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Like most things on Gaia, the plate Reinhart wore wasn't made of ordinary metal, Maximos' would find it hard to get that vice grip or sink his talons into it. The hold may not have been what he expected but it worked none the less his talons dug into the plate again, maybe not as far as he'd expected. On that suicide style dive they were in it was hard to do much else but throw blow after blow before they came close to the ground.

Like he'd planned Reinhart twisted with Maximos and slammed onto the forest ground only saying...

"Shi...!"

before he was slammed. He didn't see that coming and was too busy pounding on whatever part of Maximos he could land a blow on. Good thing for him he'd been in situations like these before and right after slamming into the ground he'd go with the forward momentum. Throwing his legs up and pushing off hte ground with his shoulders he'd throw them both into a wild tumble. All the while holding onto whatever he could on Maximos making sure he'd accompany him on the trip over the forest ground.

Both Maximos and Reinhart would take turns being either over or under the other. Needless to say Reinhart was in a great amount of pain he was glad his adrenaline numbed a good portion of it out. Tumbling over the wet muddy ground Reinhart would finally do the exact same thing he did before throwing himself ontop of Maximos digging his knees and feet into the ground. Placing himself atop the Reaper as soon as he'd secured his place and they were no longer tumbling Reinhart's fist lit up again.



Just as Maximos had held onto Reinhart's collar Reinhart was now doing the same, more than likely about to rip his coat like he had his shirt. At the range Reinhart was in he'd be blown off Maximos when the explosive force between his fist and his friends chest went off.

Lysira sighed softly as the battle finally came to a close. She waited a few moments for the adrenaline to subside and exhaustion to set in, in hopes that he'd be less likely to take an aggressive stand as she approached him.

Emerging from the pseudo palisade of tree trunks and branches, the woman steps softly, coming to stand just out of arms reach from the worn out warrior.

Platinum hair falling to her waist in soft waves. Her strange eyes were pinky red, she almost looked like an albino except that her skin held pigment and was not colourless.

On either side of her face, framing her features along with the fringe of bangs, was a small cluster of crimson chrysanthemums that matched her eyes.

She was more modest than her older half sister. The sleek black dress she wore showed off her figure nicely, but gave no real glimpse of flesh.

Clasping her hands in front of her, she speaks softly.

"The time has come Scion, Avatar of flame."

If he could see clearly, he might make out the pendant about the woman's neck. A cherry blossom with with two feathers crossed beneath it. The symbol of the Dark Sakura. She was one of Sierra's people.

Against the barrier Reinhart narrowed his eyes, it wasn't uncommon for attack to fail but he was unaware that Maximos posessed such an ability. Further more, once the attack had gone off, neither of them were effected by it's blast, his attempt to strike was nulled. When it was said and done his fist was thrown off to one side and his armor was still caught. A moment later his eyes widened in surprise, Maximos had turned his attack against him.

Shocked by the fact that he was literally looking down the barrel of his own gun Reinhart was struck in the chest, dead center. A defning sound roared in all directions, followed by a flash of black light. Maxmos was sprayed with blood Reinhart spat out as the plate was forced onto his chest. It would be washed off by the rain soon enough as he was thrust back, the pulled forward once more.

For a moment, in that little instant between being hit and pulled back down for another Reinhart thought about the pain he'd just been put through. Mainly thinking to himself...

"So this is what it's like..."

...a reference to knowing what it felt like to be struck by that which you created. On the second attempt Reinhart shook the stars from his head, the ringing from his ears and reacted as if he'd not been hit. Though the blood coming from his mouth, the burn mark on his plate, and the bits of rock that scraped against him showed otherwise. Still armed with his bracers he threw his arms up between Maximos' fist and himself taking the burte force to his forearms.

Once hit his defense was shattered, he knew from the pain alone that doing that again may break both his arms. However with each hit the straps that held his armor to him were becoming weaker. The force of being thrust back, then pulled forward were ripping the non metalic things that held it all together. Reinhart was caught in more than just a bad situation, another hit to his chest may knock him out completely or break his arms. He admitted this and thought...

"Have I lost?"

...thinking it may already be over. Then he caught himself, this wasn't like him, he'd promised to go on till he couldn't swing his arm or couldn't stand. It couldn't end like this, it cuoldn't end yet. On his way back as he was pulled Reinhart's hands gripped Maximos' right, the one holding on his armor. When the Reaper's left fist came in once more for the third attack it would hit instantly and explode in a horizontal direction. Maximos hadn't hit Reinhart however, it'd hit a space between them both. Not a barrier nor a shield, it'd looked like it had hit the air itself.



Reinhart's grip clamped down with inhuman strength his eyes burned a blood red, a massive wind swirled around them, and the rain stopped touchng them. Before either of them could grasp what was going on the earth shook them, the wind increased to nearly hurricane status, a defening sound filled their ears, and then a milisecond of silence before it schreeched and all went.....

BOOOOOOOM!

Laughter. It echoed from his mouth, through his body, across the small space between the fighters. And leaking through his subconscious into the shadows around him. The blacked abyss of the forest floor echoed his almost insane laughter.

He swung his fists with a chaos almost never seen in the highly composed Maximos. Each punch seemed to fly with reckless abandon despite the consequence, the pain, or the effect it was having on his friend.

At the moment of the first Dark Grenade Knuckle, his skin seemed to crack like a piece of dry wood, physical splintering, and releasing red vitae to stream down his arm. With the second punch, the cracks grew deeper, and wider as if his skin was shrinking growing entirely too small for his arm. The white and pink vieny flesh below was very visible spitting up red at an alarming rate, spilling into the forest floor, and all over the Shadow himself. And yet the laughter never ceased, not for an instant.

With the third, the arm was so entirely covered in blood, it seemed impossible really to tell what the status of the limb was other than to say, "Its not good." And for all the excruciating pain, Maximos simply did not stop laughing...

He hadnt even noticed that the attack, was stopped to begin with. For him the sight was exactly the same, there was a big blast of firey black filling his view as hardened black shadow stones flew out in either direction. Something seemed off, but he paid it no mind. Not skipping the smallest beat as shoved his fist forward again. This time the sound was almost audible as chunks of fat and skin flew off the arm with the sheer force of the explosion. He had struck a wall. An impenetrable mountain of force, the Dark Grenade Knuckle simply was not to halt it. He could feel it, as he gazed through the blood stained over his face, and the forest dirt matted over his form, he could see it.

But he had solace. Refuge if it were. The breastplate that had torn free from his old friend. It had weathered two whole close range fragmentation grenades. Grenades that could normally destroy walls and reduce buildings to rubble and all it had to show for it was a dent or two where his fist struck.

That was his solace. His cover. His sanctuary through the storm if you will.

He immediately brought his ravaged left hand back holding it close to him. It hurt beyond words, beyond his ability to express. His right pulled the breastplate over his side, like blanket. It would not cover his legs, but they had taken no damage as of yet, they would survive. It would however cover his torso. Even if it was bent, and warped, it would warp around the gauntlet that covered his right arm, keeping him safe. The wet, stained ground beneath him was entirely too rain soaked to cause damage, it could do nothing more than give under the massive pressure put upon it.

The forest however was not so lucky. The explosion echoed out, like a deafening thunderclap. Tree's in the immediate area were laid on their backs, roots were laid bare. The wet dirt was scraped away, and cast in either direction like a wave a soil as opposed to water, it coated the forest floor, piling on itself as the force of the explosion dug up more, and more.

Part of having ones mind so closely linked to the shadows, was protection. Illusions, mind control attempts, and mental invasions were met with nothing but abysmal black as the invader is shunted into the black shadow. Without any shadow speak ability, they were simply lost. Only a real attack mattered.

But as all catastrophic attacks, the breach faded. And what was left behind was a massive crater with a breastplate currently holding the warped form of a shoulder, with a set of hips, and a legs poking out from it. There was silence, for a moment. Stillness. The sort of eerie quiet that makes you wonder if anything was left alive. The suspense was epic to say the least. And then it was broken, as a thud was heard, and the breastplate was cast aside and Maximos took a long gasp of free air. His metal gauntlet tasted fresh soil, as he pulled himself to his feet.

His body was the definition of ache, and yet all he could do was smile brightly almost creepily. He quite literally dragged himself, to his knees. His arms hung low in front of him. His left, a medic's nightmare. His right a stained dull metal monstrosity. His face, and hair were covered with blood and mud. His clothes were a painted in brown, red, and green stains. They were waterlogged and seemed to both be matted to his form, and hanging loosely from it. This was the time, he could call it quit. He could back down, and play it easy. But while parts of Maximos' body were ragged. While his legs and arms screamed in agony...he was not nearly done. His left arm, squishing in a most disgusting manner as it was brought behind his back, staining the back of his vest in a horrible red that would never wash out.

His right fist balled, metal digits sliding against each other, grinding sharply. While his arm, laid flat against his side. The rain poured down the sides of his face, against his beaten form lashing against him, washing away tiny bits of agony. He could taste grainy rust, as blood and soil were washed into his mouth by the rain. Where was Cris? This was not done. No not by a long shot!

Lysira moved quickly, lowering Vahn to the soft earth, cradling him against her chest. A delicate hand touches his face tentatively, brushing the sweat soaked locks out of closed eyes.

His face looked so peaceful... yet something kept it from appearing relaxed.

"A man tormented... trapped within the guise of childhood innocence..."

She breathed the words quietly as incarnadine eyes took the moment to see what all the fuss was about.

He really was cute...

But looks weren't everything.

It was his story, that tugged at Lyssy's heart strings.

Exhaling softly, Tendrils very similar to Aiysin's sprouted from the ground beneath them....

Wrapping about the young woman and the unconscious warrior, encasing them in a vine woven pillar of pearlescent pink.

When Vahn came too, he would find himself in the comforts of the Dark Sakura.

A smirk slipped across his features. His head was hunched forward, his knees were bent, his shoulders loose and slumping. His left hand rested on what remained of his belt. His breathes were deep and slow.

The rain had matted his hair down and forward leaving a deep shadow over his eyes.

I guess...your still warming up!

His voice echoed across the shadows, carrying it farther than his beaten lungs and bruised ribs would ever let him carry it. His right arm lifted in a general waving motion, calling Cris forward, and giving him the first attack.

Maximos stood his ground, steadily waiting for Cris to step forward. The gauntlet over his right arm slowly unraveled, the tendrils unfurled, and seeped back into his arms to reveal his true arm. Bandages the visible arm disappearing into his sleeve, a black leather glove covered his right hand.

What looked almost like a cloth of black lifted from the shadows rising around his left arm shielding the torn flesh monstrosity and allowing Maximos to save more of his precious life blood.

The Shadow seemed almost like he was waiting, that smirk on his face growing just a bit more wry by the second.

The timing on this had to be perfect.

Cris shot his fist forward, and Maximos' left snapped into motion. Its index and middle finger reached into his back pocket snapping forward a sheet of paper to stand directly in front of Cris' fist. The paper was home to a few seemingly random set of runes. It formed one of the most rudementary Lunoc enchantments. The item summon.

Maximos was not one known for vocal bursts in combat. He never shouted attack names, or screamed during his attacks. And yet did now, shouting one very familiar name. A glue of chillingly blue shooting forth out of the seal as he did.

Chrystal!!

The blue orb was summoned. A gift from an old friend, the old friend that stood before Maximos right now. The Shadow pledged he would use the gift whenever he was in a touch spot, and what better time than now to show that that promise was not forgotten. The paper vanished as the crystalline ball was placed in the Shadow's hand. The spirit within immediately following through on her one sacred duty. Blasting a sheet for frost directly at Cris. Its form and function, Cris himself new better than anyone else.