As the man spoke, the fire gradually consumed more and more of Ayl's body. When he was finally finished, there was hardly a spot on him that was free from Hellfire. A smile crossed his face for only a moment at Vaan's last words before a swirling, intense aura of dark energy sprang forth from the ground, enveloping him in a sort of pitch-black cocoon, pulsing and writhing with unholy power several dozen times more concentrated than anything he had used in the past. The sheer force of it shifted concrete debris across the street and shattered the few remaining windows on the nearby buildings. Gradually, after a time, the cocoon began to die down, revealing what had happened inside of it.<br/><br/>The man who stood before them was not he who had been covered only moments before by those deadly blue flames, which were now completely gone. This man stood in excess of 7 feet tall, with a thin build that was still somehow incredibly muscular. He had brilliant white hair that reached down to his mid-torso, appearing almost perpetually slicked back with only a few strands hanging loose in front of his currently closed eyes. His ears were long and pointed, with silver crescent earringss hanging from them, and his skin was a dulled grey, only vaguely reminiscent of that which a human would have in tone and complexion; it appeared almost rough to the eyes, though touch would prove otherwise. Impossibly black 'clothing' akin to loose pants and boots rested on his legs and feet, though it was clear at first glance they were no earthly material. They twisted and danced in their appearance, a dark smoke occasionally seeping from their edges. Rather than clothing, these were an unbelievably intense concentration of The Reaper's own powers made manifest, and they ebbed and flowed with his energy as such.<br/><br/>A pitch black belt of sorts wrapped around his waist, blending in flawlessly against his other adornments. From this belt hung three lengths of deep purple cloth; one on each side, and one in the back. The strips on the side were uniform and neat, edged with a silver trimming, while the piece in the back was different; it had no trimming, and it was easily the longest of them, with its jagged and torn edges reaching nearly to the ground. His upper torso, arms, and head were bare, save for a single silver bracelet around each wrist. A seven link chain hung off of either side, each ending with a small but intense concentration of dark energy. His appearance was decidedly demonic, and the pitch black color of the entirety of his eyes as he opened them only served to reinforce it.<br/><br/>Gripped tightly in his right hand was his chosen instrument of battle; a dual-ended scythe, one blade on each end of its pole, christened Omen as a sign of his eternal duty; one which encompassed both justice and cruelty. The topmost blade was tilted out in the traditionally accepted form of a scythe, while the bottom blade was pointed vertically down, acting as a sort of spear on the end of it. A thin line of energy ran through the center of each blade, connecting it to the main body; because of these channels, he was able to rotate and shift the blades to any angle he pleased at any given moment. The weapon's pole was almost as long as the man was tall, and exceedingly detailed, with numerous complex markings and symbols adorning it, from skulls and curved bones to runes and sigils of unholy property. Visible dark energy flowed throughout the pole; in particular from the center, where it appeared to almost cut the pole in half, as if it were fusing two pieces together. The blades were lengthy and equally as intricate as the rest of it, with markings carved along the entirety of their edges, each symbol infused with an aura even more intense than his outfit and emanating a constant, visible stream of dark energy. The blades themselves shined and gleamed with an unearthly consistency, being made of a material scarcely ever viewed by the living of any realm, honed to a flawless thickness crafted and preserved over eons of effort.<br/><br/>The weapon on its own would be enough to terrify any man or beast to its core, but the combined presence of the two was absolutely startling. The sheer intensity of power and intimidation this man exuded was almost palpable.. and why shouldn't it be? The man now standing before them, he who had previously been known as Ayl Taveirn, was none other than the Harbinger of Death; the Reaper of Souls.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The Grim Reaper.</span><br/><br/>With a snap of his finger, a transparent, black barrier appeared behind him, separating Vaan, Merle, and himself from everybody else. He then turned his attention to and studied his opponent, the one named Vaan, intently. He thrust his weapon downward, the spear end easily cracking through the ground and holding the weapon upright as the Reaper rolled his neck and shoulders, stretching out his upper body. He took a slow, deep breath; and after exhaling, he spoke. "Thank you kindly, for ridding me of that shell. As convenient as the disguise was, I must admit, the limitations it held against my powers were beginning to be a nuisance." His voice was similar to that he had under the guise of Ayl, only rougher, and with a noticeable demonic tinge; without even needing to be said, it demanded silence from all gathered, as if speaking against him was in itself a crime worthy of death. He raised an open hand and looked toward it for a moment, curling and uncurling his fingers. "One can hardly even bind a man together without nearly falling apart," he chuckled, his fist clenching shut.<br/><br/>His eyes returned to Vaan and his arm dropped, his expression taking on one that seemed almost bored. "I was beginning to wonder when you would show yourself, Vaan.. or, as I know you, Abaddon. I was aware that one of Hell's advocates knew my identity, for their attempts to have 'Ayl' destroyed would not have been so.. excessive, otherwise." A deep laugh escaped his lips, lasting for only a few moments and soon being replaced by a silent grin. "I never<span style="font-style: italic">dreamed</span>it was you."<br/><br/>With barely a twitch from him, Omen pulled itself from the ground and shot back into the Reaper's hands. This time, the weapon's pole was split in two, severed directly through the center concentration of power. These smaller handles were tied together with a constant flow of thin, dark energy akin to thread, and each were held in one of Ayl's hands, the blades behind his arms and sticking directly upward. He began slowly advancing toward his opponent. "Very well. If you are in such a hurry to end your life," he began, his voice loud and threatening; "then allow me to show you.." his arms flicked skillfully in his moment of pause, the weapons in his hands momentarily released from his grasp and spinning so that the blades were facing forward; "..why I am called<span style="font-style: italic">'Death.'</span>"