The disturbing sound of twin swords clanging to the ground, the soft patter of leaking blood, and the twinge of an aching heart brought back to reality a man long thought a myth. He was once a warrior, revenge and obsession driven to find a way to put a stop to a man who he had deemed a rampant tyrant. Long he had been on this path, ever since their first interaction. He had matched through futuristic wilderness, overgrown with metallic and silicone vine-like wires. He has slept in ancient fields where magic trumped man-made arms, and mythical beasts were plentiful and obliviously dangerous. At every turn he has failed at his goal, he had been within reach, an inch at the most - and still had not managed to gain the power to reach beyond that woeful barrier.

How he longed to end that man.

How the night seemed to laugh, as though his reach and rules and deals brokered controlled their very twinkle. The sun seemed to glare harder with each step, as though the untouchable had placed a magnifying glass between it and him. Each failure mounted up until he walked over mountains and oceans of each. It had started easily enough, a failure was a failure, and he could move past it. Each taught him something about the man, or something about himself. But now, each failure was another weight that brought with it another step away from who he was.

Who was he now?

No longer the warrior who danced elegantly with swords names after children, his own flesh and blood. He was not the man who had competed in the first tournament of many, a simple human against fantastical creatures of lore and destruction.

No.

Life had failed him, he had failed himself, and now he was something different than when he started.

His last bout had not been a pretty one. He had slaughtered the man, and his child, in cold blood with many swings of his left handed weapon. He had not flinched when the small child took up arms against him in defense of his slain father. Instead he bathed in his blood as well.

As noted sounds and pains bought him back to his reality, and baleful eyes cast themselves upon the open field. It was mostly empty, except for a lone tree and long grass. The latter swept across his pants, brushing against him in the light breeze. With each inhale and exhale he could almost taste the Chi that had been expelled here. Battles won and lost.

A flicker of life danced through his eyes, as they flicked downward and he saw the crossed weapons lay on the ground. Almost a second later they were back in his hands, his body part registering what had become an extension of his limbs. He did not return his weapons to their sheathes. Every fiber in his being told him there would be no need for that.

Have you had you fun, Liaison? The Warrior, Dessembrae, your hunter has fallen.

Aelith strode calmly forwards, taking in her surroundings. Not much to see, really. It was a peaceful scene, a wide open plain with tall grass, land still visible miles away. A single pathetic tree stood over the grass below it. Aelith would have laughed at it, were it worthy of her attention at all. This was a good place for a battle, she realised. Nowhere to hide, plently of space. She had her enemies. All she needed now was an army. She actually did laugh, this time. She'd existed nearly seven hundred years, spent most of that time a powerful witch and a leader of others, and now where was she? Laughing about killing things in an empty field, miles from her coven and barely closer to her goals. She really wanted to kill something now.

In a heartbeat, there was fire in her right hand, and, aiming with her left, she threw it at- this damn field! Nothing! No one to kill, nothing worthwhile to burn. She put out the fire in her hand, and looked behind her. There was a trench of dead grass, a wide, black wound in the field around where she'd walked. At least if anyone found it they might follow it and find her. Aelith was willing to spend a long time on a single task, but when simply waiting she had little patience. Was this karma? Would Witch Queen Aelith T'Kalen finally meet her match, after all this time? Would she be defeated, by a field?

This was not going well. Aelith needed something to do, now.

Nothing to kill, nothing to burn... what about getting better at killing and burning? Aelith moved to the shade of the tree (in Aelith's opinion, it was far too sunny that day. What's wrong with some hail, or a thunderstorm?), and practised her magic, all the while keeping one eye on the trail.

There was a certain solace in the quietness of that humble field. Large as it were and clear of all but one obstruction, the former Warrior had an unrestricted view of any and all possible threats, unless they lay low and moved with unimaginable stealth. Even still, if they had not hidden their Chi, if that was their fancy, then he would still be able to detect them.

Said solace lasted only a few minutes longer, before the familiar feeling of magical manipulation danced at the edges of his senses. His body, on instinct turned in the direction that the manipulation had come, just in time to see flames burst marginally into the sky after ricocheting on the ground. The plume excited him somewhat. Someone had entered the field of battle. He didn't recognize the signature attached to the fire, it was someone new. Not that fire ninja of the resistance, whose flames would have been obscenely big - nor the mow deceased magma mage that had fallen in a previous war. Whoever this was had not crossed paths with him in times past.

Inhale. Exhale.

Chi flowed invisibly from his body outward, as be walked towards the source of power. Visually, he was able to make out the silhouette of the creature after a few minutes of walking. They were headed towards him, and he they.

Another minute, definitely magic being manipulated. His grip on the swords in his left and right hands tightened. It was a woman, that mattered little to him. That she had come to a field of battle and laid down the presumable gauntlet by displaying her magical talents.

As he entered what he assumed to be speaking range, he spoke in a loud, gruff voice that he would not recognize as his own.

That you wield majestic fire so abrasively is a travesty, even more so than the fire ninja of the Resistance. I have walked these fields before, and your wanton use is a direct challenge to all who would answer it.

His eyes glanced over her body once, his swords shifted ever so slightly, knees bent left hand blade pointed upward, right handed pointed forward. She was near the lonesome tree, some measure of protection was afforded her,

Unfortunately for you, I have answered your call.

Somewhere in the world, the universe, the master of the deal had to be watching - hadn't he?

Aelith was suprised. Had she been followed? She wasn't kept waiting long, but now she had found her prey, she wasn't going to get it over with quickly. Even from here she could see how far it might be before she found anything interesting, so she wasn't going to cut her fun short without a good reason. And it looked like this one would be worthwhile, too. Two swords, meaning either this warrior was very good or just thought they were. Either way, he had likely never fought one of her kind before. Always funny catching someone off-guard like that, in the way only the Dark Ones can.

I thought the gods weren't supposed to answer the prayers of the wicked. You don't know the way to the nearest city, do you? When you're finished, I could use a decent-sized population to terrorise.

A nagging voice hung in the back of Aelith's mind, advising her. Whether this was Mephistopheles speaking to her or her own survival instinct, she didn't know. Look carefully, Aelith. You're missing something. His scars, up and down his arms and probably everywhere else, too. He likely thought of them as badges of honour, representing years of glory in battle (there were certainly enough), while others might think of them as brands, curses, ugliness. Aelith saw them as a tool. She began to raise her hand, ready to let him relive the pain of battles long past, then hesitated. Wait! Hold something back. Take him by surprise. He knows about the fire, use that, and you might be able to end this now. If he's good, you may need everything in your arsenal. This was annoying, but it was also true. She didn't know what she getting into. The scars suggested a lot, besides what she could do to hurt him. Fine. But if I get a chance to make him scream, it's happening. Don't try and stop me, or I'll find a way to hurt you, too.

Aelith watched her opponent just a little longer, then lowered her hood.

You think this is abrasive? Wanton? By my standards, this is practically frugal. Let me teach you a thing or two.

She felt the spirits of the dead, lingering here after ancient battles. That's what Aelith liked about battles - there are always casaulties. She called on them, adding their strength to her own through the power of the Lifehunter Amulet. She flung her arms forward, unleashing a veritable inferno at her opponent. So it begins.

She was far too hasty to be a viable threat, she underestimated him from the very beginning. Her mind was on the next conquest, and he was a stepping stone to that. She would learn to rue this day. They were in a world full of fanatical fighters, crazed by bloodlust, and creatures that towered high above. Could she, in her abrasiveness, conquer him - let alone a city.

Alphonse, Dessembrae, the Lord of Tragedy, watched as the woman lowered her hood. He listened as words flowed from her lips. This he would enjoy making quick, or perhaps slow and painful, surgical incisions that would leave her in a state near death.

Almost instantly, the bout began with fiery inclinations - a literal inferno like blast swept across the field, setting grass aflame in a dazzling display of premature power. The lass should have waited, built her power until it was overflowing and then released it. Instead she thought to either test the waters, or end it quickly. Either was to her disadvantage.

His own magic, the Chi, welled up inside him - beginning it's own cycle of gaining strength for later use. For now, he quickly sidestepped the flames, letting the extent of it bypass him. The heat slid along his body, warming him but causing him no damage. With the same step, he deceased the distance between them.

His plan would come to fruition soon, so long ss the distance between them closed at the right pace. Another few steps and she would be well within range for his swords to bite into her flesh, so his magic plans were firmly adapted for long range use. His options were varied, while her seeming lack of weaponry would leave her at a supposed disadvantage in close combat.

Perhaps he would take an arm first, but when the twin swords began to swing - their newfound merciless attitude might make a mess of things.

He's moving in closer. Unsurprising. He won't expect you to do the same, though - to him you are an unarmed pyromancer, capable only at a distance. Prove him wrong.

The voice was right, as always. The warrior had little trouble avoiding the burns Aelith had sent his way, though that was unsurprising. She still had plenty up her sleeve, and it would be more useful if it remained there, for now. Aelith was no mere pyromancer, and her studies into lavamancy, as many actual pyromancers also have done, were not the full extents of her abilities. But for now, at least, it would be best if her prey thought so. There would be plenty to kill him with later, if need be.

In the hopes of seeming limited in her options, Aelith used a similar tactic in her second attack to that of her first - a cliché fireball attack. Using both hands, she threw a large (about the size of a basketball, though obivously Aelith didn't know what a basketball was) ball of fire, directed at her opponent's chest. The attack was not meant to hurt him - though of course she'd be glad if it did - it was meant to look like it was meant to hurt him, a hasty attack made by a panicking amateur who had overestimated their abilities. Really, she was conserving her power, trying to avoid burning herself out before the real fight began. She did not call on the dead for this one.

As she was doing this, she supported her feint with a little acting - subtle things like anxiously stepping backwards, shifting her eyes around the terrain either side of her opponent as if looking for an escape route, but being scared to look away from him. This and the attack should convince him of the assurance of his victory, before teaching him a thing or two about how to fight a witch... and how they fight you.

His energy now a Maelstrom of conserved power coursing through his body allowed him a certain level of confidence. His opponent had yet to go for a killing blow, instead seeming content with using her honed skills of fire manipulation. He could feel the searing heat of her power, as if it were warning him to hold his distance.

He had already committed to his actions, this woman had threatened not only him, but her own life. She sought to bring towns to their knees, and him as well. He could allow the woman to put herself in such danger. These were not towns to be conquered, the were towns in a lawless, wild west universe. They were rampant with outlaws, marauders whose only existence was filled with battle. She did not stand a chance, and in his way, he thought to save her from herself.

As such, when the fireball aimed towards his chest, he slid quickly to the left. The distance was so short that, even in his evasion his right arm was slightly burned by the attack. A lesser man would have changed strategy, perhaps had even been afraid of the firepower of the woman.

Alphonse, the Lord of Tragedy, was no lesser man. He had been in battle with those who flung fire with no regard for those around them, he had seen the very power of lightning, and the fearsome strength of the very ground they walked; he would not abandon his newfound mission.

With nary a grimace, he shot towards the woman, his plan already in action. He was swift, surely swifter than she could move on the back foot. He moved in time with her, aiming to close the rest of the distance in a matter of moments. Could she produce anything to protect her from the charging man, whose eyes blazed with a certain surety. Swords gleaming in the light of day, murder singing at their edges. Soon they would be the ones singing and dancing to their violent songs.

Come little witch, with your flames of power, burn at the stake in this lawless world.

Still getting closer. Still, no true threat. And she'd hurt him? All the better. Let's give him something to worry about.

Aelith watched as the warrior made his charge. Unsurprising, but still, she might have to pay attention now. She was hardly one for battle tactics, preferring simple improvisation, but she recognised how she could gain the upper hand now. As planned, her opponent would be expecting her to retreat - clearly a doomed plan anyway, whoever this was, he was certainly faster than her. But did he expect a counter-attack, in the melee where he specialised? It seemed unlikely. And he'd seen magic before - enough to comment on her use of it and to relate her to another like herself (though much lesser, of course), and to remain unflinching even when attacked with it. The brave ones were always Aelith's favourites - it always seemed to be such a surprise to them when they realised they had lost and, well, their sense of honour was simply funny.

A lawless world was a fine one for a woman like Aelith. People were harder to push around, giving her more excuses to kill them instead. In a world like this, Aelith was basically free to do what she liked. Typically when a town or a city has problems on the scale of a Dark One like herself, they would organise an impromtu militia or hire momster hunters. Did a world like this have the capability to organise anything? Of course not. Where did that leave Aelith? Where she liked to be. At the top of the food chain.

Comments on the convenience of modern society aside, there was still a large man with a pair of swords charging at her. As long as he didn't attack her head, she'd probably be safe from the first swing. He was certainly close enough that her Doom Aura could cause problems for him - see how he likes that. He probably won't be expecting that, leaving him vulnerable to attack. Yes, while he's adjusting, Aelith could hurt him. And there's nothing like a boot to the gut to insult an armed opponent. This was going to be funny.