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Cris showed a ferocity unseen in most fighters. He did not waste his efforts and opportunities on just a single attack. No simple punch or kick, no lash or bash. His moves were constant, a flow of consistent motion. It was something Maximos had to respect just as must as he had to be careful of it.

The space between the two fighters was immediately closed as shin's bashed together. Reinhart's right shin smacking against Maximos's right shin, this would put bring the crushing knee to an immediate halt as the two fighters legs collided. There wasnt a moment to waste on the sting of bone against bone.

The elbow swung, coming from Maximos' right. He ducked his head down, immediately, the fierce attack just barely missing his head and grazing through his matted wet hair. That was close, a bit too close.

Before he was given the opportunity to counter-attack Reinhart's right first was already coming straight for his chest. He had no time to think, or strategise, Cris' combination attack was as vicious as it was direct. The Reaper expected no less. With his leading right arm he grabbed the oncoming fist by the wrist, tugging it forward and away, directing it to Maximos' right side beside his hip.

That left only one viable attack option, and only a short window in which to take advantage of his opponents open state. He would see Reinhart's face indeed as he brought his head forward aiming for a swift headbutt against his old friends head. And Reinhart would get a choice glance at the white glow seeping from his friends right eye. Just before Maximos slammed his weight forward and down, attempting to stop his right leg forward and to seize a bit of ground and force Reinhart back a step or two.

To be honest the Shadow had completely underestimated Cris. He had blocked a few hits and was beginning to get ahead of himself. Perhaps his time in the land of pacifism had made him soft. Cris recovered far faster than he had expected, the foot came with every bit of speed and force Maximos should have expected from this man, this man he had waited so very long to verse. He may just have to use the other arm.

His body bent around the kick. His upper body lean forward, his right arm jerked forward, and the wet ground gave under the sudden impact. He could not fall. He would not fall so easily. He simply could not let himself surrender the ground beneath him. His left arm, stood firmly placed behind his back, its fist clenched tightly.

He watched with sharp eyes as Cris flipped up and over coming down with a very powerful axe kick.



Up came the armored right arm. It arched over and slightly in front of his head, taking the brunt of the oncoming force. A loud metallic "dong", would fill the air the two fighters met once again. His face cringed as his entire body buckled under the force of Reinhart's attack. His waist and hips bent, immediately followed by his knees, and even the ground beneath him gave even further. But he would not fall, though bent, he stood strong. The rain poured over his form diluting the blood trickling from the impact point on his head.

He had received a vicious attack, the payment for his hubris. It was a mistake he would not easily make again. His right hand opened, and twisted aiming to grab the offending leg by the ankle, his jet black fingers would tighten their grip like a vice. He bent at the waist his right foot stepping out and slamming down, his hips jerked to the right, followed by his upper body. The intent being to whip his form into a 90 degree angle, swinging Cris by his leg, and then release him sending him into one of the nearby trees.

And he followed. This was no hunt, but he would give Cris nothing short of his absolute best. The man deserved that. They had waited years for this match, quite literally years and he would give him a battle they could remember for years to come.

He watched with dead locked eyes as Cris was flung into the forest. His boots slowly beginning to emblazen, the runes sewn into their fabric beginning to flow a bright indigo. The Shadow leaned toward the whole Cris made in the bramble with his form, his feet digging into the ground to brace him for the sudden impact. The wet ground shook as if some massive force was being poured into it.

And then in a single moment, there was a veritable explosion of mud as the boots ignited shooting Maximos forward like a missile.

Just as Cris turned around he would see Maximos bearing down on him, no more than 10ft away. The Triad-Cutter would blast forward shredding a line clean over Maximos' shoulder, blast shredding through a line of the black armor covering his shoulder. A seed of blood and seared bandaged being instantly blown off by the force of his motion.

His right arm was extended out to his side, basically aiming to slam his old friend with his forearm and force him into an through the tree as he flew on by, kicking up a storm of water and leaves in his wake.

He grimaced as his arm bashed through the tree. He could feel the pop as his shoulder dislocated. It was a sharp stabbing pain, his eye squinted shut for just a moment as his left hand instinctively clutched his right shoulder. The break in concentration shattered the flow to his boots and drove the Shadows feet down into the muck, bringing him to a wet crashing halt. A loud thud echoing out as his left right shoulder smacked into a tree.

Indeed!

Maximos shouted back. Turning his head to see chunk of log flying straight for him. The snaps of branches and twigs filled the air as timer of sorts until he was crushed. He regretted for a just a moment that he didnt have his sword like he did in the old days with that block of ice.

He had to act fast very fast. His closed for a moment, trying to regain his concentration. Black inky ethereal tendrils slowly began to lift from his arm, as if seeping from the metal and wrapping around his left shoulder. He winced as the black inky limbs pulled letting out an audible snap as his shoulder popped back into place.

The shadow of the log was ominous to say the least. He had no choice, Maximos jumped back, his boot souls digging into the tree bark and then he leaped. His craned his right arm back flinging it forward. The black limbs around his arm whiplashed outward grabbing branches, trunks, and anything they could to get a firm grip. The tentacles immediately retracted, just as Maximos jumped pulling the Shadow, arm first into the block of wood aiming to shatter it into nothingness.

Without his boots he could only hope to quite literally sling shot himself into the log and force his way clean through. Just as he cleared the block, he cocked his right arm back aiming to use the force he had remaining, if any, to send him fist first into his old friend.

With the force of his whiplash through the forest, the shadows fist was in the lead. He could see his opponent preparing an attack. Before the fist was swung he knew exactly what was about to transpire, the entire forest knew. The sound of crows cawing, and rats skittering had long since gone silent. Not even the humble crickets stirred.

Conflict like this was the very reason this world seemed to churn.

Reinharts fist was brimming with power energy seeped off each and every side, gushing outward. Maximos could off this man nothing less than what he was about to receive. The tendrils recoiled pulling in ambient shadows as gravity brought Maximos to his inevitable fate. His arm, though armored swirled in an aura of thing unholy black miasma. Tendrils were seen whipping from the holy fist, and still yet Maximos could feet his metal bones vibrating from his last attack.

That gentle hum, would give him the concentration he needed for this moment.

Carrying through his momentum, Maximos' legs were sent forward leading his fall. Though at that last moment, as Reinhart swung his punch, Maximos arched his back forward, spinning his body forward, unleashing the two fists upon each other. With just an inch before the two fists collided, a lightning bolt struck the ground a few hundred feet away and time seemed to stop.

For that singular moment you could see the energy lashing between the two fists. Tendrils of black reaching out and lashing against the wicked crimson glow. The two energy met at an invisible wall between them before the two fists ever did. It was almost as if some god, some immortal force had sought to pause reality at this very moment to seize a picture of a fight of these rare proportions.

The two fists collided in an explosion of complete and total silence. Both energy fought each other, in a half second of complete deafness. And finding a match in each tore out across the forest in either direction. The rain falling around the two fighters froze as if colliding with an invisible wall of force, neither fighters position would give. And then without a single warning the silence expanded into a deafening roar, ripping across the forest, tearing leaves from their homes, ripping light branches from the trees. Maximos grinned a wicked grin only he could grin, beaming down at his opponent. Despite the fact he had forsaken combat even he could never deny its thrills, thrills such as this pushing the body to its absolute limits.

Perhaps the boom, was a diety clapping. Or perhaps that was the thunder that immediately followed, shredding the sky. Either way, Maximos now found himself a slave to the very force he had generated. As if pulled by existance itself, he would be lost in the myriad of branchs tearing against his clothes and skin, before having his back slammed flat against a tree. The sound of wood, grain, and bone protesting as Maximos impacted. His body sliding down the tree, into a kneel on the ground below.

He could feel and see the steam and smoke rising off his right arm. His breathing was intense, his left hand rose shakily to wipe the sweat off his pain brow...a unless act in the rain. And slowly his eyes lifted, scanning for any sight of Reinhart. This was not over yet...

Three pops snapped down his spine as he worked himself into a stand, his knee's ached. His right arm was limb beside him, it ached to think about moving it. His left was flat on the ground, his fingers dug deep into wet soil beneath him. His head hung low for just a moment. The Shadow's left arm burned like fire, streams of red dripped down his shirt from the lashes the branches had given him on the violent trip back. Blood and water began to gather in the underside of his sleeve, dripping out of the fold at his elbow. It left one burning question in his mind...is it worth it?

His eyes traced upwards, locking onto Cris with deadly precision as the fighter soared though the air. A smile slid across his features, the answer was clear, undoubtable...yes. It was entirely worth it.

He feet dug deep into the ground as the runes around his feet coursed with lavender insurgence. And with a single gust, and two twin streams of black exploding from beneath his feet, he rocketed up toward his opponent in the sky. His boots were knew, he lacked the precision to guide the exact speed of his flight, and so he quite basically aimed to slam his fist clear into his opponent.

It was all planned out in his mind. The distance between the two men was calculated and plotted, his mind processing like a intense computer. But he was without a simple detail, and lacking as such his entire plan was tossed into ruin.

Cris had control over his descent, that meant that while Maximos assumed he had a particular amount of time to reach his opponent in actuality he had far less. His right arm cocked back, when the gust of wind shoved Cris into him. Flawlessly Reinhart moved outside and then inside the Reapers grip, grasping clean hold of his shoulder.

With the weight alone Maximos' upper body was sent back, his head angled toward the ground, his boots stiffly working against him blasting him toward the ground. Reinhart's knee scored a direct hit into the Shadow's gut, Maximos would immediately follow up by trying to gain a tight grip on Reinhart's shirt, attempting to pull the man in while he delivered immediate and repetitive head butts. When all else fails, Maximos was rather adept at using his head.

All the while his boots would carry the two men down on an angle toward the trees below.

Regardless of the tossed blows, just before smashing into the ground, Maximos would make an attempt at lowering his legs. Kicking up a wake of mud as his heels scraped into the wet floor before, the force of the his jet thrust repeatedly bouncing his legs off the ground. Before settling their flight on a straight horizontal, the two men would still be in a somewhat erratic flight, depending on what blows were tossed, just about 10 - 20ft above the forest floor, the height changing as branches or punches knocked the Reapers legs in various directions.