[3rd] Main Bracket: Omi vs. Ryu

The day of the main bracket's Round III match involving one Omi Barsait. The swordsman with two wins under his belt, had defeated a rather powerful melee fighter and the man that dashed Barsait's hopes of victory in the original GTB tournament, as well as a very large being of considerable strength not unlike a titan; first on a fairly "standard" arena grounds, then on a rickety platform which gave way to water all around and below. Although both weren't the easiest to persevere through, Omi managed to win the judge's vote on each with no severe wounds on his person; a testament Barsait got this far for good reason, perhaps.

First a steady grounds of battle, then a den of water; the trend these battlegrounds were following was not lost on Barsait, much to his dismay. When he received the letter stating ".. wear something warm." - already, the swordsman could tell he'd not be liking what was to come. And sure enough, ahead of him was an opponent that could be as unsettling as the actual fighter Ryu - a series of ice blocks, and thin layers of ice covering a depth of water that could pose a serious threat to any who fell in.

This "Ryu," Barsait had no prior knowledge on, unlike the prior two opponents. Not what the fighter excelled in, nor his appearance.. to be frank, there was no definite proof for the swordsman that Ryu was in fact, a "he;" all of those good things would reveal themselves when that individual arrived, ideally. Therefore, deciding to walk onto the snow-covered soil, Omi came into the crowd's view to a frenzied roar clamoring for the match to begin. Managing to walk calmly along the grounds between the ice blocks ahead, the swordsman stopped a good 5 feet from the 30 yd. diameter pool of ice-encrusted water..

"You can't be serious; the ice is so damned thin, you can nearly see through it! Typical.. and according to the rules from what I can wager, going into that water would be the same as a ring out, only much easier to maintain - and it'd be lethal if I stay submerged for long, to top it. Clearly, if my opponent's going for a quick win, this spot will be his goal." Continuously walking forward, the dark-clad swordsman whom was clenching his fists tightly, was not wearing anything different than his regular apparel. The bitter cold kept him alert, apparently..

Breath visibly leaving his lips in a slow gasp, the fighter came to the edge of the iced-over water outright - before looming over it, right fist arching. Said fist crashed into the ice strongly - leather gauntlet absorbing most of the impact. Given the ice was brittle as is, a strong blow made much of the ice mass give way - and what was left, obviously cracked.. the deadly waters beneath it now open to the naked eye.

Stepping away, letting the treads in his boots keep traction on the snowy ground below - Barsait stood near his "corner," constantly muttering the phrase under his breath with an irritated tone of voice as a slight shiver ran its course through his skin: "There is no cold.. there is no cold.." - already planning something, though this process was masked by the bizarre little chant the mercenary was performing.

The match had begun.

Appearance > A 5’10’’ human man of 18 years, weighing in at 172 lbs. Long, wavy hair; dark brown-black, parted in the front and reaching shoulder length. Scantly pale skin, amber brown eyes. An "average-thin" build; arms are rather thin, although both legs are slightly more stocky. Shoulder-blades protrude more than the norm. > > A pair of spectacles rest upon his nose, earpieces in place; dark frames, thin-wired. Non-prescription glasses; cosmetic only. Round-framed with lens just about the size of his eyes. Teeth, an off-white, are all rather average save the four canines, which are particularly jagged; almost stereotypically "vampire-" esque, though this is merely a coincidence. > > Dark cotton shirt, sleeves coming mid-length of either arm; in matching material and hue, a pair of pants - cuffs reaching right to the top of either foot, two pockets at either side and slightly "modernized" in overall production, thus having a bit of weight to its form. Two plain, "short" socks; no design or specific texture. Over these, two boots - very tight cured leather, a dark sheen to them; flexible yet very sturdy, comes to a rounded point, 5 lbs. 3 oz. a boot. Inclined treads, for a mixture of good traction and mobility. Top of said boots rise above the pant legs up to roughly 4" above the apex of the sock lines. > > Aside from the above apparel, there are three items Barsait wears which bear significant importance in mentioning. > > i. BODY APPAREL: Chain Mesh: Linked together in a weave of metal, this thin one-piece suit of metal (only 1/3rds an inch thick) lies beneath all of the young man's clothing. The only areas one can truly get a good sight of it, would be along the bare arms, and right at the neckline of the above mentioned shirt. Nice, clean, durable steel; inner rings being a diameter of 10 mm. Surprisingly light at seven kilograms, it is rather adaptive to freestyle movement while still providing a nice defensive resistance against enemy weaponry - since otherwise, all a sharp blade would have to pierce, would be.. cloth. > > ii. ARM APPAREL: Gauntlets: Cured leather, made sturdy for repeated use; these gauntlets are fingertip-less at the knuckles for enhanced dexterity. Extending along the wrists and capping off in a curved edge, the insides are made for comfort - tight on the skin as to maximize proper hand movements, whilst the exterior is made very durable. Along the upper region of either, is a burned circle - quite possibly the alphabetical "O." > > iii. WEAPONRY: Division Blade: A one-handed sword with the handle space for two hands, though this would only be for powerful over-hand swings most likely, as it is made to move rapidly with merely a single hand utilizing it. The blade being made of the "proper" refining procedure of folding steel over many thousands of times. A modification of the originally two-handed Chinese saber of the Republican era "Miao dao," this blade has a number of specific parameters. > > -Narrow blade of 1.12 meters in length. Straight blade which curves (only slightly) from the halfway point to the tip; the bottom edge perfectly straight. > -A more "English"-style cross-guard where the handle and blade meet, oval in shape and quite durable. > -Thin, grooving leather straps of dark black hue wrapped about the hilt for better hold. > -Blade is overall rather lightweight; .9 kg total not including the handle space. A rather interesting note: the pommel (piece capped on the bottom of the sword's handle, not wrapped in leather) is actually rather hefty in comparison to the rest of the sword's structure, around .5 kg by itself.. possibly for counterbalancing purposes. The hilt, all in all, is made of a strong mixture of refined steel and silver. The blade itself, stainless steel with the edge made of heavily sharpened tungsten along the edges. Lightweight but with enough weight, able to make an impact; therefore an ideal weapon for this individual.

Letting out a long exhale of breath, it seemed his opponent was here.. despite their relatively close distance, it wasn't too easy to make out all of the details of this newly arrived fighter thanks to the frost showing by the rays of bright sunlight above, not to mention the edges of the numerous ice cubes that hindered some of the view. Still, enough was visible. "Hn.. seems like a guy around my age, though that could be a misnomer. After all, I've met people here hundreds of years old that looked twelve, it'd not be too odd to assume the same possibility here.. still."

Nodding once to Ryu, as though both greeting him and acknowledging their bout, the swordsman squared his feet prior to outstretching both hands. Each palm faced a different direction; 100% horizontal each, shoulder height, out as far as possible. "Potentially.. I could do the same thing I did last match, in essence; frozen or no, H2O is H2O. But, might be better.. if I twist things a little to start." Both open palms became closed, tight fists - the swordsman's eyes scanning Ryu for weapons or subtle movements..

It didn't take long to notice an abnormality. At the red haired fighter's feet.. "*Hn. The ice doesn't look right. Everywhere around it, the frost and such is more or less smooth and flawless, but right there.. could he be heavier than his appearance lets on, or is he somehow reshaping the ground?" Grinding the leather boots he often wore into the frost below, the swordsman grimaced; all ten fingertips tensing and easing one selves at a strange rate. "No matter. Let him take the initiative.*"

[HEAT CHARGE]: One.

Barsait's left eye winced just momentarily. "How bothersome.. not just cold, but apparently, the damned place is coated in dirt." Thanks in no small part to his long and wild hair, much of the passing dust failed to phase him; but it was becoming apparent just how lively the wind was. Still, the swordsman had no reason to suspect foul play as of yet, instead choosing to continue with whatever strange action he was committing to - until the signal finally came. Ryu made a motion.

Only spotting the tell-tale crack forming in the ice, some of the mercenary's suspicions became confirmed, and in a preemptive defense, Barsait's legs side-stepped rapidly to his left.. behind the cover of one of the four blocks of ice. He'd kept himself stationed near his "corner" as to exploit this temporary cover, just in case - and if only this one time, it saved him. However, this dodging motion was not flawless. Not noticing the sharpened bits of ice flying forward, the swordsman's right shoulder was nicked by passing frost - and despite the metal armor adorned to his flesh, a stinging sensation was easily felt..

"Damn! That's sore.. that was nothing ordinary; this guy can manipulate ice!?" It was for but a split moment, a flashback of his battle within GTB I against the fighter "Snow" came to the surface - but immediately, Omi disregarded this comparison. Gazing sideways at the only visible crack which had made itself apparent for Barsait, a sharp conclusion dawned upon him: "*No.. he managed to split the soil along with the frost this far outwards, and that sharp bit of ice flowed with all of this damned dirt like two complimentary substances. Until I can confirm his specific details, it's best to assume he can manipulate every substance present on these grounds, from debris and frost to air. Damned lovely.*" Backing away rapidly from the ice block, the swordsman felt pressured. The ice block ahead of him, originally transparent, was now marred with all of this damnable dust.. but the silhouette of Ryu - that was still present.

"Think fast; the dirt and frost.. if this guy keeps breaking ice apart, and assuming the dust keeps kicking up and coating all of the frost present, the melting temperature even for this tournament's unnatural ice will lower significantly! I can exploit this.."

Serpentine Manipulation > [Serpentine Manipulation] > > Able to procure an apparition-like extension of himself, Barsait's mainstay in the form of supernatural abilities is this one. These extensions come in the form of red, mildly transparent serpent-like figures; easiest to control with the fingers, Omi often procures several of them from his hands. > > By themselves, they are harmless. One could for example, "touch" or be in contact with them, and essentially - it would be like running one's hand through a ray of light. No harm done. It is therefore not they themselves, but what they bring - that is the danger. > > > > Using this simplistic image to explain how flames usually spawn is best in describing the Manipulation's abilities. Boiling it down to its basics: Omi can ignite flames from oxygen - thus creating rather "oxygenated fire" from the air itself. Putting it simply, he bypasses the above cycle by merging the "Oxygen" and "Fuel" phases into one step in order to produce the third, "Heat." > > Creating said flames, the "serpents" are then like guidelines for the fire. And by controlling the serpents' paths and shapes, so too does Omi control the flames he has spawned. Thus, the danger - and free form nature of his ability. An example of this technique in use besides just sending tendrils of fire at an opponent: contracting the serpents around one's fist, producing a very rudimentary set of "flame knuckles." Furthermore: the flames themselves [at least in his control] normally won't cause his own person harm. His body naturally repels the potential self-damage via the true bulk of the "serpent" mass in his body repelling said flames through the pores of his skin; one could make a simple metaphor out of this by equating it to two similar polarities repelling one another. Not a guaranteed method of defense against Barsait's own attacks, but effective none the less. > > In the core nature of this technique, then, lies great potential use if we think of the basic examples above.

"*Soon, this place will be nothing more than a dirty and chaotic version of the last round's arena; FORTUNATE!*" The mercenary broke forward in a stride, and much to the confusion of the crowd.. performed a palm-thrust against the very ice block that had so temporarily sheltered him, via the right hand. "Not as convenient as last round either.. but I'll make do."

Five serpents. They only extended an inch from each fingertip of that right hand; flowing into the crystalline structure of the block, before a shrill 'pop!' filled the air - a nice chunk of the block extending into its core, strangely missing. In its place, a bizarre, air-distorting gas, no less.

Removing his right arm by force, the swordsman replaced it with his left palm in a similar fashion; only this time, the fresh five red serpent-shaped lights did not stop at his fingertips.. they flowed through the gas, through the remaining ice, and finally, stopped some seven feet from Ryu; all around five feet off the ground, orbiting in an ominous manner. The "faces" all facing Ryu, as though watching him..

The two palm-thrusts had a delay between them. So when the right hand came forward, imagine the swordsman's surprise to find some sort of mass, out of the corner of his eye, launch forward. Obviously, this stopped the left hand from following suit. It was a rather well fired sneak-attack.. yet, held two inherent flaws.

Firstly: the three spikes came for the triceps. Had Ryu taken advantage of the palm-thrust to impale those three earthly spikes directly into Barsait's hand, he might've been able to impale the palm of the leather gauntlet and strike right on through the swordsman's main hand; instead, the red haired gentlemen opted to go for a normally ideal target farther up the arm, no doubt in the hopes of limiting Omi's movement of his arms. Unfortunately, thanks to the chain mesh described above which lined this mercenary's body beneath his clothing, the spikes would meet a great deal of resistance. There would be a painful impact, no doubt - but the three spikes would hardly pierce the skin, much less enter muscle.

Secondly.. this confirmed Barsait's suspicions that Ryu was a multiple-element manipulator. And given the spikes had a moment to linger within the metal of the mesh, the dark-clad swordsman had no problem spotting what substance they were made of; looking to be the very earthen soil that'd been dousing around the arena grounds. One of Ryu's elements of attack was now in plain sight, and would not be so carelessly ignored again.

Wincing something fierce and angrily bashing the spikes apart with his left hand, the swordsman now made a fierce realization: the entire arena wasn't just inconvenient, it was one of his opponent's weapons. The sudden number of possibilities in which Ryu could strike him flooded into Barsait's mind like a tidal wave.

The wind was dying down.. and all of that dirt with it. Now convinced of his theory that at the very least, Ryu had a sort of manipulation over ice and soil, the swordsman grimaced. "Damn fine job.. tricky bastard. Does he take me for a fool, though? It's possible he'll take this ice block and crash it down at me. No, the dirt may still be in the air, thinned out - how did he managed to manipulate those spikes of clay into me? He'd need a way of propelling the dirt-" Teeth clenching tightly, another paranoid thought tore across Omi's expression. "*Wait, that wind earlier was carrying a ridiculous amount of the stuff, and didn't start until he made his appearance- damn it, he can control the air flow too..!? That means..*"

The full scope of the situation became apparent. Regardless of what Ryu would plan next, he coated the arena grounds with various debris heavily; that was nothing that could be ignored. "If I'm assuming correctly.. that means he could strike me from anywhere save where I've been standing, given the mass of my body's shielded this relative spot from a lot of the soil flow. No; that's wrong too, if.. if he does operate like Snow did, than he can even manipulate the frost below my feet. That means I'm literally open to attack from 360 degrees all around me, my body being the pin-cushion at the core. And if I try extending my limbs carelessly like I just did to attack him in the standard manner, he'll skewer them."

"DAMN!"

The crowd on his side of the arena stared at Barsait in confusion amidst the bitter cold. Unaware of the routing of water Ryu was performing, nor of the masses of dirt being clung to his body; Omi was preparing even still something of his own. Immediately, Barsait's arms crossed over his face like a boxer's guard.. and his entire body crashed into the frost below, huddled in this odd position. Like a turtle, if one wanted a nice image.

One might poorly surmise he was having a mental breakdown, or something similar at any rate. However, arms wrapping tightly about him, legs clenched shut - his fingers, as they had been this entire match, were shaking violently. Not the least bit out of fear, either.

"Alright. I can make the assumption he'll strike me again very quickly, and that it could be from any direction including right below me; that's fine.. by stopping my hand, he let me build up a condensation of serpents in the fingertips, but even that won't do. If I fight him like I have my past opponents, he'll whittle away my endurance and win without a doubt in any scenario I can depict - therefore.. I'll have to give him the pleasure of being introduced to a funner side of these matches. Just let him think he's in control. Just a little while longer.." Now, the swordsman's thoughts were no longer calm and precise, but flowing like a deranged mist within the fighter's head. While it was unlikely Omi could spot Ryu's dirt from that distance, and truly he hadn't - it was equally unlikely Ryu'd be seeing the odd change in the swordsman's flesh, especially since little if any was currently exposed.

The pores of his skin were glowing. Not brightly; a very dim, flickering translucence. Almost as though his flesh was moving somehow. In conjunction with this, Barsait clashed his teeth quite violently- and a thin layer of blood flowed down his otherwise clean, white teeth. Twirling down the fangs in double-helixes, marring them with crimson red. It was almost like the fighter was in the fetal position, shifting back and fourth in place like a madman - nothing characteristic of this fighter.

The earlier irritations from his shoulders and upper arms being struck were now being eaten away by a greater pain developing in the skin all about the mercenary's body. All the more, it looked like Omi Barsait had gone.. feral.

"*Longer.. Let him impale me, let him strike me!!!*"

[Heat Charge]: 20% + 10% due to retracted attack.

The swordsman was trembling in a fearsome manner; writhing on the ground, eyelids bulging open. It was becoming unanimous across the spectator stage, Barsait either lost his mind or nerve - or, a combination of the above. Never before had the mercenary acted so without tact in an arena match, clenched tightly as every single one of his limbs pulsated. It was unsettling.

"SIGNAL.. COME ON!" Teeth grating together so fiercely, blood continued to flow - Omi was definitely feeling pain, though not just in the sobvious locations. It was as though some kind of mind-numbing wave of agony was burning through the fighter's entire corpse, and traveling like wild-fire. Now, audible words were flowing from his lips, just barely audible: "Signal.. signal.. c'mon!! H.. signal.." The frost below his body, what little was present, became misshapen thanks to the thriving swordsman's condensed figure.

And that was when things reached a climax, or so it appeared. Apparently, in a hurry, Omi had carelessly missed some of the remainder of what earthen spikes persisted. So of course he hadn't even considered the possibility they may be utilized for a secondary attack, much less be manipulated to explode. It was a low tier explosion, no doubt only due to the small amount of earthen clay remaining, but still nothing pleasant - and the explosive nature of course shocked the spectators all abound, noise traveling across the barren arena. The skin near the needles' remainder tore open, and blood indeed flowed as did a sharp pain along the swordsman's arms; heat also expanded. Sweet waves of heated air struck the livid face of Omi Barsait, soaking in something fierce..

..Causing his lower jaw to drop down, and his vocal cords to stretch.

Something very unusual was occurring. For the blood which flowed from the freshly opened wound via the latter two explosions was suddenly put to shame, by a display of blood far superior. A mist of crimson blood began to emit from the swordsman's entire body at nearly every pore, as the mercenary screamed like a frenzied animal to the disturbance of the crowd - his clothing soaked red. For a moment, it almost seemed as though the two small spikes had managed to cause this intricate amount of damage, yet something even greater flowed forward..

.. Following the blood was small masses of the "serpents;" gutting out of his flesh all over, they ignited and swallowed the small flames aftermath like ravenous piranha, erupting into massive embers that swarmed over his inflamed flesh - looking to devour the fighter outright. It was as though a fiery god had claimed vengeance upon Barsait's corporeal form, burning him alive as payment. Briefly, this was how the scene continued; it seemed as though for some bizarre purpose, the fighter was dead.

Suddenly, the mass of fire took life; the warrior spreading his legs and crashing upward into an upright pose, before slouching forward at an unhinged angle. Slowly, the flames took a lower opacity; the burning mass of humanoid being that was Omi Barsait beneath it. Below, the frost ceased to exist; becoming a certain lovely substance before feeding the flames greater and greater still.

To explain: the swordsman had built and spread the serpents about the outer layers of his flesh, via the pores. It is through the pores of the fingertips which he usually executed his attacks, ergo, this process was no stranger to him. However, in this case, it was decided he would extend such a maneuver to every patch of flesh possible.. via a excretion of blood, containing a small amount of oxygen - combined with the very humid air thanks in no small part to Ryu lowering the melting temperature of all the frost abound in conjunction with the burning sun above - Barsait utilized his thin coat of "fuel" to jump start the process, attempting to coat his body and the proximity close in a raw mass of unnatural flames.

It was difficult to keep it from burning himself away; needless to say, keeping it from eating away at his clothes was.. difficult. It was hard enough keeping enough self-control in check to stop it from burning across his skull, let alone the hair. Yet, even still, the pain of third degree burns was ravaging all of his body.. a sort of exterior pain the mercenary was using to heighten the state he was in.

Omi Barsait was completely wrapped in blood-lust. He was a degree shy of being outright berserk.

"Well! My compliments to you for giving away even more of your arsenal! You ignited the earthen material into flames; this implies you manipulate flames as well, meaning you're able to manipulate them all if we account for your earlier wind/ice manipulation. Well done. That means you control this arena. You can strike me from the ground, from behind me.. however, it also puts you at an inherent disadvantage." The chain mesh, relatively impervious to heat but still rising in temperature exponentially, began to glow bright orange - another disturbing factor, when taken into consideration his expression became 100% constant. Wide open mouth, exposed teeth in a disturbed grin, expanded eyes.

A step. The mercenary was taking slow steps forward; before even taking the first, raising his left hand and engulfing the ice block in a far greater number of serpents than before, utilizing the process explained in his previous fight to turn it into a mass of flames before it could be utilized further against him. If Ryu wanted to try and fling any of the soil forward again, he was welcome to; the downside being, it'd likely burn to ash before it could condense into Omi's body enough to actually harm him. And if Ryu decided to create another explosion.. well, there was no telling how the swordsman might encompass that into his own "arsenal."

Hydrogen Explanation > Now here was the particularly fun extension of this ability. Too often would one consider the counter to your run of the mill user of fire, water. However, in water lies dormant, one of the Manipulation's greatest strengths. By attempting to "ignite" the oxygen latent in water, the swordsman's ability more or less "fails" - and in this supposed blunder, achieves no flames, canceling out the element he attempted to utilize, O. This outright removes the existence of O in H2O, leaving only the former portion of the molecule, H2. For one unfamiliar with chemistry, H2 is Hydrogen to the second power.. yet one would be much more familiar with the common name for the "mist" now floating subtly through the air about the arena platform, a good portion of which Barsait had just exposed to flames - causing a violent reaction of epic proportions. > > Hydrogen gas.

Omi Barsait had no way of knowing the degree of Ryu's mastery over the core element "water;" it was as potentially dangerous to him as anything else at the moment and he had no reason to think otherwise. Thus, Barsait was willing the "water" about the ground to enter this ignitation process as well, a patch of frost erupting into searing hot flames that soaked about the mercenary's body with each passing step.

And what way was the humanoid mass of flames lumbering towards? Ryu directly. "Please.. the fun will just be beginning! I can only assume you intend to do more to me unbeknownst; I welcome it.. but know I'm going to reach you before this match ends, and when I do-" Laughter mixed in with the roar of the flames, the words bellowed outward: "I'M CRUSHING YOU APART!"

"Oh? Knowledge enough?" The chaotic mercenary muttered amidst cackles, as one ridiculous wave of flames after another was ripped from a mixture of the humidity and ice-like structures abound; clamored back into relative proximity of the swordsman, growing larger by the moment. Barsait merely continued: "You control, if we break it right down to Aristotle's elements - earth, wind, water, and I now know, fire. In fact, you may very well control lightning and all else for all I care. And I'm positive you've been doing far more than meets the eye to keep me from reaching you; I'm no fool.. however, you don't yet understand your situation. Why would I be so confident in my success upon reaching you, if I've made it clear I've already assumed well ahead of time you had metaphorical aces up your sleeve?" Each step taken scorched the soil below itself; removing all traces of the once delicate crystalline frost below, replacing it with new flames that ebbed upward onward and onward.

"It would mean I'm either overly confident.. or.." Stomping forward with shoulders hunched over, Omi Barsait was now closing in foot after foot like a frenzied stalker of his prey. The steps were slow. Serpents pulsed out of the well burned-away boots of this humanoid flame.. the interesting thing was: they were gushing into the cracks of the revealed soil below, flowing along like parasites utilizing the imperfections of the dirt to gush onward and spread like the uncertain path of a lightning bolt. And though it were impossible to make it through the constant ebbing fires, if one had the opportunity to view it - Barsait's pupils were shaking.. no, shaking was an improper term. Moving. In various patterns, alternating at time to time in sequence.

The sheathed sword, untouched and unexposed to the battle air as of yet, was rather durable. However, the sheath itself was being melted through.. with a flicker of his wrist, a few serpents were guided onto the rough area of the blade's handle, before engulfing it in flames further - guiding it outward until it hung outside the mercenary's back, something akin to a metal edged tail. Meanwhile, all over the swordsman's body, the very pores of his flesh were expanding heavily, giving his flesh an unnatural veil.. the fighter's heart beating at a faster rate, to accelerate the flow of oxygen. "I'll warn you once. Begin your assault, whatever it is, immediately! If I reach you and I promise you I will-" Biting forward at the air itself, chomping onto it like a mad hound, Barsait finished quite simply: "-Regardless of who wins, if I get to you, you won't be proceeding to the next round! I promise you that. Now go. Swallow me whole with the earth.."

Hunching over even more, now his hands swung loosely like claws; graping at the air. It seemed, many of the serpents were condensing at the hands - and indeed, each time a small gist of hydrogen gas ignited with great concussive force over the mercenary's body, those hands began to resemble outright demonic talons, "sharpening" in some sense. Something odd was still amidst, even within the already bizarre..

"Rain down shards of ice and skewer me, burn my body alive with the sun, rip me apart with the wind;" 9 feet and closing. Now his words were accelerating, the blood-frenzied grin widening to an unnatural acuteness; the berserker's hands swinging at a faster & faster rate still, words flowing forward - a bizarre confidence not leaving his expression even in the slightest: "I hope you're religious! Maybe you can get some last minute prayers in, Ryu!!"

The battle's climax may be in sight for both fighters; the question is, whom's vision of victory is correct?

The lovely thing about the Serpentine Manipulation was, even trivial amounts of blood, provided it was oxygenated, could lead to relatively decent levels of flames thanks to the oxygen particles being more condensed in a liquid versus their traditional state of being spread apart within the air. However, it was true: the downside to this expression of the technique, was that very quickly, Barsait would grow fatigued. And if he decided to keep up the "pace," so to speak, for too long - bleeding to death was not an impossibility. It all boiled down to attempting to ignite the outer layer of blood at an interval to maximize overall produced embers with as little precious life-preserving liquid sacrificed as possible; thanks to the abundance of H2O present, this was in fact easier to maintain than usual - a plus for the swordsman.

The clock was ticking down like a heavy pendulum. They only had moments left.. if it went any further at the rate it had been, neither fighter would get a definitive "finish." Instead, the judges would rate them based on technique, damage inflicted, the manner in which they acted, and basic 'style points,' if one would. With the two fighters in such close proximity of each others' finishing strikes.. it was like two hunters marking one another as prey and only a limited amount of time in which either could take the kill before it would be for naught. It was maddening enough in normal conditions, let alone for Omi whom was currently seething beneath the skin both in heat and anger.

However, at roughly 6' from his opponent, the lumbering berserker.. stopped. Not once had Barsait taken his eyes off his opponent; the odd masses shifting here and there had not gone unnoticed, what precious little was unfortunately visible. However, the truth of the matter was.. it was too late. For either of them. Both were well in the other fighter's metaphorical "traps," whether each knew it or not; the only thing that would prevent their executions was if the arena's bell sounded first, and Omi or Ryu were too late. But no doubt, Ryu wouldn't settle for that.. and there was no mistake in that frenzy-filled expression on Barsait's face: neither would he.

[*CURRENT*]

And they were off. Ryu broke free of his paper-thin act of retreating, instead dashing forward with a blade glistening across the frost; Ryu had taken the initiative. However, it was unlikely the red-headed fighter would realize as the katana honed in to reach a point of striking: he'd be getting assistance in reaching his destination.

"Too late!!"

Finally, the mainstay of his plan would be usable! Omi Barsait had been allowing his opponent all of the time in the world he could afford, in the hopes Ryu would build up a fiercesome attack of some sort. Enough, Ryu could then find the confidence to charge Omi.. it wasn't clear whether Ryu had achieved this end of the plan, but rushing a man of flames head on as he had, there was considerable little doubt the enemy fighter had an arsenal ready. The overall strategy the swordsman had been hoping would work, went without a hitch.. no, to be more precise, it went better than expected, almost eerily so.

[Phase I]: "Use his force to accelerate my own." As Barsait spotted Ryu tear off towards the mercenary, Barsait fiercely expanded his eyes - a signal to a group of his crimson 'extensions;' the clusters of serpents below the grounds some three, growing to four feet behind Ryu's initial position then roared through the frost, screaming concussive, hydrogen-accelerated flames to Ryu's back. There was no doubt this could hurt Ryu.. but the true purpose was to take advantage of the explosive effects to bring Ryu towards Barsait faster. Ryu would find his dash became much more effective than perhaps anticipated, covering the 6' even faster than originally intended.

[Phase II]: "Feign slowness until he takes the bait." All this time, the swordsman had been lumbering forward at a very slow, menacing pace. In truth.. this was a show. In no way did the manipulation somehow "weigh" him down via the flames. If anything, thanks to losing moisture and no doubt a nice portion of body mass, not to mention articles of clothing and gear - it freed his body up considerably. Then, one had to take into account, he was practically devouring every bit of moisture ahead of him in an effort to assimilate it into his flaming arsenals; the air resistance directly ahead would be lowered. Finally, thanks to losing moisture from his actual body rather fast, Barsait would naturally and hopefully, temporarily go into a "dry spell" where his senses were heightened as the body clamored for water. Perhaps the only reason he hadn't ran forward at faster speeds than his norm, was that the flames may've lagged behind him; not a concern now that Ryu and Omi were so close, however. Thus, when Ryu made his run forward.. so did Omi.

[Phase III]: "Guarantee collision." 6 feet was very little distance to cover to begin with. But now, Ryu and Omi were going to clash at a much, much faster rate; what would've taken seconds would now likely be damned near instantaneous. This would make Ryu's slash from a lower position upward unwise, since the mercenary's body would long prior block it on the ascension; however.. the interesting thing was: the flames directly in front of Omi, what would've made some friction or resistance against the blade.. had parted. The truth of the matter was - whether that blade held a fiercesome trick or no, Barsait allowed it to stall on or even in his body. Meaning Ryu and Omi would literally pressed against one another; likely, they could even smell one another's breaths, ideally.

[Phase IV]: "*Ensnare and.. EXECUTE!!*"

The aforementioned sword of Barsait's, hanging limply behind his back, was turned during the course of his dash.. so when the two fighter's met - it only had one resolve. It was difficult, really - the swordsman could neither turn to make sure his action was 100% accurate, nor could he guess the precision of the stab. But what he had done, was purposely let some of the flames burn him at a certain point on his mid-back, as a sort of "target" which he could roughly estimate a stab at.

Omi chose the point the two fighters met to make the sword's true use realizable. For with a great outcry of confusion and shock from the stands.. the blade plunged into his own body.

Through the back and out the region right below the ribs, the super-heated blade passed through his body and even the chain mesh without incident; slamming furiously into the same, rough region on Ryu's body. Two blades, Ryu's and Omi's, intersected eachother now - as Barsait attempted to "hug" Ryu closer in order to further ensnare him, although this was practically overkill, now. The super-heated blade could likely melt rock; so it was curious, though Omi knew of them not: How would it, surging with flames from Barsait's own open wound, greet Ryu's exterior if it struck with great force?

As if this wasn't enough, the swordsman had let loose all of his careful control on the many flames about him; contracting them and furiously commanding every serpent's "load" to dilate and wash over Ryu and Omi. Every bit of moisture nearby he could ignite into an explosive force, the swordsman did without a second thought; it was a horrifying onslaught of offensive might, without any consideration for his own well-being whatsoever.

Needless to say, as Ryu would more than likely attempt to counter this best he can - many "BOOM!!!"(s) resonated all about the two as they would stand in the near-middle of the arena grounds like a marvelous yet horrifying torch, contradicting the icy, barren world abound.