Frances
As Rift is armed with two weapons/special pieces of equipment, "REED" Calderon, being unarmed. Is given his choice of up to two weapons. He takes only the shield. Rift may forfeit both of his weapons and swap his arsenal out for a single piece of equipment from the Regni Medeas' armory.

**Rift Castaway** Is chosen to begin the battle via coin-toss.
Linda
He lets out a low sigh, walking into the arena in a loose posture, readying his mind for the upcoming trial. Upon his arm is *The Aegis*, and attached by its sheath at his hip, *Vilethorn* Was obviously present in his arsenal as well, meaning that Calderon is already at least losing the equipment battle.

But, does the equipment matter more than the one who wields it?

Adopting a fighting stance, he draws a deep breath - *Waiting* For his opponent to make an advance on his position. As he starts to close the distance and *Circle* His opponent, the *Clash* Of *Vilethorn's* Hilt against the center of the *Aegis* Rings out twicefold, perhaps a sort of taunt to get things going.
Jillian
*`"Not quick on the draw, eh? I get it..."`*

The cloaked, obsidian-scaled Medei gave a slight grin, unsheathing the shortsword at his right hip. Wielding it in his left clawed hand, he cracked his neck — in his right, he wields the Shield, an enchanted item granted by the **Custos Regni.** Unfamiliar with its exact workings, he wouldn't be relying on its special properties... Sword-and-board is a solid enough strategy for any a fighter. His opponent, too, understood that well!

*`"Alright..."`*

The faint aspect of purple-hued mana began coursing all across his body. `Total Body Reinforcement` activates, his body strengthened by the coursing flow of a potent, passive, magical reinforcement. Squinting at Rift, he makes the first move — charging forward, his shield ahead of him the full way. The approach was not blind, however, as he peered from behind the buckler toward his opponent, strongly eyeing his arms and awaiting for a preemptive blow toward himself.

***`SWING!`***

...Yet before he would even enter his melee range, he would sweep low to the ground, his tail swaying behind him and keeping him fully balanced as he would look to exploit a somewhat dirty trick, ducking low below what would be a comfortable position to defend from and perhaps attempting to elude Rift's line-of-sight. With quick reactions, the latter would be easy to avoid; the former would not so much be, as Calderon held his buckler directly overhead with one hand, positioned so as to block an immediate swing down upon himself, as with his left he swung a shallow, yet incredibly swift strike for Rift's shins.
Linda
He doesn't reply. Nor does he make a pre-emptive strike.

Freezing in place as his opponent makes the move and keeping his own stance solid and locked, Rift attempts to simply overwhelm the lizard out of the gate through strength alone, dropping down himself and keeping the *Aegis* To protect his shins, swiftly stopping the blow. 

Reacting to the swiftness, - despite how seemingly shallow the attack itself would have been - Rift simply *Slams* The shield against the tip of Reed's blade as he steps back, making full use of his strength as he attempts to *Knock* The blade out of his opponent's hand, or, at the very least, weaken their stance significantly through sheer magnitude of strength. *Vilethorn* Itself moves to block any incoming attack that may be levied against him as a result, blade glowing a faint red — small *Hummmm* Seemingly in reply to Rift's actions echoing off the blade itself.
Jillian
*`No reaction... Strong eyes...`*
*`...Hm, tough nut, huh?`*

Calderon was watching Rift closely in his approach. His arms and his expression and his posture... It was all strong, unmoved, unperturbed. He had a habit of sizing his opponent up subconsciously within the first few moments of the battle; a habit born of both natural curiosity and tactical intrigue. He had seen Rift's type a few times before. *`Tough nut as he is, he'll probably...`*

*`...Go for a ballsy move like this, yeah...!`*

The Medei's reactions were incredibly quick. Even behind his buckler, he could see the body-language of Rift flaring as his shield descended with haste, Calderon's own attack hesitating as a result of the sudden motion. That crucial moment of hesitation prevented him from immediately losing the contest of strength as Rift slammed his shield down, his blade instead clashing with the firmly-placed *Aegis.* Fast as his attack should have been, it was also one intended to be shallow to begin with—a minor decision that would save the one titled "Reed" The dishonor of being disarmed so early.
_ _

Calderon's yellow, lizardlike eyes honed as his grin shifted, half-impressed and half-burdened with the revelation that his opponent was no pushover. A tough nut indeed; his blade still reverberated, the strike as though against a solid metal wall. His tail curls, as he pulls himself back, utilizing the added dexterity that came with being able to nudge his center-of-mass by manipulating the weighty third appendage as he pleased. Calderon nodded following his retreat, giving a brief flourish as he tested his arm, before dashing back toward Rift — this time, using a more practical stance. A downward blow came upon Rift as Calderon swung a left-to-right diagonal overhead, this one much more weighty than his last attack: a dedicated strike. His movements were quick and by no means sloppy, though tricky as his first attack was. At all times, the buckler in his right hand was ahead of himself and between himself and Rift.
Linda
Rift raises an eyebrow and gives a slight shrug as Calderon checks his arm, keeping his posture as his shield returns to center-mass and not even bothering to advance. No, it seems that, in due time, Calderon would give him an opening of his own volition... He takes a measured breath, wholly un-phased by the previous attack in general as Calderon makes his second move.

`He is using a lot of energy.` He notes, with Calderon obviously making haste in his next attack.

Speaking of...

Rift raises his shield to block the attack — taking a step back before readying a swing of his own — with his enemy's blade currently dealing with the *Aegis*, Rift himself is left mostly free to do with that strength as he please - the shield being the only obstacle.

`More space.`

Rift's foot immediately rises upward, before planting itself directly on Calderon's buckler in an attempt to once again break his opponent's stance, kicking with full force as **Orion, Act I** Activates - his foot becoming enshrouded in flame for the duration of the kick — coming back down as he resets his stance, hopefully having made a marked improvement in positioning for himself.. Only time will tell.
Jillian
***`Clash!`***
Not all unexpected. The *Aegis* Comes up, it clashes, and power is transferred from one medium to another — from Rift's arm to Calderon's own, the recoil channeling throughout his reinforced body. 

Though the strength difference between them was great, the passive manaflow all throughout his body closed that distance some, allowing him to loosen the tenseness of his arm in the swing upon impact without losing his holding on the blade. The recoil, as a result, is mitigated some — instead of flying back from the parry, it stays after bouncing lightly, his hand still close to the shield, enshrouded in the thin purple mana that flared at the beginning of the duel. A reinforced body. Magical reinforcement. *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Keeps his muscle and flesh in a heightened state. 

He *Would* Prepare for a follow-up attack in light of this... But Rift was unfortunately just about exactly his speed, in both reactions and motion. His leg was already rising as Calderon's arm was descending, dexterously twisting to attempt to bypass his opponent's guard, and by the time Calderon could prepare to thrust that blade forward, Rift's foot had already made contact with his shield. Calderon could only cut his losses as he prepared himself for impact, skidding backward a solid distance from the sheer force of the kick — yet not entirely losing his balance. His claws, sharpened, screeched against the marble floor, vastly increasing his friction as he travelled; his tail, curling preemptively, kept him on both feet and still in fighting stance.

Calderon let out a soft breath. His buckler-arm was still good. His sword-arm was still good. He was getting a better grip on Rift's strength and was learning to attune his reactions likewise. His opponent was physically stronger by a fairly significant margin, but...
_ _

*`...Once I get a bit of momentum going...`*

His eyes opened wide. Distanced from Rift, he slows himself down, pacing in a half-strafe and half-approach towards the opponent, trailing inward and counter-clockwise around Rift as the focal point. His shortsword in his left hand, his buckler in his right, he would approach and stay just beyond either of their effective attacking ranges as he continued to circle around in a strafe, allowing a full moment to pass without attacking. His reactions were good; his poise was good. Was his ability to adapt to a change in a fighting style good also?

Calderon stepped forward, now entering Rift's striking range without hesitation. Calderon stepped forward again, his blade extended ahead of himself, prepared to parry or strike at any moment. Calderon stepped forward once more, seeing just how much he could prod Rift's unmoving poise. Calderon stepp—

***`SWING—`***

His blade thrusts in a quick, light, slash, up toward Rift's right thigh—

***`—A FEINT`***

His blade pauses, ready to riposte a counterattack or capitalize on a failed parry. In hope of making an opening, his buckler-hand swings in toward Rift's center-body: a motion intended both to potentially intercept an incoming attack and strike Rift in the sternum if he let his guard down. Now Calderon's fighting-style seemed incredibly safe-yet-confident, each motion made both to attack and protect himself simultaneously.
Linda
As Calderon steps back, Rift gladly lets him do so — attempting once again to just keep space between them at a maximum,

Rift steps *Inward*, ignoring the feint altogether even despite the strike being detrimental would it have *Actually* Hit — instead *Slamming* His shield down upon Calderon from above — aiming to either severely injure one of Calderon's hands, or force him *Downward* Against Rift, giving him the momentum he so desires as he uses the step *Inward* To position his shield directly above Calderon's own, utilizing the larger area of the *Aegis* To slide his shield *Through* His opponent's defense to complete the attack. It seems that this idea had occurred to him regardless of Calderon's success, as Rift was *Entirely* Ready to bring the maneuver out using his full body weight even *If* The strike had landed — viewing it as an opportunity rather than a *Problem*. If Calderon's attack had *Not* Been a feint, Rift was *Still* Going to shove himself downward *Regardless*.

The blade pulses irritatedly as though it were upset that it had yet to be swung. Swiftly jutting out in front, *Vilethorn* Finally comes into the fray- with Rift bringing it down in a circular swing from top-right to bottom-left; swiftly deterring a followup using the blade as his shield comes plummeting down - willing to take a potential hit if it guaranteed one of his own as both hands — and that of *Vilethorn*'s blade itself — spark with flame, the sword acting as a channel for the magic as it arcs *Up* Towards Calderon's sword from the lower left — Calderon's lower *Right* — with incredible strength behind it, once again threatening to try and disarm his opponent or *Break stance* With the shield flourish to wrap things up swiftly, hoping to do real *Damage* To the Medei to severely weaken his fighting output.
Jillian
*`Tough as a nut,`* He thought. *`Tough as a nut and composed in battle.`*
*`Tough as a nut,`* But not one wiling to open their own body to a blade. *`Tough as a nut, and ignorant...?!`*
*`No, just damned tough,`* He assured himself as Aegis slammed down on his buckler-arm. *`Tough as a nut and just damned tough!`*

As Aegis comes crashing down, *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Is not enough to keep pace with Rift's sheer physical output. With some resistance — though not enough to slow it outright — his arm sails downward, caught by the slam, as Calderon grimaces slightly, his tail slithering behind him. The moment lasted only fractions-of-a-second, yet the one titled "Reed" Perceived it as seconds long and more: his reactions were sharp, and sharp enough to know just how tough of a spot he was in.

Still, he was gaining valuable information with every clash. Calderon himself was unbound to any fighting-style, any particular set of techniques, any singular rhythm, yet Rift seemed to fall into an archetype he had encountered several times before. It was an indifferent style of fighting; a style of fighting that itself knew its user's own strengths and how to leverage them. A style of fighting that understood both technique and brute force. A technique developed on a battlefield rather than on training-grounds; a technique used by the tough and damned tough, at that.

*But Calderon's arm is not brought to the ground.*

Purple mana seethes all throughout Calderon's body as his arm suddenly retreats, fully pulling out from beneath Aegis before it can bring it lower than about a full 50cm from where it began, a show of speed that eclipsed Rift's own for the first time in the battle. **His speed is increased by 75%, bringing him to a max speed of 61 km/h**, as the world around him slows to a crawl for a fraction of a second — his reactions, similarly, have skyrocketed to 80ms as the mana flares through his veins and suffuses his mind...
_ _

***`ADRENALINE RUSH`*** Activates. There is no other choice. 
**For one turn, Calderon enters a state of vastly heightened speed and senses.** Whereas before he matched Rift in speed and dexterity, now he transcended those limitations, the warrior before him slow — slower than him, captured in the sight of a prolonged moment within his glimmering, purple-mana-infused lizardlike irises.

***__Calderon did not follow any single fighting-style—__ ***

As his stance recovers, his left arm explodes upward with speed as he rushes to parry Rift's strike away from his own body. He could not overpower his swing, but that did not mean he could not redirect it; and redirect it he could, even with as minimal force he put into his left hand. His wrist is a pivot, his thumb a fulcrum, and his blade both a lever and a guide. He sought, in a moment, to redirect Rift's strike overhead strike further left (*Rift's* Left), and, if successful, forcing it to glide along the surface of Calderon's shortsword in his angled one-handed grip and completely around his body. A __*[hanging parry](<
_ _

***__—but that did not mean he did not take many of the strongest elements from some of them.__***

Two of the hanging parry's greatest advantages is how little force it requires, and how potent the redirection actually is. *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Allows his thumb to become a perfect fulcrum. Even despite the great gap in their strengths, he would need little more than two-thirds of his strength to redirect the blade. Yet the greatest advantage is undoubtedly this: the stronger the opponent's attack, the greater the momentum and force one can siphon from the impact in their counterstrike. As Rift's blade travels along his own, it forces his wrist to curl in, slightly, the hilt-up angle of his blade becoming more inclined the further Rift's strike travelled along it, creating a strong rotational momentum equivalent to Rift's own tremendous force. Calderon sustains this momentum as he delivers an incredibly-swift counterstrike — shallow, his blade being much shorter than Rift's — for his chin, blinding in speed due to both **Adrenaline Rush** And the mechanical properties of how the parry itself functioned. It would likely not be enough to cut deep into the fat of his flesh, but would certainly leave its mark if it hit.

Regardless of the outcome of his counterstrike, Calderon would use the last of his single-turn with enhanced speed to tuck back, backpedaling once to avoid any followup from Rift, before returning to a poised stance, his sword ahead of himself and pointed toward Rift. ***`ADRENALINE RUSH`*** Enters its cooldown phase afterwards.
Linda
Rift watches in slight astonishment as his opponent's ability activates. Indeed, it is too late to stop the blade entirely, but *Slowing* It down is definitely the better option as Rift *Steps* Back, refusing to allow the strike to grant any serious damage to himself, yet still drawing a small amount of blood — the *Aegis* Now back at center-mass following the slight retreat, blocking the still rather-ineffective attack upon his chin by swinging his shield upon the blade; using the weight difference in the blade versus the defensive option to again attempt to disarm. 

As Calderon steps back, Rift readies his stance — shield arm falling back behind himself before *Winding up* Like a baseball pitch as it suddenly *Rockets* Forward, revealing the throwing apparatus as it *Lurches* Forward unexpectedly, travelling directly towards Calderon's *Head* As Rift steps forward to *Strengthen* Said throw, presenting quite the scary threat.

And yet...

If Calderon were to move to block the attack, he would find *Vilethorn* Travelling up below as the shield suddenly bungee-cords, pulling back just mere milliseconds away from impact as it follows its arc back to Rift's holding apparatus as the blade itself continues its ascent towards a hopefully exposed leg or stomach granted by the nature of the shield throwing...
Jillian
Rift's slowing-of-blade in the arc of his swing and the bringing-in of the second threat — both an offensive and defensive tool, that *Aegis* — was showing of Rift's change-in-intent and a demonstration to switch paces at the drop of a hat; something which Calderon would duly note. But he had already gotten what he wanted in the interplay merely by striking Rift at all, forming a negligible wound and gaining that momentum he so desired, a small achievement which alone was enough to change the flow of the Medeian warrior's behavior from henceforth.

The blow strikes. It draws blood, shallow as it is. That is enough. 

Another attempt to quickly disarm with a show of force and weight. "REED" Had caught on to this habit, and at the time still being under the effects of ***`ADRENALINE RUSH`*** Understood instantaneously what he could and could not afford in a contest of strength. The shield clashes upon the sword and brings a great echo of reverb as the two metal instruments collide, but the Medei is already in his retreat; the blade recoils away from the shield in an arc, as the warrior used the added dexterity brought about by the overflow of adrenaline to sway his body with the momentum of the sword, his tail unconsciously swinging in the direction his footwork shifted.

He retains the sword in his grip, albeit shifted off-course toward a more leftward retreat than intended. He flourishes the blade again ahead of himself.

His sword-arm is still good. His shield-arm is still good. Sure, there was a bruise on his right from the initial impact of the *Aegis*, and certainly the musculature of his left arm had been stretched more than was comfortable, but they were both still in tiptop fighting condition. Most importantly, Rift was bl—
_ _

***`FWOOM`***

The shield soars toward him and he is caught in a moment where his stance is still unprepared, his feet just beginning to rest, stationary, after the explosive dodge. His instinct told him to duck beneath it, yet his logical mind tells him he is too late to make such a motion; his buckler-hand is thusly brought up, and his left foot tucks back, pressing to grant him grit against the ground. The volleyed Aegis collides against Calderon's shield as he barely manages to cross his left hand behind his right to grant it more stability, *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Only with great difficulty being able to prevent his right wrist from suffering damage due to the sheer force of impact. And still it had not mitigated damage entirely, for Calderon could feel an uncomfortable tension where the shield strapped to his wrist.

As Rift approaches Calderon following the throw — a follow-up which the latter warrior understood was all but entirely a guaranteed course of action — he catches the Weavecutter's form in close approach, and the arc of his swing in a blur. A blur which seemed he was almost unable of keeping track of.
_ _

If it were the Calderon at the beginning of the battle, he would certainly get critically struck by this tandem attack. But "REED" Has already attained the small amount of momentum he desired. **Most importantly, Rift was bleeding.** The purple mana within Calderon's body flared instinctively as the smell of blood grew closer to him. 
***`BLOODTHIRST` gains a stack, as the Medeian warrior's top speed is increased by 10% and his reaction time accelerated by 10ms.*** 

That increase in speed was what made the difference between him blocking and being struck. Already in a defensive stance, Calderon's body sways down, that ten-percent-much-more faster than he used to be; it is enough for his crossed arms to intercept Rift's incoming blade and block a critical strike. It is not, enough, however, to allow him a chance to counterattack or regain his footing, as he is literally put upon his backfoot, knocked backward and only held upright by the left foot he put down earlier.
Linda
All that momentum, just to have it taken away as swiftly as it had been gained — a marked difference in speed, however slight, catches Rift's eye. But why?

`Need to be careful, but assertive.` The blade glows, as though agreeing with this sentiment - a tired, soft red glow emanating from the base of the blade to the tip.

As Calderon has now ever-so-slightly had his stance weakened, Rift takes the opportunity to capitalize, *Smashing* His foot into Calderon's left leg from the side in an attempt to *Sweep* Him off of his feet, and *Preparing* Another attack with *Vilethorn* — *Aegis* Still securely in front to prevent any would-be attack, not that Calderon would have much of a retort in his current position. Rift steps in towards his opponent, readying a powerful yet calculated strike upon his opponent's center-mass. Even *If* This strike didn't meet its mark, it was intended to simply be a *Distraction* To the foot sweeping- whether that would be useful or not.

Now, all one can do is wait as *Vilethorn* — as well as Rift's own leg — once again alight with fire, before — 

*Crassshhh* — the sound of the *Aegis* Against Calderon's buckler as Rift *Shield-bashes* Against the other's own defense in the midst of everything going on, attempting to put on even *More* Pressure than the other two strikes combined — even *If* Both of *THOSE* Had failed, at the very least one could attempt to continue weakening the enemy's position...
Jillian
*`"Hup!"`*

"REED" Had always seen his tail as a situational third leg. As heavy and long as it was and with all the added durability added to it by *`Total Body Reinforcement,`* It very well could be thought of as one. As it slithered and coiled along the marble floor of the arena, Calderon, seeing as his opponent was continuing his offensive, swayed back, that great appendage serving as an ample support for his body-weight. Both of his legs were now lift completely off the ground, as the Medei warrior's entire body pivoted backward, flowing from a sloppy moment of broken poise into a back handspring with such a smoothness that could only be facilitated by the sheer length and strength of his reptilian tail. In doing so, he would consequently dodge Rift's kick and form some extra distance.

In the same tempo Calderon flipped backward, Rift stepped forward. Vilethorn was already on its way as the Medei's clawed feet tapped against the ground; yet Calderon had already predicted the weapon's approach merely hearing the stomp of the Weavecutter's boot hitting the marble floor. His reptilian eyes all-aglow with the same purple mana that upheld *`Total Body Reinforcement,`* "REED" Sees and foresees the flow of the thrust, his buckler-arm curling in as arcane energy densely suffuses it.

***`CLANG!`***
There was power and there was weight behind the swing. It would be incredibly tough for someone like Calderon to knock it off-course.
Still, he did.

***`CRUSHING BLOW III - 160% OUTPUT`***
***`COOLDOWN: 3 TURNS`***
_ _

*`Total Body Reinforcement`* Overclocks to 160% of its normal output in a single arm, amplifying his strike to almost twofold its mundane strength. With a quick and close punch, the mana suffusion is mostly enough to bring the strike Rift's full strength on impact, strongly displacing the thrust as Calderon continued to push Vilethorn further from his center-mass with the buckler parry. 

Still, Rift's assault is not complete, and as the Aegis comes crashing forward, the Medei warrior opts to continue his defense. In his opponent's windup, he familiarly crosses his sword-arm behind his buckler-arm to reinforce his defense, yet this time held both arms closer to the chest. He knew his arms could not tolerate repeated full-force strikes against his guard, and would opt for this weaker, yet much safer stance to save them the lingering damage. 

***CRASH!***

Calderon once more slides backward, the full of both Rift's strength and weight sending him sliding backward. Still, this type of momentum that Rift attempted to build was growing to become more familiar by the second: with some footwork, Calderon mitigates the damage to his stance as he backpedals once, then twice, anticipatively travelling with the force into a retreat following the guard. He was getting sharper by the second. Rift's attacks grew more ferocious, but Calderon's instincts and combat prowess continued to serve him well as he began to form a tighter grip on the former's technique.

*`"I see you, warrior,"`* He says, from his further distance, lowering his cross-armed stance. 
His buckler-arm is still good. His sword-arm is still good. He flourishes his blade.
*`"I see you and respect your strength. But I do not think I will lose,"`* He grinned.

*`Tough as a nut,`* He thought. *`Tough like a mountain, in fact.`*
*`But even a mountain is cut in twain by a river.`*
Linda
```
"Are you certain?"

```

The first words he had spoken the entire battle, in the form of a pointed question as he brings *Vilethorn* In front of himself.

This whole battle and altercation had been for *One thing*, and *One thing* __only__. Instead of pressing the fading advantage, Rift leaps *Backwards*, creating a few more meters of space between the two as his shield falls from his arm with a *Clunk* Against the marble floor,

_ _
```
"Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer."

```

With *Vilethorn* Placed directly between the two, and *Aegis* On the ground, attached only by a strange-looking metallic and seemingly quite durable *Rope*, Rift *Flings* The *Aegis* Using the throwing apparatus, before...

Beginning to *Spin*. Immediately, a flame erupts from the blade he carried as it continues its arcing motion- shield in flight as an active deterrent to keep REED from attempting any sort of approach. If not to be hit by the shield, then to be tangled up in the apparatus' wire itself... Or perhaps to *Allow* What was to come to pass- the shield itself would prove to be difficult to cross, whizzing every which way at a surprisingly fast speed as *Flame* Begins to dance Rift's feet, swiftly rising to cover his legs, then the rest of his *Figure*, and flowing outwards as it threatens to consume part of the arena itself in a fiery *Tornado*.

_ _
```
[ ACT 1 ]

```
Jillian
There it was.
*Fire.*
Fire in the kick. Fire in the swing. Fire in the legs and fire in the blade. Fire was one of the elements that Rift had shown himself to be able to use since the start of the battle, and with such a readiness that it seemed a thing he could summon at will; an elemental affinity that suggested the presence of an overarching ability. That ability was on display now, unfurling before his eyes. __Act 1.__

*`"Certainty is only for the foolhardy."`*
*`"But - yes. I am confident."`*`

Calderon grinned as his yellow lizardlike irises peered sharp toward the opponent who had willingly distanced himself, his triscupid teeth slightly flaring beyond the scales about his lips. Rift's epithetical phrase did not phase him but instead stirred his bravado, his heart pumping strong as the inferno grew bright in his irises.

The ability required not only intense magical focus, but also full physical immersion from its user himself. Calderon held his blade strong ahead of himself as he widened his stance, taking the moment to observe. He would not rush in headfirst as he had at the beginning of the match. He was done testing his opponent and would now only observe and adapt, evade and ascertain. 

*`"..."`*
_ _

Observe, adapt. Evade, ascertain. To cut through a mountain, you must be like a river: enduring; cool and ready to adapt; yet swift and decisive in moments of opportunity. 

*`1. Full physical immersion is necessary to maintain the technique.`*
*`2. Rotation seems necessary, but be prepared to dodge a sudden change in direction.`*
*`3. A wide and increasing field of range. The strength does not let up over this increased distance; its intensity and losslessness means it must be taxing on the user's body and spirit. That or it is not as strong as it seems.`*
*`4. The flames are thick and obfuscate sight between us two. He could possess some sort of extrasensory perception, so I will not rely on this as a fact.`*

*`If they grow much larger than they already are,`* Calderon continued to retreat, sliughtly. *`then eventually I will run out of space to evade.`*
*`But if it remains at this size,`* He watched intentfully, awaiting the blazing tornado that was Act 1 to cease growing — by now, following all his waiting and observation, it probably had — *`then...`* 

*`I will retreat!`*
_ _

As long as he continued to tax his body with the spell, as long as he was spinning that weighty shield all-around and shifting his center-of-mass along with it, as long as the tornado's range did not cover more than the third of the arena it was now, and as long as sight between the two were broken, it would be incredibly tough for "REED" To be caught in its range, if ever. With the range and strength of Act 1's flames, Calderon was confident that his opponent would quickly tire himself out magically, or inevitably tire himself out physically; at this pace, his stamina would last much longer than Rift's own.

This was Calderon's greatest strength: he possessed no honor, no code, no method of battle that bound him. Any method that brought him victory was honorable and good enough as any other.

Thus, he retreats, eyes carefully fixed on the form of the tornado. *`The shield still spins in the midst of all that,`* He noted. *`At any moment, it could be slung as a lethal projectile. That I must watch out for most carefully.`*
Linda
Indeed, that was certainly an option one could take — to distance himself — but would it prove useful against such an opponent?

The tornado, uninhibited, grows to its maximum size; flames swirling high into the air as the tornado begins to *Move* Around the arena towards Calderon — shield swinging to and fro as the flames threaten to overtake the space they both currently occupied. While he had been correct to an *Extent*, Rift __now__ attempts to go for a disqualification against the Medei — if he continued making his attempt to fight, while "REED" Balked, and this stretched on for *Long enough*.... 

Surely.

Yet, his opponent fails to take into account that Rift — over the course of many hard-fought battles and a slew of victories — has achieved *Quite* The stamina. That is, of course, foregoing the fact that *Vilethorn* Itself is the one keeping the tornado spinning, acting as a conduit for one's SOUL and granting the power used to wield such a formidable technique.

Rift, utilizing *Act II* Is, of course, able to surmise where REED had currently positioned himself, continuing to advance upon the position that the warrior currently upheld. And as the tornado approaches, so *To* Does the shield, aiming to goad Reed into one specific position as the tornado shifts; rapidly swapping rotations so that the shield acts more as 2 oppressive *Walls* On either side of the Medei and threatening his position further should he attempt to move out of the way with a fast strike to the side.
Jillian
His inference was correct. His opponent could not maintain an effective maximum speed as he maintained the shield in a swing. It was a simple and sound assumption, yet one Calderon felt relieved to be correct in making. With one hand about his sheathed blade and his eyes aglow with the fiery inferno before him, it is now time only to wait, retreat and repeat until his opponent has worn himself out. 

Retreat.

There is still much space behind him. Enough that he does not have to be worried about being pressed against one of the walls of the ring; enough that he can take his time to watch the shield, to watch the flames, and to watch Rift himself. Step back, and on this tempo, ***Leap.*** The shield swings beneath his legs as he dodges over it. He would take no chances trying to block it. At least, not for now. *`I am at an advantage. I should not risk it all to stop the attack.`*

Wait.

There is much time to be burned waiting for one to burn themself out. Now "REED" Walks not just backward, but also, at his great distance, begins to take a quicker strafe sideways, keeping himself healthily outside of the distance of __Act 1__ as he strafes about Rift and beyond the flames' reach. In this scenario, he is faster by much and may even travel around his opponent to ensure he is not pressed against a wall. Now step back, and on this tempo ***Leap.*** The shield again soars beneath him. *`Unlike a sword, it cannot curve so easily as to hit me. A small leap is enough. Do not block it,`* He reaffirms. 
_ _

Retreat.

He has now has circled about a quarter-rotation around Rift while taking the time and caution to continue moving beyond his opponent's reach without overexerting himself. There is yet more space behind him. Much space. Enough that he does not have to worry about being cornered against one of the walls of the arena for much time. Step back again, and on this tempo, ***Leap.*** *`Should it come for my head instead of my body,`* Calderon squints, *`then I will duck and be safe spending half the effort.`*

Wait.

*`No warrior can fight forever. No magician can cast spells forever,`* He thinks. *`But a Medei can walk and jog for hours and hours and only need a moment to breathe.`* He takes a short breath through his scaled lips. Again, step back, and on this tempo, ***Leap.*** *`But he is surely a persevering one,`* He squinted, focusing on the thermal distortion brought to the air by the flame of the tornado, the mirage shimmering before his eyes. *`Still, no warrior can fight forever. Every body and every SOUL has its limits.`*

*`To cut through a mountain, you must be like a river.`*
*`I must be more perseverant.`*

Retreat.

Wait.

Rift could never catch him without ending the technique.
"REED" Could never approach him as long as it was maintained.

Retreat.

Wait.

It was a stalemate that slightly favored the latter fighter over the former, but by such a margin that seemed infinitesimal. Rift's stamina was nearly bottomless, yet as Calderon had correctly postulated, no warrior can fight forever. He exerted his body with every swing of the shield, and though *Vilethorn* Was a conduit for the Weavecutter's own **SOUL**, the reservoir of mana fueling it must still come from one origin or another, refining new magical energy into mana being a process taxing upon one's Spirit itself. 
_ _

Still, it may take minutes or even hours to siphon that reservoir.

Retreat.

Wait.

*`"...Hmph."`*
*`"The long battle is neither fulfilling for you nor me, warrior."`*

They had met an impasse. It seemed that Rift's plan to have Calderon disqualified would never meet a conclusion, for the ones watching over the battle would never intervene. Calderon had no choice but to retreat; Rift was using a technique that accomplished naught but forcing retreat upon an opponent. Who was stalling? Perhaps the latter more than the former, yet both still rode the line of what was "Stalling" And what was "Fighting".

If the battle is decided by technicality rather than by merit, then it is a battle wholly unworthy of the tradition of the ***Margo Aeternitatis*** To begin with. They would both lose if this continued; that was an idea that Calderon was himself familiar with, being a Medei and one versed in the ways of many warriors..

*`"You cannot catch me and I cannot reach you,"`* He pointed, still stanced and slowly stepping away.
*`"It is a frustrating thing for both of us, yes, warrior?"`* —he tucked beneath the oncoming shield.
*`"I have a suggestion! Why do we not start again — you without the barrier of flames, and I without the running?"`*
Linda
While, again, that was certainly *An* Idea- to jump over or duck under said shield - it was spinning fairly fast.

To achieve such a motion, REED would need to be very close to the ground. If, because there was not a clarification, it was a *Full-on*, on all fours duck, it would be near impossible for REED to effectively clear the shield should the next course of action be a *Jump* Before the shield makes its mark.

But, the Medei's words have struck a chord as *ACT I*'s tornado form disappears, the shield that was previously sweeping suddenly lurching backwards from REED's side on its way back to Rift's specialized magnet donned upon his arm. 

The warrior sighs,

```
"Very well."

```

Yet, he keeps his guard up — ready for the Medei to make perhaps a dishonorable move — keeping his distance in hopes that his enemy would come to *Him* Instead and beginning to circle once more, as he had done at the very beginning of the duel. Should the warrior indeed progress forward, Rift had a very small idea in the back of his mind beginning to bloom... Only time would tell if it indeed would play out how he imagined it to. 

No matter.

As before, the Interloper hits the butt of his sword against the shield, creating a *Clanging* Noise upon its metal surface.

```
"Come, then."

```
Louis
I hate how when i press tab to autocomplete it just highlights me for no reason
Jillian
"REED" Takes another soft breath from between his scaled lips as he sees the wall of flames begin to dissipate, the vortex before him calmed and his opponent prepared to fight the familiar fight of steel, flesh, and blood rather than one of attrition. Calderon did not despise dishonorable methods in his style of combat, nor did he even believe drawn-out fights to be distasteful themselves, yet this moment of mutual agreement gave him some relief — he understood that the spectators would quickly tire of repetition and that the overseers of the *Regni Medeas* Would find anything but a blood-pumping spectacle odious on the stage of the ***Margo Aeternitatis**,* What worries of a potential nullification looming over the match disappearing as the Weavecutter met him on common grounds.

He grasps his shortsword and flourishes the blade. His sword-arm is still good. His buckler-arm is still good. But the smell of blood on the air has waned. *`That is not as good,`* He squints slightly, but maintains a relaxed smile. *`But the other things are indeed still good.`* The emblematic purple mana of *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Again blooms off the surface of his obsidian-colored scales, as he unsheathes his sword.

Understanding much more Rift's style of fighting, "REED" Has already concluded that his opponent is not the type to make the first move. *`Thus, I will.`* He approaches Rift, sword now wielded in his clawed left hand, and his right hand with his buckler now clutched tight with the handle in his fist. 
_ _

*`Battles are like stories,`* He thought. *`In the first chapter you know little of the characters involved. You know only their names and how they appear,`* He mused, now entering a [more refined, traditional shortsword-and-buckler stance.](< His left arm and the sword within it tucked beneath behind his right elbow, which was postured slightly outward yet still close to the body, upward and close to his chin, leaned far forward with his left leg inward toward his opponent and his right a moderate distance behind himself. *`But as the story goes on,`* Now he was thinking to himself again, calm as he now entered Rift's striking range and slowly inching forward, *`you grow to understand from the many trials they face many many more things: their character, and their past, and their inspirations, and all the things that make them who they are.`*

*`I think I am understanding you a little better, warrior,`* He locked eyes with Rift. *`I am understanding you more and the battles you have fought.`*

He approached, closer and closer as he could, until he might provoke Rift to strike as he pressed close against him, seeking to freely cross the gap that was the difference in their ranges, Vilethorn being a weapon longer by a margin than Calderon's simple shortsword. Though he did intend to make the first move in the renewed battle, it was not necessarily an attack, but an intent to press space against Rift and force him to act first, his buckler protecting him as he brought it closer and closer to point-blank with the Weavecutter's own guard.
Linda
As a buckler has, at the very least, a small advantage against a long-sword — slightly negated with the presence of Rift's *Own* Shield — but, as REED steps forward, Rift steps *Backwards*, completely maintaining the extra distance provided by the longsword in comparison to Calderon's own *Short*Sword. Back to the basics.

Rift's posture changes as his hand goes to double-down on the grip upon his own sword, deciding to switch up the ideas presented previously — the shield once again drops down to the ground and exposes its metallic wiring as Rift goes for Calderon's upper-left with a two-handed *Cut*, leaving most of Rift's body __seemingly__ open but presenting a very threatening risk of losing immediately should sword-fighting standards not be applied correctly. By attacking this quadrant, the Weavecutter attempts to force his opponent to bring him a *New* Opening to exploit.

And, as the strike is made, the *Magnet* In the shield's apparatus reactivates, hosting the shield *Upwards* To prevent any sort of counter-measure to Rift's on body as he indeed *Does* Make the first move that Calderon had been waiting for. *Should* Calderon have acted rashly and attempted a stab or cut to Rift's open position, the shield itself would be the one to catch it in its *Very* Swift ascent without any positioning needing to be changed by Rift.
Jillian
**"Victory will be determined in a single strike."**

That quote dominated REED's mindscape since the moment he and Rift made their first exchange. 
Rift's sword cleaves down. An overhead cut. The phrase echoes through his mind again. 
In a match between two opponents as skilled as this,
***Victory will be decided in a single strike.***

There is a strong thirst for blood that rouses, naturally, within a swordsman, as he sees a vulnerable body before him. The stance he had taken — *Prima Custodia* — was a defensive one that granted opportune thrusts and a powerful line which granted quick upward acceleration. In this stance, in this moment specifically, he would be quicker than Rift to strike... Yet Calderon understands that he still cannot take this opportunity. Even if he did land a critical blow, he understood from the risk Rift was willing to take in an earlier engagement that he was completely willing to trade strikes, confident that he was more durable and capable of physically overwhelming Calderon in a single strike. 

If he cut for the leg, Rift would cut for the neck. He would die before his opponent even felt the sting of the blow.

*`I need to be more perseverant. More crafty.`*
_ _

***—TP***
***CLANG!***
Calderon takes a step further inward, matching Rift's pace and approach in his overhead strike with an approach of his own. **Both his buckler and his sword rose high to break the line of the attack before the swing had reached full momentum** — the realization of which would be enough to overwhelm his defense entirely. This type of seemingly-clumsy guard was the minimum requirement for him to overcome Rift's intense strength advantage, forcing him to take suboptimal lines merely to stop the blade from reaching speed.

His guard crossed over itself. His right hand tucked ahead of his left hand as it rose, the buckler defending the outside of his furled left fist that wielded his blade as he brought the shield into a bind with *Vilethorn,* High enough up so that both the combatants' hands would be raised slightly above brow-level, Calderon's own hands exactly mirroring eachother in the bind such that his blade pointed up and away from his own body as he guarded. 

He locked eyes with Rift again as they remained, for the moment, deadlocked. He watches as the shield rises, confirming his initial suspicion. *To take that opportunity would have lost him the duel on the spot.* 

*`I see now how your weapons are exceedingly special to you. You are like the opposite of me.`*

*`I do not care for what weapon is in my hand besides how it will bring me closer to victory.`*
*`But you wield your shield because you have entrusted your life to it. And with every swing, it is as though you are proving your strength to the blade you wield.`*

***`"...How profound!"`***
"REED" Grins.

*`I made the right choice entering these duels! How profound indeed!`*
*`Is trust a lever? Is faith in one's weapons enough to decide the difference between defeat and victory?`*
***`Show me! Show me something I do not yet know!`***
_ _

The bind would begin to break immediately, Calderon's guard crumbling if Rift maintained force downward. There was a vast difference in strength that was hard to surmount even with technique. Yet still! He continued to fight. Yet still! He could redirect that force.

***`CRUSHING BLOW III - 160% OUTPUT`***
***`COOLDOWN: 3 TURNS`***

His buckler spirals as he brings its flat away from the edge of *Vilethorn,* Curling back in so the outward *Boss* Of the shield would tuck under the left edge (Rift's right) of his opponent's blade, flat firmly against flat. In this position, he would begin pushing with both arms harshly right (Rift's left) to redirect the blade off-course, purple mana flaring off his scales as *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Momentarily granted the strength he needed to redirect Rift's force away from his central body. If successful in doing so, he would bring Rift's blade far enough that, were it to continue travelling downward, it would cleave straight past the right side of Calderon's body — and well within the comfortable defense-cone of his buckler.

It was a strong defensive action that would leave him in a favorable position with an open line to strike toward Rift's central body if he maintained the two-handed-stance, but an attack was not launched immediately from the position for fear of a sudden change in guard or a quick followup in reaction to his defensive parry.
Linda
As the bind begins — *Shield vs. Sword* — Rift *Does* Find his blade falling to the side, as Calderon expected — a direct result of the `Crushing Blow`. 

Additionally though, Calderon would be right about Rift wanting to switch off of the two-handed stance, the shield coming down immediately to defend himself as Rift reacts to the parry, letting Calderon do what he must with the buckler — 

```His shield is occupied.```

But, wait —

```So too, is his BLADE.```

As the warrior's shield falls from the slightly overhead position, Calderon can see as Rift's shield hand bursts into flame from just underneath the metal itself, hand not required to hold the shield itself thanks to the magnetic apparatus being strong enough to reliably do that for him. It *Was* A strong defense from Calderon, but one that had *Maybe* Overcommitted itself, and one that *May* Have given an opening. The sword and shield are *Not* Rift's only weapons.

```
[ ACT III ]

```

As Calderon's own shield is moving *Vilethorn* Down and to the side of his own body, Rift attempts to flick his wrist at the Medei, unleashing a ball of fire upon his opponent when taking into account their range as the shield sinks downward, threatening an attack while maintaining a defensive option in attempt to block off the line that Calderon had previously scouted as the shield comes down and takes back its defensive position, the fireball being *Flung*. But, is it going to *Hit*?
Jillian
*Fire.*
Fire in the kick. Fire in the swing. Fire in the legs and fire in the blade. Fire in the air all around, in a spiral, describable as a vortex or as a tornado perhaps. Fire was the primary element Rift had demonstrated himself to be able to manipulate at will from the beginning of the battle until now. It was a thing that lingered at the back of Calderon's mind yet did not strongly dictate his action in the coming clash — he had allocated the most of his focus on mitigating the overwhelming strength that Rift had displayed. 

 He breaks from his position as his leg swings backward, full-force, as a wave of mana washes over his body, his muscles rippling to accelerate to retreat and block—

**—but he is a moment late.**

Perhaps it was his focus, fixed hard on the clash. Perhaps it was the mental burden of taking into account the swaying shield, shifting with the retention of the grappling-cord. Perhaps it was simply the intensity and the preoccupation "REED" Had taken on by utilizing ***`Crushing Blow`*** To deflect Rift's onslaught, slowing him by that fraction-of-a-second-too-long and preventing him from activating ***`Adrenaline Burst`*** In such short succession.Perhaps it was all of these things or none of them. Perhaps it was merely his carelessness.
_ _

**That is to say, the fireball hits.**

Calderon had tucked his buckler back down, but by the time the metal instrument had lowered to block the projectile, it had already travelled past his guard. The natural flinching of his body brought the flames in-line with his face, as he then adjusted further to adjust his entire head in a curl rightward, where the flames finally found connection with the left half of his face, the heat of the detonation streaking across his scaled cheek and along his lower-left eye, the rest of the outward heat travelling past his head due to the angle at which he instinctively dodged. 

***`Total Body Reinforcement`*** Shifted to reinforce the entirety of his face shortly after the impact as he recoiled in his retreat, the lingering heat of the flames briefly sizzling against his scales before the deluge of purple-hued mana took its place to serve its purpose as a retardant to the flame. But the initial damage is still done; the scales about his eyes are singed, burned through, and his left eye remained closed as he took several steps further from Rift.

*`"Hmph!"`*

He steeled himself.

***"Victory will be decided in a single blow."***

With one eye open, Calderon locks gazes with Rift after retreating a short distance, blade still ahead of himself as he sought to create some space for himself. For a moment, an expression of anger surfaces on the Medei warrior's face, before a wave of clarity came upon him, the focus of his single eye honing.

*`...I cannot lose over something as simple as this.`*

***CLATTER!***

Calderon relinquishes the enchanted buckler, its form clattering against the ground.

*`"All right then..."`*

*`I'll show you,`* He thought. *`My one "Style".`*

Until now, "REED" Had not used a single style or series consistently, instead swapping between simple shortsword combat and traditional buckler-fencing styles. Yet as his stance shifted — as he relinquished the buckler — it portended a major change; his entir

E body lowered, much lower than any typical shortsword-stance, and it only became clear what he was doing once he fully lowered himself completely to the ground, his tail swaying behind him as he placed his right hand to the ground, his left hand slinging the shortsword over his shoulder with its blade rested behind his neck.

_ _
His weight was shifted forward, like an animal waiting to pounce.
It was a bestial stance, his tail visibly slithering behind him as purple mana flared all throughout his muscles.
It was a stance that relinquished defense entirely, yet itself demonstrated the existence of an instantaneous threat posed by the raw speed he could achieve in a single motion.

Though perhaps he had already lost by his own understanding of the fight and the veracity of the following statement, it was a stance that reflected that one phrase, singular, with much clarity:

***"Victory will be decided in a single blow."***
Linda
He lowers his stance as his opponent back away- *Waiting*, watching.

*Vilethorn* Glows perhaps the brightest it had this entire battle, *Reacting* To the hit upon REED's face – **The fireball worked**. And, it was the first confirmed hit **ON** His opponent.

Calderon jumps back, and- as he does so, Rift *Does not* Give chase once more, eyes seeming to glow under the lights of the arena as he stares down his opponent, assessing the damage and noting his opponent's sudden disability in this fight. His left eye was scorched, leaving *Just* The right functional. The smell of singed scales hits Rift's nose like bacon cooked on a cold, winter morning, albeit much more... Singed and flesh-like. An *Opening*.

Not. Yet.

Rift watches his opponent duck down and discard his shield, admittedly a bit intrigued, but his focus is not lost upon the task at hand. Through and through, he is a knight, even if no longer by title, and one who is steadfast until the end.

Again, there *Is* A weakness here- one that could perhaps be exploited to win the battle.

Rift, as with many other times in this battle, waits for his opponent to make the first move, the plan laid out bare as Rift's body explodes into flame, the *Aegis* Lowering itself just enough to where it would stand on its edge upon the floor, blocking Rift's lower body and feet, but, as proven before, it could suddenly magnetize back up if need be.

```
[ ACT I ]

```

_ _
He brings *Vilethorn's* Blade in front of himself as he lowers himself as well, tilting the blade *Downward* As Calderon hopefully begins his approach. Hoping to make full use of the superior *Range*, as well as attempting to catch some of his own light upon the sword itself and *Reflect* It directly into Calderon's one good eye, Rift makes sure to lead his shot in case REED should suddenly move forward — or perhaps simply just calibration testing upon how fast REED could truly be. *Vilethorn* Quieting its crimson glow to allow such an idea. Wielder and blade, working as one. The weapon, that according to ancient Vestran mythos could cut through *Anything* As long as its wielder held the willpower to do so. Whether it was folklore or truth,

*__**Rift is ready,**__* And so too is his blade.
Jillian
"REED" Does not approach.

In fact, it seems the very stance he remains in suggests he never intended to approach to begin with.

The Medeian warrior's cloak draped just slightly over his brow as his single eye gazed with a piercing, subtle-purple glow, his yellow sclera darkened in the presence of the brightness of the mana, and his reptilian iris honed to a fine, acuminated point. The blade remained rested over his shoulder as he remained in-place, unmoving, a sense of focus in his gaze and body as he maintained passive in his overwhelmingly aggressive stance that seemed as though it could burst forward into an attack at any moment, holding himself neither too close nor too far. Likewise, mana coursed through his veins and throughout his flesh as he stood his ground yet did not take any more for himself, his **`SOUL`** Softly shimmering as *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Remained in a static state, neither strengthened nor weakened, yet as ready to sharply break out as "REED" Was himself.

He was waiting, watching.

Rift's attempt to blind him was ineffective, both considering the controlled light-level of the overhead lighting arrangements as well as the Medei warrior's askance angle at which he glared at Rift, his cowl making it truly hard to see whether or not his attempts had any effect.

A moment passes. A subtle, slow, strong breath inward. Then a moment more passes. A stronger, faster, yet controlled breath outward. Though his stance left him shrouded in an intensely-aggressive aura, it placed little-to-no tension on his body; as he remained stationary, he remained at rest, deeply focused on the sensation of the atmosphere around him. A moment passes, and a slow, subtle, strong breath is taken inward. Then a moment more passes, and a stronger, faster, yet more controlled breath is given outward.

_ _
*`One.`*
﻿
The purple mana that passively permeated his body softly fluctuated. "REED" Briefly used his free right hand to unbutton his cloak, slowly, eye still fixed single upon Rift ahead of him.

*`The smell still lingers. The blood is still spilt.`*

Inhale, exhale.

*`I will remember its smell. I will again feel the thirst.`*

Inhale, exhale. Indeed, the scent still lingers: the thin scent of blood trailing through the air; the metallic scent of it evaporating off the edge of his blade; the undetectable sensation of it beading, coagulating, at the surface of the skin. The fluctuation of mana about "REED" Grew subtly more violent, the purple magic that suffused the whole of his body increasing in intensity as he honed in on that sensation — that invisible feeling —which he had lost in the heat of the flame.

***`BLOODTHIRST - 1 STACK`***

He waited and he watched, and he breathed and then waited some more, and in all his waiting, he meditated; and in all his waiting and meditation, he replenished all that he had lost in the moments prior to his injury. *`Bloodthirst`* Surfaced once more as he stood his ground. He was watching, waiting, focusing, meditating, and all these things to accomplish a greater goal in a moment of idleness.
Linda
Rift remains standing, waiting patiently for his opponent to take an offensive attack which never comes.

As his opponent takes in the breaths, Rift takes note – something is in the air, but *What*?

```
[ ACT II ]

```

Rift smells it, too. The smell of *Blood*. His opponent lies in wait, not making an offensive attack, yet undoing his *Cloak*- something is amiss. He eyes the cloak- perhaps something useful later, especially with it now being undone a bit... He sniffs the air, once again using the same act as before to discern *What* Exactly it is made out of.

Rift sighs, but yet his posture only relaxes slightly. His opponent will not move, so he himself must take initiative. A vexing issue when taking into comparison exactly how low his opponent currently is. No matter.

Rift kicks the *Aegis*, sending it spiraling towards Calderon's position – once again threatening a potential attack should the shield not be pulled back in time or Calderon choose not to react to the move as he moves *Forward*, preparing for a followup in *Attempt* To capitalize off of either outcome and leaving no *True* Indication whether the strike from the shield was indeed an attack or not. From just out of the corner of REED's untouched right eye, Rift's form shifts dramatically as Rift's right arm – on Calderon's *Left* – prepares to bring *Vilethorn* Down, but, as REED's left eye is damaged, it would be hard to discern *Where* The blade is coming from, and where it is poised to attack without looking directly at it. In truth, it was a *Thrust* Aimed to force Calderon to pick one side to escape to should he have not chosen to pounce on his attacker directly, but still with the idea that Calderon would jump to avoid the *Aegis*' advance his own position while leveraging the longsword's greater reach.

_ _
But the issue presented with the *Aegis* __*Is*__ an attack. Should REED have misjudged this to be the same maneuver as before, where the shield was drawn back mere milliseconds before Rift made his attack – albeit aimed much lower this time around – he would be sorely mistaken. Rift *Wants* Calderon to pounce - to make good of his low stance – Rift had thrown his own guard away, right..?
Jillian
`...Two.`

*`Total Body Reinforcement`* And the mana that constitutes it hones, the energy coming to a calm in a light and simple shroud around his body, his moment of idleness serving as a much more useful thing than to just regain his breath.

Purple mana ignites across Calderon's form, *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Kindling into an enhanced state from "REED"'s moment of inactivity. Breaking the inertness of inaction in his aggressive stance, his right hand and leg pressed harsh against the ground as he beheld the tension in his opponent's body. His singular eye was honed, honed sharp, and so sharp that it felt as though he could peer into the musculature of the one before him, a clarity in perception that allowed him an opportunity to react before there was an action to be taken.
_ _

A simple dodge left, and then a subtle step inward.
The stance he had taken granted him simple, eruptive speed, exhibited clearly in a small hop off the ground that granted him nearly-immediate sideward acceleration and deceleration, clearing the breadth of the potential trajectory of the shield were it not a feint. In a single, successive stroke, he would step slightly forward, accelerating quickly yet stopping just as fast, matching Rift's approach in the thrust and stopping just before the tip of the blade approached, "REED"'s stance now quite akin to a low sprinter's lunge: his left leg was upright, inward, yet his right leg was far outstretched behind, clawed toes curled against the marble as he maintained his lowness to the ground. 

"REED" Was wholly aware of his opponent's predispositions and characteristic strategy; the Medei warrior's mentality, progressing through this duel, was to exist perpetually in a moment of change, unpredictable, while he dug deeper into his opponent's habits. Rift's preference toward initiating assaults with his shield — particularly by launching it into an immediate followup — had been made clear most directly once before, and more subtly several times prior. And furthermore, his artifice in exploiting Calderon's lack of a second eye was a card that had earlier been placed on the table when he had attempted to angle an advantage with a reflection off of *`Vilethorn.`* 

*`Like a river,`* He thought.

The simple judgment one makes in the direction of their dodge can be the difference between victory and defeat.
In intentionally dodging left, his opponent's right-armed stance poses significantly less of a threat as the whole of Rift's oncoming body was more clearly brought into the frame of "REED"'s vision in the former's oncoming assault.

*`A river against a mountain.`*
_ _

A singular image behind a single goal.

***`CLINK!`***

Instead of fully dodging the thrust with the entirety of his body, he would press against it. His left arm curls, the shortsword in it twisting, as with his right hand, he grasps the upper half of his own shortsword's blade — in his haste, drawing blood that dripped along its edge; yet he quickly attained a strong and full grip over the thing in the following moment —, in whole attempting to support the thing as he tucked rightward and pressed the outward flat of the blade harshly against *`Vilethorn,`* Preventing it from travelling further inward than the poise of his outward left arm. Both, he would hold a small distance from his face, his honed reptilian eye focused on Rift and his form in the clash.

***`...KSHH...`***

If successful in forcing the bind against the two blades, "REED" Would maintain his strong outward push on Vilethorn as he himself began to step inward, thrusting his own body toward Rift and closing the distance.
Linda
Calderon may have made a slight error.

By placing himself so close to his opponent, he has left his *Back* Open for a strike, nevermind the difference in blade-length. If Calderon were to step forward- shortsword against longsword- it would have prompted a swift thrust to the head, but with the pressure of the *Bind*, it makes that idea certainly *Risky*, turning the duel into a race to see who would best who first.

The fire radiating off of Rift's skin burns even still, replacing what would have been the slight smell of *Blood* With the overwhelming and overpowering stench of smoke and ash. As the blades clash, Rift places his left arm above his right as he too *Steps* To the left, positioning himself with an open, well-established threat, but perhaps temporarily *Missed* By Calderon.

The *Aegis*, and the metallic, durable rope it employed for its return mechanism, squarely placed between Calderon's feet.

What once was discarded returns to the fold, skittering swiftly across the ground in an arc towards the back of Calderon's kneecaps as the Weavecutter begins attempting to snake his much *Longer* Blade against his opponent's, utilizing the extra reach with the fact that his opponent had stepped *In* And willfully disregarded the extra range. His back was open, and it was an especially tricky position for Calderon to willingly put himself into. 

*Yes*, Calderon had the lower stance- that much is true- but does it truly matter if he loses his footing? All it would take then would be a swift follow-up from Rift to seal the deal..
Jillian
__***`...Three.`***__

He has not.

*`"Mmm..."`*
*`It should be right about...`*

There is a particular reason for "REED"'s outstretched backleg, even in the light of his continued approach — his particular stance, like a sprinter's lunge, as he approached Rift. Initially, the Medei warrior had thought to walk the line itself to prevent its return to the Weavecutter, but in light of a newer idea and the end of a particular ability's cooldown, the attack itself presented a new opportunity for "REED" To take.

This, too, was something he predicted, his stance crafted particularly to defend him from this very action.

The sound of the mechanism whirring, subtly. The shifting links between his legs, sliding across the marble floor — the tautness of the rope, its level of tension, and the angle of its return to the mechanism. And finally, the sound of the shield, skittering, in its return. These small details were tells, each, and, without needing even to rely on sight, gave him a fuller understanding of the position of the shield in its approach. Each sight in his periphery and sound picked up by his sensitive reptilian ears supplemented one-another and granted wholeness to his spatial memory.
_ _

***`...Now.`***

__ ***`CRUSHING BLOW V — 200% OUTPUT`***__
***`COOLDOWN: 5 TURNS:`***

*`Total Body Reinforcement`* And its purple mana flares to a physically-tangible cogency, a subtle purple glow enveloping Calderon's fully-extended-back right leg as he lifted it off the ground, utilizing the extrapolated timing from the several extraneous details portending the *Aegis'* Return to **Intercept it before it would collide with the back of his knees.** His leg, at first, begins to curl in from a fully-stretched position, as the Aegis continued in its trajectory back toward Rift, until, finally, the mana in Calderon's body coalesces, and he —

__***Kicks.***__

At this mana-output, his raw physical strength far eclipses Rift's own, its power honed into a singular action. The kick, pushing straight backward against the shield, was likely enough not only to draw the cord linked to *Aegis* Completely stiff, counteracting its return, but also potentially to completely overwhelm the mechanism within the glove by which it was connected, recoiling the *Aegis* Away from Calderon, and even potentially Rift's own arm inward.

Displacing Aegis, however, would be an incredibly weighty action. One which would press equally and oppositely against "REED"'s own body.
_ _

*`...Craftier,`* He thought, grinning.

In turn, he is launched forward, springboarding with tremendous force off of *Aegis*, hurling his entire body forward and into Rift at a preternatural speed only further bolstered by the continuing effects of *`Bloodthirst,`* Its effects not hindered by the scent of soot in the air around. The act would allow him to, in a single, fraction of a moment, propel himself and his bound shortsword against the length of *`Vilethorn,`* Leveraging some of his inward momentum to press against the blade and keep it from pushing further in.

In attempting to snake the longsword around "REED"'s Calderon's guard, Rift would be bringing the thing further away from his own body — an action which the reptilian warrior would neither allow him the opportunity to react against nor rescind, as he continued to force the length of his blade along *`Vilethorn`* As he glided his blade closer to its hilt within a fraction of a single second.
_ _

"REED"'s left leg, once firm and upright, has lifted off the ground in his forwards pounce. By the time Rift would complete his repositioning leftward, the Medei's own clawed foot would curl in at breakneck speed, carried with both the velocity and incredible force-and-momentum of "REED"'s entire body, angled to attempt to kick Rift at an unexpected angle before he could react. If successful in doing so, the momentum of the *`CRUSHING BLOW`*-enhanced springboard would transfer from Calderon's body — which itself felt as though it were much tougher than just muscle and flesh, empowered by *`Total Body Reinforcement`* — through his own left leg, and into Rift's right shin, attempting to completely destroy his stable footing. The impact and imminence of the kick would only further be compounded if Rift was substantially pulled off-balance by the sheer force of Calderon's kick transferred through the taut cord that linked to his glove.

Subsequently, and with the assumption that the kick would connect, "REED" Would exploit a unique feature of his physiology: the opposable claw on his foot. He would continue the momentum with a grapple against Rift's leg, digging his sharpened, obsidian-hued claws superficially-though-painfully into his flesh.
Linda
It is unbroken.

The rope was given extreme care into how it was manufactured and with what materials were used and innovated upon in the many years it was created – a byproduct of one particular scientist's boredom and loneliness and the presence of enough funding and material to put theories to work. A special kind of unknown metal from *Aelakr* – of which Enigma, and said scientist, were both aware of – known locally both for its extreme flexibility and strange magnetic interaction with that of Rift's holding apparatus makes up the bulk of the shield itself, with the makeup of the string being of a material from that same alien civilization.

It adheres to the weight of the kick, stopping and providing the means for which Calderon could make his attack, the elements at play within the mechanism briefly coming to a *Halt* At the sudden force in which it was stopped with a *Kr-cchnk-*, his footing slightly crumbling—

For Rift, the world begins to move in slow-motion, as though one were viewing every single nanosecond as if it were molasses slow, sound itself becoming slow, distorted and quieter- 

*SsssshhHHHHHNNNN-* The sliding of metal upon metal.

*Chk—vvvVVvvvvNNNNN-* The sound of a *Reel*.

*Bmp-bmp– chhhhnn-*

*Bmp-bmp– chhhhnn-* 

The beating of Rift's own *Vitality*.

All slowing, to a complete halt as a glow of faint red traces the outline of Rift's own vision, consuming the scene before him in a crimson glaze.

The world is still.

The world is quiet.

REED, and the surrounding world, slowly fades to black as a sound catches the Weavecutter's sharp, trained ear, his hands suddenly feeling empty.

_ _

He glances up, sniffing the air and catching a familiar scent- spinning on his heel in a yet-defensive manner, despite being unarmed. And as he had done so, a scene lays itself before his very eyes – brilliant, extravagant golden pillars with ornate fire pits atop them, made no doubt of the real mineral arching up towards an expertly crafted mural ceiling depicting an angel and a giant with a mountain backdrop; crimson light shining down through the stained glass and illuminating its splendor for him to see.

His eyes lower, a red, very expensive-looking carpet lined with- you guessed it - golden accent colors in a vine-shaped pattern across the outside of the carpet; it having been draped across the floor of this place - one familiar to Rift himself. A place he had done battle in many, many years ago now, against an opponent far eclipsing Calderon's own strength, Crushing Blow or not. A moment ahead of his prime, being evoked to him in his retirement...

He ponders this for a moment, remaining still and silent, before his ear twitches, a sound hitting from his back left as he turns - already knowing what – or rather, *Who* – would be there for him once he did.
Mary
```
"What do you stall for, my knight??"
  my knight?

```
Linda
A lady, pink, near magenta skin with white hair done up in a flowing ponytail, large ears pointed out to the side, wearing a purple hooded shawl atop her regular clothes. In stature, short and slightly chubby, wielding a pristine silver rapier and with a few potions upon her hip, overlapping her voice with another tone, deeper and more rich than her own. Upon her forehead glows a *Gem*, a much lighter shade of pink than her skin. A low, slightly confused mumble erupts from within the knight's throat.

```
"What?"

```
Mary
```
"You must be tired."
"Why do you falter?"
"Are you alright..?"

```
Linda
A deep breath as he turns fully, facing the apparition.

```
"I tire of the constant wielding of a sword. Yet, I continue to wield one. For that, I don't have the answer. Wielding a gun is for the younger generation. There is less and less space each day for a knight such as myself in this world."
```
Mary
```
"I see."

```

The gem stands still, pointing her rapier down to the floor, stance open towards the knight as she takes a breath.

```
"But, if given that opportunity, would you truly change your actions?"

```
Linda
```
".... No."

"I no longer wield this blade for my own way. I wield it for the service of others. It is that which brings me purpose, even if death will be indiscriminate when I pass."
```
Mary
The figure nods in understanding and smiles softly.

```
 "You're better now."
"You truly have changed."
 "How interesting."

"Go forth, then. I acknowledge your grit —  it would be enough."

```

Her form vanishes, *Another* Sound catching Rift's ears from directly behind.
Linda
*Crickle-crrccklle-*.

Dead ahead, a golden throne atop multiple steps encrusted with red gemstones – *Carnelian*, just as he recalled it – and, suspended in the very air itself, between the knight and the chair, crackling with fire pouring out of its *Own* Gemstone located at the hilt, a *Ruby*...
Nellie
_ _
```
 failing.
YOU ARE STRUGGLING.
 losing.

```
Linda
*Vilethorn*. The very blade of him and his companion's *Cynical* Opponent on that fateful day that felt a lifetime ago.
Nellie
_ _
```
 must
I CAN HELP YOU.
 augment

```
Linda
Its voice a cacophonic symphony of overlapping sentences, phrases, and meanings, the blade reaches out to the very depths of his **`SOUL`**, calling out to him – encouraging *Action* As it remains, floating itself in the air a few steps ahead of him.

Step 1.

*Bmp-bmp— chhhhnn..*

He feels a jolting pain travel through his right shin, slowing him temporarily- but he presses on.

Step 2.

*Bmp-bmp– chhhnn-bmp-bmp-chhhhhnn-* 

*NNNNNNNNNNGGG-PAPH-PAPH-PPFFPFPFPFPPP*

A tension upon his arms, easing up by the second as the hurt continues pulsing through his shin, slowly feeling a singeing ache as that pain itself begins to die away, fading as fast as it came as a dull throb comes across his cheek, it too leaving swiftly.

Step 3.

*NnnnnNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN*-

A quiet, almost indiscernible noise from far, far away, growing louder by the second as the Weavecutter places his hands upon the hilt, the blade suddenly jerking forward, Rift's footwork changing to match as his eyes close. 

**It feels that the very air around him is burning white-hot.**

__**```
[[[ ACT IV — BLESSING OF THE AELAKIAN RISING SUN ]]]

```**__

Rift's very skin- even faster than Calderon's own movement- turns to a rough, *Glowing* Exterior, tough to crash into with a kick. The wounds that had previously leaked blood - his cheek, and his shin, of which was covered mostly by the knight's *Boot* - are washed over; painted with the orangey-sunset and ashy-gray of *Lava* As the temperature of the area between the two fighters suddenly and incredibly dramatically spikes to a wild degree; the oxygen between the two seeming just mere *Degrees* Away from igniting.

_ _
He quickly pivots upon an axis, his stancing mostly unphased by way of _**ACT IV**_'s strengthened durability and how the *Aegis'* System had reacted to the blow. His once two-handed stance breaks off *Momentarily* Into a one-handed defense as his newly freed hand - his *Right* - flicks its wrist upon Calderon's unharmed eye, unleashing a swift and emboldened ball of fire; his power of the throw directly affected by the **Incarnation** That had just granted itself to Rift, before quickly moving that very same hand to grab back the original positioning it had occupied before.

The *Aegis* Draws nearer to its target, ready to strike swiftly as the fighters are *Locked* Together, the arm wielding *Vilethorn* Once again bringing edge against edge as its user rotates in a swift motion, leading with his *Left* Leg as he moves towards his opponent's *Right*, tilting the angle at which *Vilethorn* Was operating to be one in which REED's blade would begin to slide down and far from Rift's own mass should he cut. One rapid motion.
Jillian
The Medeian warrior's reptilian eye meets the Weavecutter's own as they grow close enough in battle to hear every errant twitch of one another's muscles — both of their senses sharpened to such a refined level that it seemed as though they could perceive each molecule in one-another's body, flowing in sequence — yet did not; each had sunken into a world crafted of their own perception of the world around them, a world that was and was no longer and had not yet come to be, of memory and of past and a future not yet attained: a realm of unreality that was the world from the perspective of the mind alone. It was time captured in a bottle, the world seen through a lens: the universe in the eye of the **SOUL**.

The world is still.

***`thump thump`***

The world is both unimaginably noisy and terribly quiet.

***`thump thump`***

Blood flows through the body, as the spirit breathes forth life.

***`thump thump`***

Flesh, bone, mind and spirit — in this moment, they are one and the same. The divide between the material world and spiritual reality seems to fade away entirely.

***`thump thump`***

The world quakes and the canvas of existence before him is made clear and white as snow. 

***`thump thump`***

His heart and **SOUL** Are beating in unison.

***`thump thump`***

***Ignition.***
Ignition without effect. Ignition of the **SOUL** In its purest form. 
The arena beneath them glitters alight as the ultimate display of **Ignition** — the pinnacle of the **Margo Aeternitatis**, provoked innately by the enchantment placed upon the duel itself — burns forth. Yet it is not the effects of the arena openly on display before the spectators of the crowd.
It is merely the strength of two wills colliding against eachother with such force that the world itself seemed to ignite.
Primal ignition—two **SOUL**S upon the edge of eternity, and the heart of the **Margo Aeternitatis.**
_ _

***`thump thump`***
***`thump thump`***
__***```thump thump```***__

The image in "REED"'s mind is much different than the Weavecutter's own. It is neither a memory of gemstones and thrones, of those dressed and equipped with silver, of ladies clad in royal colors, of ornate pillars, halls, murals, glass, or splendor. There is no comfort, no grandeur, no sensation beneath the feet, no discernable scent nor discernable patterns amidst the world around him, and perhaps it could said not to even be a memory to begin with. There is nothing, nobody, no sensation in the body nor an association within the mind; there is no emotion evoked — the body is numb and the ears are deaf and hear nothing around — and there is no voice, of Calderon's or "REED"'s or of any other person or identity.

And yet it is unimaginably noisy.

**```
 ᴡʜɪʀʟ... ```**

His palate is empty; his vision is hazed. He cannot tell the taste the sand that encrusts his lips, nor discern whether or not he is starving, thirsty, or both.
The wind howls, and it carries with it flakes of loose, red sand, heat, and the ineffable dryness of an arid wasteland.
Yet he can tell neither of the dryness nor the heat, for he feels neither. As he stares down at his hands, he sees vessels of obsidian, his body of stone and his claws of crystal.
There is sensation without association, and the world around him is vile in emptiness, giving nothing but taking everything.

**```
 ᴡʜɪʀʟ... ```**

It is hollow and empty.
Yet it is so *Unimaginably **Noisy.***

***```
...?
```***

**```
 ```**

```
...```

I am without language or words. I know of no concepts — of food, water, people, places, or things — and yet I think, and I think endless thoughts that I cannot give essence.

**```
 ```**

I breathe my first breath, and I step my first step — but what is a *Breath?* What is a *Step?* 
Where am I going? Where am I? What is *Here?* 
I know how to question, but I do not even know what I am questioning.

```
...?!```

I ask so many questions and yet I do not have a voice. 

```
...?!!!```

I think thoughts without substance. I argue abstract notions that do not exist against the emptiness that is within and around me.

```
!!!!!!```

I want to scream, but I do not know how to.

**```
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!```**

This world is empty, and yet it is so unimaginably noisy.
Because all I can hear is *Me.*



__***Why am I here?***__



An endless, arid, desert wasteland, full of nothing but wind, heat, and sun. An endless horizon that turned to black as the infernal eye of the heavens closed upon the cusp all that existed before me. Ten thousand steps, and ten thousand more; a neverending and pointless cycle that gave me nothing and yet took everything. A world vile in emptiness. A world without sensation. A world without fulfillment. A world without objective. A world without ideas or emotions. A world without concept or matter.



__***A world where only I exist.***__



The first concept I grew to understand was **"Chains"**
The second I learned to understand was **"Death"**
And in learning the second, the third and greatest concept I came to know
Was **"Life"**.
_ _

**```
𝙄 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙏
𝙏𝙊 𝙇𝙄𝙑𝙀```**

When I met existence, it taught me my purpose in this world.

I stared and saw something beyond the redness in the sand.
I met someone. I was bound. I ate. I drank.
I could discern between heat and cold.
I learned the name of the Sun, and I felt what I knew then to be sand.
I, too, was given a name. I learned my name and I learned my place.
I worked and worked and worked. I learned to feel pain. I understood satiation, and it taught me of hunger.
I worked and worked and continued to work more. I learned of fatigue and of tiredness, and they taught me what it was to be spirited.
I worked and worked. I learned to speak. I learned to cry. I learned of sadness and of grief.
I worked and I worked and I worked more.
I felt again discontentedness, and I began to understand what emptiness truly was. 
I learned of bitterness. I learned of anger. I learned of hatred.
I learned to steal. I learned to fight. I learned to thrive.
I felt *Happiness.* I yearned for **Freedom**.
I watched some die. I watched others not.

In it, I found ***Life.***





 __***`So I will live.`***__

_ _
The scent of blood is one of the main engaging factors that brings clarity to the conceptualization of ***`Bloodthirst`*** As a technique. But the emplaced vow that spawns forth the strength of its existence is not necessarily blood, but rather the existence of an **Open wound.** Where fire and magma arises, blood evaporates; where once was grey flesh is now what is like stone, the body reinforced. Yet the **Incarnation** And its awakening does not necessitate the regeneration of his **Open wounds**, and neither does it necessitate greater weight. Be he physically more endurant, it does not mean his ability to retain his footing in the face of an impact whose force far outweighs his own gravity is made superior.

That is to say, his footing would continue to be challenged by the kick. "REED" Had carried into it the whole of not only his bodyweight, but a strength in leaping superior to Rift's own leg-strength by a significant margin (the use of a maximum-output **`CRUSHING BLOW`** Bringing him briefly to ~1.4x Rift's strength). In turn for continuing the kick, Calderon's scales sizzle lightly against the surface of the red-hot surface of Rift's leg, and yet it is not something he cannot bear. *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Is conceptually the body wholly reinforced, granting its user a mild resilience to elemental spells.

One who knew absence and absence only for much of his life knows how to grant meaning to nothingness. The changing pressure in the blade against which he clashed — the absence of that extra, resisting force against his outward push — had a meaning, discernable and clear. In the wake of the intense heat wrought by Rift's **Incarnation**, his **SOUL** Brilliantly bringing flame to the atmosphere around, "REED" Is again brought to the world of fullness before him.

*A world of fullness and of wonder, and of stories told by the battle unfolding.*

He would begin to react to Rift's assault before it had even begun.
_ _

The Medeian warrior's toothy smile that demonstrated his lizardlike fangs grew wider, as, in a moment, he discarded all hesitation. The purple mana about his body flares violently, as *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Resists, to a degree, the extreme ambient heat as released by Rift's body, this very same, scorching heat once a thing that "REED" Had learned to defeat. In the same vein of intensification, energy begins to pour out from his **SOUL** And throughout his mind and body both, washing over them like a dense wave of raw energy or adrenaline.

Rift now possessed a physical endurance and strength greater than "REED"'s own, yet the Medei continued to possess an innately, slightly-superior speed.
One that would now transcend Rift's own by an immense margin.

__***`ADRENALINE RUSH`***__
**For one turn, Calderon enters a state of vastly heightened speed and senses.**

This was his other ace for which he earlier prolonged a moment of wait, meditating and focusing as the seconds of the technique's cooldown period ticked away.
His maximum speed and reflexes — already subtly accelerated about 10% over Rift's own via the continuing effects of *`Bloodlust`* — were now doubled, both buffs compounding one upon another; and not only that, his raw, accelerative force would roughly be *Tripled.*
_ _

*"Momentarily".*

Rift's right hand had only left his blade momentarily, yet "REED" Had felt it in the moment of time now flowing at a halved rate before him in an instant. It was something he had mentally predicted and physically anticipated, as aforementioned, due to the resistive pressure against his shortsword beginning to wane.

It was only momentarily, but one moment was all he needed.

Upon Rift's hand leaving his blade, "REED"'s own does as well. His left hand, once upon the handle, is removed, leaving only the resistance of his right hand upon the tip of the blade to continue pressing against *`Vilethorn's`* Form. His resistive power, in doing this, is made tremendously weaker than Rift's own, and it is for this purpose he waited for his opponent to release his two-handed grip.
_ _

His action happens simultaneously-to-almost-preemptively, though more than twice as fast than the former's. Simultaneously, utilizing his grip on Rift's right leg — a grapple "REED" Maintained at the cost of the burning of his own left foot — he pulled himself inward, tugging on a continued grip that would maintain whether his opponent's stance was broken or not. It carried him with the same, explosive, unbelievable accelerative force that the combined abilities of *`Total Body Reinforcement,`* *`Bloodlust`*, and *`Adrenaline Rush`* Manifested — the culmination of the collective efforts he had been making to achieve momentum in this duel. With these, he carried himself even closer into Rift's body, avoiding the arc of the oncoming fireball entirely by bringing himself so immensely close — he would bring himself almost pressed against Rift's body, his head tucking inward and around and past the right side (Calderon's right) of the guard of *`Vilethorn,`* That blade the Weavecutter wielded, the tremendous heat pouring forth from it scalding against his face, already deeply wounded by a burn upon its left half.
_ _

Yet his free left hand travelled with an even greater force and momentum inward, crossing over his right — toward Rift's eyes.
Two clawed fingers outstretch, and by stealing Rift's tempo by taking his action simultaneous with the beginning of Rift's own assault, he hoped to steal away his ability to react, as well.

***`I will live.`***
***`In the face of the Sun, I will live.`***
***`I will live, and I will live fully. I will live no matter what.`***

**His claws encroach with unimaginable speed in an attempt to take out both of Rift's eyes.**

Yet that would just be the beginning of his assault.
In any amount of time Rift could take a single action, "REED", empowered by both *`Bloodthirst`* And ***`ADRENALINE RUSH`**,* Could take two.

He operated on the same tempo as Rift. As Rift's hand would return, "REED"'s had already found its place again on the handle of his sword, reeling back from the attempt to blind Rift — be it successful or not — once again fully supporting the weight of his blade against *`Vilethorn.`* His attempt to reposition his blade would mostly be ineffective; "REED"'s shortsword, between the two, was on the inside of the bind, not outside, itself having earlier deflected the oncoming thrust outward to take the defensive position. The Weavecutter had sacrificed central tension to protect himself from a cutting motion, leaving a wide vulnerability in his guard. Regardless of the rotation or the reangling of the blade Rift might attempt, it would ultimately pivot against the shortsword, which remained centric in the bind; to attempt to pivot it to reangle a cut would only leave him significantly more vulnerable to a thrust.

Thus thrust "REED" Would. **With the second of his two motions, he stabs decisively inward toward Rift's center-mass.**
Linda
Decisive indeed. But not in the definition of an outright winning strike.

**VVVvVvvVVvVvvVVVVNNNNNNNNnnNNNNnnnNn**

It is not so much a *Spell*. It is instead a sudden, temporary, genetic alteration in Rift's very *Being*, spurred on by a sudden influx of energy towards the emblem, *Orion*, from the gem upon *Vilethorn*, who then disperses and uses the energy accordingly. The **Incarnation**, then, can be thought of more as a unification of three beings. Rift being the host, *Orion* Being the beating heart of the operation, and *Vilethorn* Being an auxiliary energy core. It is reminiscent to that of a Vestranimi-Interloper *Fusion*. Perhaps there is more than meets the eye to that peculiar ruby...

The **Pivot** Was deep, despite its hastiness. It had been intentional from the very beginning to wait for an opportunity such as this. By moving with Rift, Calderon had turned far more to the *Right* Than Rift to the left, should he indeed have kept his claw lodged in Rift's foot.

As Calderon's claw *Reels* Towards Rift's face, he ducks back, the positioning of *Vilethorn* Suddenly changing as Rift brings his left arm out *Just* A bit–

*VWOM-cHnK-*

The **Magnet** Inside of the holding apparatus engages, the *Aegis* Suddenly snapping into place at breakneck speed - as attracting magnets *Should*, of course - and with immense structural rigidity between the metals being employed. The rope that Calderon had been made to step away from had continued to bring the shield *Closer* With each passing millisecond, not caring for whether or not the Medei were in its way or *Not*.

_ _
In this very same moment that Calderon's claw begins its motion, the *Aegis* Returns to Rift's hand as he moves its protective surface to block, both pushing Calderon's blade out of the way, and crashing the full weight of the shield into Calderon's hand, preventing such a swift maneuver from being threatened. As his opponent thrusts, it is well within the *Aegis*' reach and capability to block the attack.

**"Victory will be decided in a single blow."**

*Vilethorn* Flashes red – blood red – as Rift, with his strength and control over his opponent's footing – him having tied his foot to the knight's *Shin*, forcing his foot to adopt a strange positioning each time Rift moves it, as he is forced to go along – pushes inward with his **Incarnation**'s strength and durability, letting out a loud yell as he powers through, pulling his right foot *Back* And into the *Aegis*.

*Vilethorn*, on the other hand, disengages the attack, going for a *Very* Low *One-handed* Thrust of its own on Calderon's offside leg using Rift's *Right* Hand.
Jillian
*`ssp`*

*Unimaginable speed.*
With ***`ADRENALINE RUSH`*** Active and making Reed 2.4x faster than what would be considered possible for peak human physiology, Rift's ability to react — let alone dodge in such a confident manner — would be tested. In truth, the Medei warrior's arm would go from fully-unextended to fully-extended in the impossibly-quick period of __seventy milliseconds__, its pace heightened leagues beyond that of even the pinnacle of human dexterity, exceeding Rift's ability to react by more than two times. In attempting to dodge the gouge at his eyes wholly and with his senses and reactions rather than relying purely on his instinct and his instinct alone, Rift would critically underestimate "REED"'s sheer accelerative capacity. ***`ADRENALINE RUSH`*** Made him more than twice as fast as Rift.

*`You are unwilling to give up anything.`*
The Weavecutter's vision is washed red, as pain pangs his skull, the light of the world fading quietly into the obscurity of crimson. "REED"'s clawed fingers return, bloodied, wrapping around the handle of his blade, as two more stacks of *`Bloodthirst`* Are added to tally to a total of four. His claws would have already pierced into his eyes by the time Rift had begun ducking his head backward.

*`And that is why you will lose everything.`*
His mistake was held in attempting to avoid the blow entirely.
_ _

"REED" Would not move with Rift.
The Weavecutter's footing was not as steady as he had thought. As Rift had taken no special measures to restabilize himself after "REED" Had just crashed into his leg with the whole of his own bodyweight propelled by a strength superior by 1.4x to Rift's own, he had misjudged, or perhaps entirely ignored, the sheer force Medei warrior's inward kick, as it earlier shot Rift's foot out from under him, the Medei having then strongly tugged upon his opponent's ungrounded leg back in toward himself in order to both pull himself in for the attack on his eyes and to prevent his opponent from easily regaining his footing. As aforementioned, his Incarnation may have granted him greater endurance, but neither greater weight nor greater friction — and thus, taking no special reaction to the kick, he was, in a moment, stance-broken, his foot forced off the ground and there suspended momentarily by the grip "REED" Maintained on his leg. His ability to shift and pivot would therefore be hindered for a moment longer; "REED would be taken nowhere by Rift's motion, as it could not have been made in the first place.

 
In the very same moment that the *`Aegis`* Began its motion back to Rift's hand — it being a reactive action taking place during the period of time the effects of ***`ADRENALINE RUSH.`***
_ _

His body shifted left, inward, and downward to entirely avoid the shield's return, as "REED" Leaned forward and again pulled himself by tugging on the grappled leg to tuck below *`Vilethorn`*. In the same motion, his hand pulled backward as he disengaged his thrust halfway, drawing away and dodging the arc of the shieldbash. He switched to a traditional two-handed stance from his earlier half-sword stance, his right hand relinquishing its grip on the edge of the blade and pulling back to rest with his left upon the handle of the shortsword, which he pivoted and now more shallowly pressed in the bind against *`Vilethorn`*. From this position, his body completely tucked beneath the longsword, his sword leveraged at an angle over the back of his head in order to prevent the descent of the blade upon his moving body. The motion was smooth, impossibly fast, and impossibly low, having taken place earlier as "REED" Reacted to a reaction of Rift's own, the then-persisting effects of ***`ADRENALINE RUSH`*** Meaning he could both foresee and meet any action taken by the Weavecutter with at least two of his own. In summary, the action would leave him on the outside of the bind and to Rift's right in a single motion, "REED"'s sword angled downward and the flat of its blade pressed against the outside of his own right forearm ("REED" Released the two-handed stance after he passed beneath the blade), the latter of which was used to support his stance in a continued bind pushing towards his right and against *`Vilethorn`*.
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As Rift's grappled leg began to pull back toward and beyond *`Aegis`* (at this point in time, the knight would likely regain his footing), the Medei, at the inception of the inward force, released his grip on the knight's leg. The scales of his underfoot were then briefly revealed, flaked and scorched at their edges as his outer skin had been reduced to a meld of cauterized deep-red and charred black — the heat had penetrated deep, suffusing all of the thickness of the epidermis and dermis beneath. The conflagration had dug deeper for each second Calderon had fought against the pain to maintain his strong grip, yet the shroud that was *`Total Body Reinforcement`* Owed itself well toward protection against the complete destruction of the limb as caused by extreme heat; his fat, muscle, and bone remained mostly in-tact to moderately-damaged, at most. His foot was by no means in healthy condition, but what strength in mana "REED" Reinforced it with allowed for its continued use — at an impaired rate, granted — as a functional appendage, at least for the time being. What had become of his eye earlier was the result of a moment of carelessness and a critical blow upon a tender spot of the body, and he would not allow his leg to succumb to a similar fate.
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Thus Rift would possess no sway over "REED"'s stance. From the moment he had taken his opponent's eyes onward, the Medei warrior shifted his goals entirely. Four total stacks of *`Bloodthirst`* Brought him to a state of passively-enhanced speed almost exactly 1.4 times faster than his opponent even without the effects of ***`ADRENALINE RUSH`***, the volatile waves of purple mana enshrouding his body flaring, subtly, in accordance with his elevated speed, allowing him to again foresee the motion of his opponent's attack in the very same moment it began to occur. *`Vilethorn`* Was beginning to disengage from the attack, yet "REED" Would not let it — as the red-hot metal slid against metal, the Medei thrust his body inward with a powerful left step while maintaining the flat of his shortsword against the length of the longsword, again pushing close toward Rift as the knight, too, pushed inward; the Medei warrior, however, would be angling himself such that, timed correctly, he would slip past his opponent's right entirely.
_ _

That would not be until after he had launched an attack himself, however. From the angle "REED" Leverages *`Vilethorn`* While it descended in its exceedingly-low thrust, he deflects it away from his own leg much akin to how he had engaged earlier, though this time leaning much of his bodyweight into the closer quarter of the Weavecutter's blade as he drew nearly point-blank with his opponent. It is in that quarter-of-a-second as "REED"'s shortsword slid with immense speed toward the crossguard of the longsword that he utilized his enhanced dexterity to shift grips — from left-handed to right-handed — the shortsword now in a reverse grip. The Medei's body, still pushing forward, simultaneously thrust downward, his tail tucking between his legs as he transitioned into a forward slide just prior to actually passing-by the knight. He withdrew the shortsword from the bind entirely, pulling it far to the left (Calderon's left), downward, and around the clearance of the *`Aegis`*, before rapidly stabbing it back in toward the right side (Rift's right) of the knight's retreated right leg, all successively as he continued his sliding motion.

_ _
His intent was to wholly bypass Rift's guard and to skewer the side of his leg around the anterior knee region with a rapid thrust, targeting a nigh-indefensible location for a blinded target with intent to cripple: a sudden attack whose success would be further leveraged toward by his considerable, continuing speed advantage. Were it to successfully hit and pierce into the leg, "REED"'s full-body momentum, including his forwards and downward velocity coming into the slide, would be further employed — before he ultimately came to a standstill to the right of and behind Rift — utilizing it, upon a successful stab, to rapidly slice diagonally down through the tissue that stood between it and its exit through the back of the calf in an attempt to strike a critical artery and sever a majority of the bulk of the calf muscles.