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The clouds gather and grow dark around a single spot before a light within dispells the darkness and the clouds slide away. A man in little more than rags with a hump upon his back and wounds on his hands and bare feet that constantly drip with blood seems to emerge from the clouds. He seems to not be affected by the wounds upon hands and feet, even when the blood would otherwise trip him up on a slick surface. A strip of cloth intertwined with a slender chain runs around his neck almost like a collar, a small cross that seems oddly sharp hanging from it. A smile is upon his lips as his hair dances about, a short beard the only hair about him aside from that upon his head.

He walks on at a steady pace, eyes barely open with a pleasant smile upon his lips. His eyes, though hidden, seemed to be of two colors, a deep blue limned by the smallest ring of gold. With his eyes closed it was impossible to notice, but otherwise it would be difficult to spot. His hand rose to grasp the pendant hanging from his neck, a small prayer given to the Almighty. The hump upon his back seemed to shift slightly as he rose to stand straight for a moment before hunching over once more. There seemed to be a heavenly aura about the man that was hard to describe. It was as if he were plucked from heaven and stashed within a body not entirely his own.

When he stopped he glanced up to lock eyes with the false goddess, "And there followed another angel, saying, Babylon is fallen, is fallen, that great city, because she made all nations drink of the wine of the wrath of her fornication. ...the same shall drink of the wine of the wrath of God." Slipping the corss from its chain the great blade was formed, a normal sword in all respects save that on the half near the tip of the blade, about three fourths of the way a cross was formed.

A flurry of flesh and bloodadded to the trail he had left in his wake, two great white wings bursting forth and shaking off the lifeblood of this mortal coil. His wings spread behind him as his smile only grew, the blade rising to balance across his back as his other hand pulled a single feather from his wings. Dragging the feather along his hairline a line of blood began to flow forth, "Crown of Thorns." These three simple words were spoken calmly, but with a force behind them that could force back even the strongest men. The feather bound itself to his brow and duplicated, wrapping around his skull, each sinking into his flesh.

He let out a chuckle, "Speak not the name of the savior of mankind in vain. The least you can do is offer up your own name to be transcribed in the Book for Judgement." The crown of rather nasty sharp looking feathers about his head pulsed with a golden light that seemed to flow into his body. Drawing another feather from his wing he smirked as he focused upon it, his gaze rising to the heavens, "Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and ... gave them to the crowds."

He tossed but a single feather towards Skyria, the edges growing sharp and gaining greater weight in flight. And then...it split. The single feather was broken into many smaller fragments, each with just as much force and stopping power as the original. It was a mere assault in the eyes of the Lord, reinforced and turned into an advancig wall of divine wrath.

The cleverly crafted kunai danced about the tornado of chaotic origin, swirling about about and increasing their momentum before a slight thrust was given unto them by Jesus-nin. They left the tempest to strike out at her again, even as Jesus began to smirk once more, "And thus the believers were brought forth from the chaos."

The great blade resting upon his back he began to advance, one hand gripping the hilt as his wings seemed to support the massive weight. High above a golden light began to fill the skies as he began to focus his chakra into a specific technique. A certain light seemed to flow around him, a growing brightness that threatened to consume him, hiding him from sight. He began to dash towards Skyria, blade ready to swing around grom behind him as he passed with her on his left side, aiming to catch her with the blade and lodge her in the corner formed by the cross. If he hit at any point along the blade he'd quickly turn and yank the blade towards himself while extending a foot to kick as her torso as if to slam her back into the corner and cut her in half.

The woman that the feathers did strike would be torn asunder, the flesh flayed from her bones. The blade would slide along the chest of the other, slicing open a significant gashbefore the cross lodged itself between two ribs. The fierce kick would onlt drive the blade further, slicing the poor woman in two. The wounds as inflicted were derived from divine wrath, healing only capable under the consent of the one true God.

Despite the gruesome assault Jesus-nin and his blade seemed to be clean, save for his own blood. Head turning to the heavens above he called out four simple words, "Let there be light!" The golden light that had been gathering above struck down to suffuse the area, the man becoming lost within the brightness. The Divine Light technique would last until the user's chakra gave out, the first strike of the light falling upon the lands bringing harm to all undead, evil, chaotic, and shadow based entities. Furthermore, while the Divine Light was active, darkness, shadow, chaos, and evil based powers seemed to be much less effective than normal. Raising his blade to rest upon his wings he plucked another single feather, holding it before him as his blood soaked the feather. He was waiting, lost within the light.

The darkness simply would not come and the illusion was supressed. As stated the Divine Light filled the area and cancelled out such effects. Bad Skyria, bad. With no way stated to get around the divine might of the Almighty, such simple tricks were to be left for another day and another opponent, should she survive. When his gaze fell upon her once more he smirked, a second feather joining the first, "It is said that an Angel's feather cuts the one who takes it, but heal the one that receives it. By the grace of God himself I have received this gift. You test my patience to display more of such gifts." He was still lost within the light, his aura dispersed throughout as he began to move. Within the field Skyria could not hide and would not be able to detect his appraoch. Swiftly and silently he dashed towards her, pulling around to one side to swing the blade from behind to hook around her body with a swift chop to the torso below the ribs.