Description: Searching for one of the people whom instigated Jiro's weakness that ended in his replacement as a student, Dante plays rather coy with the model, more interested in debate then the instigated battle. But that changes at the end, and Jiro's rival will doubtlessly require a more vigorous assessment... Also includes Alma violation.
Home sweet home.
Though Alma knows it is a folly of his own limited perspective, but there remains a certain comforting sensation about returning to his apartment, a feeling that... things haven't changed. The walls are the same warm colors, the place is clean and still smells faintly of the last batch of cookies he baked, his weight room still has the boxes Tran left with him stacked up neatly in the corners, the little shrine with the photograph of his family remains intact. The fact that dust accumulates only enhances his feeling, too-- for it is such a simple, calming, and centering thing to dust and wipe down the surfaces, a mindless menial task that yet seems to have a profound spiritual quality to it. That kind of reciprocity, barely any effort for a feeling of true order and self-assertion, is impossible in the outside world, and rightly so. In the outside world, there are other people. In Alma's home, there is only Alma; and whether or not others are admitted is entirely his own choice. It's his own little world, where he can see the depths of his soul reflected in the littlest of touches, safely unshared. Where he can be alone.
This is important.
But Alma has been alone for a very long time...
"Sit, Hero."
...and, to be honest, it's really not all it's cracked up to be.
Thus Alma Towazu, psychic prettyboy extraordinaire, sits outside now, on a bench in the grassy block that serves as a little park to the children of this area, dressed in whites and tans and smiling softly down at the addled young dog at his side. Hero, no doubt with permanent mental disabilities as a result of being descended from Mimiru's faithful friend Max, appears to be excitedly engaged in a personal vendetta against one of the bench's supports, chewing vigorously on it as he writhes happily on the grass. For a moment he does, to his credit, seem to attempt what looks vaguely like a sitting position, but then quickly forgets the command in pursuit of further glory against his wooden foe.
And Alma, leaning back with his hands neatly folded in his lap, seems at peace.
With his duffel bag unpacked and his board shorts, sand-caked from his unanticipated struggles on the beaches of Okinawa, now fully washed and hanging out to try next to an open window back inside his apartment, the young would-be champion of virtue seems content to take this afternoon off, savoring the time before he must leave Japan again, packing in another League tour before his break ends and he must return to modelling and school.
Yet today, Alma is going to be violated.
A lean and tall figure, broad of shoulder but narrow of limb, approaches. It might seem peculiar, as he would be likely rather alarmingly close when the long, impossibly fluid gait would be first noticed. Dante wears a black trenchcoat of a peculiar fabric, flowing like silk but refracting almost no light; Rippling surreal through the air. It is trimmed in silver, and three clasps upon the front keep it closed -- entwined serpents, intricately crafted. The sleeves are overly voluminous, billowing a few inches past fingertips. Although his head is bowed too much for any facial features to be easily recognized at the onset, swathe of short brown hair slicked back. Nothing that might register beyond a stranger -- he no longer brazenly trouts around his tribute to Kain's ensemble in the public, after all. Were Jiro to have met and given a distinct description, it's likely he would not go unnoticed even at range, however.
No attempt is made to hide the fact that he is openly approaching Alma, but neither does he do anything remotely aggressive. Dante would merely stand there, a meter before the attractive youth whether he opts to remain sitting or stand. For a few moments, an eclipse of darkness within the otherwise peaceful serenity of the surroundings, gust of chill wind flowing through during the intervening seconds. Green eyes, faint undertone of actual glow, peer from features sunken and almost sickly, what skin visible pale despite a vain attempt at tan. His form is almost shrunken beneath the drapes of clothing, to most more alarming given his sheer height. Nothing can be seen upon his expression, features neutral and calm.
But his aura is another thing. Dante is a powerful man, not due to strength; But what he harnesses. A darkness, twisted and literally poisonous, courses through his very body and soul. Eating him alive, even as he feasts and prospers from it. He may well be the greatest example of a snake eating it's own tail; Although the hunger is satiated, at best he can hope for limbo.
And now that Dante realizes it... he is searching for a new source of food then the expense of his own physiology.
"Alma Towazu..." Friendly, although there's a rasp and almost cough to the voice. Seeming no more healthy then the rest of him. "It is a pleasure to meet you in person. Would you take the time to talk?"
One arm lifts, sleeve parting enough to expose his hand towards Hero. An attempt to coax the dog over, as if he wishes to pet it. But the animal would likely be aggressive regardless of normal temperament, or at the very least recoil. Predatory vibes, ominous and dangerous, permute in waves that one of such psionic bent would easily register just as well as the hapless canine.
But such seems to be a normal medium; The Dante's mind is calm and disciplined, as if the inferno within is hardly noticed or effecting him, regardless of the saturation. Nothing can be read beyond that background aura... Making the sudden smile, stretched too thin on lips too pale, all the more foreboding.
Animals, we hear, have keen senses when it comes to sensing coming disasters. Dogs can sense seizures in humans before the human is even aware that one is coming; they detect earthquakes before instruments built for the purpose can. Hero, despite his evident lack of refinement, seems to have hitherto unevidenced talent along these lines -- before he perks up suddenly and abandons his game, looking wary. He glances up to his master with furrowed brow...
But Alma too has straightened, man and dog on the same wavelength. Neither of them are looking in the right direction to see Dante's approach. Neither of them seem to notice him specifically just yet. But Hero seems to sense something that worries him, and Alma-- looks a little strange. Confused, maybe, or just thoughtful, and for some reason, tinged a little with what looks like regret. For he has sensed the approach of an unusual aura, yet rather than seek out the source of it with his eyes, he seems consumed by an internal question.
The question is, why, when he felt that, did he think...
~ Jiro!? ~
...and why hasn't he seen Jiro in so long?
It's been a long time since Jiro felt like that.
The young would-be champion of virtue gazes off into the distance for a moment before his sixth sense reasserts itself in his consciousness, reminding him of the matter at hand. That aura! Wait--
~ It can't be. Is it-- ~
No, no. It's not strong enough to be... that man. But it's the same sort of cold fire; a hungry oblivion, a voracious flame that really only feeds on itself, destroying others casually, accidentally even in a twisted sort of way, rather than out of a genuine necessity. There aren't many other auras like that. Few can refine hatred to an art so precise and clear that it is free of any of the normal residual emotions, like bitterness or rage. Jiro certainly never did.
~ It was a sign of his humanity, and his strength. ~
Even if the elder Kasagi never truly learned to believe that.
Regret... free of despair or shame... but regret all the same.
~ I have not been here for him as I should be. ~
So preoccupied by his memories of Jiro is he, in fact, that when Dante approaches and speaks, Alma, though still in a more alert posture, does not even look his way, as though the words do not register. Only when Hero, ears flat against his head, begins to growl menacingly at the his arrival does Alma absently reach out a hand to comfort his canine companion and look over to Dante, face mild and calm but eyes startlingly intent.
"That depends," the handsome youth says, voice soft but very clear, "on what we shall talk about, and why--"
Rather than scoot over or offer the tall man a seat on the park bench, Alma rises to a standing position before him, almost coming up to Dante's full height.
"--and who you are, sir."
He is quite polite, in a very genuine way.
But not friendly.
Not friendly at all.
Of course, the peculiar reverie of Alma isn't missed by Dante's own keen eyes. He can see it etched within the nuances of the model's face, and the tension of his body. But he remains perfectly calm, almost a perfect echo of Kain were one to significantly scale him down; Except for that taint, that sickness, which seems to be a direct result of the very energies that boil within the lithe fighter. He retains the smile, hand retracting without surprise or care as the dog reacts with expected aggression at the Ankoku disciple's mere presence. Eyebrows arch when Alma finally decides to speak, but there's not so much as a single step backwards as the other figure rises. Despite two inches of height more, Kain's pupil is not intimidating. He would seem quite fragile, in actuality. But believing one's eyes can be a rather overt mistake, in this case more then any.
"You seem confrontational." Dante's voice is soothing, a rasping sort of purr as both hands slowly raise, palm out, in a placating gesture. And then he moves. The speed is rather disturbing, open hand attempting to impact Alma within the chest and forcedly shove him back into the bench. To many eyes, the shift would be at best a blur, but in terms of damage? Harmless, if it is pulled off. More disarming is that regardless of the outcome, not once did his body, mind or aura betray that intent.
Even for Alma, Dante is completely impossible to read. Is it his darkness? The poison in his blood? Some more transient shroud? Such is likely irrelevant.
"Take a seat. I do not care to fight you. My interest is only in those superior to me. True advancement is only possible upon the precipice of oblivion, your back to the wall, and every heartbeat could bode victory and defeat. You... do not interest me at all."
Both arms now cross before a narrow chest, Dante lifting his shoulders and then allowing them to fall. "Jiro Kasagi. You are a friend of his. The poor boy... he interests me. I would like to see all those who forged and shaped his life. To better understand his weakness." Teeth are finally shown, and green eyes narrow.
A hissing sound can be heard, which seems to be some inner boil of chi. Not yet visual, but haunting just the edge of perception.
"You are the antithesis to power. Worse then even his hopeless sister. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in your past. A man who believes in destiny, who believes truth and the power of heart and one's guiding emotions can surpass any obstacle. Can achieve any goal. Is this true? Were you one of the many fateful muses that called Jiro to crash upon the rocks, like some siren? ...Are you really the man he refused to kill?"
One question was unanswered for some time, and finally he seems fit to give it. "My name is Dante. I am Kain Heinlein's present student. In a way, I must thank you. For if Jiro had not fallen, my chance at this strength..." His eyes cast down to one hand, as a gout of purple fire is summoned. It dances and crackles, like too much oil upon a stove. Although it incites a sharp look of pain and tension, sweat rolling down Dante's brow, the look of delight is so true and almost savoring that it can be an unnerving prospect that pain brings such bliss.
"...May never have come."
Masochism? Or something even more transient?
Alma's eyes flash.
Not in fury, nor in panic. Not because of any emotion, or at least, any emotion that's representable by any kind of physical accompaniment. His expression does not change from its calm and composed demeanor, the set of his mouth still soft, his limbs relaxed though his posture is straight as always. The reason that the flashing of his eyes has nothing to do with such feelings is because, when such feelings are felt and such dramatic gleamings result, the 'flash' is figurative. It's sort of metaphorical. Outside light catches the eye as the head tilts suddenly; that sort of thing.
Alma's eyes /really/ flash.
And when Dante's harmless strike impacts against his chest, the taller man expertly channeling force into the fighter-model in that attempt to set Alma back on the bench, the result is a small eruption of dirt and grass around Alma's feet -- and no movement at all. Completely still yet without even having stiffened, the young man displays equal control over force as it, to all appearances, channels every ounce of Dante's force right back into the ground.
They remain eye-to-eye.
And Alma listens.
He displays emotion only once; his composure slips slightly at Dante's final question -- 'Are you really the man he refused to kill? -- blinking once and shifting ever-so-slightly at what appears to be news to him. It's extremely subtle, but no doubt Dante will detect it; it is a sign, if nothing else, that Alma is as human as anyone, overall serenity aside. But even as one prone to internal monologues, he will not be distracted now. He continues to listen quietly, giving the other man time to, as it were, introduce himself.
He watches those flames, senses that pain. Then:
"Superior to you."
Alma repeats that, carefully, as though tasting the worlds.
"You have no idea," the youth finally says, softly, calmly, "what that even means."
"You should be interested in me," he continues, gazing into Dante's eyes. "I am superior to you. I am superior to you in ways you would not be able to fathom. I was superior to you yesterday, and I will be superior to you tomorrow--" He doesn't move. He doesn't shift in the slightest. But somehow, through some effect -- is it his eyes? is that light in there again, somewhere? -- he seems to grow larger, taller. "--and if you took that fire," he continues, "that power, and consumed the world itself, everything in it, and me as well... I would be superior to you."
The ambience becomes slightly oppressive, as though they are in a stuffy room and not outside, and Alma, by all appearances without consciously intending to, without changing his expression, /looms/, somehow.
"Your power is meaningless," he says simply, "and so it is not power at all. That is why I am the antithesis of your power... Dante. Because you wield nothing, and I wield something. And though nothing is indeed a formidible and dangerous weapon against something--"
Yes, there is a glow, now; flecks of pink and purple in his hazel eyes.
"--I have learned not to fear nothingness any more."
Will any of this make sense to Dante? It would probably make little sense to an innocent bystander, of which fortunately there are none. But it seems to make sense to Hero, for with a serious expression unusual on a dog, he pads a few yards away from the bench as though to give his master room, and sits down looking alert.
And it makes sense to Alma-- which is why he's still alive today.
"I will not tell you anything about my friends," he says simply. "But if you want to understand them..."
A halo of light faintly frames his body, as though a sun has risen behind him.
"...you should, I think, understand me."
COMBATSYS: Alma has started a fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Alma gathers his will.
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Alma 0/-------/---====|
The simple and almost lazy defense to the shove doesn't seem to shift Dante's demeanor at all. He is aware that Alma is likely his equal, and would probably have an advantage in a fight. But he is not what the Ankoku disciple is looking for presently; Right now he needs meditation and focus, not further fighting. Were things allowed to progress to the end as intended, Dante would never have made a first blow, and left Alma in relative peace at conclusion, even if he had refused to say anything meaningful. Just looking at him tells more then he could have had explained.
...But it seems such is not going to be the case today, during the gloat of comparative strength.
"Are you." This isn't even a question, and as the purple flame within hand is observed, there's no sign of the statement so much as bothering the Ankoku disciple. "I am afraid Jiro would not agree with you. I saw it in his eyes, when I met him. The regret. The thirst. He is hungry for what I possess. Do you believe me when I say that? His sister did not. It's remarkable, how so many of his 'friends' believe to know the Stray Dog so well. When I doubt you have seen him in weeks. Have spoken heart to heart even longer. What do you expect but for his to fill with darkness, when all the light has given him is his lonely vigil, one path shirked to find there is none left to follow?"
Slowly Dante shifts his free hand over his palm, and the purple fire dances. The hissing intensifies, from a cacophony to a single, focused sound. Shaping, swirling, a long tendril beginning to rise. It billows, wispy but somewhat clear, into the shape of a snake. Only a few inches thick and about a meter tall, but apparently more show then anything else. Although it bobs and weaves, menacing – and easily within striking distance, if it's actually some manner of assault.
"Not everyone in this world can harness the good, Alma. Just as not everyone in the world can harness the evil. You should not be so naive to think one superior to the other, or that what I hold is potentially any lesser. I know your energy. I have researched it. It is... Psycho Power, correct?"
Something can be read. Something terrible. But not what.
Slowly Dante begins to migrate in a circle around Alma. His chi is built up, the little weaving snake dancing and flitting and hissing, trying to catch Alma's eye. The intent is to be much akin to a cobra; Alma would feel that he's about to be attacked, that much is certain. Simply not in what manner. The model might not catch within this proverbial serpent's hypnotic effect that he is trying to migrate so that it is Dante far closer to Hero. Not nearly within's arm's reach...
But still, far too close.
"You claim to fight with purity and good will, and that your light will conquer my darkness. But I heard that such power is significantly stronger when bolstered by hate. When fueled by a desire to kill and to injure. That the absolute practitioner of the world embodies naught but this. I would like to see if that is true..."
And then Dante's snake blooms to life. Only it does not strike towards Alma, as might be expected; But with all the tenacity of a true viper, would shoot towards Hero, attempting to sink what appear to be transient fangs into the hapless dog's neck, before dissipating in a buff of Ankoku fire.
The effects on a human superhumanly conditioned are devastating usually, even within small doses. On a hapless animal, it could be quickly fatal were it to connect.
And during the attempt, Dante simply smiles. Expression no different then when they first met.
"Jiro has no capacity for light. And I think he is finally going to embrace the darkness. ...A pity I plan to kill him. We have so much in common, him and I."
COMBATSYS: Dante has joined the fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Dante
COMBATSYS: Dante focuses on his next action.
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Alma 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Dante
"I know."
The words are soft, almost inaudible.
"I know Jiro seeks what you have," Alma continues quietly to himself, even as Dante's power begins to be summoned, the hissing rising and his sixth sense screaming out, vibrant shades of darkness surging into his field of perception, encircling his soul like a snake's coils. "The capacity to destroy is easily mistaken for power; if it weren't, there would never be any such technique as yours... but..." As though unaware of the wispy viper that has now gone so far as to manifest visually, he continues, gazing straight ahead, seemingly deep in thought. "What Jiro needs is a reason to live. Too much has been taken away from him. I have tried to give, but-- but I cannot give him faith. I cannot give him self-respect. I cannot teach him what... took me so very much... to learn..."
~ But I must try. And... I have not been trying hard enough. ~
Alma's head lowers, and blonde, red-tinged bangs shroud those glimmering eyes.
~ Brother... I'm so sorry. ~
Hero whines, but Alma seems insensible to that too. The handsome youth is staring at the grass, and it is impossible to see, with the way his hair now drapes around his eyes, what is his expression. He seems gone to the world now, unable even to sense the coming danger, blind to Dante circling him.
The snake strikes--
--and quick as lightning, smooth as silk, Alma grabs it by the tail.
The fires of his soul ignite.
Yelping in surprise and dismay, Hero scampers farther away to narrowly escape the hissing head of that spirit-snake, and Alma's chin lifts. Within the pupils of his eyes is an unquenchable fire, a fire much different than Dante's; and much the same. Yes, the other man has perceived part of the difference, the difference that leads people to name Alma's power uniquely. The main difference, however, if one can truly articulate such a thing, is that while his opponent's power to destroy seems as though it were an insatiable void, an eternal vacuum that consumes endlessly, Alma's is a kind of outpouring, and when he destroys it is by grinding to dust with the fullness and abundance of the energy he possesses.
To possess a hate beyond reason is a pinnacle of human achievement.
But if it has any parallel--
The fire of his eyes is reflect in his hand, and the snake is consumed by soulfire, vanishing into the aether from whence it came.
--it would be unconditional love.
"I don't know about good and evil," he says, bringing his flaming hand before him like a knight coolly brandishing his sword. "But I know about truth, and right and wrong. And you are wrong. You are wrong about me, and about my power. You are wrong about yourself, and about your power. Most of all... you are wrong..."
And he lunges.
"...ABOUT MY FRIEND!"
Stabbing out to pierce the darkness, Alma strikes with all his being. Soulfire, kindled, blazes bright, white fire with traces of pink and purple energy that surge out as though forming a lance, and though it appears to strike at Dante's body, and indeed will fill him with a sense of burning, the fire is an illusion, and the force is really striking at something else-- at his certainty of what his real, and the boundaries of what he understands to be his self.
COMBATSYS: Dante endures Alma's Self Expression.
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Alma 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Dante
There's a snort as the little snake is grasped, Dante seeming to remain as unperturbed as ever about the result, although he's at least proven that his curiosity has no bounds. The flames dissipate thereafter, Dante finally taking two steps backwards and slowly squatting down. His stance to many would be outright laughable, flexing one hand close to his body and holding the other out, palm up. It's a genuine style, although recent; A wushu known as Nanquan, if woven and integrated beyond more then base recognition by the teachings of Kain and Grant in the last half year.
"What does love give you? Had I killed that dog, I would not have cared. It is but an animal. All that requires for this detachment... Is to hold no attachment to life or death, and bear no hesitation in taking it. Yet all this love and hope grants you is a potential pain, the likes of which I might never fathom even with this poisonous blood... Tell me who is made weaker by that."
There's little time for further palaver however, rushing forward at the exact moment that the surge of psycho power fills Dante's being. Although it scorches through, attacking his very thought, sizzling through his veins, the pain is little different then what he is long accustomed. And his movement is little more then a blur, right leg sharply striking upwards, bursting into purple flame that again sounds like a nest of serpents in an attempt to impact Alma within the stomach -- as if his self expression did nothing. Were the impact to be true, Dante would spiral around, bringing up his /other/ foot in an attempt to bring the heel agains this chest. A truly gargantuan detonation would follow, trying to blow Alma backwards and hopefully send him skidding away, to land some distance in the grass even as Dante falls to his stomach, nigh-prostrate on the ground.
"...Hrrmph." He could care less whether he wins or loses. He will still not turn his back on any fight.
COMBATSYS: Dante successfully hits Alma with Strong Kick.
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Alma 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Dante
"And all that is required for /this/ detachment--"
Alma's spear of light pierces Dante's form, but his opponent is strong, and fully prepared. Having committed himself fully to that strike, the handsome youth is unable to react in time to defend himself when the wushu-ankoku fighter counterattacks almost instantaneously, and the twin kicks impact forcefully. Alma is sent skidding back through the grass, doubled over from the attack-- but he does not fall and does not stagger. And when he rises from his position, he finishes his sentence without a trace of breathlessness, as though the pain has already been dealt with.
"--is to hold no attachment to life or death, but to cherish them both for what they can mean to us all."
He is already springing forward; he did not even seem to bunch his legs to prepare. The force seems to come from somewhere else entirely; he soars through the air, arcing low and fast.
"And if you think that the capacity for pain is a weakness--"
Dante may still be on his stomach if Alma moves as quickly as he intends to, but whether he is or not, the first kick is a low one as the tall fighter-model slides in with a fearsome flame-shrouded kick. The impact, if there is one, will be explosive, and it will be followed up with a series of more soulfire-enhanced kicks as Alma firmly plants his palms on the ground and, gripping the soil through the grass, uses his arms as an axis to spin rapidly and lash out with his powerful legs again and again. If he has caught Dante in this whirling attack, the final kick will be aimed to catch the taller man in the chest and boost him into the air, knocking him off the ground and perhaps even sending him flying.
"--you may not even understand your /own/ style!"
COMBATSYS: Dante fails to interrupt Rising Fury from Alma with Taipan.
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Alma 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Dante
There was merely a grin as Dante's right hand bursts into purple fire once more, and as the man came forward he again summoned forth a serpent almost exactly similar to that prior. A forearm attempts to interpose before the enshrouded foot, but he's caught harder then anticipated; His assault vanishes into wisps before it truly began, sending the older man skidding backwards before the further onslaught is unleashed unguarded. But the final blow, although resolute, does not send him flying. He skids back a mere meter, stance spreading and bending forward slightly with both fists closed. There's an almost casual and playful manner to him, as if he's simply enjoying a little game.
"Oho. You are quite the willful man. So adamant about your personal belief." Brushing off the front of his suit, Dante's neck cracks in either direction before his stance spreads once more, almost sounding to be exasperated. "Troublesome. As I said, I did not care to fight you. And have no intention of fully trying." But he still cracks his neck to the side, almost lazily. "But you are wrong about Jiro. Everyone is. I had no idea... how blind love can make you. Speak with him after this. Seek him out. I am sure he is asking for me. And when you look into his eyes, tell me if you see salvation."
Dante's once more low to the ground, one fist near his chest and other palm forward, waiting for further retaliation. Almost somewhat impatiently, to a level mayhaps insulting. He could at least take this more seriously...
"Hmph."
Poetry in motion, Alma twists upside-down one final time on the powerful axis his arms have granted him and then, with the residual force of his final kick, seems to lift off the ground. Faint sparkling lights, the aftereffects of summoning his soulfire, trail from his fingertips as he leans back and gracefully flips backward through the air as though it were water, landing lightly and easily on his feet. With the way he rose up, it seems clear there could have been a serious follow-up attack had Dante been launched into the air; but his opponent has foiled that, and so they stand apart, gazes locked again.
Alma's face is tilted slightly so that he looks askance as he regards his opponent; there is nothing but calm and focused purpose on those features, but the angle of sight is the same as one might take when looking upon trash, or some manner of filth equally foul.
"You want to learn about Jiro, right?"
It's no good for Alma if his opponent doesn't try. He wants Dante to try. He needs Dante to try, to bring that dark corrupted soul of his full to bear, so that Alma can sense it, see it, fight it.
"I am his true rival."
And /crush/ it.
"You will never defeat him if you cannot defeat me--"
Again he lunges, knee forward as he thrusts through the distance.
"--and so long as I live--"
The knee lashes out but it is no more than a feint; a blur of three jabs to test Dante's guard, but these too are a feint. They lead Alma into a fierce elbow strike to his opponent's temple, aiming to stun him momentarily, and disorient him enough so that the true knee strike, with his hitherto unused leg, can impact heavily against the enemy's midriff.
"--I will never let you kill him."
COMBATSYS: Dante interrupts Strong Punch from Alma with Sidewinder.
- Power hit! -
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Alma 1/---====/=======|====---\-------\0 Dante
Merely because Dante claimed he had no interest in trying does not make him less dangerous. That would be the notion of a fool; A bite is still a bite, whether you rouse a viper to motion or it does such of it's own accord. The only difference is aggression. His expression remains bored, seeming to look at Alma as if he were nobody in particular. which might be the case, in this instance.
"He interests me, as I said."
This is responded smoothly, with just a hint of interest. That turns into a laugh. The man opposite roused Dante to actually try. And in that moment, it revealed the depths perhaps of the power he might have, and could indeed possess further along the line. His left forearm interposes before the knee, and similarly strike aside each jab cleanly. The right merely bursts forward with purple fire, rattling before Dante's eyes narrow.
He sees it now.
There is no elbow strike. Instead, Alma is hit from the hip to the shoulder in a vicious uppercut, mayhaps cleaving through his shirt as if it were butter and leaving a scalding red line upon the skin. The trail of Ankoku fire sizzles purple, whirling like a serpent's body with the dissipating fist being the head. The force is sheerly brutal, likely enough to send Alma staggering backwards. He seems to have been barely affected by the impact.
"...You are wrong about one thing at least. ...I believe I am Jiro's rival now."
"Nngh!"
It stings-- the attack and the words, together, as though one.
Alma does stagger this time, and the long tear through his shirt reveals that indeed Dante's chi has had its effect, for his light bronze skin is an angry red where the power has touched. Slipping almost to one knee for a moment but quickly managing to regain his footing, the handsome youth grits his teeth as he reaches up gingerly to stroke his fingertips over the large welt, looking down almost as though disbelieving.
Alma's physical and emotional states are closely linked. One of the secrets of Psycho Power, of course, is that /everyone's/ physical and emotional states are closely linked, and it does not take a genius to know that in one way or another; but Alma's are connected more intricately than most as a result of his development, and it shows here. For the physical unbalancing caused by the sudden counterstrike has temporarily weakened his composure, and it is as such that Dante's comment seem to strike home. Alma doesn't react all that much; his confidence does not really seem to have been shaken. But he does not disregard it, either-- as perhaps he otherwise would.
~ How can I still justify that claim... ~
Alma, teeth still grit, lowers his head slightly, though his gaze does not shift.
~ ...when I have not faced him in so long? ~
But it is only a moment before he breaks free.
Again, this occurs on both an emotional and physical level; as Alma's irrepairably torn shirt flaps awkwardly in a breeze, the model symbolizes his resistance to Dante's claim to true rivalry with Jiro by grabbing both flaps on the shirt and tearing, ripping the clothing to shreds that he casts down to the dirt. Upper torso magnificently bared, inner fire still glowing adamantly within his eyes, Alma Towazu relaxes his limbs, straightens his posture, regains his poise, and reassumes his loose, still stance.
"No."
That, it seems, is enough.
~ Never! ~
COMBATSYS: Alma gains composure.
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Alma 1/----===/=======|====---\-------\0 Dante
"...Sigh. So many fools." Dante comments with a rather exasperated sound, standing upright and seeming to possess none of the theatrics. Although some of his own clothing is singed; The sleeves of his trenchcoat are blackened, as are both loafered feet where he summoned the gouts of chi. It's hard to tell given the color of his attire, which might be half the reason such was chosen. One hand merely brushes the front of his coat, fastidious, at the Hulk-style display of tearing fabric. "It is too late, I believe. I intend to corrupt him. I want him to yearn for it. I want him to look upon Kain, and thirst for the power he had forsaken. Beg to be taken back. Before I kill him, in front of his his potential mentor. And there's nothing you can do about it. When I ask, Jiro will come. He will enter Kain's mansion, and never again be seen by you. Or Hotaru. Or Mimiru. ...Such a short list. Such a short list of friends, and he admitted to me he had seen none in so long. Hah. What a pathetic fool. This is why... I need nobody. Do not call me weak. It does not insult me; It only insults yourself, for proving how narrow-minded your viewpoint is." He seems to be rather rejuvenated to say the least, licking pursed lips before beckoning at the figure opposite. "Come. See if you can end this. For I have no need to prove myself to one so deluded."
COMBATSYS: Dante gains composure.
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Alma 1/----===/=======|===----\-------\0 Dante
Alma, too, no longer has any use of words. They have both explained themselves now, to an at least sufficient degree. They have both made their intents relatively clear, as clear as they can be made. That was all that was required.
That was all that he wanted.
'Come.'
He goes.
Soulfire ignites around his legs once again as Alma leaps, powerful frame coiling up and surging into the air, moving as the hunting cat pounces. He descends in a steep arc and twists, and his right leg begins to trail a curtain of pure fire; it licks up and down his calves and foot, emitting faint motes of light like stardust. The momentum builds with the torque of his midair spin -- and then he has closed in, and has lashed out with a fierce hooking kick to Dante's head, the heat of his passing causing a series of small explosions to erupt in the air behind him.
He emits a kiai, a roar of unrelenting fury, infused with purpose.
"UUUURYYYAAAAAHHH!"
At this point, it says more than words ever could.
COMBATSYS: Dante fails to interrupt Shooting Star from Alma with Taipan.
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Alma 1/--=====/=======|===----\-------\0 Dante
Again, Dante is merely relying on one of his signature techniques -- it's the easiest for him to use, which is the best maneuver for a fight he could care less about. Although effective, there's doubtlessly far more to his style that is completely unrevealed. His chances remained rather good even as Alma approached, this time in the midst of summoning the purple snake of Ankoku fire, only to be struck within the face before he can strike it out to lend purchase. As if such would have even stalled the raging fighter in the first place. Stumbling away a couple meters this time with his back momentarily facing, there's a genuine laugh as Dante comes to a stop, turning back to peer with his stance spread. That still didn't quite knock him down, but a trail of blood is seen coming from the corner of his mouth. "Aww. You seem to be getting angry. ...But do you feel stronger? You seem it. That blow landed harder then any of your others prior." Dante spits bloodily with a laugh, spreading his arms and stance. Completely open. "As I said. I am only toying with you. Yet if it will make you feel better... Strike me down!!" The latter seems more a dare then anything else; As if the youth truly doesn't think that Alma is capable of it.
"I'm not angry."
Calm -- voice soft, even -- Alma draws himself up from the crouching position he landed in after his fierce acrobatic kick, and... it at least /seems/ to be true. Whatever frustration might have arisen after Dante's claim to rivalry with Jiro, if frustration it truly was, seems to have gone again. The young fighter-model, though his eyes are intent and focused as ever, has maintained a mild and gentle visage even after that mighty kiai.
"I'm /furious/."
He lends a real and strange weight to that word, as though, in the way that he means it, such an emotion could not be farther away from anger.
And his eyes -- how they burn.
"Expressing anger," he continues softly, simply, "would hardly do my feelings justice."
His pants begin to ripple in a breeze that manifests for no one else. Trails of white light blaze into existence more readily than they ever have before, coiling brightly around his forearms and biceps, spinning rapidly and scattering motes of his energy into the surrounding air. The environment around him seems to waver and swim; the effect of a great heat, a heat that builds greater and greater until it simply cannot build anymore and can only stream out from the youth's eyes as though his head contained the sun itself.
He closes his eyes, gently. It is almost like closing a lantern's shutters.
"Prepare."
Admist the movement of the air, Alma is perfectly still.
COMBATSYS: Alma gathers his will.
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Alma 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|===----\-------\0 Dante
"Come, come, then. I am becoming impatient." Dante muses, flicking up his hand and once more molding a snake out of purple fire. It whirls once around the black-clad fighter, flickering his own trenchcoat in a whisper of motion before spreading what seems to be a hood in a rattle. And then flashes out, shooting in an attempt to sink purchase into Alma's body as he focuses his energy; Only to detonate rather harmlessly thereafter. The damage would not be from the manifestation itself after all, but instead the thorough violation of the chi and body of the person it came in contact with -- shooting inside, like some injection, ergo in a more interesting package. Dante's still laughing, seeming to think whatever might be coming from the other fighter is hardly anything to worry about. "Show me what the failed rival of Jiro is capable of...!" He's turned one hip towards Alma, free hand entering a pocket. Not making it completely failsafe to assault him, but...
COMBATSYS: Alma interrupts King Cobra from Dante with Absolution EX.
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Alma 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Dante
Alma plunges through.
The violation might have succeeded, under different circumstances. Dante's poisonous chi might have fouled the psychic youth's emotional state disasterously, confusing his physical movements as a result, scattering his focus and ambiguating his intent. But Alma shines with a passion that cannot be denied. The force of his inner flame is like an antidote, burning away at the taint; or perhaps it is, in its own way, a poison to fight the poison. Whatever is truly the case, Alma and his aura remain pure and unblemished, apparently totally unaffected by the projected strike.
He tears through it as though it were mist.
And when he reaches his opponent, all the energy he has been gathering to this point has focused in a single fingertip of his right hand -- and that glow has bloomed like a deadly flower, forming a blaze of light and fire that seems like nothing less than a thunderbolt from the heavens, casting down judgment upon Dante's poor unfortunate soul.
Heaven probably has nothing to do with it--
"Here."
--but it is, indeed, a kind of judgment.
Butterflies, and spring breeze. Green grass, two smiling faces. A funeral shroud, light glimmering on the streak of a tear. Broken ceramic, shattered glass. Pain, grief, searing unsurmountable despair. A void of emotion, nothingness, emptiness.
Light.
A light that fills the whole world.
And so Alma's self is projected out and surges into Dante's, shaking the pillars of the foundation of his sense of being, physical pain accompanied by what may become complete emotional bewilderment as images without any context blaze naturally in a strange collage in Dante's inner eye.
And then it is done, and Alma has stepped away, calm and resolute.
What is the failed rival of Jiro capable of?
"That."
There's still no look of concern upon Dante's features as Alma comes forward, barely even attempting to step backwards. He looks to be almost laughing, a dry and rasping sound as he only finds a glowing finger. "What do you hope to..." The man gets no farther then this. The detonation of energy flows through his entire body, and the feelings, sensations, are absolutely foreign. Dante has never felt so violated in his entire life. Somehow it's more painful then anything else, and when it comes to a stop there's a loud cry, the man falling to his knees and grasping the sides of his head, green eyes wide. A few heavy coughs come out, but then a look of the most seething hatred fathomable. "You..." And then he snaps forward with incredible speed, arcing back his right hand with a snarl and attempting to impact the other man in a somewhat desperate assault more then anything, gouting with wild and at best partially directed purple fire. "What the hell was that?!" It's not an easy thing for Dante to lose his cool -- but that was... something completely unlike anything he had ever experienced. And for the first time, the Ankoku practitioner looks both angry and serious. Likely far too late in the battle to accomplish much... But Alma at least has now been taken seriously.
COMBATSYS: Alma interrupts Fierce Punch from Dante with Divine Intervention.
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Alma 0/-------/--=====|=======\==-----\1 Dante
Alma sighs softly, a deep breath of satisfied release.
He derives no pleasure from the pain of his opponent even though he strives for victory; as he implied before, in what feels like ages ago though it could not have been more than a couple minutes, victory for him is beyond the results of any individual contest. But he has made contact. His soul has touched another. This time it has caused pain, because this is a conflict; but, even if not all feel the same way, Alma truly believes that pleasure and pain are equally valid sources of meaning. His opponents may not glory in the clash of wills as he does, but-- they usually learn something more or less important, and that, at least, can be meaningful.
Dante seems to have learned something.
And he doesn't seem to like it very much.
Alma, eyes closed, has let his power fade from visibility. Whatever oppressive feeling his will might have created is gone. He has allowed his energy to flow, and thus it has ebbed. It is as though he has sheathed his sword. His poise does not leave with it; his posture does not change. But he has settled, he has relaxed.
Dante is fast.
But, despite closed eyes and the lack of any gathered energy whatever, Alma is somehow, impossibly, faster. The punch is slapped aside, not dismissively but with grace, as though it were part of a dance that he and Dante were dancing together, and the other hand thrusts forward in a palm strike. But the palm never strikes. Instead, a beam of light shears through, piercing. The power comes from nowhere-- but it goes straight through Dante's chest.
If Alma's last strike was the crushing blow, then this is the coup de grace; if the last strike shattered armor, then this is the knife through the heart.
"As you are now," the youth murmurs, while his lips remain close to Dante's ear, "you will never know."
Then the beam erupts, and the taller man is heaved away.
And Alma just looks ahead, inscrutible and implacable.
"You lose."
No anger, no joy, no thrill of the triumph.
Just certainty.
Just the truth.
Ah; Dante is done for now, as the final pulse of psi energy shoots through him and he stumbles forward, gripping his chest, a couple meters past Alma. Although his body has barely quit, nudged with a gentle shove past the precipice where everything slows down, too lethargic and winded to be a proper threat, the semantics had changed. Alma had initially been little more then one of the laughable friends who tried to preach such love and glory to Jiro -- and failed, from the meeting seen. But he now has a vendetta, to say the very least. Twisting around, ignoring the cloud of his mind, Kain's student literally erupts into purple fire. It flares up, scorching the ground around him as his entire form begins to sizzle and crackle in a whirlwind of hisses, peeling away clothing to reveal snake tattoos apparently on all exposed portion of his skin. "Hrrraaaaugh!" Again a hood of chi splays; That of a snake, but incredibly larger then any seen prior. It shoots out, easily a meter thick, attempting to seek out and coil Alma as best it can; In order to constrict heavily before unleashing a vicious detonation upon the other man, although it's more likely to dissipate before ever finding contact.
"Hah..." Immediately beginning to calm down after that little expenditure, Dante wipes blood from his lips once more. "...So you wish to see exactly what I am capable of? Know this. I have trained in these fires for mere months. ...I have been fighting for two weeks. And this is the stage I am at. You cannot deny my strength... or that this is merely the beginning of my potential."
Smiling once more, Dante backs away, looking more disoriented then physically hurt by all accounts. "But your final technique I have never encountered before... Expect to meet me again. Mayhaps you have earned a full demonstration; Unlike many, I care little about loss... especially if I learn something from it." Too late by now, after all. But he turns and begins to leave, brushing flakes of ash that float like snow in his wake. The sacrifice he has made is not in his mind, or his soul, but his body.
"...And find Jiro. Although you will not like what you see. If nothing else, it will humor me to see you again, and watch the broken expression... when you realize every word I said this night was true."
COMBATSYS: Dante can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Alma 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Dante successfully hits Alma with Death Adder.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Alma 1/------=/=======|
Alma just gazes on as Dante rages, summoning up the last of his strength, and sends the enormous snake at him. The chi wavers at times, threatening to collapse in on itself before reaching the youth; but it stays strong. And Alma... does not move. He looks on, but does not move.
It's like he doesn't even care.
In reality, of course, Alma is completely exhausted. It occurs to him, in a rare instance of input from his conscious mind, that he should not even have had the reserve to counter Dante's last attack; and realizes simultaneously that if his conscious mind is cutting in, he's definitely on his last legs. It is perhaps a silly thing, but for whatever reason, Alma is determined not to sprawl to the ground in a desperate effort to evade Dante's final attack; he would rather endure the pain than waver even slightly.
So endure the pain he does.
But when the wrenching, hideous embrace is finished, and Alma slumps back onto the ground, swaying and seemingly only just managing to maintain his footing, he does not seem finished. On the contrary, while his body must at this point be quite battered, when the young man raises his head his face again betrays nothing but the most genuine calm.
He waits for Dante to finish speaking, out of genuine interest, or perhaps just to make sure he has caught his breath. Thus, when he speaks, it is with a clear voice, one not short of breath.
"As long as you continue to refer to what you possess as 'strength'," Alma replies, "you have not truly learned anything from your defeat."
And he turns, stiffly but with dignity, and takes a step away.
"I will find Jiro."
He begins to walk, and Hero, coming out of his relative hiding, joins him. The dog casts Dante a look strangely free of its previous dislike; it is, as it was when they began fighting, strangely serious, in a doggy sort of way. This will have to suffice for another look from Alma, for Alma does not look back. He continues moving, and though he faces away, his voice still resonates clearly.
"And I will not allow you to succeed."
COMBATSYS: Alma has ended the fight here.
Log created by Dante, and last modified on 06:50:04 03/28/2007.