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Streams of spiritual energy cascaded from Torment's fingertips into the four panels of light. The Master Artificer only muttered under his breath at Omi's reaction to his request but kept himself focused upon the upgrades to the chamber which he was already contemplating keeping for future use. The slightly tinted planes of spiritual force shifted to a more stable white light with not a thing marring their pristine surface. Torment's attention quickly turned back to the tablet and, sure the schematics were still there, began working on augmentations to the blade.

The moment Omi stepped inside a layer of light descended upon his body to encase him in a thin layer of spiritual energy. Overlaid atop his clothing the chain extended across the majority of his body with as much detail and accuracy as could be had with clothing in the way. Most of the notation Torment had made carried over to the representation in the form of small dots pointing to areas of note. Focusing upon the top would cause it to unfold into whatever note the Artificer had made that was of any worth.

At first the pauldrons seemed rather lackluster with simple plates of what seemed to be steel adorning the shoulders. The color scheme was maintained and the desired symbol was present but there seemed to be no figurehead or weapon deployment system.

And then the mouth opened.

From the seams in the various plates the pauldrons unfolded and expanded into what looked to be the head of a snake on either side. The eyes shot open and flames flickered within as the serpent's mouth opened to reveal a smaller snake’s head nestled within. The smaller head pulled out and split into three separate types of ammunition. The first pair was a simple sharpened spike or over-sized arrow stylized into the shape of a snake's skull. The second was more jagged and flattened to take the shape of a bladed snakes head for a new level of viciousness. The last was a simple blunt snake's head that seemed to be of poorer quality and looked to be largely ornamental until one streaked forth to strike the spiritual barrier. The simulated explosion that issued forth was nothing short of awe inspiring.

And then the mouth opened wider.

The snake's head expanded to an impossible size compared to its real world counterpart and the shape changed to that of a dragon's head. Violent emerald flames built up within the dragon's mouth before the ball of flame burst forth from each side. Omi was spared a demonstration of the destructive power as the barrier would have required further input from the Artificer to generate something large enough. The head folded in upon itself and sank back down to the resting position of rather plain looking pauldrons.

The gauntlets were not nearly as spectacular as the armor and pauldrons by themselves but it would be the combination of each of the items that would make the gauntlets comparable to the other items. Several of the notes indicated locking mechanisms which would make a grip upon his blade nearly unbreakable. A target formed which was intended to be the target of a punch. This would be an effective way to display the power of the teeth that were to be implemented. A single punch would not only create a burst of kinetic force from within the teeth but if the object remained in contact with the teeth a second burst just as powerful as the kinetic burst plus Omi's own power would strike the target again.

A flick of his wrist and the work upon his tablet was sent up before Omi with the sheathed blade materializing before him. While still in a partially ethereal form the various fractures in the blade were evident with notes upon them indicating that they would be able to flex even when in a solid form and would break themselves in an emergency situation to avoid permanent harm to the blade. The core did not have any notes written about it. The guard was a strange one in that it seemed to be an iris centered about the blade, able to flex and change. This would keep the blade locked within its sheathe with several teeth upon the bladed side that locked into several points on the sheathe. The hilt was modified such that it could be held in one hand but the connection of the axe-head back onto the hilt included finger holes in case he needed to hold it with both hands. And then, of course, the steel cable. Each strand seemed to be a dozen thin metal wires braided together with impossible tensile strength and flexibility. The most interesting feature was the note that indicated a command word could be used to have these strands wrap around the wrist of the wielder. Anyone not wearing proper gauntlets would have their wrist shredded.

The blade slowly revolved in midair without leaving the reinforced sheathe. First the representation showed the option where the whole could be used as a battleaxe or perhaps a polearm with sufficient reach. The second option was the most obvious, utilizing the blade as a simple sword. The third option came in a dual wield with the blade in one hand and the sheathe in the off-hand as it was reinforced and more than capable of being used as a weapon in its own right. The last option came with the fracturing of the blade into many equal pieces connected by the as yet unidentified core material which seemed to stretch to nearly thrice the original length.

The Master Artificer stood with his arms crossed, "I must admit, it was a challenge."

The spiritual stylus took a few notes as Omi moved and reacted to the various displays of his new items. He was particularly interested in his reacts to the weapon and the various attack forms it offered. The scribbling pauses when Omi suggests additional mobility, something that had passed through the Master Artificer's mind. He was unsure of how to implement it as Omi didn't exactly seem like a wined or caped sort of man, and both were incredibly overdone anyhow. He let out a sigh, "Return here the day before your match. Until then, get out."

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Deitric's lips twisted into a grin, the wind catching and nipping at his motley outfit of leather, denim and cotton. He stood a handful of meters away from the entrance to the Torment, the grumbling, dull growl of his motorcycle off in the distance where-ever he'd parked it. His features bore no mar - if he'd taken any damage in the previous bout, he wasn't showing it, except for one key feature. Both his hands were tapped like that of a fighters, but the extent of it was hidden by his leather jacket's sleeves; gauze and tape wound 'round his arms up to the elbows.

"I was hoping to find you-- but not here, in particular. You're Omi-- the other finalist of this tournament. There's something I want to propose to make our match more interesting..," the warrior trailed off as he approached the other fighter, his hands down by his sides relaxedly. His jacket was unzipped, revealing a plain white shirt beneath; no hidden armor. He also bore no weapons - his trademark tomahawks were no where to be found.

"Good to meet you too - name's Deitric," the tribesman offered politely as he stopped a comfortable, conversational distance away from Omi.

Passing tournament-goers recognized the two finalist -- after all, why shouldn't they? -- and slowly a thin-but-rapidly-thickening crowd began to form around the two in interest as to what they could've been speaking about before their match. Cameras flashed, and amidst the crowd was the Psi Nine News crew, shadowing the Khasmin warrior in their typical fashion.

"Not deadly; I try not to deal in death," the fighter's face returned to its mask of calm, with only the hint of a smile present, "What I'm suggesting is.."

Cameras zoomed in from within the crowd as a few people edged forward to capture the conversation between the two.

"..Is to have a real fight. There's nothing in this tournament but flashing lights and roaring thunder. I say we give these people something worth watching-- we show up as we are right now. No armor, no weapons, no special, flashy abilities; we make or break the finals with our minds and bodies, nothing else," Deitric offered, his hands open and palms outward to show that he hadn't a single weapon or piece of armor on him. Voices buzzed in the crowds as cameras snapped and flashed; the Psi Nine's (and of course, other channels) zoomed in on the two to record the situation and broadcast their words to millions of Gaians.

Deitric smiled widely and reached out with his own hand, grasping Omi's for a moment. The tape on his hand stretched slightly with the movement, revealing skin of a darker hue, as if he'd had a close call with a fire. Cameras flashed in a multitude of strobing lights around the two to capture the handshake before the tribesman let his hand return to its place at his waist.

"Good. I'm looking forward to our match," the fighter said, offering a nod in farewell before turning away. The clack of his boots was devoured beneath the swelling sound of the crowd as he made his way through it, brushing aside microphones and suited reporters as he made his exit, his tall profile eventually lost amongst the crowd as they moved in to try and give Omi the same five-star treatment.

A few moments later, the roaring sound of an engine made it clear that the fighter in the leather jacket had made his exit.