Description: Two men that would change the world; two heavens, irreconcilable, that would shine over us; two warriors that would be king. The Radiant Angel, relentlessly pursuing the faintest of leads, has chased a shadow to the hellish light that cast it, seeking his rival savior: the Genius of the Ryouhara. More than any despot or god-king, these two, with the strength of their ideals, strive toward opposite and messianic ends. Seeing in his nemesis a reflection of himself, Alma Towazu cannot forgive his existence, and strives onward-- to face himself, in the mirrored mask of a terrible adversary and her shining White Blade, amidst the bowels of an inferno. Yet what awaits him is a power beyond his imagining, and the beginning of something that even this champion cannot yet comprehend. Hero of Taizhou, what is the Zero Law of Heaven-- and with what Law will you supercede it? (Winner: Alma)
Alma Towazu is in Hell.
A blast of scorching air sears metal links that have already suffered far too much, melting steel dripping down from the maintenance bridge -- itself deeply in need of maintenance -- into the forbidding inferno beneath. Conveyor belts hiss and grind with the oppressive sounds of industry, the cacophony brought to a terrible pitch by the bubbling of the molten metal that has flooded the lower levels of the facility. Noxious fumes rise from the contained pools where alloys are mixed and ore purified, a complex system of kettles and counterweights automating the smelting process. Yet visible below the production area, between the grates and the girders, is a glimmering doom, a field of what appears to be lava, the result of a facility long since fallen into disrepair yet forced to go on: an overflow of red-hot cast-off metal, which has swept through and hardened to block off the original delivery bays and entrances. There is simply no way Nenzhao Metalworking, as it was once known, is being used in its original capacity; it is half-destroyed at best, the whole monstrous mess teetering on catastrophic collapse and self-incineration. And yet--
Somehow, this factory functions.
But to what end?
The Radiant Angel of Southtown and once Hero of Taizhou tears a button off his desginer top in his desperation to be even slightly cooler, wiping his burnished-bronze and profusely sweating brow with his other hand, and continues to crouch amidst the bridge, regarding his possible -- indeed, probable -- death far below with a mild, even weary gaze.
Being immolated in one's own incandescent passion is one thing.
Magma he can do without.
He's only metaphorically a phoenix, you see.
There are few visitors to this area of Huangyan, to say the least. This land was abandoned long ago in the wake of the notorious Seishirou Ryouhara's Taizhou terrorist attack. Alma participated as part of a united rapid-reponse of international aid, his own community organization's foundling international branch for the first time a part of it, and notably foiled Ryouhara's own personal attempt to sabotage the supply line. Yet as Alma's own prestige and political clout have grown, so has he become more aware of the enigmatic ninja's own designs, and all too conscious that the Radiant Angel's own efforts to expand his power -- out of the sincere desire to help others, of course, and guide them to the right path -- have brought him in contact with Ryouhara's sphere of influence. Even the Sky Noah, flagship of Adelheid Bernstein's ally organization, has Ryouhara's marks upon it. Alma's concern mounts-- and his memory of Ryouhara's words that day remains unfaded.
~ The Zero Law of Heaven... ~
There is one thing Alma cannot deny: they are both men of convinction, and such men are few that are also leaders. Megalomaniacs such as Vega and Igniz, or Adelheid's father, brilliant and awe-inspiringly powerful though they might be, act fundamentally out of their own self-aggrandizement, a small-minded enterprise no matter how vast its expanse. Yet Ryouhara is not such a man. He possesses a brand of integrity that, though Alma refuses to believe it anything but doomed to self-destruction by its false premises, cannot be denied. He, too, is a man of passion, not driven by fear.
He is...
~ A savior. ~
A different brand of would-be messiah.
Maybe that, more even than his evil, is the real reason why Alma stayed behind, why he remains in Taizhou even now, and why he is here, searching, searching for something he half-understanding. To be sure, his righteous indignation in the face of Seishirou's heinous acts is genuine, as it is -- and remains -- against the man-god Igniz. But even villains of such a caliber cannot drive stakes so deeply into Alma's heart. It's Seishirou's very sincerity that makes Alma all the more suspicious. No-- suspicious is not the word.
Loathing.
He loathes Ryouhara, with every fiber of his being.
Maybe that's why--
~ I have to destroy you. ~
They're too alike.
In truth, much of Taizhou was now Hell. But this place, Nenzhao, was perhaps the one place in all of the city where the description could be said to be literal. Molten metals are used as a deterrant, a boundry - a method of protection. Any normal person approaching this place would immediately feel the need to turn back. When the outside of the building is ringed in literal fire, even the most determined civilian will grow cautious, and then fearful. Moats of magma; if this is what greeted them, what awaited inside? And yet, if one were careful, and skillful enough, there were ways to enter within the building. Only to find out indeed, that there was worse waiting on the inside. And yet, despite the magma, despite the sheer heat that rolls off the surface of the molten metal below, there are things here that pique the interest of the determined investigator.
To begin with, the factory still functions. That in itself is an oddity. What keeps the place working... and more to the point, what for? There are other signs, as well. Nothing so overt as a written document lying around, but simply the atmosphere and placement of objects... most notably the magma. This is meant to keep people out. To make them turn back. To protect something. What? It isn't known... but at the same time, it seems as if there are signs of preparing to receive something. Something... big. Both in terms of literal size, and in terms of importance. This facility is meant to house something that is important enough to have a literal sea of fire to protect. So what is it?
Unfortunately, to find out, one must delve further into Hell.
And Hell has a gatekeeper.
It's almost impossible to hear over the rolling sea of fire below, the clang of machinery. But there are footsteps. How the intruder was discovered, how this guardian tracked him down - irrelevant, and likely are a given in any case. If something was important enough to guard with lava, surveillance was natural. And there were only so many stone bridges that one could cross in this factory. Heavy boot falls - coming up the stairs.
And the first thing Alma would see, were he to look, would be his own reflection staring back at him from the mirrored sheen of a featureless helmet.
More comes into view. This person, if it indeed even is a person, is dressed in gear that would make any military of the world drool with envy. A combination of steel plating that looks as though a samurai's armor of old, but with practical, cold, and modern fittings such as dragonscale kevlar armor at the joints that cross the old look with a new, paramilitary feel, the figure is nothing short of a walking tank, no visible sign of a human being under all that armor. It moves unnaturally under the weight of the armor - that is to say, perfectly fluidly, as if the person were born from the womb with all of that armor on. And worse yet, this guardian carries with it implements of destruction. On its back, a blade that can only somewhat be called a 'sword' any more, due to its sheer size. At its hip, what appears to be an ancient flintlock rifle, fitted for a massive caliber - yet retrofit with new trappings that make it look alien, yet ugly. Brutal.
This person, whoever it is, dressed in pure white with blue celestial markings etched into the armor, carrying weapons of murder, comes to a stop some feet away from Alma. And then, they draw their sword.
"You will have one chance to leave here under your own power. Take it now. Or be cast down."
The voice is like a rusty metal ring, neither male nor female, just hard and unyielding. The person wrapped in a tank's trappings extends their blade, holding what looks to be a thirty pound blade aloft in the air with one hand, without wavering in the slightest.
And they wait. Silent.
In the midst of the cataclysm, a human sound.
Almost undetectable, and not merely due to the clamor: the pace of the figure is as steady as the rhythms of the surrounding machinery, its armor like another more silent implement in the sinister process afoot. Even Alma's passive psychic awareness does not avail him as it should, whether due to an intensity of stress that even his own resolute will struggles with or some training on the part of his adversary -- the same that could disguise Ryouhara's presence to him. No, it is his own reflection that first catches Alma's eye, that forbidding facemask emerging from the abyss on the other side of the bridge.
The beautiful youth rises, sweating but clear-eyed, his stance and gaze steady even as a blast of skin-meltingly hot steam surges between the two of them from a broken pipe, ignoring a sudden flare to the side that sends a splatter of molten iron along the side of the maintenance bridge.
Even in devastated Taizhou, a maelstrom such as this one stands out. It is true: there is too much conscious intent evident to the discerning eye; it is almost too terrifying. But what does it matter? Who would dare approach? What manner of man wanders here?
"I will not."
Alma blinks rapidly, squeezing his eyes shut once, attempting to focus his mind in the face of the torment about him. It will be a challenge to concentrate. Yet his heart is true and his spirit, if not his consciousness, is steady and fresh. Indeed, he feels almost renewed, to discover some opponent here: he has succeeded in following the elusive Seishirou's scent here. And there is no doubt within him that he must continue. He is driven, by his own nature. He and Ryouhara must stand before each other once again. And he will do whatever it takes to summon that man-- and foil him in any possible way.
"Tell me what purpose this place serves."
When the Radiant Angel opens his eyes again, his mind seems clearer. His posture straightens, and a sudden burst of flame behind him does not even seem to register. Indeed, once it passes, it seems to linger-- in a halo that has fomented about the youth's handsome frame, a pearly luminesence that drifts up from his arms and shoulders. Those hazel eyes now glint with a rising passion, a vent that leads to a wholly different forge within-- a sea of flame, flecked with cherry-blossom pink and royal indigo.
"Show me what Seishirou Ryouhara is planning."
Alma Towazu raises his right hand.
"Or be swept away!"
Even with his energies focused, he is unsure about the magnitude of the aura before him. Yet this is of little concern. He simply must continue. Every mote of existential urgency within him is focused sharp upon this moment. He cannot flee and remain the man he is. He must fight.
The Radiant Angel clenches his fist, and it explodes into soulful flame.
He is certain... that Ryouhara would do the same.
COMBATSYS: Alma has started a fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Alma gathers his will.
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Alma 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Rako has joined the fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Rako
The challenge is laid down. Leave, or we'll make you leave. There's a considerable amount of force behind this threat. When you're being faced down with what seems, essentially, as though a human being were wrapped in a war machine and carrying a sword and a hand rifle that would make most lesser men weep at the sight of it, and they are telling you to leave, most people would leave. But not this Phoenix. Indeed, the challenge is thrown back into the White Steel's face. And demands are made in return. Tell him what's going on. Tell him what the Ryouhara is planning. And indeed, if these demands are not met, then the youth in front of the war machine promises retribution. And then follows this promise up with a display of power in kind. If this sudden burst of energy, the vent of light, impresses or strikes fear into the armored foe in front of the youth...
There is little sign of it. Indeed, little sign of anything other than a grim determination to carry out the first threat.
There isn't even a return of words. The Cold Will does not answer any of the questions posed; the Will merely descends. The human's body flows oddly fluidly for wearing so much heavy armor, shifting into an odd overhand stance where the blade is held aloft, parallel to the ground, above the war machine's head. Then, with a step forward, Rako Saze challenges the youth's will to fight with a deadly answer. The sword then simply -comes down- as though a waterfall of steel, moving with such sudden force and speed that the sweltering air actually seems to part, and momentarily things feel cool... before the blade descends anyway.
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Rako's Tonbo Tsukigiri.
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Alma 0/-------/=======|-------\-------\0 Rako
Heart sure, spirit afire, Alma's mind is sharp--
"Tsch!"
Like a blade.
The Hero of Taizhou acknowledges, and does not further contemplate, the fluidity of his armored adversary's movements; how such motion is possible in such gear is both beyond his comprehension and irrelevant to the facts of the battle. He must defeat the one standing before him. That certainty, more than psychic awareness and physical reflex alike, drives him onward, toward the height of technique--
A rush of cool, refreshing air.
--and the summit of passion.
Two palms, wreathed in pale and heatless flame, catch the sword an inch from Towazu's nose, arms trembling as they hold the massive sword at bay; only for a moment, though, before he twists with all his weight to redirect the force of the blow, sending the blade crashing onto the stone of the walkway even as his leg sweeps out with the momentum of his own torquing motion.
It is a test of the armored foe's agility and strength: for casting the sword to the side might unbalance them, and it is in that window of opportunity that Alma strikes, a kick abruptly igniting with his gathered energy. Unless Rako can recover quickly, a fire-imbued roundhouse kick will slam powerfully into that faceless mask, buoying the Radiant Angel off the bridge's metal-scorched stones with his own summoned Soul Power as he lashes out with a series of follow-up kicks at varying heights.
"Uuuuuaaahhh!"
Sword and gun faze him as little as the lava did.
Alma Towazu must forge on.
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Rako with Rising Fury.
- Power hit! -
> Determined Hit! <
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Alma 1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Rako
The determination and passion of the youth before Rako is not unnoticed. Though masked, when the blade is caught between the two hands wreathed in cool flame, there is an impression, perhaps in the form of just the tiniest of nods, of the figure being impressed. Just an instant of clarity, and then the fighting resumes. It is surprisingly easy to twist the blade aside and send it crashing down - likely, for whatever reason, that attack given to Alma had been a touch draining on the armored figure. And why not? In this sweltering heat, the White Blade of Nirvana must surely be human still, and wearing the armor, wielding the weapons they do, not to mention the sheer ferocity of that attack, anyone would be a little drained. The sword crashes into the stone - indeed biting into it part way - and then there is little time for defense.
The kick strikes brutally. A solid blow; easily felt to be damaging. The mirrored sheen of the helmet is cracked, though no features of the face within are seen through those cracks, merely the youth's own face reflected back at him, slightly marred by both the cracking and the cold flame searing across the surface of the mask. Though the blow is devastating... the person barely moves. Head turns to the side sharply, but the body does not follow, and they do not stagger. Instead, they wrench the blade from the ground, lifting it up into a vertical hold, the blade tip pointing straight up. Holding it one handed, Rako makes a hand gesture with the remained armored fist, and intones the words. This would be a fight the Cold Will could not take lightly, it seems.
COMBATSYS: Rako calms her mind. "I am the White Blade."
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Alma 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Rako
The... White Blade...?
"White Blade, tell me."
Sweat continues to drip from Alma Towazu's smooth brow, pale ruby-tinged locks draped low, one still-glittering eye obscured by the contrast with his bronzed skin-- yet as he propels himself from his opponent with his final strike, he lands smoothly and without visible fatigue, even seeming somehow revitalized by the emergence of combat, the spirit for battle exuding almost palpably from him. The heat of this factory--
"Why do you fight for that man?"
It is nothing compared to what burns within his soul.
"Please... I must know."
Yet for all his passion, the phoenix's words are calm, even gentle, and the burgeoning energy within that half-glowing visible eye does nothing to mask the mild and aware -- even concerned -- expression he maintains. For all the conviction in the set of his features, there is an openness to his stance that matches the look he gives his opponent.
It's the truth, after all.
He needs to know.
Who is Seishirou Ryouhara?
And, of course--
"I must!"
--what does that tell--
Flame still gathered within that fist, he weaves suddenly, lunging.
--about who Alma Towazu is?
His fist opens, and seeming almost to curve as it emerges, a dart of spiralling fire sparkles out, pink and sizzling like the flames beneath them both. He rolls as he lands, both creating space and distracting from how the actual attack comes from his original position, aiming to slam against the armored opponent and slip by their defenses.
COMBATSYS: Rako overcomes Sacred Wave from Alma with Saija Danjuu Breaching Shot.
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Alma 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Rako
A mantra, a kind of koan that is used for meditation, to calm and still the waters inside the person within the armored shell. A deep breath, which seems to fill the entirety of the war machine's armor, and then it's let go. The youth questions Rako, but all Alma sees for a reply immediately is that same reflective mask, showing the YCAA coordinator his own expression, his own sweat, his own determination. He implores for the reasons as to why Rako would fight for 'that man' - the Ryouhara.
Eventually, the answer does come.
"Loyalty."
This is approximately .03 seconds prior to the second answer Rako gives: the sound of a thunderous gunshot. Spiralling flames are met with a spiralling bullet of pure blue energy. The two collide, with the bullet winning, if perhaps only barely. It slams through the pink, sizzling energy and then flies straight at Alma. The feint to try and get by the defenses does little, apparently, as that huge calibered firearm is brought to bear faster than action heroes in old Western movies at the quickdraw. Rako even flips the gun once and stows it back at the armored side of the armor, readying the blade once more.
COMBATSYS: Rako successfully hits Alma with Saija Danjuu Breaching Shot.
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Alma 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0 Rako
"Urgh--!"
This is no ordinary bullet.
Alma is not taken by surprise with /that/, at least. There is no way Ryouhara would arm his minions with weaponry that had not already been enhanced by the workings of his malevolent genius. The strike itself, however, simply comes too quickly, even with its path impeded by the Hiten-Ryu expert's blast of psychic flame. His evasive maneuvers are for naught: he can only raise up his arms to protect himself as best he can as the huge firearm's shot erupts against him, and still he is bowled over, hitting the ground hard on his back.
"But why--?"
Smoking mark on his chest and burnt garment aside, Towazu remains able to quickly rise to a sitting position, hefting himself up by his palms. Yet his position is vulnerable, and who knows if his adversary will shoot again? He scrabbles behiind him, with a hand obscured by his body.
"That man--"
Debris, from when his opponent's sword struck the bridge. He grabs a hefty handful of grit and hurls it forcefully at the armored warrior's cracked, mirrored mask.
"What could he have done to earn your trust?"
Perhaps that fistful of dirt disguises a more damaging rock-- but no, the move is a feint. If it obscures Rako's vision even only for a moment, it will obscure Alma taking to the sky, leaping high above the stone and the inferno beneath, surging forward with all the speed and strength a psychically-emboldened leap can muster. There he will streak down upon his foe, fearlessly approaching that massive sword.
"Do you--"
And attempt, with preternatural agility, to balance upon its tip, one foot just touching, like a weightless angel, atop the head of that pin.
"Do you share his dream!?"
A brief feint, shifting with the other suspending foot-- and then a single chop with his right hand, crashing down on that helm, aiming to spread the cracks upon that mirror.
"Show your face!"
Show your true colors.
You extension of that invisible man.
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Rako with Quick Punch.
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Alma 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Rako
The gun has already been replaced at the armored form's hip. The sword is held aloft, prepared to strike again. Rako simply stares down at the youth, or so it seems, not moving. It's somewhat odd, likely Alma might realize, how this person is fighting. Their intention, stated at the beginning of the battle, was to get Alma to leave... that is all. And so far, though the White Blade's attacks have indeed deadly enough to pay attention to, it is like the armored warrior indeed is taking it easy on Alma, being not so serious. Is this person doing their best impersonation of a tank leaving Alma ample room to flee...? Or are they just not taking him seriously enough?
Either way, when the dirt is thrown, there is no reaction from the warrior. Whether the dirt got in or not is unknown. But the youth's attack comes, and the warrior seems not to react to it so much. Alighting on the blade, the chop hammers into the warrior's mask - and the warrior moves not at all. The head doesn't snap to the side, nothing. And the helmet seems to take only superficial damage at best. Show their face...?
The armor of the White Blade of Nirvana is not so weak.
Releasing the huge blade with one hand, the war machine seeks to move the fist like a viper, and snap up Alma's throat in an iron grip, squeezing as though the person under that armor really were a robot. Vice-like wouldn't even begin to describe it. If Alma gets caught in this, he'll be lifted up into the air, being choked for what seems like an eternity... and then slammed down into the ground, thoughtlessly.
COMBATSYS: Alma interrupts The Order from Nirvana from Rako with Divine Intervention EX.
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Alma 1/-======/=======|=======\===----\1 Rako
So be it.
Perhaps the White Blade will neither answer Alma's questions nor move for him. Perhaps there is nothing to be learned from this bridge-guarding knight, nothing to be gleaned save victory or defeat. But as the leaping beauty pounds his fist against his opponent's unyielding mask, focusing all his strength and will toward shattering that mocking mirror image and revealing the true face beneath, none of that seems to matter. What can be gained will be. Yet in the heat of battle, when his spirit churns and his soul cries out--
Alma Towazu will be acknowledged.
The sword falls to the ground with a clatter, and the Radiant Angel drops with it, snatched up in an iron grasp. He chokes, his off-hand rising reflexively to claw ineffectually at the powerful grip that begins to crush at his throat, cutting off air and blood flow. He cannot speak, can no longer ask his probing questions. But for all the pain that he must be experiencing in that brief second, his eyes do not flicker or widen. His gaze remains steady, bright, glittering with the flames rising around them and reflecting the reflection of his rising passion.
And it is a brief second.
For, even as his body hangs suspended, Alma's right hand immediately lifts, revealing only then that it has spontaneously ignited with a torrent of that raging flame, psychic energy honed to a piercing point. His palm slams, resoundingly, once more against that gleaming helm. But this time it is a beam of lance-like fire that emerges, appearing to cut through steel and flesh alike, shooting through the other side of Rako's head. The effect is mostly illusion, of course, and the true damage is mental-- yet the force of that power emerging nevertheless impacts against the mask itself, possibly widening those cracks.
He will reveal what is hidden.
He will draw forth the identity of this White Blade.
And with his own indomitable will--
He will crush the false dreams that stand before him.
Until only the true savior remains.
For everyone.
~ Ryouhara! ~
For the world.
The shrouded image of that man-- it stokes the flames within.
And the flames within his eyes burn brighter.
And yet Alma has learned so much already - even if not much has been directly revealed. Why protect a factory so fiercely? Why are the facilities here so large, what do they intend to house that needs this space? There's signs of advanced equipment, as well, being hauled in, though not where it is precisely being hauled to. And most of all, this guardian being sent as a deterrant. Furthermore, as Rako had declared at the outset of the fight - the goal is to get Alma to leave, not to kill him. But even so, the not taking him seriously is taken as a slight, it seems. There's a recognition of the light burning within. ...But it comes too late.
Alma gets choke slammed, indeed, but it isn't quite what the armored warrior had in mind. Even as the air is crushed from him, the armored fist clenching his throat like a vice, Alma isn't out in the least. A hand is slammed forward, hitting against the mirrored helm, and the false psychic energy bursts through. THIS time, Rako's head snaps backwards, and a grunt of pain happens. There's not MUCH of a reaction, but much more than previous. Fingers uncurl around Alma's throat, and the warrior staggers back a step, two. A moment, and then the White Blade is once more stable.
The helmet stays on, the armor being quite a good deal more resilient than the first lucky hit might've suggested. The identity seems to not want to come into the light; and just to make certain that Alma isn't seeking to try and further the cause to break the helm, that gun is once more brought to bear. But this time, rather than a violent bullet being fired, the rune-carved bar under the barrel glows briefly, and a blue lash explodes out from it, seeking to wrap around Alma, and quite literally slam him into the floor.
COMBATSYS: Alma dodges Rako's Saija Danjuu.
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Alma 1/--=====/=======|=======\===----\1 Rako
The answers lie beyond.
If this White Blade is to be a mountain before him--
Then Alma Towazu will become the sea.
He will flow around it--
The force of Rako's throw mitigated by his counterattack, the Hero of Taizhou recovers quickly, able to ignore the persistent pain about his throat with the passion coursing through him. Though still unable to speak, he is more than capable of flipping even as he falls, controlling his movement first by being propelled by his own attack and then with his own acrobatic ability, landing upon his feet and skidding to a stop atop the harried bridge. His gaze snaps up just in time: a lash of energy has emerged, snake-like, from the barrel of his foe's weapon. It plunges toward the youth, and-- passes through him, or through a flickering pale afterimage of where he once was, copies of which he continues to trail as he rolls forward, bravely under and through the explosive assault, evading whip and shattered stone alike with another relentless charge.
--and then, like a gathering tide, smash it to pieces.
"Hmph!"
All at once he is there, standing right before his adversary, shouldering past the likely still-outstretched firearm with a blurring jab, his halo of gathered Soul Power continuing to produce harmless echoes of himself that nevertheless obscure and confuse his movements. The series of punches that follow are liquid, hammering against body and joints, seeking any possible more vulnerable -- even slightly -- aspect to this formidable armor so that he might further weary his foe. He bobs and weaves as he strikes, remaining light on his feet, sweeping forward, onward, ready to flow around another strike at a moment's notice.
Sweeping onward--
To sweep his adversary away.
COMBATSYS: Rako blocks Alma's Spring Shower.
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Alma 1/-======/=======|=======\===----\1 Rako
If Rako is alarmed by the sudden speed the young man seems to possess, that mirrored helmet shows none of it. There's hardly any surprise in the warrior's actions, as well, as no sooner is that whipping blue energy evaded than does it disappear, and the gun reholstered, the movement practiced, precise. The now 'flowing' Alma comes at the war machine, attacking from many different angles, so rapid it seems like it's impossible for one person to make them all. And as such, it seems likely that rather than there being more than one Alma, there are just many to confuse the one in the armor.
Unfortunately, a master at both blade and gun, Rako is a master of armor, as well. Though the warrior manages to deflect some of the attacks aimed their way, most of the defense, having to adapt to deal with the sometimes surprise attack from an angle unexpected, comes from subtle shifts in the armored form's body. A twist here that makes knuckles glide along a steel plate. A shift there to avert a joint being targeted, fist meeting more armor instead.
The rapid assault is intense, and Rako seems to be largely on the defensive, not able to do anything than just defend, shifting, turning, twisting - but then suddenly, it seems as if the armored warrior has caught onto the blurring psycho user's rhythm. Rather than a shifting defense to let the armor take the brunt of the attack, as Alma moves to attack, Rako doesn't turn. Instead, an armored fist rises, and seeks to slam right into Alma's face, pure and simple.
COMBATSYS: Alma endures Rako's Quick Punch!
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Alma 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\====---\1 Rako
True passion cannot be denied.
Alma Towazu, resplendant phoenix, surges into his assault, and the sound of fist on metal, echoing through these hellish halls, rivals even that of the smelting below them, the uniquely human rhythm to this furious contest resounding and drowning out Nenzhao's steady hiss and clank. Seizing a moment between fluid strikes, the White Blade raises its mighty fist, aiming one gauntleted blow to knock the Radiant Angel away.
Yet this relentless drive seems to rise like an unstoppable tide--
"Huuuaahhh--!"
--and with it rises Alma, fearlessly into the attack.
The punch is not blocked so much as it is /met/, the lovely youth's sweat-streaked brow lowered just enough to take the jab on the forehead, rather than the face, absorbing the strike entirely. Unfazed by the ringing in his ears, his own right hand is already snapping up, alight with a coruscating flame far brighter than anything beneath them, far more fulsome and potent than anything he has brought to bear before.
His soul, for all his constant output, is frustrated to fight a foe without a face. There can be no true clash of wills until the identity of his adversary is revealed. And perhaps there will be no need for a physical face to put to the opponent, when all is said and done. And perhaps it is only appropriate that Alma faces a reflection of himself here, if that is what he seems to perceive in Seishirou, some dark and twisted incarnation of what he, with his equivalent conviction, /might/ have become, with a whole different brand of messianic urgency-- or, indeed, what some believe he in fact might be. In his indomitable faith, in the purity of the sincerity of his defiance of his despair--
"UUUUAAAAHHHHHH!"
Alma will offer up everything.
Like a shooting star, Alma's fingers streak toward his reflection, unleashing a solar flare to eclipse the heavens. The shockwave of mental force that is unleashed, however directly it strikes, will cause the bridge about them to quiver ominously. The Angel seems heedless to that. Opening the floodgates entirely, casting his very essence into the void that is his mysterious opponent, he will do anything to strive forward, carving his way through flesh and iron, propelled by the most precious ties that bind his heart together.
What would it matter if the bridge collapsed?
He can do nothing else-- be no one other.
With the power of his ideals--
He'll tear Ryouhara's world apart.
And no knight may bar his path.
COMBATSYS: Rako interrupts Absolution from Alma with Tonbo Saija Dancing Impaler EX.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Alma 1/-----==/=======|====---\-------\0 Rako
The armored fist meets face, and unfortunately it would seem Rako isn't prepared to deal with such a close-in counter assault. The distance is brutally short. There's no time to dodge this. Little time to do the tiny shifts that would make the excessively huge armor block the shot. The armored form COULD likely withstand a hit direct on, meeting it dead center and following up with something of Rako's own. But no. No, Rako already knows what's going to happen. Energy simply /explodes/ everywhere. The person inside the tank shell doesn't even bother to make sense of what is going on. Instead, years of fighting, brutal and bloody, tell what to do. Instinct replaces reason. Reflexes replace thought. Instead of considering a defense, Rako simply -acts-.
When did that blue snake lash get back around the Angel's throat?
To be sure, the rising fist like a splinteringly devastating comet smashing into Rako's armor hurts. Even through the hard steel shell and kevlar scales, the person inside can feel it, a bone-jarring impact flooded with painful energy, an unfamiliar kind of energy, something that assails her soul itself. But even so... Rako has felt worse. Tugging back on the gun, fired quite literally from the hip, the blue energy whip is pulled on hard, setting Alma off-balance, deterring the full force of the strike. But for Alma, it's not so lucky. He gets yanked forward - into the blade that Rako never actually let go of, all through this. The blade is positioned rather than struck with, or aimed. It's simply -in the way- as Alma is yanked forward by the lash, into the blade itself.
For a moment, likely, the armored warrior simply keeps Alma there, impaled painfully on the blade. Then, a voice. This close, it doesn't quite sound so metallic, so void of any feeling. This close...
Rako Saze sounds like a woman. A particularly deep-voiced woman, but one none the less.
"I told you to leave," she says. "Take my advice while you are still able to walk out of here. I will not stop you." Then, the armored warrior lifts her foot, and slams her boot into Alma's stomach, kicking him off her blade, blue lash disappearing.
That light--
Alma watches, wide-eyed, as it recedes.
The blinding flash that consumed them both dwindles, fading from his vision, reducing to a single point: his quivering fingertips, still extended. His lips part, yet no breath emerges. Once-sparkling pupils oscillate within eyes that stare at nothing. And then a trickle of blood emerges, a thin stream tracing a path along the inside of his arm-- thickening, then coursing freely, dripping down from a hand once alight with infinite power.
His gaze lowers, to regard the weapon that has pierced him completely.
With a mighty kick he is torn asunder, freed from an enormous blade now brutally streaked with his life's blood, flung aside to collapse, rag-doll, upon the ground. With trembling hands he gropes toward the massive, mortal gash in his body, body beginning to spasm with shock, somehow retaining consciousness, though conscious only of the agony-- and of the words that echo still.
'...leave.'
How can he? He cannot stand.
She's killed him.
She...
A woman.
This person-- is a woman.
A human being.
Something, something unpierced, glimmers within his breast.
And somehow--
"...uughhh..."
Alma Towazu begins to rise.
He grasps that fact as he would a cliff's edge, as he now holds both hands to the terrible wound in his chest, and whatever flame his adversary's now-evident humanity has kindled within him emerges, gently, a soothing light that pulses in time with his tortured heartbeat-- a pulse that slowly but surely begins to steady. With all his strength, with all his focus, and with all his resolve, the Radiant Angel's radiant light bathes that fatal cut-- and the bleeding begins to cease.
"As you cannot stand aside--"
Somehow, he speaks.
"--so I cannot leave."
Somehow, he gets to his knees.
And when he lifts his gaze--
"Surely..."
His eyes glitter anew.
"You understand."
When he removes his hands, the wound seems to have lessened.
And when he gets to his feet, his will to fight seems to have returned.
COMBATSYS: Alma opens his heart to the flow of battle.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Alma 1/---====/=======|====---\-------\0 Rako
For most of this fight, Rako has shown little sign of emotion. A nod of approval at Alma's skill, and perhaps violence in the form of savage attacks, but otherwise nothing. Now, however, as Alma stands and attempts to renew himself, both in physical terms and in emotional terms, the armored warrior shakes its head, looking down. There are no words, just simple disapproval. Light flares from the man, and he seems better, rallied in spirits, and less, uh, gored through the stomach. Rako simply takes sword in hand, lifting it up and begins to stalk forward. Looks like this was going to have to happen the good old fashioned way.
Seeming to unleash a whole new side of the armor's arsenal, Rako displays yet another of what likely will be termed Ryouhara trickry. Stepping forward, the last step has a higher raise - and then it SLAMS down. And suddenly there is fire. Everywhere. Exploding out from hidden vents on the armor, flames just explode outwards from that shiny steel armor, slamming into everything. Most notably, Alma.
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Rako's Burn the Traitors.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Alma 1/--=====/=======|=====--\-------\0 Rako
Crossing his arms before him, Alma weathers the storm.
Somehow, gored as he is, the youth remains unflinching as flame explodes about him, scorching like the hellfire below does the bridge upon which they stand. And for all his wounds and fatigue, the Radiant Angel's will remains steadfast, as does his stance in the face of this onslaught. Even before that vented heat completely fades, he has swept his arms to the side, casting them away, and moves, roaring his defiance.
"Uuuuaaaaahh!"
No amount of agony -- or, it seems, disapproval -- will tear Alma from his purpose; he surges forward, energy redoubled. Yet instead of colliding with his foe once more, he puts all of his momentum into a single fist-- that abruptly rockets down to the stones at their feet. Opening a vent of his own, perhaps, he unleashes a wave of light that zig-zags wildly in its approach toward the White Blade, rising like the crest of a wave, a font of his Soul Power issuing forth.
Sweeping his arms out once more, eyes bright, Alma snaps.
And from that burst of light erupts a geyser of scintillating light, roiling whites and pinks and purples, a true halo of rose and glinting gold expanding from the whole-- a sworling vortex that attempts to engulf Rako utterly and devour her, crushing to a pulp that fearsome suit of armor, and smashing, with the sheer brunt of his will, the loyalty that motivates her fighting spirit.
COMBATSYS: Rako endures Alma's Full Confession.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Alma 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 Rako
The youth weathers the attack, and then surges with a violence all his own, trying to show his determination, his spirit, his... passion? And truly it is an impressive display of raw energy. It hurts. As though being tossed into a blistering inferno of white flames, on top of already being within the sweltering heat of the factory. It burns through the armor, even if it's all in the person's mind - they know it's likely fake, given the nature of the abilities and attacks she's been shown so far. But it doesn't really matter when it feels like the real thing, right? There might even by a gutteral cry of pain, ringing hollow in the metal helmet of the war machine. It threatens to engulf, to devour, to consume...
And then Rako steps out of it. White armor rather singed with black. It appears armor, too, can feel the effects of the mental flames.
And then Rako slashes. She's no where near the Angel, but she slashes anyway. And following within the wake of the huge blade is a trail of blue energy, raging out from the arc the blade forms, and seeks to slame into Alma's chest, slicing him from afar.
COMBATSYS: Rako successfully hits Alma with Rat Killer.
[ \\\\ < > /// ]
Alma 1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Rako
His adversary consumed utterly, Alma Towazu heaves a sigh.
Yet from the midst of the wreckage of his geyser assault emerges, quite suddenly, an entirely new attack. Having detected the psychic resonance of successful impact, yet still unable to get a clear read on his opponent's aura signature, and so completely drained from his wounds and many efforts that he might not be able to tell the difference even so, the trail of blue energy catches the Angel completely by surprise.
"Gaaahh--!"
Struck straight on, vertically across the body, the blade of power slams directly into the half-closed wound, sending searing pain through every nerve and Towazu collapsing back upon the bridge. Chest heaving, bleeding freely once again, he lies there for a moment, breathing heavily, listening to the roiling flames below. He closes his eyes, on the brink of some great chasm, feeling the darkness beckoning to him.
And then, arm trembling, one fist clenches.
Impossibly, blood dripping terribly from his aggravated injury, the Hero of Taizhou struggles to one knee, shaking his head to clear away his anguish and fatigue. He cannot-- he must not fail. He must not fall here. He will rise, and fight again.
~ Ryou... Ryouhara! ~
Just the thought of that name--
"Uuuuuaaaaaghh!"
And he explodes into action.
Streaking, blurring, despite all that weighs him down, Alma plunges toward his armed adversary, leaping suddenly at the last moment with a shocking twirl, seeking to slip just past the edge of that massive blade before slamming a flame-imbued fist into that mirrored mask once more.
And if he can tag his opponent, knock them just that much off-balance, he will spiral into a fiery barrage, punching with gatling speed even as he lands, only to then cut in with a series of kicks that ignite mid-strike. Roaring all the while with endless fury, Alma seeks to pulverize that armor to its limit--
And finally, once and for all, shatter the will of his opponent.
He will not be matched.
He will not be defeated!
COMBATSYS: Rako fails to interrupt Trial by Fire from Alma with Tonbo Saija Moroha-ryuu.
[ \\\\ < > ]
Alma 0/-------/-------|=======\-------\0 Rako
COMBATSYS: Rako can no longer fight.
[ \\\\ <
Alma 0/-------/-------|
Though Rako shows no surprise at Alma's continued will to live and fight, there is a hint that the person encased in that armor was indeed surprised... because they hesitate. The total time is less than even a quarter of a second, but with the two's fighting style, they're so close, so fast, it doesn't even matter. That quarter of a second is all Alma needs to slip into the armored warrior's guard, and administer the punishment. Fists crash down, rampaging over the armored form in a final desperate bid for success, for victory. Rako had thought that the fight was over... but that thought was wrong. And Alma was showing just how wrong.
There's some attempt at a defense. The hesitation doesn't last long, but it flows into a reverse sweep of the blade. Too late - the youth is already inside the blade's arc. Smash, smash, crunch, and flames accompany everything done. In the end, Rako doesn't cry out much, but it's obvious that the person inside the armor is hurting, badly, just from how they're doubling over, staggering. It's all in the body language with this one.
Once the barrage finishes, Rako stumbles away and catches balance on the railing of the stone bridge. A moment, and then the sword is swept up - and then expertly sheathed without so much as a glance. "I am in no condition to stop you," the metallic voice speaks. Another moment of silence, and then the warrior again straightens. "Look; but you shall get no answers from me. See with your own eyes. Think with your own mind."
With that, the apparent warrior-woman turns and walks off. The message here has been delivered anyway.
Seishirou considered something here worth protecting, but despite a guard dog that was not truly into the fight, and passive defenses such as magma, he was not concerned about people finding out about it. And that meant it was something not one person could deal with.
COMBATSYS: Alma has ended the fight here.
And in the end, Alma Towazu stands-- less triumphant than shocked.
His final, ferocious assault sends the armored warrior reeling, and while he remains consumed in that desperate blaze of passion he too remains ready, fists upraised and smoldering. The White Blade catches hold of the side of the bridge, slumping, and in the back of the Radiant Angel's mind, with what remains of his overburdened psychic awareness, he detects the fading of a mighty fighting spirit. Fists unclenching, it occurs to him he is bleeding profusely, and immediately his hands clutch once more at the reopened wound in his chest, almost doubling over as an onrush of agony accompanies the loss of adrenaline. Yet he remains standing, while his foe is defeated.
...Sort of.
He is shaken from his struggles as his adversary suddenly straightens, and can only stare wide-eyed, even slightly slack-jawed, at the smooth motion with which she sheathes her blade. He hears her words, yet can speak nothing in recognition-- only watch as she calmly retreats. Indeed, there is no need for her to flee; he would not pursue her, just as she would not pursue him. Still, considering the strength that remains within her, and her parting words-- it is no wonder her mask seemed so significant.
If his objective had been to defeat her, his victory would be hollow.
But as much as Alma's heart yearns instinctively for the fulfillment that lies in the clash of souls, in the rapturous dissolution of the self that arises when one faces an ideal opponent, he has far greater ends at stake. Both palms clasped tight to the terrible -- if no longer mortal, somehow -- wound in his chest, he seems content to watch, clear-eyed now, as Rako retreats.
~ Next time, I'll get that mask off you. ~
After all-- if anyone can do that, Alma can.
For now, a more important task is at hand.
As she leaves, the Radiant Angel enters, approaching the darkness at the other end of the bridge, and the mystery that it contains. Down the tunnel goes, down, into the bowels of the foundry. The heat brings the sweat to his brow once more, and for a moment he fears that he is plunging directly into the sea of lava above which they had fought. Yet the heat passes after some time, and it seems clear that he traveling /beneath/ it, below that terrible moat, to seek out what it protects and disguises. Not knowing how long or how far he travels, Alma Towazu descends--
To the final circle of Hell.
And what he discovers takes his breath away.
Even an amateur would know this is no ordinary forge; no psychic is needed to see the power at work here. Parchment with mysterious and forbidding designs, hell's wallpaper -- sparks of power, surging in unison, arcing with deadly force through the air -- all tightly controlled by some unknowable system, all working toward the center, the center of this massive feat of engineering--
--where lies--
Nothing.
All this energy, gathered in one place. It splinters and fragments, sometimes passing harrowingly close to the visitor, who can sense its overwhelming power, yet is inexorably contained-- somehow. He cannot fully understand what he sees-- but he knows that what he sees is incomplete. In the center, toward which all this power, all this science, and all this forbidden magic is clearly directed, is designed toward-- there is--
Nothing.
~ Ryouhara... ~
Yet.
~ I won't allow it. ~
Alma Towazu trembles with righteous fury-- with impotent rage--
~ The world will know. ~
--and turns his back on an evil he is unable to destroy.
Instead he howls out his indignation, a resounding roar--
That cannot be heard.
"RYOOOUUHAAARAAA!!"
Yet.
Log created on 16:01:26 01/24/2010 by Alma, and last modified on 02:03:18 01/25/2010.