile adorning his face as he saw a bit of himself in the man before him.

"You fought well," Reinhart though, "and to honor your fighting spirit I will show you this technique."

Reinhart's eyes lit up like wild fire, they leaked blood red energy, and his being was outlined in a malicious aura. He placed both hands before him then waved them back in opposite directions as if presenting cards over a table. Instead of cards however Sutii might recognize the spears that threatened to skewer him before. All of them before Reinhart, each blade pointed forward.



Something was different however, these weren't the size of a man, they were long spears indeed but sized so that a man could wield them. A total of four opaque, crimson, smokey, spears hovered over the ground and Reinhart eyed Sutii. From behind the spears an armored hand took hold of each one and a fully armored 'man' followed. Each individual 'ghost' match the look of the spear. Opaque, crimson, and smoke. All the blades were now pointed at Sutii.

Reinhart stepped forth, past his 'guards'. Upon doing so each guard snapped to attention causing the usual sounds of clanking armor and planted feet. To Sutii they'd look like a suit of armor found in castles of days long since past, with the exception of them looking like crimson smokey ghosts.

Blades sprang from under Reinhart's sleeves, they shot past the back of his hands about six inches past his extended fingers. However, these blades resembled the guards that now stood behind him. The sound snapped the guards to the ready, they took their spear in hand and stood ready for the attack. Both the guards and Reinhart's blades reflected his crimson aura and with no further interuption or delay he sprang forth after Sutii.

Each guard followed reflexively having aquired their target. Two flanked Reinhart on each side, while the two closest to him closed ranks, the furthest two moved to flank Sutii. As they beared spears they had longer reach than their summoner and so the first guard on Reinhart's right struck first with a quick thrust to Sutii's chest.

An instant would pass to allow Sutii his action and the second closest to Reinhart would take to the air, spin his spear over head and bring it down over Sutii af if to tear the man in half. Reinhart was next, he'd keep on Sutii ducking low swiping one blade across his abdomen. The first flanker closed in swiping from Sutii's right, then Reinhart would follow up by thrusting his next blade forward in a stab to the mid section.

Fianlly the last guard by now would either be at Sutii's side depending on the man's actions or around his back. Now he too would make a chest level thrust either skewering Sutii from one side or from behind. All guards had delivered their blow but they all remained stuck at the end of their action.

Reinhart would bring his blade in an upward motion starting from Sutii's crouch all the way through the top of Sutii's head. A short pause would follow then he'd swipe once more across the man's throat. Everything said and done the guards would sweep upward like the smoke that surrounded them and no longer be among the living.

If Sutii brought the fight to Reinhart while the summon took place there'd be a similar display. He wouldn't stop it from happening and each blow he took while leaving no physical trace would feel just as if he took the full on strike. They were meant to strike at his very essence after all, not to physically maime the man. It was over, it had to be.

His speed, his movement, his power, the fluidity of it all, and yet the sudden nature of his actions. It all screamed of pure chaos, and it made Maximos smirk like he rarely had before.

While he had ordered the spirits haunting the boys body to begone, he knew that somewhere within that body was the young boy who had agreed to push this combat so very far.



Maximos called out, as the warrior dashed to the right. His eyes squinted, locking on target. A battle of swords and souls.



He said, with a wiry grin as the space between them once again vanished to absolute zero. Maximos met Damrius' slash with a slash of his own. Both hands firmly gripping the hilt of his weapon adding an intense force to his blow as he deflected Damrius' sword to the outside. Immediately he stepped in to the open spot between the beasts arms, aiming to slash the warrior downwards across the chest from right to left, releasing his right hand as he exited the slash. All the while keeping his footing loose so as to duck or dodge any secondary attack.



He exclaimed at the cluster of mad souls.

He was fast, very fast, too fast. Maximos could see the kick coming, the limb closing down and the sparking rage coursing through the blade that followed it.

These spirits were not here to play, or spar, they were here to kill. And the Reaper before them was here to judge. It was a battle against the flesh of a man in order to free his soul.

Pain would have to be felt.

Unable to bring his right and left arm back across in time Maximos was forced to endure. His eyes slanted and locked as the foot came down, smashing into the crown of his head. His body as a whole felt the impact. His knee's buckled slightly, his back hunched over just a bit and it appeared it was the end. That was until the dull gong filled the air.

For a battle like this, blood would have to be spilled.

And it was, beads of black dripped down the side of Maximos' face as they sprinkled from a fresh wound. Damrius would find his sword burried in Maximos' right forearm, through the flesh and stopped by the jet black cursed bones.

With no regard for health or harm, Maximos lurched forward his right arm grinding against the blade filling the air with the screech of crystal on metal. With his palm open wide he gripped the blade of Damrius' sword just above the hilt, spilling a stream of black along the length of the blade and digging slits into each of his fingers as he locked his grip. Pulling a blade out of flesh is one thing, but the friction provided by the grip of the cursed metal of his fingers would entirely more difficult.

As Damrius had swung that second swing with his left arm, and Maximos was gripping with his right that would mean that Damrius' left side was exposed to Maximos, and it was highly unlikely he could effectively reach his right blade across his chest and still have the leverage to use it efficiently. That meant he was open, an opening Maximos took advantage of, bringing the sword in his left hand straight down on the Beast's left arm. His obsidian black carrying all the killing power and sharpness needed to slice the arm clean off. The Ghosts had a choice, an arm, or a sword?

Meanwhile, through pain and gore Maximos' lips could be seen moving though no sound seemed to escape them.

[6] Well. This was gonna be interesting.

In the moment that he had before the onslaught approached, he quickly flared back his jacket, revealing the numerous places where one could hide a weapon or item, but on his person he was not carrying firearms or throwing knives, or any other sort of weapon save the swords equipped on his back normally in plain sight. However, on his belt was clipped a small object, something that didn't really appear like a weapon of any sort, but to those who knew of it, they would be quite impressed indeed.

It was small, spherical in shape, ornately decorated, and had something resembling a cross sticking out of the top.



As the creatures came in, unclipped the grenade from his belt, and quickly pulled the pin.

One second.

The 5 opponents came in, spears and sword ready to skewer, draw, and quarter him. He shifted his weight. This was going to have to be flawless... or else it was gonna suck.

Two seconds.



He was now surrounded. With a quick burst of energy, he shot himself skywards, releasing the grenade halfway to the peak of his ascent, about 12 feet up before gravity kicked in.

Three seconds.

From the grenade came the sound of a choir, singing a single, mocking, yet completely appropriate word -

"~Hallelujah!~"

And with that, the grenade erupted into a dazzling blast of white light, followed by a spherical shockwave that shot out in all directions for a short distance. The weapon's owner was to be hurled a fair distance away due to the factor of his descent from the evasive maneuver he had attempted. As for the opponent and his spiritual beings, however, the question still remained as to their state. It was possible that Reinhart would have been hurled back from the concussive force as well, however, it was also completely possible that he could have withstood it. Such was the nature of grenades and their ilk - highly unpredictable, and rather dangerous. Fortunately for all parties, Sutii had only one for this fight, and unlike his other "finishers," a repeat performance in the same battle was highly unlikely, and theoretically impossible for the moment.

Sutiiven crash landed into the ground a short distance away, bouncing and rolling a bit before coming to a complete stop by running into a rock. With a groan, he attempted to get up, but was unable to do so before he was showered with debris that had been sent flying from the blast. Small stones , dirt, and other random objects bounced off his head and back for a moment, causing him to sigh, then get to his feet and turn to face Cris. He himself was now covered in scrapes and bruises, but how would his opponent fair?

Maximos gave no chase, he closed no gap. There was a formality here that need be met.

With a wet crunch the Reaper discarded the blade of the sword, completely ignorant to the transformation it had undergone. Black blood seeped into the snow staining, and after about a second or two there was a small puff of snow as the diluted substance exploded. The exact same effect could be beheld from the vicinity of the discarded glove. The accessory was likely finished, and a dance of falling snowflakes would perform its lament.

Maximos' right arm fell limp at his side, thin streams of ebony soaking through his sleeves to stain the white purity of the ground below.

You are all in violation of the first, sixth, seventh, and twelfth, and fifty sixth mandate of the Abel. Refusal to pass over, unlawful residence in a living form, unlawful control of a living soul, mass collaboration for spiritual violation, and assaulting a Reaper in the course of natural processing.

Sparks danced along his right arm, as it slowly bent upwards, blood poured between his fingers like strings, and slowly a sickly black aura seemed to begin seeping from his cursed limb. White poured from his right eye like a flame, seeping off to the side as it was caught in some ethereal wind. Red and black tricked down his face, from the point of the kicks impact and the spilled drops from his arm.

How do you plead?

It was nearly time. He could feel it, sense it, taste it in the air. He would not take this boys life, but he would not stand to see him broken as such. Would what transpired here hold when they returned to reality? Only fate knew such a thing. But only Death knew what this Reaper had to do next.