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Joshua rolled onto his knees, proudly plopping the hat onto his head and placing his right hand flat on top of it to make sure it stayed there. He didn't even have time to get up before Maximos charged in, so in response to Maximos' claw he threw down the gauntlet... er... threw out the bracer.

Actively smacking at the claw with the back of his left forearm Joshua attempted to knock the hand away long enough for him to get his feet under him again and take a short hop back.

There wasn't much else he was prepared to do right now... coming up with a list of pure 'what if' actions was pointless at this point: he was on the defensive after that last move and would be hard-pressed to initiate an attack until he could get the opponent off of him.

And so Joshua went sailing straight off the island... waving a fond farewell with his left as he watched it go, but still holding the hat firmly in place so the wind wouldn't take it.

"I'M KING OF THE MOUNTAIN!"

Joshua fell backwards, making sure to watch the island because he was absolutely positive that Maxi would not let his hat go so easily... it seemed he was right. And so, for the first time in over a year, Joshua unsheathed his sword.

Maximos had hardly even shoved off of the island when Joshua swung; sending a raging torrent of air slamming into the shadow man to send him careening straight back into the rocky underside of the island.

Joshua's swing had thrown off his equilibrium a bit, and the climbing air resistance combined with the spin was making it hard to hold onto his prize; it nearly blew off once but he tightened his grip into a fist and held onto it. There was considerable distance between the two of them to start off, but Maximos quickly began to make up that lost ground as he dove straight in, cutting through the air like a big shadowy missile thing...

'Don't get cocky, buddy... I've still got an advantage here.'

He twisted his body and swung the sword again; this time swinging it towards the ground. The effect wasn't as great as it had been before, no one went flying off into the void... though there was an effect. The sweeps of the sword created a condensed pocket of air pressure that would shoot out in the arc of the swing... for Maximos it had hit him with a wall of air... for Joshua, it put one in his path.

It was like suddenly hitting a parachute, and his velocity dropped immediately as his body spun around from the swing. First his left foot, smacking the side of Maximos' arm as he came in; the his right foot, aiming for a soft spot on Maxi's left side. With their difference in velocity, this could get pretty intense.

SNAP!

The sound of bones cracking was nearly drowned out by the rushing air around them that made it nearly impossible to hear anything or even to keep their eyes open half the time. Though with the skill levels of these two fighters, did anyone really have any doubt that they would be able to do things such as that in a single movement? To think less of them would be an insult, for certain.

It wasn't what he had been expecting, for certain... the bone snap he had expected to hear was a rib, not a leg. It was the surprise more than the pain which loosened his grip enough so that the tearing wind finally managed to rip the tattered black hat from his sweaty fingers and send it flying up into the air in their wake.

"SHI-"

With his leg pinned against Maxi's side in preparation for that maneuver, he'd been given every bit of an advantage as Maximos had... though there was a choice to be made: the prize or the punch.

Joshua chose both.

With a heavy grunt he brought down the hilt of the sword into the back of Maxi's head, hoping to stun him briefly with the blow. Immediately after, so much that he was even using the rebound from the strike to move his arm away, he spun the weapon into a reverse grip and threw it violently upwards behind them.

Despite the wind and the spin of their fall it cut unerringly through the air as if it wasn't even there and pierced straight through the hat like a hot knife through... a hat. The hilt of the sword caught the hat even though the blade went straight through it, and the momentum threw it out of line with their fall.

Joshua, on the other hand, didn't wait to see what happened. He had thrown it, and it was beyond his control then... there just had to be faith that he wouldn't miss, because his concentration was required for more important things:

Like taking advantage of whatever time he had left before Maximos tried something else, and beating his face in for as long as the b*****d decided it was still a good idea to hang on.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

The satisfying feel of knuckles against flesh, with the sound and feeling of a clean hit. Joshua wrapped his good leg around Maxi's waist so that they wouldn't get separated no matter how many times he hit him. One, two, three, fo-

"!"

He pulled his left arm down as best he could when he saw what Maximos was up to; guarding his side with his elbow, but getting the back of his arm ripped up by the claws in the process. The feeling of flesh being cut into was something that always brought back old memories... this time it reminded him of how much of a struggle fighting really was. It reminded him that sometimes old tricks are the best tricks. It reminded him to use his head sometimes.

" scream "

Rather than pulling his right back for another punch, he only pulled it back halfway; grabbing a handful of Maximos hair and using it to jerk his head back just long enough so that Joshua could slam in his own. He'd do it again, too, if given the chance.

Time seemed to pass much more slowly for Ryugi, who up until recently had been sitting in the room he'd arrived in. After quite a long time of nothing happening, he had made his way to the surface, just as he felt a burst of shadow energy...coming from BELOW the island. He dashed to the edge just in time to see Maximos and Joshua plummet into the clouds below the island, and disappear from view. Well that sort of put a dent in his plans... So much for waiting for his friend to finish fighting.

It would seem that this fight was going to take more time than Ryugi was willing to wait. Afterall, while Ryugi was overjoyed to see that Maximos was alive, he still had other people who thought that he HIMSELF was dead, and he couldn't bear the thought of them suffering with that faulty knowledge any longer. The young girl had troubled him, but with his necklace, Maximos was really only ever a thought away. He could contact him later. Right now, Vargus, Ryudo, and the rest of the Angara Party were waiting for him...

And with that thought in mind, Ryugi, too, would leap off the island, disappearing into the clouds. A flash of light would appear for a moment before two golden wings and the form of a Golden Dragon would appear. It would fly once around the island as if saying goodbye, and then head off in the direction of Durem to meet his friends...

The calm crisp grass gently blowing in the wind soon found itself smattered and wet as twin blasts of black poured upon two small spots. It was like a high pressure steam or mist, quickly drying as the space between the soles of two feet and the dirt lessened.

With a set of clomps Maximos had arrived home.

His hood and caught wipping wildly in the open wind. That Maximos Smile persed perfectly across his face. It was the sort of smile that silently said...

"Everything is alright. And nothing can ever go wrong."

Within a few moments, a gloved hand was gently placed on the windmill door, and the creak of rusty joints pushing the frail wooden door could be heart echoing down the dark stairwell.

The Shadow Warrior was immediately struck by the scent of dinner already in the midst of being prepared. Walter was always vigilant, though Maximos had informed him he wouldnt be home for the next week for HoH, Walter still prepared a bounteous feast of plenty. Maximos had such a steady gate, like he had no cares in the world, coupled with that smile on his face, it seemed he was the absolute picture of serenity.

With a twist and a creak he pushed open the massive doors of the manor, and entered. The first feet steps were always the sweetest, the entry hall smelled of the beautiful fresh flowers Walter had picked and a succulent feast. That sound of boots pressing against wood let Maximos know he was home. The footsteps echoed down the hall and into the ears of one Walter N. Worthington the 3rd. By the time Maximos exited the opposite hall in the grand entrance Walter was there.

Welcome back Master Maximos!

The voice met him warmly and as formally a could be. Water still had a few spots of flour on his black vest, but Maximos didnt mention it. He grinned wide and responded in his usual warm, friendly tone.

Indeed, the tournament ended early.

He never really stopped walking, rather he continued down the halls, with Walter following beside him. Such was proper, Walter would have made a point to mention if he did otherwise.

I see, well then, will the Master be attending dinner?

Maximos adjusted his right hand, passing his only suitcase to his left, as the right twitched.

Indeed, I just have a few things to take care of in my room.

Walter nodded, and bowed all so very formal and he was off. The comfort of home enraptured the shadow, the dual doors to his personal bed room stood perfectly set in front of him. Behind them was his master bedroom suite. Without even a moment of hesitation he entered the room.

It was vast, spacious, fully decorated and spotless in every way. But Maximos couldnt see that, he couldnt seem much of anything through his blur filled eyes.

He was alone now. Walter was far enough away that he wouldnt hear. The suitcase fell, landing with a thunk on its wells and toppling to its side. But it wasnt the first thing to drop. Nor was it that last, tracing right behind the bag was Maximos himself, just behind his door the shadow fell to his knees.

The first thing to fall was his knees, smacking against the floor with an audible echo. His hand soon followed, all bags scattered to either side as his fists slammed into the unforgiving black wood. His teeth were gritted in rage, his fingers curled into each other, threatening to cut the skin beneath.

His smile?

What smile? There was no happiness on this face, just a man broken. His fists slammed repeatedly into the ground. Each time casting an echo across the empty room, of an empty man. Until finally the floor gave, the wood splintered under his anger. Why? Why did he have to do it again?! Why was the life of an island boy cursed by a ephimeral fight between light and dark. He lifted his hands, wet drops seeping from his palm and pooling in the cracks he had made in the wooden surface. In truth his fingers had dug so deep they dug into his flesh, and the sides of his hands had taken splinters of thin wood, slicing them open. But he didnt see that. He only saw blood stained hands...again.

He had done it again...since the day of the destroyer he had sworn never too...but again...he had done it again. He would have begged why, but he knew why. He would scream no, but the answer was yes. He would pleaded please, but those pleas were for deaf ears. He could scream. His voice shaking the table across from him and knocking a vase off its precarious home, sending it careening to the floor in a spectacular display of water and black stained porcelain.

He could never wash this blood from his hands...

He could never pay for all the lives he had ended.

His right arm twitched, immediately averting all his negativity to it...This cursed thing attached to him...he would be rid of it!

His left hand tightened around the handle of a weapon that didnt exist, his will forged the shadows into a blade resting in that clenched hand, a jet black dagger. And without delay he moved to sink the blade in, and remove the accursed limb.

If your eye offends you, tear it out, and toss it away. Why should an arm be any different?

But the blade stopped, not but just as it pressed into the skin. Just before breaking his pale flesh. With fingers clenched and bent inward like a sickly claw, the arm stared back at him. With all his will he pushed his left hand, but it wouldnt move.

It was taunting him, laughing at him...insulting his weakness. Swimming in the blood it had been fed....And while yet all the arm did was sit, he could feel the beasts elation.

It had pulled him so powerfully, begging to taste blood and flesh, begging to feed on a free soul. And he had given in...against his own oath he had killed again...not out of need...not out of necessity...he had given in to the monster...

He had treated it like some villainous opposing threat, when it fact...it was a part of himself. He could not be, without it. He had become defined by the act he did so very well. A Reaper, a servant of death and life. A bringer of the End.

He couldnt end it that way, he had to end it another.

The blade turned as his arm lifted placing the small black dagger to his own heart, he could live without it surely...he never needed to feel its scorn.

His eyes gently closed, his muscles relaxed as his left arm tightened. This was the end again...he would rip it out of his chest, never to suffer its emotions again.

The blade hovered, it would be an easy cut.

And Maximos readied to say goodbye to his humanity once again. A Reaper poised inside him, ready to claim his freed soul once the deed was done.

And then it stopped.

His eyes opened. At the bridge of life and death, his eyes fully opened.

The blade faded...

He felt the endless cold embrace of Death. And it felt like home...a chilling home, with no pain or anguish.

He was a killer, and yet a savior, but he could not be both, because in truth he was neither. He was an end.

He rose to his feet, the last drops of his blood drying up as they soaked into his wooden floor.

He could not fight it any longer, and neither did he want, or need to. This was his lot in life, his destiny. His curse, to bear and let free on those who deserved it.

He could remember the feel of the scythe in his grip. The surge of a fresh soul in his hands, and affirmation of the grand machine whence it was delivered. He delved in the feeling, in this nothingness that remained, and embraced it completely.

He swore and oath, an oath in blood. The most important kind. He swore his allegiance and servitude to the Reapers and it was a promise he would never waver on again.

A Reaper recruit, one of the most gifted killers that the world could ever produce. His life was stained with blood, and the paths that he walked was littered with the dead. For Maximos, there is no other way to live than to take the lives of others. A cursed fate, brought upon by their own horrible talents.