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His angle was entirely off. He had to remember, Joshua was smarter than that. He had originally planned to toss Joshua up, and abuse his aerial state. But that plan was bust, he had to adapt, push himself to fight someone at his level.

Tiny bits of torn grass slipped through fingertips while others remained torn, and Maximos followed through with the kick, as Joshua heft back, Max swung his legs forward performing a kip, landing his feet on the ground and immediately kicking off into a run. Dirt audibly crunching as grass was ripped and torn from feet being flung into motion.

His right fist trailed beside him, the ethereal tentacles lashing at the wind. Then without thought or direction, they began thickening, blackening and wrapping around his arm, one beside the next, like a sort of ethereal black glove.

He was fast, but not impossibly fast, he couldnt save his combo, but he could adjust. He would hopefully make it just as Joshua was curving for his landing, and he would leap, aiming to meet the Reaper just those couple of feet off the ground, in mid air. His immediate reaction was to punch, punch in that split second where Josh had the least opportunities for defense. Or at the very least, less opportunity than if was firmly planted on the ground. As the punch flew the ethereal haze on the fist would fade as it seemed to harden and solidify, dark violet sparks rippling down its surface, so that by the time it was meant to actually strike it would be less of a regular fist. And more like a jet black shadow gauntlet, with a very potent shadow punch aiming for the center of Joshua's chest. The effect was meant to be similar to spiking a volleyball.

Maximos always had a plan, even when he was surprised he had to develop a plan. A move with any planning what so ever is as two dimensional and obvious as can be. His opponent would fall for no such simple tactics, it was possible to have brutality without becoming a frothing fool. It required control, it required balance, and the knowledge of when to push, when to give, and when to attack.

At the sight of the fist he saw surging for him, he knew his opponent had all of the above. He wasnt going to back down, he wasnt going to even attempt a last minute defense, there was no time, and no space. There was no panick...just a grin. His eye set dead on Joshua's.

As the two grew closer to sparks could be seen jumping between the fighters, equal and opposite forms and sources of energy closing in on each other. Inches seperating the smack of flesh on flesh and bone on bone. It was one of those moments where time seemed to hang, as if it needed a moment to take this in before...

KRAK-KOW!

It was a tiny earthquake rippling thunder across the island. The runes even blinked for a moment or two adjusting the surge of power that had just rippled across floating land mass. In a 10ft perimeter surrounding the two, a massive force repelled outward. Even the grass with the perimeter found itself torn from the ground and sent outwards, leaving the ground bare and naked.

Maximos felt his hand dig into the flesh the same way he felt a fist dig into his gut. He could feel that all too familar surging burst of energy from his arm into his opponent, an he could feel it into himself. Even as the air was ripped from his lungs a grin stood plastered on his face. For a moment it felt like he would never breath again, but even that didnt matter.

And as time resumed his normal flow, he felt gravity slip its hold from around him. His punch had a downward angle, Joshua's hand an upward, and up and back was exactly how Maximos flew. His body spinning vertically backwards a good fifteen or so feet before smashing into the windmill wall a few feet above the door, just barely missing the blade.

His back screamed into his head as pain rippled across his body. His right arm moved of its own accord, the gauntlet tightening with almost claw like nails gripping into the stone of the structure. His left arm, and legs catching him before gravity let him slip.

His eyes scanned for Joshua, any sign of Joshua. A red tongue slipping up to wipe the blood from his lip as it trickled down. Inside his ribcage it seemed something was disagreeing, but he wasnt interested in arguement at the moment.

Perfect

The smirk widened so very slightly. Joshua was coming to him. This was not a plan as much it as it was a test, he did not lure Joshua into coming at him, it was part of the reason he did not kick off windmill immediately into a follow through attack.

Maximos saw Joshua coming straight for him. From his understanding Joshua had been gifted with a powerful jump, just as the shadow warrior had, but to his knowledge the Reaper couldnt fly...It was an assumption, a hunch, but it was all he had to work on.

Joshua came, and Maximos bided his time. Every second counted, none were wasted and none could be spared. Maximos shoved off the wall with his right leg, waiting until the moment Joshua was just close enough to be reached without his foot completely leaving the windmill wall. As Joshua soared Maximos swung a very fierce right fist directly at him. The sparking and surging.

It was strange, the feeling he got from his own arm. It felt more and more like a weapon and a limb combined. It moved of its own accord at times, never oversteppings its boundaries in using his abilities without need for mental focus. It had no real mind to speak of, no concious thought, yet it just seemed to be there, like a good partner, or better...a good tool.

It seemed this would be a repeat of moments ago, two punches colliding again and then...at what seemed to be the final second here in mid air, things changed.

Punches and tosses were all the Shadow Warrior had thrown for the entirety of this fight. The question of wether or not that was intentional just for the sake of this manuever or accidental, would probably never be answered.

The fist did not fly forward as seemed to be intended to, it immediately veered straight down. Maximos's upper body going down while his left leg came up, bending ever so slightly. Joshua's fist would likely hit air, as the foot came up aiming to plant itself directly on Joshua's face, a kick to the face.

But Maximos wasnt even almost done, he could give no time, no moment of wait or hesitation. His body would look something like a sideways T, wit the cross bar being the line between his upper body and his left leg, and the extension being his right foot. The initial swing was meant to sting, but really only to cause a moment of surprise before...

AARRYAAAA!!

He tucked his upper body even further in until it was nearly parrellel with his right leg, and then with every bit of strength and speed he could fit he brought the right over and down in a sort of heel axe kick aiming for the top of Joshua's head. If uninterupted his body would follow through performing a sort of a kick flip, before he became slave to gravity.

He had to try an think one move ahead, with any luck the sudden change in attack might be enough to throw his opponent off and send him back to the ground.

When he felt the swoosh of his right foot beginning to drop through air, he knew he was in trouble. And then came the backhanded smack. His body was horizontal still for the most part parellel with the ground, the smack jerked his head, followed by his shoulders and arms.

It quite honestly, felt like his face was about to melt off. It was pain, beyond the idea of screaming, pain beyond the definition of pain. Simply because it was pure. It wasnt just the backhand, that could be played off easily and pushed on, this was pain...just for pains sake. No arm to grab, no real wound to press again...just a face of full of burning.

Every pain cell in his body screamed that he do everything he could to get away and avoid another one of those. They demanded that he do all in his power to avoid something so horrible. His eyes wanted to water and gush, command his legs to run away, far away.

But when the body is weak, that is when the mind must be strong.

Determination, past the point of stupidity, ignorant to the idea of survival, driven by single unifying goal that shuts out all others.

There was no word for how much his face hurt, but there was no measure for how much he refused to back down.

As his broke into a spin away from Joshua, his right arm was the first to come up, followed by his left. Both arms, immediately grabbing the attacking demons backhanding limb. The backhand itself had sprung Maximos into a spin but now, by means of his own momentum he drug himself into a deeper spin, a shout escaping his lips. Be it from pain or exhertion, or both, there was no way to tell. He aimed to drag Joshua in mid air by his arm, over, down and back up again, and then release him as he sent him soaring up.

The calm face of reasoning was broken, he looked more like an infuriated beast, this was no artistic or classy, this was a raw, brutal, motion, based soley on the maximum exhertion of his own strength on the air borne Reaper.

The lovely sound of a heavy shaft of metal striking the underside of his forearms break the two up. He barely had time to find his barings much less respond. He had been quite a bit reckless, planning a move like that without even thinking about what would happen when gravity came into play.

And now he found himself falling, his hands scrapped against the pole trying to get a grip, but failing miserably, sending him soaring down toward the ground only to be saved by the next blade. His claw-like gauntlet gripping the top of the blade and streaking through the sail-like fabric until it finally gripped the blades bottom. And there he hung.

His arm throbbing, and his eyes immediately scanning above and around him for any trace of his opponent.

This was not a good place to be, it had very little strategic value. He was holding on by a thread, and not a very secure on either. It would just take the smallest tap and he would be facing the very mean, very real, and very cruel grip of gravity.

He could see Joshua through his right, even if his left couldnt see past the sails, Joshua's soul shone through something as thin as a windmill blade. There was a general round about rate of fall, Max couldnt but a numerical value on it, but he could visually time it. Joshua's frame fell behind sail, Max counted the seconds in his head. When Josh didnt break out the other side he knew something was off. There were no energy arks, Maximos was left two choices, up or down.

He chose up. The gauntlet digging into the wood, crunching it with its grip. And with a powerful heft it lifted him upwards, and forwards. The rest was luck, Joshua was just burst through the sail-blade as Maximos shoved himself over it. He saw an opportunity and siezed it. As Josh's feet broke through the other side, Maximos's gauntlet and left hand were smacking the top bar of the blade gaining a grip. His feet were coming down, toward Joshua's midsection, in sort of a stomp, aiming to slam the mans back into the pole below and send him falling down.

Hands grasped at the wooden bars like tearing at cat attacking its scratching post. A grip, just a tiny one, just a finger just a something stop...but it was entirely too late.

Gravity had won. The index and middle finger of his right hand leaving two streaks in the wooden plank before he started to free fall.

But even as he fell, he never stopped reaching out, his arms flying out seemingly randomly, to grab at invisible strings. From the shape his hands took, it seemed he was grabbing something, but at the moment that something seemed like nothing more and more of them were gathered as his hands moved faster and faster. The invisible strings seemed thicker, blacker, like ropes. A myriad of ropes, shadow strings firmly attached to there homes. Be that a spoke, a outcropped brick, a sail, a chip in the paint...so forth, so on.

Maximos gripped on for dear life. The effect was meant to be two fold. The shadows came from different directions but fell in generally the same angle due to the angle of the sun. But being in different directions they would provide a wide base, like several anchors, allowing him to keep his fall from turning, any turns or shifts in angles could be easily countered by tugging the strings in the opposite direction.

Secondly, they let him turn this into an attack. Large shadows like the shadow of a windmill blade, reached all the way to the ground, meaning Maximos was attached on both ends, giving him the opportunity to materialize the rope in his hands as he fell, and pull down while still bracing, so as make sure his boots were place in a not so comfortable manor. Without breaking his legs.

This was not without its drawbacks, such as the obvious sight of black strips of leather falling from his left hand as the rope began ripping its way through his fingerless glove and soon through the skin on his left hand. Most likely being the source of the rather intense look cast across his face.

And there was nothing at all Maximos could do about it! His hands were full and Josh was swinging on his leg. His other leg would have been useless without being able to tilt his body as a whole, and even then he'd just get his arms caught up in the rope.

Joshua's feet came up, snipped the hat. While Maximos looked somewhat pissed, and then down they went. Joshua broke off near the bottom, and Maximos release his grip a few feet above ground and landed with a loud thomp, immediately closing the space between the two. His right arm reaching out like a claw to slash at Joshua's chest.