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Screams of anguish echoed across the landscape of nothing as the consciousness of Darshendros and the shadowy doppelganger came together. Chaotic energies merged the intangibles together, knitting them into one singular physical form, neither living nor dead, human or otherwise.

"I am reborn."

Darshendros heard its voice in the back of his head as he said the words, directing him to return to the world he had been robbed from conquering and to seek others to bring under the Master's following. He focused on his memories of the physical plane, honing in on a familiar place he knew still existed somewhere and whom resided within it. A third eye opened somewhere on his body, followed by a fourth, fifth, dozens more. They focused upon the ruins of a temple created from dead flesh floating in dead space just above the world, and upon the demilich that lurked within.

"Zauviir... so you escaped after all..."

The eyes closed and chaos enveloped Darshendros, shrinking down to a pinpoint and exploding like a series of fireworks, leaving nothing remaining.

* * *

The jeweled skull of the demilich Valas Zauviir twinkled to life, floating up into the air from the pile of bones it had been sitting upon. The temple had alarmed him to a presence suddenly entering the main hall, though that should have been impossible considering its current location. The demilich prepared some spells to deal with the matter, thinking it must have been something that came from the void beyond. He teleported into the main hall, ready to blast whatever had defiled his temple to nothingness until he saw the figure that stood before the altar, staring at him as if expecting him.

"M-Master... You've returned!" the demilich stuttered.

Darshendros took a step toward Valas, black ichor dripping from his right hand. "You have failed me, lich."

"Forgive me, my lord. The mortals were--"

Darshendros thrust out his hand, extending into a long, sinuous black tendril with clawed fingers, grasping the floating skull in an enveloping grip.

"You are no longer of any use to us. Perhaps the Master may be more forgiving."

Valas tried to fire off a spell that would get him out of Darshendros' grasp, but the words came out as gibberish. He attempted to cast an empowered fireball spell, but it backfired and blew out the back of his skull instead. The darkness seeped into the hole. Valas' jaw grew slack as black ichor dripped from his eye sockets and nasal cavity. Bone turned to mush and gems into powder, falling to a pile on the ground.

"Or not... Find the lich's phylactery and destroy it," Darshendros stated as he retracted his arm. The ichor that had been pooling under him came to life, spawning dark, one-eyed batlike creatures out of a nightmare, fluttering down the hall and up to Valas' chambers where his phylactery lie.

Darshendros tilted his head, staring off into space, listening to the whispers in his head. After a moment's time, he replied, "Yes, Master."

Turning toward the altar, Darshendros dug his hands into the dead flesh and stone, warping it to his Master's design. Black tendrils extended from his hands, stretching out across the surface like an oily web, soon creeping up the walls and eventually the entire temple.

"Death to death..."

Chaotic energy ripped through the temple, unraveling the magic that bound it together and dismantling it completely. Darshendros heard the death cries of the demilich through the ethers as the creatures he sent destroyed the phylactery. They returned to him as the walls began to split and break apart, scattering into the cosmic winds until nothing remained but a broken sword. His sword.

"You are all that remains..." Darshendros said before turning his newly gifted power upon the weapon's remains, scattering them to dust.

Darshendros floated there in the dead space for a moment as the remnants of the temple drifted away, staring down at the world below him. He moved his gaze upwards, staring into the deep void.

"What is your bidding, master?"

He could feel it now, his blood bubbling and boiling. His muscles tensed and relaxed. He almost bounced on his toes, because Ruuvan's transformation as splendid as it was took so long! The seconds were crawling. Maximos ached for his mind to be flooded with sounds, sights, and strategies of battle, for his body to scream with strain and pain. Instead, Maximos licked his lips and stood steady.

Leather creaked and groaned where he squeezed it. He watched. Bursts of white reflected off the edges of his blades and the wet of his eyes. And then, Ruuvan was complete. Maximos knew that armor, the armor of an Elemengal General. It was the sort of armor Ruuvan wore when he and the Shadow first met so very, very long ago. The man called the Lightbringer stood in full regalia against the one called the Destroyer.

"So its a shield to my swords, is it?" Maximos said with a smirk. His tongue tapped the roof of his mouth making. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I thought I taught you how well armor would serve you in our first round..."

Maximos had a grudge against armor. It stole all the fun away. No blood and gore just scrapes against metal. A shield he could respect, it was a simple thing and an always useful tool. A flat surface used to defend, much like a sword a thin and sharp piece of metal meant to cut. It was simple, and pure, and yet resolute in its solitary function. Maximos could related to the tool. But armor...it mussed things up. It had joints and open spots and unlike a sword equal to all other sword save for the skill of its user, armor left openings for it to fail or be abused. A Shadow Bomb placed inside a breastplate exploding it at infinitely close range might have taught Ruuvan not wear something of the sort. But it hadnt. And yet in his defiance and refusal to be broken Maximos found a sort of pleasure. Ruuvan was going to come at him again now, harder. The elf was not foolish enough to try the same exact trick twice he had something up his sleeve. "...I suppose I'll have to teach you again."

Said the Shadow, and then, in one heated breadth of a moment, the fight was on again. Ruuvan zoomed across the space separating both men and Maximos did not budge. The Shadow stood motionless until the very moment Ruuvan struck.

The defense was as simple as it was terrible. It was a protection and an attack all in one. Ruuvan stabbed, and several things happened all at once in an elaborate orchestra.

Maximos' right hand flitted out moving one sword to grit against the other man's steel. In that moment, the blade beside Maximos right arm stabbed forward, at Ruuvan's arm aiming to impale itself clean through the elbow joint of Ruuvan's armor and continue one. In effect, slicing the arm off.

Simultaneously the two floating swords remaining flipped up over Maximos' shoulders, one on the left and one on the right and stabbed straight forward like spears. The two swords crossed each other mid flight forming a black X in the air as they thrust for opposite targets. Because all plate armor, even that with spaulders, has a weak point where the spaulders meet the breast plate. If attacked head on the flap of metal will protect the shoulder. If attacked at a proper angle, any blade can slip clean underneath the shoulder armor and pierce the very important joint bellow. That was the point here, except both shoulders were being attacked simultaneously, even as Ruuvan was attacking and even as that attack was being defended against. All of this....and one more.

Maximos, as his blade moved aside Ruuvan's blade stomped forward and stabbed the sword in his left hand straight forward aiming to strike the very center of Ruuvan's breastplate with a fierce blow. There was little to no change the sword would pierce the plate. But, the blow was only meant to add to the already incredible onslaught. The elf was being attacked at four points simultaneously. His floating sword attacks guided by the Shadow's mismatched eyes to make up for any space created by the thrust immediately. Sure...the elf could defend, but could he defend them all? Together?

Perception is key in a battle.

Many misconstrue a fight to be a conflict of physical attacks. They believe it pits one opponents skill with a weapon against anothers. But this belief is fundamentally wrong. When people go to war, more than just their armor or weapons are brought to bear. People are fighting. And people are more than just muscles or bones or sharp eyes and keen ears. People have minds, that think and plan. People have fears and doubts. People have weaknesses that are for more pronounced than any suit of armor can ever cover. And it was those weaknesses Maximos preyed on.

Ruuvan was covered, yes. And the truth in all of this was that Maximos would never have even considered going all out if he believed that his attacks, as multitudinous as they were, were ever going to hit. If the elf looked, he would even see that Maximos' grin stretched with each clang of metal on metal, and that that smile twist into an upside down curve when the Shadow felt the metal give beneath his sword and pierce flesh. Perception...perception was so key.

To the Lightbringer, he had just narrowly avoided four simultaneous attacks sustaining a gouge and was now in for a secure hit. Of course, because that was how he perceived things. It was how he was meant to perceive things. The warrior mind tells you that if you are attacked with great force, it required great force. And thusly you exert great force to defend. It took quick wit and skill to avoid Maximos attacks severely threatening attacks, Maximos must be open...but if the perception was switched...

...Maximos, a rather accomplished swordsman, had through of three simple sword motions. That was a very easy task. And then he performed one simple deflection, and one simple thrust. He barely moved. There wasnt a deft fighter alive that could say that effort counted as exerting ones self. The point being, that Ruuvan, while going for his tackle, was truly going for a man who had just put him through the proverbial gauntlet to exhaust the man's defenses and then strike. Perception.

But it was more than that. If three of Maximos' swords were capable of being wielded on their own...why was the Shadow wielding any with his hands at all? The answer came, when no sooner did the thrust sword meet a defense than did Maximos simply let it go. It continued its motion without hesitation. Ruuvan was moving into a tackle. Maximos slid his right foot back clearing a few precious inches of space as the elf faught back the floating blade. And then he shoved off his right foot, carried the force into his left foot and sent his right fist flying at the Lightbringer's face.

It should be noted at this point that the curse afflicting Maximos' right arm made the bones in his right arm, jet black steel. This punch, excusing the pun, carried a serious punch. It was not meant to be straight on however, but as Ruuvan was already favoring his left side it was meant to strike vicious and shove him via its force farther to the right and off balance.

Maximos would simply step back as the punch carried through, he made a waving motion with his right hand and all four free swords returned to hang beside him as they had previously. "I'll give you a moment."

Maximos said, with no smirk or smile. Ruuvan was learning, slipping slowly back into his truer ways. This was not a time to give mockery, he paid the moment the respect it deserved. "Remember yourself Lightbringer, and then come again. Show me how the light pierces the darkness."

That was something the elf always had, wasnt it? In a moment Maximos remembered his friend, and remembered him properly. While the Shadow was a being possessing of an indomitable will, Ruuvan had an immortal spirit. The Lightbringer General had marched an army against the Dark Lord and fallen, yet his spirit would not die. He continued to quest even in his after life after having been betrayed by his ressurector. He continued through rotting flesh, and injuries that would not mend. He continued when his memory was lost and he was reborn as something else. He continued even after his memory was partially regained and all that he had been had been made to seem false. And he continued even now, despite injury and despite how hopeless Maximos' defenses might have seemed to the outside observer.

The Shadow watched, with a soft, friendly smile as his elemengal opponent melted his armor into molten light and formed lesser protection and longer attack range. And suddenly, it struck. It was something in the way the elves attack pattern molded into something new while he spirit stood strong.

"With pleasure, Maximos." his voice boomed across the rooftops. And he charged, and yet Maximos' only reply was a very soft, warm, and almost saddened word. He said, "Ruuvan..."

The man, the elf charging at him was more than just a foe to match blades with. This was his friend, tried and true and Maximos realized he had made a most terrible mistake. Ruuvan stabbed, and as he did the Shadow spoke, kind and gentle words. "My friend you will never be who you once were...."

Maximos' right hand balled into a tight fist and then crashed downwards at his side as if slamming an invisible buzzer. Two of his swords obeyed, they crossed like a set of scissors and flew into the path of Ruuvan's oncoming blade. The light blade pierced the shadow swords right at the crux of their X shape, and then both blades tugged in opposite directions to hold a grip on the elven sword and drive it down along with themselves and pin it to the ground. And Maximos said, "It is impossible."

But then retreated back a step bringing his one wielded sword up on defense while the two floating swords remaining moved to cover his right arm. Maximos' swords seemed terribly harsh and yet they werent. He could see the Lightbringer's attempt. He was not so much struggling, as shift, switching, sliding between patterns of attack and defense in an effort to find something that was lost. To recover something forgotten. And yet...in doing so he ignored a gift he and only he had.

"I am lost to this modern world." Said Maximos, gesturing around himself. "Its weapons and technologies are a mystery to me. I am bound to practice the old ways, and advance them to something that can hope to stand against the crushing wave of evolution."

And then he gestured at Ruuvan, wherever the elf may currently be. "But you are not. While I was transported to Gaia, you were reborn on it. You know of their ways, and our ways. You have the gift of combining, and being..." And his sword, like a pointer, aimed past Ruuvan to where the elf had discarded his modern camo and weaponry at the start of this match. "...of both. You will forever only be who you are. My dear...dear friend...your future does not lie in the past."

He smirked, flipping the sword back so that it rest gently over his shoulder. "What good is it, if you remember who you were only to forget who you are?"

"Allow me a moment to remember?"

Perhaps giving an opponent time to sort himself out was not the best idea, as strategies go it was likely the dumbest. But this wasnt about dumb or smart or win or lose or dusk or dawn. This was about the thrill of the battle in between and gods damn whoever finished on top.

This was a battle, a contest between life and death. If either man won and was not given a fight worth living through, a fight worth dying for, then they were cheated in the end.

Maximos all to willingly stepped back, bowed his head and lowered his sword down to his side, and waited.

Sheathing swords Maximos understood, but the metal tubes, rectangles and boxes he did not. And yet he made no effort to try too. At no moment did Maximos hold any misconceptions that this was going to easy, he hadnt cleared the difficulty from his path, he had invited it full on. The Shadow steadied his breath, and stilled his thoughts. His right hand twitched eagerly at his side, as his swords moved into a steady orbit around him. He welcomed Death with open arms and a bright smile, exactly the same sort of smile he shared with Ruuvan in the moments before the battle began again.

Six individual shots roared from the barrel of Ruuvan's weapon, though with such speed and precision if Maximos had not been ready he might have confused them for one. The Shadow moved, he was no match for speeding bullet and yet experience taught him to dodge the weapon not its shots. In his mind he drew a line along the path of Ruuvan's arm and then threw his body to the side as hard and fast as he could so as not to be in the path of that lethal line. Maximos head jerked to the side, followed by his shoulders and hips. By the time the motion carried through to his legs, Maximos right arm came up, carrying a black blade and bringing it up in a defensive stance across his torso. Upper right to lower left, matching the assaulting line of fire.

Five clangs rang out, immediately followed by a crack, a pop, and the sound of glass and metal raining onto the concrete roof. Maximos felt the hilt of his sword securely in his hand, and watched in slow motion as five shots destroyed its blade utterly in the span of a heartbeat and left the sixth bullet to burn a streak through the meat of his thigh before it could fully escape the line of fire. It was not penetrating shot, and yet it was something deeper than a graze. Maximos' leg warbled under him for a moment before he caught sight of the thrown object speeding toward him and gritting his teeth steeled himself against the pain. The grenade flew slower than the bullets, and yet with no less deadly intently. And Maximos meant to meet it.

Shoving off his good leg the Shadow leaped forward, discarded the useless sword hilt and swung with a second sword in a double handed mid air swipe from left to right. Something like a professional baseball player batting for the fences. He struck it squarely with flat of his blade, sending the spiraling backwards for a little more than a second before it revealed its nasty surprise and exploded. Maximos left flew up to shield his face automatically. His right hand slipped off his sword, its fingers wide and outstretched as it twist backwards and then tightly balled into a fist. Maximos looked oddly like a man pulling a rip chord, but his swords responded immediately. The three remaining blades crossed each other in front of Shadow in six pronged star and sped into a fierce rotation.

Clings, clangs, and rasps of steel on steel provided the ambiance to Maximos being knocked out of the sky and back onto the roof by the raw force of the explosive shockwave. He landed on a knee, blood trickling from small stinging cuts were shrapnel passed through his last minute defense and a dull throb pulsing in his knee where it had slammed into the unforgiving stone. With each passing second and each excited heart beat came more trickles of warm blood, more red hot stings, and more gashes. But he was grinning, smiling from ear to ear as wide as he had ever smiled.

Ruuvan was nowhere in sight but he was no coward. He had not only destroyed one of Maximos' weapons, but he had drawn first blood. The fierce white glow from his right eye and the Maximos' smile promised he would even the score.

And the Shadow was off. From his kneel, he rolled into a runner's starting stance and bolting forward as fast as his legs would carry him. He hit the roof and leaped, but while a more powerful jump or an assist from his boots could have taken him up that extra story and to the next rooftop, he did not. Instead, the Shadow launched himself directly forward. Mid-leap his right arm lashed forward and the window opposite his flight path was immediately bathed in darkness. The Shadow twist in mid air and crashed shoulder first into the window without a single sound and then nimbly rolled to his feet. Stealth was key, his opponent had sensitive ears.

He was in an office, a maze of cubicle walls, desks, papers, and machines he could not begin to understand. All dull and lifeless in the night, and all bathed in the silvery sheen of the moon pouring in from behind him. But Maximos didnt have time to marvel at the scenery or the wonders of the modern world, he had an elf to catch. And this plywood maze simply would not do. In a single agile bound Maximos leapt up, tucked his legs into his chest and then flipped. Only, instead of extending his legs so as to land on the ground, Maximos extended his legs just as he cleared the cubicle wall immediately in front of him and while his body was still inverted. His feet landed firmly on ceiling, sinking just an inch or so into two pockets of deeper darkness, and allowing the Shadow to stand upside down.

He gave himself a moment to smirk at how intensely useful Shadow Walk always proved itself to be, and then he was off. His legs a blur of black as he raced across the ceiling toward the window across the office suite, leaving pocks and pools of black ichor in his wake. All the while Maximos' brow furrowed and his face seemed to contort with some sort of deeply frustrating concentration. Four swords sailed effortlessly behind him while his waved, weaved, and worked with an amorphous blob of ambient blackness in front of him. How was it shaped? What did it feel like? It had been so long.

And then it clicked. The quivering black blob solidified into a sphere floating between his hands. Maximos chuckled silently to himself and stared down at his feet, which in effect meant he was staring up at the roof. Soul Sight blazed right through the layers of concrete and highlighted the brilliant white glow that was his opponent above layers of lifeless stone. Ruuvan had not left the roof yet, this made him grin. Still running, Maximos clapped his hands over the sphere of shadow and then drew both of them away, opening his arms wide as if preparing to hug a humongous beach ball and the length of black stretched accordingly. Like riding a bike, though he may have believed he did, he couldnt really forget.

Up above, Ruuvan would see nothing and no one. What happened next would be decided entirely by his actions. The pieces were set, it was his move.

As if answering his challenge, the ground beneath him began to shake, in fact, the entire foyer began to quiver, and in an instant, the Death Knight would feel it. Power, immense power. A piercing light shot through the foyer from the massive double doors at the front section as something struck them with tremendous force from the outside, a huge gash cut straight into the solid dragonsteel doors. And there, recovering from his massive sword strike, he stood.

Golden light emanated from his body, the jewel in Ragnarok's hilt shimmered with power as glowing red eyes locked onto the face of his nemesis. The Death Knight had called, and Ryugi Kazamaru had answered.

Of all the people and fighters in the world to be pulled to this place, the fates had conspired to bring these two warriors together to battle in a clash that would rock the void to its very heart. Whether it was destiny, their fates intertwined that pulled them together through time and space to this very moment, or if it was simply random chance, one could not say. But if the power Ryugi was already showcasing before the battle began was any indication, this clash would be one unlike any other before it...



The word was tinged with righteous anger and spite. It sounded almost like it was Ryudo speaking, another dragon that the Death Knight Argon would remember as nearly killing him once before. That was before he was healed and trounced the mighty shadow and psychic dragon, but the insult would likely still sting like a fresh wound.

Ryugi gripped the handle of Ragnarok and moved the mighty weapon off to his right side and up onto his shoulder, his classic pose before he moved to strike. He wasn't trying to hide it either. The Death Knight would realize that this Ryugi, whether he be real or a creation of the void itself, was significantly more powerful and determined than anything he'd remembered from his past life.

No... There was something more at work here. The black-clad warrior would realize that there was a second energy signature working together with Ryugi's energies to drive his strength to new heights. And it was emanating from Ragnarok itself. The silver-haired warrior of justice was working with his weapon, and using it to augment his abilities like never before. Together their power was far more impressive...almost as impressive as Ryudo had been.

His eyes burning with determination and unbreakable resolve, Ryugi bent his legs, chambered them, and unleashed his power, the force from his dash sending cracks into the floor of the chamber as he sped towards Argon with frightening speed.



Ryugi didn't wait for the Death Knight to react. In an instant he was upon him with all the fury of a firestorm. With terrible force and strength Ryugi swung Ragnarok right to left in a vicious slash aimed at the Death Knight, a battle cry intensifying the power of the strike as ambient energy shot from the blade in a mixture of superheated air, shattered stone, and pure unbridled force. It was almost exactly like a miniature Vorpal Slash, and the cutting power and the force of the strike was showcased by the ground under the blade shearing away as if cleaved by a massive battle axe from a titan itself.

This was Ryugi's true strength, fully unlimited, holding nothing back for fear of seriously injuring his opponent. It was dangerous, ferocious, terribly powerful, and blindingly fast.

Vermin...

It was a term Moonblade had come to know well during his many travels and battles with the Shadow Dragon. It was also a term the Argon came to know when he stomped Ryudo into Angaran's coast. Vermin? It was a fitting term for the Kazamaru family indeed. After all Ryugi was less powerful than Ryudo. That had to make him nothing but trash, right? The Death Knight could finally exact his revenge.

The Undead Shade could hardly contain himself. Ryugi's attempt to insult the man had pushed him over the edge as the Death Knight broke into distorted, maniacal laughter.

"Aha. Ha ha. Ahahahahaha!"

As the Death Knight got that cheesy quirk out of his system, Ryugi charged in. Confident in his abilities, the Death Knight supplemented his physical strength with Lazarus's power, his armored hands alight with wispy silver energy.

The Death Knight was inwardly surprised that he was still being fed energy from his mount in this remote location. Even if the corrupted worldwyrm Lazarus couldn't directly interfere, their bond was still somehow intact. It seemed that the void bent the conventional rules slightly to keep the two warriors fighting at their best. Which was fortuitous, because he might very well need it.

Admitting his relief to no one, the least of whom himself, the Death Knight subjected Ryugi to his vile gaze, the eyes with the helmet appearing as chaotic purple lights. His distorted voice continued to taunt his opponent under his dark mask.

"Your determination is worthless, insipid curr."

The undead shade bent his knees low, twisting his upper body towards the powerful slash. He held the greatspear with his right hand, placing his armored left palm just above it.

Pushing upwards with Ruination, the Death Knight managed to deflect the blow away from himself and potentially staggering Ryugi, if only just. He had underestimated the sheer power behind the strike; the dragon's raw physical power exceeded his own. Mana could supplement this to a degree, but that would only take the Death Knight so far.

"You're powerless to oppose me."

In a fluid motion, the Death Knight brought Ruination from the deflected blow to a horizontal level. Chaotic wisps of purple and black energy erupted around the weapon as Argon twisted his body to the left and countered with a one-handed horizontal slash/smash.


The Death Knight opened with his bread and butter attack, attempting to rip Ryugi apart with dark magics. Though the greatspear itself lacked in physical power when used one-handed, the attack had energy potency in spades. The rotation of his body also offset the physical deficiency to a degree. If a normal human took the attack straight up, the intense magical energy would likely tear them apart. Ryugi was certainly no 'normal human', but it would still put him in a bad way.

Argon's left hand was hovering somewhat near his face, ready to cast or act as the situation called for it.