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Along the rows of the arena crowd, tents & small shelter began to arise. Certainly, rain & thunder pire would soon envelop the entirety of these sandy grounds; but, the mercenary lost his interest in the whirling sands, the cold weather, and the dark clouds swarming about to the arena's relative east.

No, instead - Omi held a look of resolve. When the flaming 'serpents' spawned to life, no physical reaction was noted in Lazenca's being; could this be perceived as a lack of interest in the spawning of the burning appendages? "Huh.. No matter; this will no longer be ending in melee stalemates." Flexing his fingers outward a few times, the serpents shaking about as though the mercenary's very grip guided them- his stance kept sharp. Then darted forward.

It was a shuffle once more; his left hand the fist, right hand open. Miranda had a nice stance for gaining or creating space - but, as he would soon find out, just mere distance would prove to be useless in the oncoming exchange. For whilst the dark-clad swordsman seemed to be gunning towards Lazenca with his left hand, the fist bellowing forward in a straight haymaker that would normally hold an utmost ease for maneuvering around - his right hand, still well in front of his face, was gesturing fingers in different directions. Right index finger that way. Ring finger gesturing this way. And the three flaming cylinders seemed to coil through the air quite rapidly in response; perhaps, even faster than the man's arms. Furthermore, as his fingers arched back - then arched forward, the odd serpents of kindling fire stretched to & fro; since they appeared to be composed of fire and a disorienting red light - it was a rather confusing display, no doubt. Two of the three serpents spawned off his right palm; the third, circulating back & fourth around his left fist. Despite the obvious nature of his forward strike - two of the flaming snakes were criss-crossing in a double helix. Right over the course of the fist, well after it'd come out to the apex of it's reach. If Lazenca merely dashed backwards - the serpents would likely catch up with him. If Miranda just came forward, his face would meet the glinting edge of the left gauntlet's handplate dead on. No better.

And Barsait's eyes were gesturing around; the third serpent of flames spiraling to the left & right just above the path of the prior two snakes. A counter-defensive, awaiting for Lazenca to move to the side - just like an actual serpentine, eying it's prey & their movements.

"Charging forward!? Perfect-" The mercenary unintentionally conjured his thoughts whilst leaning into the blow, fully intending to meet his opponent. Though, in those brief moments, Barsait had to admit: it was a rather forceful lunge.. yet, as he felt a few misses pass by Miranda, one serpent missing a shoulder - before the bizarre, perhaps even the last thing Omi could have expected, did indeed occur.

A handstand?

The slightly comical look of surprise that overtook Barsait's face was immediately replaced by extreme annoyance, as he felt the descending legs come upon & ensnare his shoulders. Feet digging to either side of his neck, and taking a firm hold; before an impressive feat of physical prowess lifted Barsait up farther than he would have thought immediately possible, and vaulted him right on over.

Whipping his left hand to the side quickly, the abrupt motion seeming to cause the already-spawned serpentry to fade into non-existence with a slight flicker - Omi felt his center of gravity reversing, then coming right back to normal. If he had the time to consider it, the mercenary would have, in the common circumstances, given time to credit such a well-apt act. In fact: if the dark-clad mercenary hadn't mapped out a vague course of action prior to the toss of his body over Lazenca's back, it was unlikely for him to have performed any action prior to striking the ground below.

Yet, it was already obvious, something was amiss.

While he did enjoy a well-meaning spar, the mercenary seemed to take these arena matches with an ever-growing level of resolve. Not to mention, a rather defined sense of focus. Why summon just three serpents, one may ask, when in previous fights, the mercenary had managed to muster & manipulate so many more..? One could guess, it was so he could continue fighting in a melee manner whilst still keeping precise control of the serpents he had formed. And surely, a viable assumption. Yet.. "I can summon a damned lot more of these than before, and not just from my hands. And granted, this guy didn't just charge in like I hoped, but.. LET'S TRY THIS OUT!" Eager thoughts exploded - as did a torrent of the serpents, right through the chain mesh surrounding his flesh - right through the black cloth of his shirt - and in a rush, all flooded right up along his shoulders. It was brief, the time of contact between his neck & Lazenca's feet; not enough time to channel a great amount of the ominous appendages out.. but enough time to stretch & skew an impressive thirty-two miniature, crimson snakes along the man's boots. Yet, his hands were not the ones mustering these about - no, in that situation, they couldn't. Suggesting..

Omi truly had grown in his time here at the tournament, now managing to manipulate his odd 'red lights' with body parts & even just light twitches, if acknowledged, besides the mere gesturings of his fingertips. His right hand managed to raise up enough to get the lower section of the elbow to split the impact of the sand- before his entire body followed suit, causing a rough exhale of pain to flow from his lips. Even though the surface of the ground was sandy - the impact was still rather fierce, and by no means, felt pleasant. The casual member of the audience would have probably only caught the flipping of the mercenary upon the ground, and a rather bizarre explosion of red lights; yet, the dexterous would more likely have noted, the small flood of what could be considered, "explosive leeches", right along the plummeting Miranda's blind region. And so, no doubt, as both hit the ground - it would first appear, Miranda had proven victor, having buffered out the damage of the fall much more than Barsait. Yet.. not letting the dull thud of pain from striking sandy soil shake his wits, Omi quickly gestured his right hand - and no doubt, traveling along Lazenca's legs, and with a speed far faster than the mercenary's limbs.. the serpents ignited. While they were moving along the legs - they would no doubt, try to reach higher & farther, as well as spreading out in numerous directions in the hopes of ensaring their prey- Omi bounding back forward in an off-balance, dizzy sort of manner - trying to impatiently catch his breath. Though, his hands were far too busy flicking fingers this way & that without allowing even a glance back in guiding the serpents all about to cause as much damage as the situation could muster, in order to cradle his face..

These flames were not natural, as one whom encountered them would soon find. If the nature of the bizarre red serpents guiding flames by Omi's inclination weren't an odyssey in itself, than one would find that, the flames seemed to actually roar along their path. Like a powerful current, with some bizarre force guiding it along - ripping the flames about as though to wound what need be. The darkened arena was, by this act, partially illuminated in the bizarre lighting.

Some of the crowd seemed genuinely surprised by this act. First, used as a pseudo-cushion to keep himself from being hurled out of the ring; then, used as a pseudo-shield from the ripping cold ushered fourth by prior opponent Number 66, it seemed that the versatile nature of the serpentine attacks.. were only matched by what odd - yet obviously, effective - means of implying them the mercenary hatched up next.

A spherical cross.

Regardless, it would be rather pointless to point out: A quick shield of icy substance would prove.. inadequate, against this steadfast impaling current.

Incredible. Omi, sweating & panting something fierce with the stress put on his body by maintaining such a show, had to marvel at the dexterity of Lazenca; once again, not only maneuvering about the coils and managing to escape, but bounding towards him in that feral state. A massive charge was facing Barsait, and if it were not contested - which seemed so difficult to even attempt in that position - it was unknown exactly what would happen to the mercenary. Never in this tournament, had he quite felt so threatened; Lazenca did not have much in the means of pure force, but it was well made up in a general sense to survive. And with that, Omi faced serious opposition. Deadly, no doubt.

Though, the thoughts rushing through his head of his previously-bested opponents & comrades having lost their place in this tournament, made defeat by such elements not an option.

The mass of flame would take too long to wind back & catch the wolf by the back. Far too long. No, the mercenary only had one course of action mapped out for this specific element of the bout; his teeth flashing with a fang here and there, as though to meet the ferocity of the bounding beast. But.. his right hand suddenly became a stout fist. And sure enough, the flames outward-bound began to flicker away, obviously easy to call off than manifest - though the massive tendrils of heat were still evident. It seemed, in an effort to channel more of them nearby him quickly: He was sacrificing the force & presence of the ones abroad..

Lazenca was close enough for the shoulder-ram. And some large amount of the coils were still abound in the arena, fire here & there; the removal of said masses still in the act. Yet, the flaming arm which before, had just been their guide - was now suddenly raising it's surrounding temperature something fierce. The handplate upon his right gauntlet was shining white & red, as though it had been freshly forged; and his eyes were open in bloodshot. Only one word could be gritted out, despite his expression never changing at all: And this would be, strained though his voice sounded, "Sorry."

Mid-arm. Shoulder. Wrist. It seemed all of the coils emanating from his body were channeling - and newly fashioned ones sprouting - upon his right arm. There was no way, in the impact & the rush of his own flames, those legs could be made to stray away from the impact ram; but.. it seemed, Omi had no intention of missing that shoulder charge, either. For once again, the arena shone brightly as could be - this time, from one source.

No longer hurling the blaze about in an attempt to catch Miranda, it seemed Omi intended to use his own body, even at the cost of a potential strike into his legs, in order to cast down the sun's Earthbound fury onto his opponent.

The swordsman's entire arm, raised in what one could describe as a reverse uppercut, was beaming with an intensity not unlike the spherical cross from before; that horrific pressure flowing about it, flame crackling all about. Yet, as Lazenca would close his shoulder on in to topple Barsait - he would find the act made too easy. For Omi shuffled right in, allowing the wolf to make contact, at the cost of his balance, just to slam his fist downward with a highly lessened chance of missing. Barsait would probably gauge forward in an arch - then have his feet sent upward, toppling himself over the wolf. Though, with how that fist was now extended by those dire embers, growl emitting from his lips at the pressure his arm was undergoing - not only was it likely Lazenca would be struck.. but, equally likely, the ground beneath them would be utterly annihilated at such a point-blank display of inferno. No doubt also: neither of them would have a very good sense of sight, or.. Hell - any sense in proper array when that thunderous fist of ember stroke down. Given a wolf's general shape, then adding in the fact that Lazenca was considerably larger than the norm; a good estimate for a spot to be struck, would be the mid-to-upper back.

Nicknamed "H A E L S T R O M - S T R I K E" - a kind of blow Barsait had practiced, ironically, many a time during his practices admist the rounds - this punch utilized the body's position in order to deliver higher levels of force behind a punch, regardless of the direction the opponent faced. Even without the horrific force of fire & ember, this was something horrid. The adaptation of it used here, was rather varied from the norm; for normally, it was a vertical-to-upper punch, to try and catch fighters near his height or higher. But, in this case.. For in a shuffle motion, the entire body arches downward; using the thrust of the shoulder in opposition to a regular uppercut, so no resistance is met by the air. A downward arched punch, basically. An unhindered blow with a pin-point accuracy, made possible to perform on such short notice, thanks to Lazenca's lowered stature. Again: it was likely, the ripping force would come near the wolf's back in some region. Though, to be struck anywhere by that monstrosity, would be without need to say: A catastrophe.