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Somewhere in the back of the author's mind a sound resounded like a long, slow echo of a word that would not come to pass... Ffffffffffffffffffffffffinkle.

"Right."

Maximos was right about one thing - illusions simply weren't his style. They had never been, nor would they ever be a part of what Joshua did because he did not make false displays of power nor did he think of magic as a toy to amuse people with smoke and mirrors. If he showed power it had purpose, it had meaning, and one way or another it would bring about change. What Joshua had shown just now was no trick... and the shadow knew well enough to be wary of what might follow the sudden disappearing act.

"Come out...come out...wherever you are..."

But what came out was not the demon. It was no hand and no blade reaching up through the dirt and grass to grasp and claw at the legs of the shadow... it was nothing with form at all but merely power, raw and savage molded into fearsome bolts of crimson that ripped apart the earth beneath Maximos' feet like the arms of some tentacled horror bursting free from the ocean. Four snakes of jagged, rampaging energy threw soil and shredded grass into the air as they erupted from the ground and lashed at the shadow; trying to bind and grasp at arms and legs and then coil, squeeze, and burn with the feel of raw negative energy sinking in like venom from a snakebite.

If he tried to flee from them they would pursue. If he took to the air they would pursue. Though they sprang from the earth they were not limited to it, as became readily apparent as the 'heads' of the four serpents shot upwards with a crackling shriek.

Hide-and-go-Seek was just no fun... it was time to play Tag, and Maximos was 'it'.

Teira held their gaze, and despite the urge, did not flinch under their withering look nor their silence. She just stood, her silence mirroring theirs as she waited for whatever decision they came to.

Outwardly, she was composed and still, save for her chest rising and falling rhythmically with quiet breaths. Having to breathe, was still a strange new sensation, and if she wasn't careful, she easily forgot to breathe all together. Inwardly, it felt as if a bird was trapped and beating it's wings against her ribcage, desperately seeking freedom. Long seconds ticked by, turning to longer minutes and the silence roared in her ears. After what seemed like a small eternity, the brother in black, broke the deafening silence.

She didn't speak as he corrected her Arian grammar, she just nodded, marking the tidbit of knowledge. Her silence stretched as the brothers exchanged agitated opinions about her request.

This, this was the important bit.

"You cannot understand us, until you can understand yourself. We are not so shallow as to be offended by mistaken etiquette. We were offended by you."

Their criticism burned like a brand, and she could feel the heat rising in her face even as anger lept up, hot and biting in her throat. Her fists clenched and unclenched as would be retorts died on her tongue without her mouth ever being opened. Instead of denying their accusations, she reflected on them, their words bringing to mind a conversation from months long past.

'Why do I fight? What do I want to protect?

And now...'

"You've got fire, and conviction, power and passion! But for what? Its all wasted! Meaningless! Directionless! Potential wasted! Who are you?"

"You have strength of hand and body, but not strength of spirit. Prove us wrong and you may earn more. Cease these requests, can you not see we are just? Should you earn a privilege we will grant it."

"Tell us who you are. Teach us your heart's desire. Let us see that you are not simply a doll for this family! Show us the reason you live!"

"Tell us the meaning of your name, and we will share ours."


"...and that something did not truly live it? "



"..."

Anything that she would have said, left her mind in the wake of that blow and mentally she was left reeling. She looked over her shoulder, glancing back down the corridor to where Maximos wait for her. And then, it seemed as if something dawned on her...

"My name means selfishness."

She turned back to face the brothers.

"I chose to live instead of another. I left, knowing it would cause others pain. I fight because I want to. Because it's FUN.

My name also means resilience.

You said I lack strength of spirit, yet, no matter how many times I falter, I will try again. If I fall, I'll stand back up. No matter how many times this body is broken, -I- will not be.

Who am I? What am I? What do I want? Why do I fight? What do I have?

You said without him I have nothing. But you're wrong. If you take him away, if you take Walter away, take away D, Take Sakura away, take Omi away, take Kael away, I still remain. I have myself.

You said I haven't done anything without him. You're wrong again. It might not be anything to brag about, but even if I've only messed up and made mistake after mistake-- Those mistakes, ARE. MINE. The lessons I learn from them, are also MINE. And that much, I AM proud of.

I might not have changed the world, but it's not something I understand enough to change. I do understand that things are not black and white, that the world is painted in shades of grey. What is right to one person is wrong to another. In my time away from here, I've been learning that each persons reasons are right to themselves. I've been listening and deciding for myself if I agree or disagree. And when the time comes, I will choose for myself.

In the meantime, what do I want? To be strong. So that when I choose, I CAN make a difference."

'Be it existing, defending those I love, or DESTRUCTION.'

"It might make him sad... but it's the decision I've made.

He wants to protect me, but in doing so, he keeps things from me. I see now... he doesn't tell me when I'm wrong. There is a lot he doesn't tell me. I can't grow that way... he gives me strength, but he cannot be my strength. I have myself and only myself in the end. Because that is the only thing that cannot be taken or kept from me.

Whether you want to fight with me or you don't, doesn't matter. Even if I had no weapon, as long as I'm alive I can still fight.

And that is exactly what I mean to do, AND have fun doing it!"

"To what end?"

"My own. One way or another."

"Fighting against what?"

"Anyone who would seek to destroy my existence. Or, those I love."

"What happens when you win?"

"Then I look to the next challenge. The next opponent. The next fight."

"Are you going to fight an endless and continual battle for all of eternity?"

"Nothing is forever."

"Do you mean to say Teiresia Kos is a woman selfishly fights and continues resilient in this course forever and ever?"

"As long as I live."

"Are you trying to say all you want to do is FIGHT? To ENJOY? Is that all?! Is that the meaning of your existence?!
Do you think that will make any of the people you care about happy?!"

"Some maybe. Others would see me not fight at all. I can't make everyone happy. I can only, and will only, be myself: a warrior.
To be and do anything else would be to live a lie."

"You could make that man very sad. Is that why he made you? Dont you care?"

"He has been sad for a long time, much longer than I've existed. I want to be strong enough to fight for myself. And maybe then, I might also be able to stand beside him, not behind him. To fight WITH him. I want to be strong enough to watch his back the way he watches mine. I don't know why he made me, honestly. Just that I'm glad he did...

...Of course I care...

...And yet, even for him, I cannot be anything less than myself. Especially for him. Though, if he didn't want me fighting-- it wasn't a very good idea to plot our introduction."

"Dont you care about any of them?"

"Enough to fight no matter the cost."

"Where does it end?"

"Who knows."

Now there was alot that can and cannot be said with words. And at the same time there is alot that is said through speaking that means more than any of the words spoken. And yet, of all statements the most profound are said in silence.

Silence was what fell over the hall. The Brother's Harite presented their points each and Teira presented hers. They attacked her point of view, they stabbed with questions deeper than the surface words and Teira answered in like kind. She said alot, she answered alot. She denied many of their points and yet the most notable responses seemed to be those in which a question was asked, and all she did was deny the part that did not fit and make no comment toward the alternative point. This did not go unnoticed.

There was anger, and conviction, and strength. Perhaps her goal was shallow, or simple, but it was hers and she accepted it whole heartedly. Even against the wishes of those she loved. And really...was that not the truest sign of strength? You cannot see a person completely when they are carrying you. But if, when, you learn to stand, you can walk beside them. And simply because you are able to stand on your own, you can understand and appreciate each other fully. Or at least, that is how it would seem.

And then, the brother in black, again advanced against the silence first. He leaned his head awkwardly to the side and looked at Teira. His hood fell just slightly that something was visible that was not before. Something that was never there before, even when the black fabric did not block view. Eyes. These were eyes so much as they were two spots cut against the silhouette of his face. And there the similarities ended. What was looking into Teira now was blackness. This was the opposite of a glow, standing out against vision because it seemed to swallow the light that struck it. Two swirling vortexes at the center of pure milky white. It looked as if the center of this Brother's eye collapsed in a manner similar to a black whole and were now two pits of neatly rotating emptiness that continued on forever and ever. They were empty, but they were organized. Looking into these eyes was like looking into an abyss. They were the kind and organized downfall of everything warm and life-like in the soul. Terrible in the neatness with which they moved. Horrible in their cold depth. And then he looked away, and in that same infinitely emotionless voice he said.

"Hearteater, my brother. Do you see this?"



And then he leaned away from his brother, folded his arms and let his head c**k sideways to look at Teira. And look he did. Heateater's eyes were like a red sun. Two fiery disks that burned with something so much more than just heat. In those eyes were passion, rage, and untold destruction. And yet in those eyes was the simple purity that was a cleansing flame. The fire existed in a scorched ring that seemed to have scalded its way through the white of the eye leaving the outer rim black and ashy. Hearteater was smiling a twisted psychotic sort of unstable thing, he breathed a single, "Ha" of a laugh and then bent over, kicked himself and sent the blade flipping through the air and into his hands.


Heartless, in all black bent with a sort of poised and calculated grace. Like a predator animal cold and ready to strike. He grasped himself and brought the blade to his chest. He looked at himself, then at Teira with an empty noncommittal expression and said.

"For now."

She made a good oath."



"Then for now, how may we be of service..."

And he offered himself, with effortless grace hilt first forward. He did not bow his head, but let his eyes meet Teira's eyes squarely. His words swirled in black wisps of smoke around his lips. Hearteater mirrored the action, his red blade sliding forward almost like a stab only hilt first. Smirking as embers danced around his mouth.

There was so much truth in just those few words. Maximos stood absolutely no chance of ever learning the magic passing through his lips as well as Joshua. But a Shadow's greatest trick is to mimic its in its nature, in its spirit, in its very concept, and mimic he did. Rather easily infact, as easy as well...breathing.

Holy white and pure, it the flames did not burn but tingled. Healing as opposed to hurting. This magic would never an attack, but it was a timely defense. There was a boom, just as Maximos expected. His lips closed with a curlicue of white smoke and the flaming blast rolled forward on its own force. No, Maximos did not fully understand what he had done, but then that was his gift. The Shadow was stricken with an almost endless curiosity. He may not get it fully, but he would get it. And then, the mimic was armed with all of his own tricks...and his opponents. How better to strategize? How better to plan? How better turn the tides than to start from within?

But this was not some ordinary opponent. And this match no matter its practice nature was not some afternoon skirmish in the Leviathan Stadium. Razliek. Joshua. The other Reaper was now, as ever before an experience like no other. It was a rush that could not be rivaled, even as the remnants of Razliek's positive pulse flooded through his veins like pure adrenaline recovering muscles where they had once been weary. It was a high like nothing else would ever be, even while he floated some thirty or so feet off the ground suspended by nothing but inertia.

Maximos' ears buzzed with the sound of white rolling flame, his clothes flapped in the wind of the flying island. A grin spread wide across his face as if it might split it in two. And for a moment this was heaven. And then, as must almost occur, gravity snagged him and began to pull. As the planetary force tugged, so did the flow of battle. Up and around his cloud of white arched the three remaining red energy snakes.

No, truth be told he did not expect that. But by now he knew better than to expect anything. The bolt's of crimson flew hard and fast, and the Shadow was ready. Gravity was his friend, providing him constant motion and distance at zero cost to himself until the end...

Boots. The spellstitching began to glow, but he did not fly. The trick if flying from different angles was that the red lashes had to fly at different distances, and thus different times. One, two, then three. The first was met by Sha'yd as Maximos jerked his body to the left she flew in a right to left arch. The glass blade stabbed straight into its head and sent immediate blood red sparks down Maximos' right arm as she began to consume what of it she could in a hungry bite. Sha'yd's glass blade was quickly filled with a smokey red fog. Next came the second, a tad farther back but still racing behind the first. Sha'yd was too short. She would have made the distance of the Shadow hadnt suddenly called out a command mid swing. He said...

"REACH!"

While Sha'yd could take silent commands they required focus and processing while simply shouting a verbal key word would trigger the desired effect immediately leaving Maximos to focus on other things. In this case the plum colored glow of his boots, and the soft flow of black now easing his fall.

Red flashed from Sha'yd in the width and breadth of her blade, as if in a beam. But then the beam stopped a good two feet past the 1ft glass blade itself, and widened, and quickly focused forging itself into a condensed and maintained energy blade extension which immediately slashed into and through the second energy snake leaving only the third. A deft motion of his long sword would...

...Do nothing. It came too fast, his attention was too spread across too much. The condensed beam of undoing pierced his left shoulder like an arrow. And yet it burned in the same way a bullet had. Maximos knew this pain, nostalgically he remembered their last fight at the stadium. He felt the piercing red essence burn, and then sooth. The burning being quickly followed by the inability to burn, as muscle and tissue were eaten away leaving nothing but hollowness. If left alone, the Shadow imagined he might be without a left arm. His right hand shot across his chest and...

Joshua would see Maximos falling evenly downwards, swooping into a sort of glide, and then suddenly fall like a bird shot out of the sky. Where he hit the ground, soil and sand kicked up in a tuft and moments later, a silhouette could be seen rising to its feet and waving away a cloud of dirt. Maximos' left arm hung at his side a bit limp, his right hand in a fist was pressed against his left shoulder while still holding Sha'yd, her sizzling magical extension blazing outwards. "Return."

The Shadow said calmly, and it did. The energy condensed and was sucked back into its glass prison, which now no longer seemed transparent and swirled with a deep maroon hue. His long sword hung lazily in the air on some sort of invisible coat rack bouncing beside him with each stride. He stepped forward, shrinking the space dividing them he spoke. "Why thank you, and in the name of good sportsmanship I must say that last attack was rather impressive. I didnt know you could control its direction remotely like that."

Like comparing beautiful paintings, or pieces of music. These were two peers discussing works of art. There was more than an aire of respect, even despite the fact these art works were causing such terribly bodily harm to the opposite artist. A few steps later Maximos began rolling his left arm along its shoulder as if re-aligning a socket or loosening the joint. Joshua had formed...something. Something Maximos had never seen before. The Shadow said nothing but his surprise showed in his wide eyes. They were blades of that he could be sure, but their style and construction were not of any type he had ever seen. They intrigued him, curiosity pulling him in. Maximos left hand rose, palm up and the long sword flipped and floated gently into his grip, blood was visible dripping from his palm in excess from his shoulder "That sir, can be arranged."

And he was off, feet pounding out a beat across the turf. From approximately five feet away Maximos' right boot stomped down digging deep into the ground and his left arm shot forward. Hips, shoulders and then the snap, another thrust. His arm adding its length to his sword's and crossing the distance aiming for a vague stab at Joshua's midsection. The attack meant mostly to draw out the demon's weapons, to see how they danced, to see how he danced with them. The black longsword would not stay, simply poke and return. Not so much careful as curious, not wishing to close the distance immediately and reduce their attacks to melee swings and disarming blows. The song their swords sung would mark the start of the next round.

---

"As you wish."

Said Heartless before looking at his brother. As Teira attempted to move the blades they stuck. The black ethereal hands that held them would not let go, calling her attention one more time as Hearteater spoke.



Both of the brother's set their fierce eyes on her. It was funny. One was a swirling black void, the other a red burning point. One might imagine that if the two eyes were put together they would result in something very similar to what Teira was currently sporting. Though, without any acknowledgment to such vanity, Heartless continued where his brother finished.

"No matter how many times you falter, you will try again. If you fall, you'll stand back up. No matter how many times this body is broken, you will not be."

"We will hold you to all of these words."

"...or refuse to rise to the next challenge or the one after..."

"...know that your life is ours."


And then the brother's faded. One simply dissolving into black as if made of nothing more than ebony sand that was being washed away by invisible and intangible wind leaving only his hand. At the same time the other was eaten by flame, like his visage was nothing but paper and being consumed at its edges until again only a hand remained. And then both hands were eaten by their own destruction and the swords were free.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. A fight like anything in life was give and take and a struggle to find the balance between those two things in order to stay afloat or alive. Give an attack, take an attack give a defense. This was a flow, a stream, sometimes likened to a dance and yet forever different from any musical movement.

The weapons in Joshua's hands represented something entirely new, and Maximos was driven to understand them. How were they held? Where did the weight lie? Where was the cutting edge? The center of gravity? How were they swung? And then on a more macabre level, how did they cut? How did they feel on impact? In what exact way did they rend flesh? And yet despite these curiosities, Max felt it an insult to his dearest and most respected opponent to simply offer his flesh to the azure blades no fulfill his own curiosity.

As such, there was indeed a metallic twang, as a particular jet black long sword met with the fat knife that was the Kuru'to and was keenly deflected. Attack rolled into defense which streamed flawlessly into a counter and inward came the Intuk'vhet. It was Razliek's form that gave it away. It was not swung in the way a sword would normally be swung. There was more brutality and definition given to the force of the motion than necessary for a slash or swipe or even a sword chop. This was the sort of swing one committed to, but in doing so one was likely promised some level of bloody satisfaction. That vicious edge jutting out at the end of the blade was what intrigued the Shadow the most. He prepared his defense, and simply let the rest be carried by the proverbial tide.

Sha'yd was flipped into an inverted grip, with her jutting out of the bottom of Maximos' hand and running long against his right forearm. And then, braced by his shoulder, and in a stance similar to a football player preparing to tackle Maximos leaned his arm into the path of the Intuk'vhet. His arm itself was already armored with its gauntlet contraption, and yet even still he wasnt completely ready. The weapons struck with the force of a full on baseball bat swing, but all upon a sharp edge. It was so very much more like getting hit by a battle axe than a sword. The there was no metallic twang but rather a resounding clang followed by a sharp cracking sound.

The Intuk'vhet hit, and rasped violently against Sha'yd the glass blade sparked as might any steel weapon but did not give or crack. And then the sharp curve of the Hellish blade spiked around and into Maximos' gauntleted arm. The plates of black steel fought a valiant fight, but as they were only a pale imitation of the gauntlet who they were born to replicate the dark steel plates gave under the fierce beak of Razliek's sword like a bird piercing a shell and bit into pale Arian flesh just below the shoulder. Immediately a few details dawned on Maximos.

First, was that this was not a weapon you wanted to block directly. One was better off deflecting or dodging it, because even through another weapon's defense and armor plating the Intuk'vhet nearly broke his arm.

Second, Maximos learned something about the craftsmanship of the blade that told him something of Razliek's immediate limitations. The Intuk'vhet gained a great amount of power from that curved beak, but it sacrificed mobility. The demon sword would not be able to keenly pass in front of Maximos or past him. Joshua would be unable to continue the blades motion and follow through once the attack had been made or sufficiently defended. The only option the demon had was to either step keep the sword were it was and step backwards or forwards, or pull it back exactly along the path it came. This inexorable led to another realization.

Combined with a smaller weapon a man could feasibly make strong chopping swipes, and then counter, defend, and lead an opponent around. Joshua...no...Joshua had never wielded these blades. Razliek, had just performed such a defense in perfect sync with his counter attack, with that in mind Maximos had the room and ability to act on his new knowledges. As the Kuru'to shoved the Nameless away, Raz would find that Maximos' long sword gave without any real resistance. Maximos right hand was stuck in a wounded defensive position but his left, also extended was free. With a flick of the wrist and ample force from the other Reaper's deflection Maximos flipped the Nameless so that just like Sha'yd it was held inverted. And then as it flipped, he stepped. Not toward the demon prince, or away from the Intuk'vhet but toward it. Maximos stepped into his opponents blade and pivoted right on his right and rear foot, keeping the distance between his arm and the curved blade at absolute zero began moving himself perpendicular to the demon and stabbed.

Yes, stabbed, the Nameless' pommel at Razliek's sword-wrist. Despite the defensive position it placed his sword in, the ramifications of such a blow were rather obvious. True to Maximos, and true to his designs as made evident by Joshua's earlier commentary on the design of Shadow Island nothing, no matter how ornate, was wasted in Maximos' architecture. The blade, the crossguard and even the pommel of the 4ft long sword that was the Nameless were all sharpened, and deadly edges.

Razliek deserved no less.

What Razliek deserved? What Maximos deserved? These were both concepts fulfilled to their greatest potential. And yet at the same time these were both laughable concepts. To strive toward giving what the other deserved? As if either man was capable of anything short of that mark? No. They worked to achieve and yet at their base, at their core the acts came naturally. The synergy was instinctive and issued forth nothing short of what exactly the other deserved. And in return earned exactly that back.

So thats how it is? Maximos lurched forward as expected. The Intuk'vhet had him, and surprised an unexpected jolt left him slave to its whim.

There were ideas and strategies in motion, attacks halfway into execution but all of that came to a crashing halt with a simple tug. This, this was the thrill of it. This was a chance to puzzle his mind, to challenge it with new elements, and to put it to work finding a way through said challenge. He had believed, if he could damage Razliek's wrist he could loosen his grip and open more opportunity. This was a strategy based nothing on the Intuk'vhet and solely on his own sword fighting experience. It was general and bland. And now he saw the futility in it, and in the same moment was granted a glimpse at another approach.

The Nameless was being held in reverse, stabbed backwards at Joshua, and now as the Shadow settled from the forward tug he brought the Nameless brought up and vertical. Combined with Sha'yd Maximos weapons looked alot like two sets of awkward fangs. One short one long. With the Nameless flat and down against his forearm, the act of blocking the Kuru'to was far easier. A simple deflection. The Intuk'vhet had bitten his arm, but was pressed not only into his bicep, but pressed also against Sha'yd. The very armor the Intuk'vhet pierced, now kept it, and prevented it from sheering Maximos' arm flesh from his bone. Had it been a clean blow, Razliek's next move would have cost him the use of his arm. In the moment between the Kuru'to's attacks Maximos moved.

He swung his right arm outwards, almost like opening a door with his elbow as the hinge and pressing Sha'yd against the azure steel. The Intuk'vhet's fang dug a longer curve around his arm with the sudden motion. The aim here was to shove the opposing weapon away and as he pushed Maximos stepped diagonally, backwards and to the left outside of the blade's curve.

This, at first, wouldnt seem like a very important or even intelligent maneuver. Another tug from the Intuk'vhet and he was simply trapped again. But in the same motion as Maximos' step backwards, the inverted Nameless stabbed forward. Not at Joshua' arm, or torso, or anywhere vital, but at the First's left foot. Being a 4ft long weapon, the distance required to make such a stab was equal if not a bit shorter than the distance required for Kuru'to to slash forward. And if Maximos was moving backwards and left, and Joshua meant to give chase, the First would need that particular foot to step forward off of. The time stolen by it being impaled into the ground, or by Joshua having to move around or through it would rob the demon of his chance to close the gap before the Shadow slipped away.

From the meager space which equated a safe distance back, Maximos' smile faded into a small smirk. But it was not any grim emotion that fueled the change but the opposite. This was focus. This was the same sort of concentrated face he wore playing a friendly game of chess, or inventing a new product at his shop. This was what happened when Maximos was utterly enraptured in the task at hand. At the moment he was learning defense against strange and new weaponry. In a moment, he might venture to learn how to attack or counter-attack said weaponry. But for right now, he was more than content to pull the Nameless back up. His left hand guiding the sword so that it rest a bit over his right shoulder and crossing his chest defensively. With a flick he flipped Sha'yd into a proper blade over thumb grip. His mind raced with ideas scenarios and possibility and then he spoke. "Come, again please."