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Not until too late did Konstantine see the flower atop the man's head move; not until too late had she noticed it was moving attack her. When she did, she absorbed the sword in her left hand, its energies returning to her body for further use of her ability, and synthesized an arm guard on her right forearm to block the spikes coming her way. She held her arm in front of her and sent three spikes ricocheting harmlessly. And when the remaining two found their way into Konstantine's stomach, she clutched her stomach with the same arm. She took a few steps backward and glared at the man, gritting her teeth to cope with the pain. . .

The expression on Konstantine was strange, it was stuck somewhere in between severe pain, anger, and deviousness. Deviousness won as Konstantine stood upright in spite of the pain and moved her arm away from her stomach and absorbed the forearm guard that hadn't prevented her from bleeding. She took a deep breath before she spoke, "This is not pain." She said with more deviousness showing in her smile. "I will show you pain."

She took another deep breath but her exhale became a scream. Her voice was shrill at first but began to change after a second or two, assuming a more cold, metallic tone. In the same moment, her green eyes began to glow and her radiant red hair began to shimmer and move as if it were caught in a breeze. And her skin. . . Her skin turned from fleshy pink to dull grey before becoming quicksilver in color. Konstantine watched the man, hoping to catch the expression on his face. . .

Blood soaked the lower part of Konstantine's shirt, though the bleeding had slowed--and the pain only slightly dulled--because of the changes. She was saddened slightly, she enjoyed seeing the startled looks on peoples' faces, but she had gotten no such expression from the man. She turned the sadness into anger and decided to take it out on her opponent. She rushed forward and synthesized a sword, a bit larger than those before. Grasping the sword in both hands, she swung at the man, diagonally up to his left shoulder. . .

From the moment Konstantine first saw the mace, she had known she would most certainly not want to be hit by it. As soon as the man raised his shield, she absorbed the sword and synthesized in its place a shield of her own. Its thick, heavy metal forced her to wield it so that it was attached to one hand (in this case, her right) while her other hand supported it. However, its thick metal would also assure that she would be left unhurt by the mace. When the mace collided with her shield, Konstantine flinched from the force with which the man had swung, making her all the more glad she had defended. . .

All sorts of foul curses filled Konstantine's mind, faced with the fact she had gotten herself into more than she had expected--possibly more than she could handle. She saw only one option now to combat the two simultaneous attacks of mace of shield. Konstantine exerted energy which would be expelled outward from her body to push the man away. It wasn't much, only strong to push the man away and likely knock him off his feet, but not strong enough to do much else. If nothing more, it would delay her demise, hopefully long enough to pull something to tip the scales in her favor. . .

Konstantine silently cursed at the man's quick evasion, then cursed at how many times she had cursed in this accursed fight. He had moved too quickly to allow her enough time for anything fancy. She had turned halfway around when she blocked the first mace attack, which allowed her to see what was coming just before it removed her head. She crouched to duck underneath the incoming mace, then threw her body into the man's shield, aiming to knock him down. . .

Before she knew to react, Konstantine was pulled to the ground by her opponent. Quickly, she got her wits about her and made her move. She stood, moving her right foot to step just next to the man's left arm and she synthesized thick wires of metal that stuck deep into the ground on either side of the man's wrist, preventing any further attacks from the mace. She stared at what looked to be sap coming from the man's forehead, startled but not nearly startled enough to lose the opportunity she had gotten.

Finally, Konstantine synthesized into her right a sword, just long enough to have its point no more than an inch from the man's throat. "You lose," she said. . .

The man vanished again and Konstantine absorbed the sword in her hand and the, now useless, wires stuck in the ground. When the earth shook beneath her, she dropped to one knee, she could feel her form slipping and the pain of her wound was only hurting more untreated. She turned her head around even before the man spoke behind her, assuming that to be the most likely place he would go.

As Konstantine had expected, she saw him doing what could only have been powering up for a stronger attack. "Stop," she said. She touched the open wound in her stomach and looked at the blood on her hand. At which point, she let the form go and her skin turned back from its quicksilver color. "Stop!" Konstantine repeated, louder this time than the first as she could feel the wound begin bleeding again. . .