A lesion of lodestar-bright light illuminated the benighted sky.Soldiers boots crushing the emerald blades of grass, their swords clanging and clangorous under the seething, spite-filled sky. The Rebellion and Laviku approaching to the front-lines. The slithering sounds of thousands of swords being unsheathed were frightening. Kamorisuki heard their feet thundered on the battlefields floor, bellowing up to him as the eastbound units and the west were caught up in conflict; the largest unit behind were commanded to not engage the enemy.

" Demon! The Demon approaches! "

Laviku came to halt, eyes wide in disbelief that he appeared alone. Standing before them at the front-lines, holding nothing but his sword, Sekohara at his side. Standing at six feet, the ''young'' Atlantean appears to be a fully-developed man of mid-twenties. His arms, like his scales, are incredibly powerful and his lean, muscular form is not something one wishes to underestimate. Regardless of his disinclination for physical confrontation, Kamorisuki attempts to portray an intimidating figure in order to avoid coercion and needling. Considering his eyes are dreamy, galaxy-blue and orbit round; almost identical to his fathers because of a passive trait, everything moves like a snail. They often assist with the façade he attempts to put forth. Always calculating and sharp, Kamorisuki is constantly aware of his surroundings, watching carefully with his enhanced eye sight.

" General Gossamer, I am leaving you in charge with the units. Protect the Shrine. I will deal with this lot. "

" But sir! " The honey sweet sound of a woman shouting rented the air and passed through his sea-nymph ears. His cupid-bowed lips stretched in a smile, nodding once. She understood his intent and raised a hand into the air. " Back to the Shrine, we must keep the iron burning! " The thundering of disciplined warriors had drummed out the noise of the Rebellion that bellowed at him still. Kamorisuki was left alone infront of the gates.

The creature turned his attention back to the large crowd and the smile that was rare to see was gone. Twenty six inches of sharpened, high valyrian steel, thirty eight inches in total. The swords hilt was helixed with black, firm silk with a black finish cast tsuba, decorated with Kraken artwork. The blade itself allowed its circumference to entrap other blades within it with a swift parry; known as disarm. The outer ridges of the blade held a slight curve at the apex, used for decapitation but it can change frequently between two sequences; straight mode and execution mode. The name of this sword is known as Sekohara, his pet.

" Lay down your weapons.. Or die. " He said in a cold demeanour.

Prepared to lay down their weapons, some of the rebellion persons had took their swords in hands, the archers behind readying their bows with the flaming tips of the arrows igniting the caelum above. A shadowy figure approached from above, the kimono wavering in the wind along with the flawless pony tail in the winds. He lands in the middle of The Rebellion, letting his soldiers stare in awe and bow onto their knees. He stood with the firm grimace spread upon him, curls of wrinkles on both sides of his chapped lips.

He stood, easily, at six feet tall. His trademark crimson red kimono had been left behind and rippled in his previous battle against mercenaries.. wearing the obsidian black kimono that was tattered hanging down with tallness, and lapping over the land about. The eyelids had moved backward and folded to reveal his murky crimson opticals that stared outward; rebellion soldiers parted backward. In his right hand, a blade was already unsheathed.

This sword had stood at an easy fourteen feet, it was completely black with a long hilt. The tip of the sword was sharp, with blood still dripping and curdling into the curved and wicked circumference to disarm and hack through bones within a careless slice. His left hand was coated with a glove, created out of an unknown metal, colored obsidian black like his sword. Having talons for the tips like the slicing claws of an eagle, scales and lines like a dragon reaching up his arm from the glove.

The Gauntlet Of Stronghold, the expansion of unknown energies rung outward as the tip of his clawed index finger was drawn across his beautified sword, the case that held his blade falling to the ground to reveal its baby blue surface, decorated with the outter art of sakura flowers and petals descending downward to the end of the object. The soldiers of the Rebellion behind him had fallen onto their knees, blasted backward with pain.

This samurai had turned about, his eyes coated with blackness on the outside, the pupil an unbelievable blue that matched the seas behind the soldiers. Suddenly the fear had to overwhelm them, causing their bones to crack downward and the swords to be dropped; the flaming arrows exploded outward and reigned down with wrathful intent about the area. Flames of vertigo had coated the arena inwhich the two skilled warriors would fight; blade to blade.

The army had been struck by fear, his blade had been stabbed into the grind as the brachium curled around the sword itself, bending downward as he stared towards his opponent.

One foolish rebellious soldier ran from his ranks, raising his sword high in a show-off of aggression. The wind whipped at the face of the charging mouse, swiftly followed the hand of fate. The armour chiming as the body was dissected. The dewy grass flickered like diamond flame as a blood-curdling howl rented the air.

Two halves impacting the sod, simultaneously and now Kamorisuki started his charge. Swords were clinking and clashing under the churning sky. Men were groaning and yowling as the battlefield became slick with innards. Kamorisuki carving and cleaving towards the centre of their army. Titian-red blood spurted from the wounds as men wailed and screamed. Limbs were splitting, bones splintering as the plague of Death careered into them. A wellspring of blood sluiced into the air; it tasted coppery in Kamorisuki's mouth until the one he was waiting for had struck the floor; blowing back his own army. The battlefield was anointed with bowels. The putrefying stench of a thousand battles seemed to come from it.

" The Water Erudite.. About time. "

Twisting, turning, his blade wanted more. The Rebellion, wailing and whimpering in pain as the final rank collapsed. Kamori's kohl-black hair bathed in blood. His bulbous eyes, blazed of magma-red.

" Are you ready to die? "

He was simply foolish to think that he could easily strike fear into all of his soldiers. Still, willpower wagered against fear, complete opposites and equal in victory. He watched with his hands folded into the deepness of his onyx kimono, crimson optics glaring outward as the blood resided upon the shining katana blade of The Demon Of The Sea. Mikalo's right foot slowly twisted into the ground, the samurai let his head hang downward as he was in position.

Dirt came out as he left afterimages in his wake, the ground shaking compellingly from the force of impact that the balls of his feet made. Dragging his tattered kimono behind him. His sword came outward and reflected the sun towards Kamorisuki, the tip sliced upwards with accuracy to the demon of the sea's neck.