[Round 3] Drejak vs. Rylen

Drejak scanned the noisy room from the entrance door. His head was already pounding and the throbbing seemed to keep rhythm with the bass in the young performer's music. He could easily see the third round's arena from where he stood, and started making his way through the crowd to get to it. He carried his staff as he had been since the first round and continued to use it as a walking stick. The recovery crew had done its job well.

Many of the people recognized him from the previous rounds. Some patted his shoulders in congratulations, while some made snide remarks about how they felt he should have lost the previous round. Others quite simply stepped out of his path to avoid him. Drejak ignored them all. They and their comments meant nothing to him. He had been watching the rosters as combatants dropped out of the running. The numbers were thinning significantly. What had caught his interest most recently, though, was the opponent he would face in this round. Apparently, his opponent was some form of hybridized animal and man.

This should prove interesting, he thought as he walked up the steps and onto the stage/arena floor. He had been hoping this round would prove a bit more compliant with his abilties, but judging by what he could feel from the stage beneath him, it was not to be. Oh well, it wasn't like he hadn't overcome handicaps before this. Why should that change, now?

Drejak turned his gaze out over the crowd, searching for two individuals. First, he was looking for Shadow's covered face. He knew she would be there, but the lighting and the thousands of faces made it terribly hard to find her. Secondly, he was searching for a face he would not know, but one he felt he would recognize as soon as he saw it. His opponent was out there somewhere. Drejak rubbed his muzzle as he searched and waited. The cuts there were healed, as was the cut in his ear. Thankfully, he had had a chance to meditate in seclusion between the rounds.

You've made it this far. You can do this, Drejak silently reassured himself. He wouldn't sit, this time. It was far too noisy here for him to concentrate. Instead, he remained standing. His body was motionless. The only things about the living garnet statue that moved were his eyes and tail. His eyes continued to roam the crowd, and his tail swayed ever so slightly. As solid and firm as the stone that comprised his weapon, he stood like a monolith bathed in ever-changing light.

Don't keep me waiting.

"And heeeeeeere he is, Ryyyyy~lennnnnnn!"

Drejak's head turned towards opposing side of the arena. He hadn't been able to single his opponent out of the crowd, but the announcer had, the prick. Drejak furrowed his brow in frustration. One: because he hadn't been able to spot Rylen first. Two: because the announcer hadn't given Drejak such a warm welcoming. Perhaps Rylen had a better following than he thought. Three: because the loud speakers blaring into Drejak's sensitive hearing were really, really grating on his nerves. He finally submitted and flattened his ears to his head. The action provided at least some relief.

With avid curiosity, Drejak watched as Rylen removed his hood. The red wolf took in every detail he could, and was pleased that his information had been accurate. Rylen did in fact seem to be a half-breed. He had ears, a tail, claws . . . and fangs . . . Drejak’s head, in much the same gesture as an ordinary canine, tilted slightly to the right as he looked perplexedly at the aggressive display. Drejak didn’t feel the threatening gesture was necessary. They were only here to fight, after all, and he hadn’t done anything out of line. So, why was there the barring of fangs? Perhaps it was a racial thing. . . Perhaps he would learn the answer through their combat. It was then that Rylen spoke.

Over the crowd and the music, Drejak could barely make out the inquiry of his origin.

What am I, he questioned himself. It had been a long time since he’d thought about whom he was and what he had become since his childhood. Drejak’s mind rolled the question around, and let it tumble through countless memories. He thought of his clan members that he hadn’t seen in years, and of the elder earth-shaman he was supposed to succeed and his ancestors before that. He thought of the years he spent traveling and training to commune with the earth, and just how little good ten years of that practice was doing him in this carnival ride of a tournament. Drejak’s thoughts drifted a little longer, until finally they reached their conclusion, and most of his purpose for being here; Shadow. She was out there in the crowd, somewhere. He latched onto the mental image of his mate, hugged her into his heart, and then pushed all thoughts of her, and everything else, aside. It was time to fight.

“I could ask the same of you, but I am the new earth-shaman of the Ashura Wolf Clan. I am a warrior, and a lover, but today. . . Today, I am your opponent!” The red wolf proclaimed over the noise of the crowd and the seemingly prepubescent performer. Drejak’s grip on his staff shifted the weapon to his right side with his hands spaced roughly two feet from either end. The forward end was elevated about forty-five degrees from the ground. His left leg took the lead, and his knees bent slightly. The loincloth that covered him swayed briefly as his legs moved. Drejak could see that Rylen lacked a weapon for the moment, but he had no idea what might be concealed beneath that hooded jacket. He took a slightly defensive stance just to test the waters. The red wolf could cover the fifteen feet between them with ease, but with his staff’s length, he wouldn’t have to. Only part of that distance would need to be closed.

Drejak’s stern and experienced blue eyes kept a careful watch over his opponent. He would enter this match with respect for Rylen, regardless of the half-wolf’s attitude. Since Rylen had made it this far, it meant he was definitely good at whatever it was that he did. Drejak's love of battle gave him a slight shiver as he anxiously awaited this new opponent’s display of strength and power. He tightened his grip on the stone weapon in his hands and made a lunging step forward that caused the fang-laden cord around his neck to bounce gently against his exposed chest. The step simply served to cover about four feet of open space, and might stir a reaction from Rylen. Drejak made no motion to attack or continue his advance. Instead, he would rise from the end of the step and re-solidify his stance. He had the advantage in reach and wanted to keep it if he could.

“Yeeeeeaaaaahhhh, Baaaaaaaabyyyyyy!!! Yeeeaaahhh, yeah, yeah, yeah!”

Drejak would glady help Rylen kill this young star after the match, if they could both still function.

Drejak was pleased. His lunge had indeed drawn a reaction out of his opponent. It was all about observation. His opponent’s scent was the hardest to grasp amongst the thousands of others, but something about its wolfishness stood out to him. Drejak had heard and profiled Rylen’s voice. The physical appearance was unforgettable, and now. . . Now he had an idea of how quickly Rylen could move. Perhaps it wasn’t a perfect example, but it was definitely something to work with. Drejak was glad to note that it was a speed he could keep pace with. Seeing that he couldn’t read minds, Drejak would never know if he measured up to Terir’s speed or not. Rylen would have to determine that for himself.

As Rylen twisted out to Drejak’s left side, the red wolf prepared himself for the counterattack. The form it took was both surprising, and all too familiar. Maybe the familiarity was a testament to the animalistic nature that they shared. Drejak had attacked Sephiroth in a very similar manner, with a very similar goal, in the first round. Drejak’s attack hadn’t worked, then, and he had no intention of letting Rylen’s attack work, now.

Drejak’s mind was in a race against his eyes. Rylen’s movements were fast and almost hard to follow. His reaction and counter were superbly timed, but Drejak had the defensive edge. Without his body being committed to an attack, he had time to react. Drejak’s body had turned slightly to keep facing Rylen, but now the turn would come to completion as he lashed out against Rylen’s counterattack with one of his own. He pivoted on his left foot and stepped forward and towards Rylen’s left side with his right as his right arm swung forward and his left arm retracted. The strike would bring the right-handed (rear) end of the staff rising diagonally. The aim, since Rylen was lunging towards Drejak’s left shoulder, was to intercept the attack and slam some portion of the rear end of the staff into Rylen’s own left shoulder and send the half-wolf sprawling(at least that was the desired result, considering Rylen was moving and probably not on the sturdiest base to absorb impact). Depending on how durable the half-wolf was, Drejak might even bruise, break, or dislocate something. Was it wishful thinking? Probably so. The counter was simple, effective, and fairly easy to recover from if it missed. If Drejak’s attack found home, he would score the first blow, but there would be no blood.

The twist of Drejak's body combined with the strength of his muscles as he stepped out, turned, and struck. Drejak wasn’t checking his strength as he swung. There was no room for that in this competition. He was avoiding aiming for Rylen’s head because he was unsure of the half-breed’s durability. It would suck to have made it this far and then get disqualified for accidentally killing his opponent because he overestimated Rylen’s strength. If the blow connected, however, Rylen would feel the power Drejak could muster. Considering he wasn’t a super-anything, though, that strength may or may not impress Rylen. Drejak’s lifting strength topped near four-hundred pounds, but add that to the momentum and weight of his five-pound stone staff and the combination generally produced wonderful results.

There was finally something to take Drejak’s mind off the overpaid little drone buzzing his annoying recital into the arena.

If anyone had cared to keep paying attention, Erin Karter was still pouring his soul into the microphone. The constant spam of “Yeah” and “Baby” had shifted into something more intelligent, but the fight was on! The young performer kept throwing his voice out there, but the cheers weren’t his anymore. The thousands-strong crowd wanted blood and violence, not some whiney-voiced little brat singing about his hoochie-mama teenage girlfriend.

Needless to say, the real show had finally started.

((As discussed with my opponent, I had misjudged how far Drejak actually moved. Therefore it was decided Rylen closed the rest of the distance in his own attempt to counter, so we can continue from here with no major changes.))

Rylen had raced to close the distance between them, capitalizing on the fact that Drejak's forward motion in the lunge would give the half-wolf a little bit of time to move without consequence. But as it turned out Drejak was not as committed to moving forward as Rylen thought. Rylen covered perhaps half the distance or less between them in the time it would take Drejak's momentum to come to a halt from the lunge. That in turn gave Rylen more than enough time to recognize the fact that Drejak had settled into a solid stance again, and thus an attack from the side would not come easily, or at all.

But Rylen was determined to close the distance anyway, and more than that he wanted to bait a reaction out of Drejak more than Drejak wanted one out of him. He continued his movement, doing his best to circle to Drejak's left as initially intended. But since Drejak had time to regain his footing properly, Rylen knew a counter to his charge would be both swift and crushingly powerful. He could already hear Robyn screaming at him from the sidelines, if she was even in attendance for his fight.

Don't charge in recklessly! He could hear her calling out. You're just gonna pay for it, Ry!

To which he might retort, It's the only way, and I'll do what I damn well please!

It was debatable, but then Robyn and Rylen represented two different kinds of fighters, and Drejak appeared to be more of a Robyn than a Rylen--a smart, defensive fighter who knew how to make the most of his advantages. It sure as hell made Drejak nothing like Terir. Rylen could appreciate that, just not too much at the moment.

He was focused and fully anticipating Drejak's counter given his stable positioning. True, charging in to a defensive foe was often a grave error in judgement, but Rylen had expected to attack Drejak's flank. Those who failed to adapt to the chaos of battle perished, and at this point Rylen needed to adapt quickly. Thankfully, Rylen developed his speed just for this purpose; not just in his ability to move quickly, but his ability to think and act quickly. In short, his reaction time would prove to be his greatest defensive measure of all, there to compensate for a failed attempt to close the distance and attack.

As Drejak pivoted, Rylen took a hint conveyed with the kind of perfect clarity in body language that mere words could never hope to match. Okay, that may be hyperbole, but it was as if Drejak's body shouted, "I'm going to attack now, and hard!" It was a large part of the reason Rylen had moved to Drejak's left. In order to make such an attack, he would have to pivot his entire body first. Even as he turned to more or less keep facing Rylen, it simply told Rylen trying to attack a spot that wasn't there would be blatantly impossible, so why try? As he came within striking range, or as Drejak's body started to twist into his attack, Rylen abandoned the foolish notion of persisting in his offensive. He planted his feet firmly in the ground to brace himself, his left foot forward.

Yet still Drejak's counter came with a sudden whipping force that nearly caught the half-wolf off guard. He turned slightly toward the attack and his left arm was raised, snapping out to block the brunt of the blow with his forearm. He planted his right wrist against his left to help support his arm just as the end of the staff came slamming into his left forearm and shoulder in a resounding crash of stone on metal that made the crowd go wild.

Rylen grit his teeth and let out a grunt of pain as his forearm acted like a shock absorber, the heel of his trailing right foot digging hard into the ground before he skillfully regained his balance to avoid being toppled. He felt a jolting flare of pain all throughout his arm and a stinging rash on his shoulder, both bruised. The contact would give them both some crucial information about each other. For one, Drejak might notice the clanging sound created upon impact, or Rylen's durability may have surprised the reddish wolf.

As it turned out, Rylen was wearing a metallic forearm bracer underneath the sleeve of his hooded jacket. It helped dissipate some of the force of the blow, though it did less to prevent the shock of the heavy strike from reverberating painfully deep through his arm and nearly dislocating his shoulder. Thankfully his arm had the ability to give, further reducing the potential damage from the blow. But the bruises would hinder him, Rylen could already tell.

Similarly, the sheer magnitude of the force gave Rylen better insight to Drejak's weapon, which told Rylen that Drejak's staff was constructed of a sturdy and inflexible material unlike bamboo or a springy metal. That was just the kind of thing he was looking for, because it gave him a better idea of exactly how the staff could be used. Though Rylen hated to have to stand there and simply block a hit to get that kind of information--he hated blocking at all if he could avoid it. He trained himself to never let his opponent press the advantage, and blocking meant losing crucial fractions of seconds to retaliate.

Pushing through the pain, Rylen's left foot snapped out, his sharp exhale of breath turning into a powerful war cry. He moved now forward and to Drejak's right in the space that would be opened as Drejak retracted the end of the staff that had struck Rylen. If Drejak tried to keep his staff held out, even better, as Rylen would use his forearm as a buffer to press his way forward by pushing against the staff with his whole body weight. He did this by mustering up all of his speed, moving as soon as he could after Drejak's attack.

Rylen's left arm would then whip forward like a viper's strike, his claws open as if in another slashing strike. Meanwhile his right arm was lowered in a similar motion, and his intentions would become clear in the very last breath. He did not mean to shred flesh, but to grab Drejak's staff!

If totally successful, his left hand would more than likely grab the staff right under Drejak's right, while Rylen's right hand would grab the staff to the outside of Drejak's left--assuming Drejak's staff would be working in reverse after the strike, or Rylen would force it to do so by pushing into the striking end in the first place with his movement. And even if it failed, his step put him dangerously close to Drejak now, his left foot practically touching Drejak's right. Rylen's own right hand would hover defensively around his torso if never presented with the opportunity to make the grab.

And so the most essential skill Rylen had in defending himself and attacking others, literally the root of his entire capabilities as a warrior, came into play then to allow Rylen to narrowly escape Drejak's expertly executed counter. To say Rylen had planned it this way all along may seem on the verge of an illogical and unfair foresight, but Rylen truly never expected a simple grasp would allow him to wrench the weapon from his opponent's grip. Drejak had a significant size advantage, and would thus easily win an improptu tug of war for the weapon. No, Rylen had planned to attempt more or less the very thing Drejak tried do with him.

After all, the staff could really only go one way after it struck Rylen, given that it lacked the capability to phase through the half-wolf. Rylen expected this, and Rylen fully expected the rear end to come around and punish him. If he had secured a grip with both hands first, he would have used that momentum to angle and twist the weapon around in Drejak's hands. So what does any of this really have to do with that aforementioned skill? Well, the fundamental skill was not strength to pull the staff away, or speed to execute his disarming maneuver quickly.

It was balance.

A familiar female voice echoed in his mind, the remnant of a hauntingly beautiful figure he knew so very long ago...

*If you rush in like that, your attack will lose stability, and your opponent will counter you easily. You need a base for your power. You need a foundation.

Do not see your enemy and attack. Feel him and react.*

In the present, Rylen felt a hard yank on his left arm that threatened to rob him of that essential skill, and pain roared from his fingertips to his shoulder. The damage caused by Drejak's strike combined with the sudden and unexpected counter-force to his grip made it feel as if Drejak was holding Rylen's arm just as tightly and pulling with all his superior might in an effort to rip it out of its socket. And so he would let go in an instinctive effort to save that arm, clenching his jaw in a growling wince.

But the real reason Rylen kept his footing went back to balance. His step had not taken him very far at all, and Drejak would soon learn that Rylen had long ago made it a habit to sink back into his stance and maintain the balance paramount to good footwork. Naturally his bushy tail only assisted him in that regard. It was not quite the lunge Drejak had been looking for, but even then the humanoid wolf was not far off. Drejak's reaction simply came so quickly, and all of Rylen's forward momentum had not been diminished even as he let go off the staff out of reflex.

What did come forward, however, was Rylen's right foot, passing ahead of his left as if to stop himself from toppling over forward. Concurrently, Rylen's right arm had lashed out in an attempt to secure its own hold on the staff. But when Drejak moved quick than anticipated, Rylen never achieved his grip. In a way, he achieved something better. The placement of his right arm was no mistake, either, as even in his failure to get a good hold on the staff, it would have to first more or less come into contact with Rylen's right forearm. As he was pulled forward and made that step forward to maintain his balance, Rylen felt the staff pushing up hard against his right forearm, much as he had felt it a split second earlier pulling away from his left hand violently.

In moments like this, you can not even cover more than a split second of action in words like this, not even the blink of an eye. All of it came fluidly to Rylen, his entire body moving like a mass of water given a half-wolf form. As his right foot moved forward, his body dipped and his right forearm rolled the staff over him as his right elbow moved up to angle it away. It would probably be at this point that those that saw Rylen as nothing but a mere reckless, mindless scrapper would come to realize that the half-wolf had plenty of potential and the capability to fight with more than brute ferocity.

For Rylen, it was as if the world had grown (thankfully) silent, the screeching cries of Erin Karter and the hissing shouts of the crowd fading away to the stillness in his mind. He closed his eyes when the staff came into contact with his forearm as he ducked and rolled it over. He did not need eyes then. He only needed to feel to know exactly where Drejak's weapon and his body were. In complete honesty, it was a rare moment of martial exerptise for the half-wolf, the kind that came when the body and the muscles had been trained rigorously to act involuntarily, without the need for thought. It came and went in the span of a fleeting breath, and right as he felt the staff passing over his head, Rylen's blood red eyes shot open to focus on the opening that had been presented.

"RRRAAAH!"

Always keeping his base, his foundation of balance, Rylen's body twisted to his right as his left arm lashed out again, his claws poised to cut as deeply as they could into Drejak's trunk. If successful, Rylen would immediately yank his arm back in a ripping motion, aiming to do as much damage as possible to Drejak's core muscles. It had all been a setup, and Rylen proved that he, too, could flow with his opponent's energy rather than always try to fight it head-on. It was the only chance he had against Drejak's dominating reach to get an opportunity like this, and it could still all end in a decisive failure. But Rylen fought with the philosophy "Who dares, wins." By attacking his taller opponent's core, Rylen intended to rob him of that which had saved Rylen himself from a disastrous fall to the ground: stability.

Balance.

Though he had opened his eyes for his attack, Rylen could not see Drejak any longer. He could not hear the deafening racket all around them any longer. He could only feel the satisfying sensation of his claws ripping into fur and flesh, and the agonizing pain that came with it. His left arm may not have been the greatest choice to make his attack, even if his hit landed flush. His aching joints and bruised muscles protested vehemently, forcing Rylen to let out a hiss as his face contorted.

Ghn, damn it! My arm is--

“WITHOUT FEAR!”

Drejak's voice boomed like a clap of thunder, and Rylen's eyes widened in a panicked shock. His heart jumped off a cliff, and an ominous shadow crawled up his body. Rylen tried desperately to look, but even his vigilant eyes could not catch a glimpse of his doom. And where his eyes failed, his body stood no chance.

Those in the audience would swear it was as if Rylen was wearing a wire under his jacket, the sounds feeding directly into the stage's loudest amp. But they were lucky. They did not have to feel the kind of explosive force that produced such a sound.

Rylen let out a shout, or perhaps a yelp as his knees buckled and his body went sprawling backwards. His back slammed against the floor and rebounded, his legs curling up and back as the half-wolf managed to roll over his right shoulder out of sheer instinct from the fall-breaking technique being drilled in his psyche. He rolled over again, this one a bit more controlled but no less painful to watch. He came out of his roll in a low crouch, planting his feet and his left hand on the ground so that he would come to a skidding halt about twelve feet away from Drejak.

Assuming at this point that Drejak did not advance, Rylen struggled in a gasping fit for air as he tried to make sense of what happened. As far as he could tell Drejak had reacted swiftly with the right end of his staff, but the fact that Drejak did not step into the attack had made it more difficult for Rylen to feel it coming. The twist of Drejak's body was so subtle, and Rylen was really looking for that push against his hand as Drejak took a step forward to attack.

It was one of the glaring disadvantages of trying to feel an opponent's intentions if you have not accumulated enough experience as a fighter--a vast amount of experience.

Rylen paid dearly for his relative lack of experience compared to a master of the art. Perhaps his only saving grace had been his focus on agile footwork in his fighting style. Where his foundation failed to give him the kind of stability needed to stand against a blow like that, his body naturally adapted to the next best defense. When his knees buckled, his body gave way almost immediately to the attack, using the pushing force of the blow as extra momentum to clear distance.

But the attack had to hit solidly first, and it did. Rylen may have had first blood, but he had to question the worth of it. Drejak scored an impressive blow, and Rylen could tell his clavicle had been cracked, perhaps fractured. Adrenaline would only take him so far, so the fact of the matter was that his right arm would now be near useless. Well, not entirely. Drejak and the crowd would be expecting more of the half-wolf, and he intended to deliver.

But there was no skirting the truth of it. Moving his right arm fluidly would be extremely difficult, and it would be utterly impossible for him to achieve the full range of motion he had only a moment ago.

Rylen scowled in seething fury at the thought, directing a glare at Drejak that was as much about displaying his anger as keeping an eye on the shaman's movements. But that anger was not for Drejak, but for Rylen himself. He had made a mistake, plain and simple, and he had no one to blame but himself. He was not the type to hold a petty grudge against his opponent for something like that, but instead push himself harder to learn from that mistake. If anything, Rylen could feel respect for his fellow warrior building.

And a grin split across his face.

Slowly, or as slowly as he could assuming Drejak had not come in range to attack, Rylen rose to his feet and back into a balanced stance with his right foot now forward. His hands rose to about chest level, his elbows tucked in to his body. Buzzing at the back of his mind, Rylen could subtly hear the crowd going wild after the exchange that literally launched the half-wolf across the stage, his body skipping like a stone on the water. But that was of no consequence to Rylen now, as he became better and better at tuning everything else out.

He could feel his blood rushing and the throbbing pain that made his right arm twitch as he fought to keep his guard up. He knew this was it. This was the reason he had entered the tournament. Not for the fame. Not for the fortune. Not for the glory. Not for the violence.

Both of Rylen's hands ignited in bright, flickering flames that licked deviously at the air in front of him. His grin widened.

For this!

Come on!

[ Twin Ignition Lv. 1 ]

As the warriors prepared for their next exchange, Rylen caught the sight of the smile on Drejak's face, and any lingering thoughts of his opponent's similarity to Terir vanished almost completely. Rylen was truly enjoying the challenge in this fight, and he could never say the same for any of his struggles against Terir.

He's not like Terir...

Drejak took two steps forward and made a slight lunge to extend his reach. Rylen matched this movement by simultaneously taking a step forward with his own left foot, which would still put his claws well out of reach of Drejak's body. If anything by moving closer he put himself deeper into the danger zone, when he had a perfectly good chance to simply step back out of range to avoid the staff entirely.

But that was not like Rylen. He hated to simply dodge or block solely for the sake of avoiding an attack, and he never, never retreated if he could help it. Not even a single step.

No, not at all...

Even before Drejak had moved, it was obvious to Rylen where he would attack. They both knew how badly Rylen's right shoulder had been smashed from that last attack, and everything about Drejak's stance telegraphed his intention to follow-up with another strike to Rylen's weakened right. It was a perfectly viable strategy, and for a moment it seemed as if Rylen intended to stand there and try to block the obscenely powerful stroke in the worst spot imaginable.

With his step he gave himself no room to retreat, and no time to try and skirt the swing by running to the side. His last option would be to simply try and duck, but to do so he would have to get really low. In that scenario the staff would pass harmlessly over his head as he saw it coming even before Drejak made the swing, knowing his own obvious weakness. But ducking that low and at that distance would mean his recovery would not exactly put him in an advantageous position. The staff had two ends with which to strike equally, and an ingenious method of incorporating the momentum of even a missed strike so that a follow-up or a defense would always be ready, just as Drejak intended.

No, it seemed Rylen had run out of options completely now. The last exchange proved he could not mitigate Drejak's reach advantage so easily without paying for it dearly. And staying out of range not only limited Rylen's offensive capabilities, it put him right where Drejak wanted to keep him.

It was as if Rylen had given up. Eyes widened and jaws went agape throughout the audience as it seemed Rylen was prepared to commit a warrior's suicide. Amateur enthusiasts and armchair fighters in attendance at the concert and (presumably) watching at home would call Rylen a coward and a fool as they anticipated his swift demise. It was obvious to them he had made some kind of mistake, and he was about to pay for it with a glorious knockout to herald Drejak's victory.

He's not like Terir at all!

And then his body shot forward in a lunge while he pulled his chest back. His feet shot out ahead of him as his left side came to the ground. The staff passed harmlessly over Rylen's head with only a split second to spare before the half-wolf came sliding forward on the ground. It looked something like a baseball slide, and it was perhaps the last thing anyone, especially Drejak, expected to see in the middle of this tense battle.

Rylen covered the distance easily within the span of Drejak's swing, the powerful muscles in his legs having acted to propel him forward into the extremely quick slide. Rylen planned to bring his left foot around to cup the back of Drejak's own leading left while the humanoid wolf still had his weight shifted onto it for the attack. Rylen had to act quickly in an effort to capitalize on the surprise and Drejak's positioning. With his own left foot curling around the back of Drejak's right, Rylen aimed to prevent Drejak from jerking it back for the split second it would take the half-wolf to deliver his next move. Drejak might not even be able to see what was going on so close and underneath him, making it that much more difficult to react.

His right leg came up as he torqued his body to deliver a kick to the side of Drejak's knee. With his own left side on the ground, Rylen had solid positioning to bring the kick in an arc that would guide Drejak's left knee to the right and down. It was as if he was forcing Drejak into a crouch, but the motion would come so violently that it was more likely Drejak would be led to fall over onto his stomach given the momentum of his swing. After all, no matter how strong one might be, the humanoid body had universal weaknesses that could be easily exploited. Attacking the knee from the side was one.

Rylen had expected a swing to his right, whereas Drejak would probably never expect Rylen would be able to close the distance and make a close-quarters attack in the space of his own strike. It showed in the way Drejak made the slight lunge and used the staff more like a long bat or sword. It was as if the flames had been a mere illusion--though they remained pulsating around Rylen's hand--and as if his injured right arm had been bait. This would probably be the most crucial determining factor in the success of Rylen's risky and unorthodox maneuver, if it indeed succeeded at all.

It might be a wonder how Rylen moved so quickly, and some of the same audience members who before thought he had made a grave error in judgement would now turn face and declare Rylen was some kind of psychic prodigy. But it was all because Rylen had quickly decided one thing the moment he had stood up, and it was the very same thing Drejak had recognized. His arms were battered and bruised. However, Rylen's legs were in perfect condition, and accounted for the strongest and most efficient muscles on Rylen's body.

Of course, all of it could still go horribly wrong. There was a reason fighters did not go sliding around all the time in battles, purposely placing themselves on the ground. So whether Drejak was led to fall or not, Rylen would retract his right leg in the same arc of the kick and bring his foot slamming back to the ground. He rolled onto his back with his knees bent to put himself in a more neutral position immediately after his attempt to make the humanoid wolf stumble. His arms were slightly raised, his elbows bent, as the flames consuming them grew a little bit brighter.

[ Twin Ignition Lv. 2 ]