Of all the responses to his calm yet provoking question, a smile had not been one of them. Still, the odd expression answered the second, unspoken inquiry Cyril harbored: what kind of person was this well-built woman? His conclusion: that something was off about her, though really he shouldn't have been surprised. Her ensuing behavior told him all he needed. As she approached, he reflexively lowered his weapon so that its tip pointed at her guts, and shifted his grip to both hands, but he did not attack. To be sure, he considered it, but the way she practically strutted forward invited him to think twice. She's kooky but not insane. Trying to goad me into a preemptive strike. With no arms...er, that, is, no weapons and one arm, she must be a martial artist or sorceress.

The vanguard let his warning stand, saying, “No need to prevaricate. This city is barren but for competitors.” Juniper advanced, and Cyril stood his ground. If she continued moving toward him, it would be he who would be justified in self-defense, not she. For now, he kept his face-plate up, staring her down as a human rather than a soldier. “We do not have to fight, but I'm afraid I need something of yours in order to continue. My wish isn't much—just to sweep away all the universe's evil. But I'll do whatever it takes.” His tone remained low and monotone, communicating his intent well enough. A refugee of a world accustomed to the weariness and desperation of souls like Juniper could not miss their hollowness in his dark eyes.

“Well, well, wellwellwellwellwell! What do we have here?” A familiar voices resounded through the grocery store. The door gave its chime once again, with the broken glass sliding open to admit a dark gray flying machine with a single purple eye. From just above that lens, the projector flickered on to reveal the smile of Oren Erumel. His arrival, Cyril felt, could only mean one thing. If the announcer started the fight, the vanguard could still ignore him of this woman's surrender seemed likely, but she hardly looked the type to concede something as vital as her soul. Besides, he still didn't know any way to acquire a soul other than killing its owner, which filled him with venom. He watched Oren turn between the two potential opponents before saying, “Looks like our first Round Two battle is brewing! Juniper the 'Junipersistent' versus the Knight Sylvestre, Cyril 'Brawniface'. I mean, you are gonna fight, right? Just because you're both 'heroes' doesn't mean one of ya isn't gonna be worm food in a half hour. If that makes sense. You two ready to scrap?”



If a drone had been present to broadcast a live view of Oren's face, the furrow of his brow would have been evident to Bonesword. “What? Have things changed? When we went through that place, it was more like an elaborate playhouse than a museum.” The idea of echoes being linked to the various competitors found and entered into the tournament did not seem to provoke as much of a response as the skeleton thought it might. It didn't take supernatural intuition to infer that the announcer knew something that he wouldn't be telling, something that made Bonesword's report less of a surprise. “Duly noted. Class dismissed!” Oren signed off, and the morning was peaceful once again.

Some time slipped by, giving Bonesword room to roam, even to leave the Amusement Mile behind. This period was far from silent, however. Horrifying, chilling noises sounded out through the chloromancer's phylactery, shattering the morning's serenity. A cacophonous, repulsive rasp...the nauseating sounds of blood and gore...the roar of flame and sizzling of foul flesh...such bone-chilling horror bled from the device's implanted mic to drown out the soft ambiance of seabird and shore.

If Bonesword cast his eyes out toward the ocean, he could easily spot several shapes reaching out of the sea. One, which appeared to be a ship, sporting something most unusual. From this distance the details were hazy, but there was some kind of unnatural mass thrashing around on the deck, and during the obvious struggle there appeared something else, bloody and terrifying. The action, synced up exactly with the noise coming through the skeleton's phylactery, though delayed booms and bangs did reach him from across the water as well. As he watched, the ship began to burn.

Eventually the hellish concert faded away, but in the quiet that followed there came a growl through the line.

“Whoever you are, wherever you are, you bastard, I’m coming for you. And I will not stop until one of us is dead.”

In the sky, a small shape could be seen, moving with the telltale speed and whir of one of Oren's drones.



Fear? Such a banality suited mundane organisms. The Writhing Worm was something beyond, but then again, so was its prey.

Two singularities of hatred and hunger faced off in a gruesome melee. One moved and struck like a swarm of despicable things, moving in perfect yet loathsome harmony with its many vile parts, and the other fought back with a bloodlust even more intense. Empowered by flame and drunk with blood, the hunter carved up her assailant, reducing it to a living pulp still rasping its fury as it splattered overboard. In a rather short amount of time, Saria eviscerated her foe and left the blazing ship behind. She cast off not a moment too soon; from the bowels of the ship, there came the roar of rending metal, and two more worms burst from the boat's hull like parasites from an afflicted animal's guts. With weeping scars from the in-fight that had distracted them while the third attacked Saria, they stretched out toward the escaping huntress, only to recede as the shipwreck began to list dangerously. They slid back into the shadows of the smoldering wreck, disappearing as all abominable things should into the welcoming dark.

Yet, they weren't the only monsters here. Saria, shivering in the rowboat, remained the Blood Devil still. Having stimulated her soul into a dire transformation for survival, the phylactery struggled to suppress the awakened power. Flames from her aura licked at the wooden rowboat, promising to incinerate it before long. Only a taken soul, after all, could fully quell the Frenzy. That of Saria's first opponent soothed the festering, but she wouldn't be cured unless she took her next opponent down. Furthermore, something else lurked beneath Saria's skin. A burning, a bubbling—the noisome liquor of the Writhing Worm's fangs had not been purged. It felt awful but, for now, subtle. Anger, pain, and even a sort of dark eagerness compelled her to row on, on to the next battle.

The Fungal Knight - Moving to Dead Man's Rock

“Whoever you are, wherever you are, you bastard, I’m coming for you. And I will not stop until one of us is dead.”

Well, that was a bit forward, wasn't it? Scarily so, and that's coming from a skeleton. He was unaware that his opponent patched into his phylactery earlier, but he was relieved to have figured that out when he did. Bonesword looked overhead at the drone racing through the skies over to him before he spoke again into the phylactery, hoping that he could try and convince his opponent to not kill him. That being said, he was fairly certain that she wouldn't give him mercy, meaning he had to prepare for a real fight, from the sounds of things.

"Well, aren't you a prickly pear." Bonesword said sarcastically. If he was going to meet his end, he'd meet it being a sarcastic asshole. Why? Well, why not? In any case, he had to prepare for the worst, and this area would have to serve as their battlefield. Plant life began to vigorously grow around Bonesword, raising up walls of grass and a few trees, as Bonesword began constructing an area that would maximize his victory potential. He still kept the area pretty low-lying for the moment, as the drone flew directly abovehead. The Knight really hoped for a defensive item, or something he could use effectively.

@Lugubrious@RoughDragon1

Following the road east eventually brought Pithy to a checkpoint, or at least, something that made her think of those she knew. It was a small complex, like a gate arching over the concrete, and a fence made of meshed metal wires extended from its sides, barring the way around the structure.

Aa metal and glass box stood to the side of the road, a place from which she could picture someone sitting and inspecting the incoming traffic. A single bar was held at chest height in the middle of the street, providing little obstacle to any who wished to walk past. The wheeled crate that sat before it would have collided with it were it to inch forward another meter, however.

Pithy moved closer to the vehicle, recognizing it as the same kind as the one that the badger had attempted to ram her with the previous night. In the light, she could properly see the mossy green coloration, and the thick, rubbery wheels that held its weight.

It seems serviceable enough, she thought, deeply aware of her ignorance regarding the machine. Still, the clock was ticking, and it would take time and effort to search the city on foot. This might save me some time.

The elf jumped over vehicle’s railing and took a seat at the front, clucking her tongue in disapproval at the thing’s interior. The top of the vehicle was open to the air, so rain had pooled on the floor and between the two front seats. Choosing to disregard that for the moment, her eye roamed over the panel in front of her, trying to make sense of the knobs and levers on display. She quickly identified the wheel before her as a steering device, but that was the only component of the machine she was sure of. She discovered the pedals beneath the dashboard when her feet struck it as she tried to adjust her position, but when she attempted to step on them, she received no response from the machine.

Frowning, she set to experimenting with the buttons in the panel. Several minutes of mounting frustration at her unsuccessful attempts at starting the machine resulted in a surprised gasp when turning an object under the wheel elicited a rumble and a coughing gasp from the vehicle. Encouraged, Pithy turned the key again, but it only repeated the wheezing noise, no matter how long she held the device in place. Attempting to use the pedals or the steering wheel as it wheezed offered no new results, and after a few more failed attempts, Pithy finally let out a frustrated grunt, leaning back on the seat with an irritable expression.

How did the badger get one to work?

“Maybe it’s just broken,” she muttered, giving an answer to her question. It was possible that the rain had seeped into the machinery within and ruined something she could not see. Pithy glanced behind her, noting something like cloth at the back of the car. It was likely meant to be used as a tarp in occasions such as last night’s storm, but the driver had never gotten the chance to use it.

Earlier, she had assumed that there was something maintaining the citadel in the Justice Hub in good repair, but that seemed unlikely to her now. It seemed likelier to her that the tidy offices, the abandoned barracks, the vehicles left out in the roads, all those things had only recently arrived to this City of Echoes. It seemed possible now that it had not been people who had abandoned this place a long time ago, but that this place had abandoned its inhabitants. Recently enough for the desks to be clear of dust.

Just what is this place? The magic involved to move a whole location from one realm to another belongs to an older Age… Though perhaps that was incorrect. Even before thinking of the scar it would leave on the source worlds, such a method would not leave the inhabitants of a place behind. Not moving, but copying? Synchronizing?

“Echoing…” she mouthed. But an echo required a source. One may very well say that the location itself would be a source from within its own world, but what could anchor it to this one? Among myriad realms, why should the echo of one world appear over any other, if it should appear at all?

Actaeon, the beast in the tombs appeared in her mind in a flash of intuition. What if we make the assumption that he did not arrive with his tombs, but that his tombs appeared in the city because of him?

Then the state of the supposedly abandoned Justice Hub would make more sense. After all, the city had had a recent influx of otherworldly beings. Which could, in turn, mean that each of these had caused an Echo to appear within the city.

Pithy sighed.

Of course, her guess at the logic behind the phenomenon still offered no hints as to its cause.

But that does not matter. It’s not what I came for, she roused herself. With some relief, she noted from the position of the sun that her contemplation could only have taken a few minutes. Indulging her curiosity was dangerous. Time lost its grip on her kind much too easily, but there was not enough sand left in her clock to afford such a thing.

Pithy exited the vehicle and ducked under the barrier, crossing the threshold of the Justice Hub.

I've Seen Enough Japanese Cartoons To Know Where This Is Going

For a while, the vampire simply lost himself in the slaughter of the eel-like monstrosities. It was about as fun as he'd expected, actually - for once, he could just kill and kill and kill, and nobody in their right minds would try to shame him for pulling these things in half, when not only had they attacked him first, but clearly weren't likely to go extinct any time soon for how many of them stuck around. Erina, to her credit, did almost as good a job at keeping up, her movements... Bend's, perhaps... as fluid as they had been in Motley's fight with her, and against a foe who wasn't nigh-immortal, she actually had the opportunity to show how skilled she was with a blade as she cut down tentacle beast after tentacle beast. How skilled he was- You know what, pretend Bend is her Stand, or an aspect of it, and assume it's her skill whenever he's possessed her, he prompted himself.

Unlike him, however, she was not tireless. Not to suggest she wasn't extremely fit, but after what must have been fifteen minutes of eel after eel emerging from the water and attempting to alternately bite them both and drag them under, she was beginning to show nearly-imperceptible signs of flagging. Those would turn into more drastic failures in due course, and sooner or later develop into catastrophic defeat and death by tentacle eel. He couldn't have that.

Over the next minute or so, Motley fought his way over to his ally, eventually placing himself back at her side, and wondered why he hadn't stayed there the whole time. Probably because the challenge appealed to him, he considered... the situation was slightly different now. And speaking of which, different circumstances called for different combat styles; without asking, he hauled Erina over one shoulder by the waist, much to her chagrin, before allow Heavy Fuel to flow out of him, the oil crackling with his life-sapping energy and lashing out with clawed skeletal hands to spear and crush any of the tentacle-things that felt they needed to leap toward him or his partner.

With a clear space of about two meters now surrounding him, Motley began to run full-speed toward the district of temples he'd been heading for earlier. And when he needed to run, he could really run.

In a few seconds, he was crossing over the water and dozens of meters away from where he'd started, a slick of vaporising crude oil and withered tentacles in his wake. Within a minute, he was well and truly within the temple district, and in a much less flooded section of land than before. Suffice to say, the tentacles weren't following after him any longer; feeling much safer, he dismissed Heavy Fuel and deposited Erina on the ground next to him, a much angrier ally than before.

'Do you mind not picking me up without asking?!' she yelled at him, her upset tone not exactly called for.

'You were going to die if I didn't, Motley retorted. 'And you knew that, too, didn't you?'

'I was doing fine, thanks for asking, vampire.'

'...so by your logic, what you actually mean is "I did need the help, and I greatly appreciate your input, Motley." You're very welcome, Erina.'

'Wh- ...you- ahahaha, nooo, nooooo... n-no.' Heavens to Betsy, was she blushing? 'Shut up I'm not.'

'I said nothing.'

'You said it with your eyes.'

'...well, either way,' Motley continued, smirking just a bit at the kitsune's embarrassment, 'I need you rested for our next fight. If you're tired, you'll be less useful. Speaking of which,' he recalled, 'are you sufficiently fed and watered?'

_{'Maybe if you hadn't barged in whilst I was eating...'}

Oh goodness, now she was pouting and folding her arms over herself. How impetuous. Or, still embarrassed.

'Bend?'

'She had seven bread rolls, three glasses of water, and an entire packet of what looked like mangled pork,' a voice listed.

'Bend, come on, I'm trying to be annoyed with him.'

'It hasn't worked. Anyway, you should be alright for now, in that case...'

And having said that, it was simply a matter of trying to figure out where they were in relation to their opponent. Motley looked around, admiring the quite impressive religious scenery, featuring saints in one glass pane, a martyr in the next, presumably-angelic beings bearing blades and leaves in another. He had no personal issue with religious institutions, himself, though he considered the concept of religion to be a bit of a fallacy in this day and age - after all, what sort of god would allow a man to stride across the world as an undead creature of the night, well beyond his intended lifespan? Of course, if you'd asked him back in the 1930's, the answer might have been a tad different... but feelings like that had dulled over time. He had more material matters to consider nowadays.

Like where his opponent was, damn it. What sort of absurd time limit was a single day in an area as large as a city, anyway? Ridiculous.

“We do not have to fight, but I'm afraid I need something of yours in order to continue. My wish isn't much—just to sweep away all the universe's evil. But I'll do whatever it takes.”

Juniper took a deep breath as a drone came and started buzzing out its announcement again. Another fight? So this person was who she was up against. She did not expect to find another contestant so soon. The metal man had that look, one she was familiar with. It was not a look solely by the refugees she often found and saved from those gangs that warred with each other. No, there was some of those madmen wearing the same look, whether they be haunted by their past, or something else more tangible.

"A hero? Don't make me laugh." She stopped just in front of the metal man. "What sort of 'hero' gleefully gathers souls to fulfill their own wish?"

Perhaps, just like her, he was drawn to the tournament because of the prize, but was not told of how that wish was going to be granted. But, unlike her, he did not seem to be reluctant to take the other's soul. How many souls had he already reaped? Even in self defense, she was reluctant to kill. Indeed, she had just knocked out her first opponent, even when he was trying hard to kill her.

"So tell me," She started rubbing her chin, "Are you truly fighting for a just cause? Or is that just what you tell yourself?"

Mountain gave Oren an annoyed grunt. "Having a car that was made for this kind of environment isn't cheating, man. You gotta check what a Range Rover is before accusing someone of hacking, you know." He said as he stepped on the accelerator. He then scratched the back of his neck when Oren said something about the artefact being in an art gallery. "An art gallery, huh? Well, there are only a few art galleries in cities most of the time, and they're usually super obvious. Hm..." He pondered the flamboyant announcer's statement, before Oren bid him goodbye and hung up. With their conversation over, Mountain was left with the sound of the vehicle's supercharged V8 engine and water lapping by the sides of the four-by-four.

The quickscoper cracked his neck and turned into a street with much higher office buildings lining the sides. However, there was still no sign of the art gallery. The location on his phone maps was incredibly vague as well, with the device outlining the entire area he was in. Mountain slowed down as he craned his head around, staring out each window for a sign of something. When he couldn't, he sighed and pulled out a can of Mountain Dew, sipping it as the car cruised forward at a lower speed.

Several minutes of driving later, Mountain was getting impatient. He had driven at least a few kilometres and trudged through multiple streets, but the buildings all looked the same. Frustrated, Mountain downed the last bit of Dew and stopped the car at an intersection where he could see past the gaps in each structure. Then, he opened its sunroof and climbed onto the roof. Once there, he took out his signature AWP and looked down the sights, repurposing it as a makeshift telescope. He scanned the area, turning on the spot as he searched high and low for the building in question. Yet, again after minutes of this, he still hadn't found a thing. However, just as he was about to give up and give Oren another call, he caught something glinting in the distance.

Adjusting his sights, he zoomed in. There, he noticed that the glint was actually the sun reflecting off the arm of a metal statue. The ghost of a smile began to appear on Mountain's face as he studied the area. Classical-style parliment building? Check. Big, weird statues out front? Check. Modern-looking art installations? Check.

At last, he had found what he was looking for. It only took him like what, half and hour?

"Yes!" Mountain cheered, pumping his fist in the air. He hastily climbed back down into the vehicle's interior and strapped himself in, before putting the pedal to the metal. The engine growled as it lurched forwards, kicking up a large amount of water as it streaked through the flooded streets. As he neared, the building became all too clear. The odd statues outside became more obvious, and the sunlight reflected off water streaming down fountains in the courtyard. Mountain pulled up right next to some stairs at the front of the building, neatly allowing the entrance and first floor of the building to be a fair amount of distance above the waterline.

Mountain exited the vehicle and ascended the stairs and pushed open its large wooden doors. The inside was lit by the rays of sun flowing through a glass skylight, which also illuminated the numerous pieces of art like a natural spotlight. "Helloooooo? Anyone here?" Mountain called out, his rifle in his hands in case there were any enemies around. You could never trust a (seemingly) empty building, after all. "Huh." He muttered, looking around at the various paintings and sculptures. Which reminded him, Oren said the artefact was in a sculpture 'just inside the gallery's main entrance'. Mountain thought it was simple enough when he first heard it, but now his was seriously doubting himself as his hopes fell. In the building's main entrance, there were sculptures.

Lots of them.

"God fucking dammit."

With a gesture Lily directed Brucie from one cover to the other, putting him in a position not far from her target. He was an asian man, either japanese or chinese, but which exactly Lily couldn't quite tell. He was walking down a street of sorts, between an old, ruined building and something that looked like it had once been an excavation machine of sorts. Brucie was around the corner of the building ahead of him, and Lily some distance behind, crouching behind a giant wheel of metal, Mouse at her side.

He looked... ordinary. Of course, that was no guarantee that he was, only that there were no obvious weapons on his person, or signs of his capabilities. He did carry a baton of sorts, reminiscent of the ones a conductor used. Was he music oriented? Or was it something more direct, as in directing nearby objects to do his bidding? She wouldn't know until she fought him.

He was alone, however, which meant that he had either not let his first opponent live, or he had discarded her. That only made things easier for her. It was a two versus one, instead of a two versus two. But she still could not allow herself to get complacant. He was still a victor of a previous battle, and by all accounts looked uninjured, hinting that he had been strong enough to defeat his opponent without taking a single hit himself, or had the ability to heal. She would have to be careful.

Beside her, Mouse pressed his nose against her hand - a simple gesture. Yet, she simple comfort that came from something as innocent as asking for a little attention brought a smile to her face, and rid her of some of her apprehension. She allowed herself a moment of distraction to scratch his head, before returning her attention to ther next opponent. All she was waiting for, was Oren to announce the beginning of the fight. Granted, they had never explicitly said that it was necessary, and even made a point to say that they only preferred if they got to announce the beginning of a fight. So, by the given rules, she was well within her right to sneak up on him and kill him before he even had a chance to retaliate. Or, at least there had been no mention of any such rules, only that they were not allowed to attack anyone who was no their opponent.

But even then, it was safe to assume that attacking without any announcement wouldn't garner her any favours with the College, so she had to wait for Oren.

---

She didn't have to wait long.

The familiar drone came zooming in from over the building Brucie hid behind, not a minute after Lily had considered just attacking without warning, and caught the attention of all participants. The baton-wielding guy stood straight and looked up at it, idly tapping the tool against his leg.

From the speakers of the drone came the ever familiar voice of their commentator, "Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and... things in-between. It is I, Oren the Orator, here to spectate and offer witty commentary. Now, for the participants. In the furry corner, we have Lily, a cunning little vixen with a penchant for grouchiness, along with a few friends of hers! And in the musical corner, we have an equally grouchy and overgrown lizard: Jiang Zhao, also known as Angry Dragon! So, leeeeeet's get ready to ruuumbleeeeee!"

Lily didn't waste a single moment. She set off a flash of light, signalling for Brucie to start. He leapt out of cover and charged, cackling all the while. Lily stayed at her hiding spot, tails moving at a frantic rate behind her, charging up.

In the distance, her opponent flicked his wrist and a song started to play. And almost as soon as the first tone was struck, a small horde of dark riders appeared as if from thin air and circled Brucie. Already Lily was analyzing them, able to see clearly even from a distance due to her inhuman nature. They looked real, and menacing even, but there was one problem - they didn't leave hoofprints in the ground, giving away the illusory nature. She reached out with her mind, took hold of the illusion, and squashed it, the riders dissipating instantly. Seeing this, Brucie rushed forward again in a mad dash.

Jiang flicked his wrist again, starting a series of rapid and intricate movements, and the song changed again, this time becoming rapid and energetic. Around him the ground burst into flames, forcing Brucie into a stumbling halt lest the flames roast him.

"You!" Jiang demanded, leveling his baton at the now circling Brucie. "How did you stop my riders?!" The sounds were muffled, but even from a distance Lily could hear.

Brucie grinned widely, answering in his rusty voice. "Ain't got no reason to tell ya, pumpkin." He chortled, much to the annoyance of Jiang, if his expression was anything to go by. "But this is a tournament, boy, you shouldn't let yourself be distracted so easily." Brucie stopped then, and made a pointed glance to somewhere behind Jiang. Realisation dawned almost too slowly, the song changing to something that could only be described as metal at the conductor's command, surrounding him in a shell of iron a fraction of a second before exploding bolts of fire battered against his armour.

"Iaowai!" He shouted from within the metal shell, piercing the music. "Breaking the rules! Not allowed to attack someone else's opponent!"

"That's where you're wrong, kiddo," Brucie said, chortling. "We're not breaking any rules. We're both your opponents." He walked up to the metal wall, striking it with an experimental fist. It left a small dent, but little else. "You're outnumbered, chap. Come out and face your death like a man!"

Far behind, Lily had abandoned her previous hiding spot, instead standing in the middle of the street clad in an illusion hiding her from view. The music still played, and the metal wall surrounding him would protect him from her lightning, and her fire would prove of little use.

How would she break through it?

As Saria’s rowboat began to crumble into burnt chunks as she reached the shore, the floor crumbled, and she sank waist-deep into the water, which steamed and sizzled due to her still-present aura of fire. As she stumbled out of the sea, her aura burned the rest of the water away from her armor.

A seething pain gnawed away at her insides, like she had swallowed a handful of razors and chased it with a vat of acid. It clouded her thinking, therefore her only goal was to find her opponent and kill him. She grabbed her phylactery, switching it on and filling the mic with words that practically dripped with rage.

“Where’s my enemy, huh? Where is he! Bring me to him, and he will die!”

Saria coughed, clutching her abdomen, where the acidic pain felt the worst.

Damn this place. What cowardly monster intends to kill its opponent after it has died? I’m bloody happy that the bastard sunk along with the ship; It can give Rose my regards.

Seconds passed, and still no answer came from the phylactery. Her frenzy, combined with the burning poison, combined with just plain annoyance and fury began to overwhelm her, and a raging animosity building up within her suddenly burst.

She gripped her phylactery with so much force she was surprised it didn’t break. Losing her patience after hearing no answer from the announcer, or anyone at all, she screamed into the little pendant.

“Do you FUCKING HEAR ME? Tell me where the cheeky bastard is in the next five seconds, or else after I kill him, I’m going to find the college and PERSONALLY SKULLFUCK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU WITH MY FISTS!”

Ok, her name was Sophia. Or was her name Seraphim? Either of those could be codenames honestly. Lets just go with Sophia for now. "Alright Sophia, well it's a pleasure to meet you."

”With pointless murder? No. But murder with a purpose? The destruction of the enemies of mankind, the purging of the corrupt and the inhuman from this world? From all worlds! Join us Jin and save your mortal soul from damnation! Join me and we can end this charade of a tournament together. With our forces combined we can destroy the xenos filth and heretical technology that infests these ruins. Think to yourself, is what you desire truly worth trusting a machine that devours souls? How could such a device possibly not be evil? It will inevitably betray you and do something awful instead! After all, this used to be a thriving city, the most advanced in the world. Yet you must have seen it, seen the empty streets, the ruins. What if that device is responsible? What might it do if fed again? Tell me your desire Jin, tell me what you crave so greatly that it is worth this risk?”

Oh boy. Just his luck, his opponent wasn't just religious. She was a zealot, a particularly crazy one who glorified murder. So much for a nice clean match. Dear lord she's panting. Is she getting off to this shit? Jin shuddered as he felt like his breakfast might decide to come back up. But this could work out in his favor, zealots weren't the smartest people in his experience. Hell, one time he took on this contract to assassinate a priest, so Jin told him that he wanted to convert and the dude practically- that was besides the point. the point was that it was time to start acting.

"Oh my god, this religion sounds amazing! I get to kill people and then go to heaven because I killed people! I can't imagine anything better! And you have an amazing point, that machine could devour my soul if I did win. I was such an idiot to trust the people at the college." He said all this with a pretty believable tone, but if any of Oren's cameras were watching they could see Jin making super exaggerated faces and him making a jerking off motion with his hand.

With his hard work done, Bartholomew K. Runch slumped his back up against the protective dome he had sealed the wishing machine inside. Reaching into his coat, he produced two bowls with accompanying spoons. Humming a little diddy to himself, the pirate waved a hand over each of the bowls, pouring them full of cereal. One he set on the floor to his side, while he began to eat from the other. Gripping the spoon in one hand and the bowl in the other, he practically shoveled the food into his face, teeth gnashing at the baked wheat with ferocity. Throughout the halls of the Old Basilica echoed the thunderous crunching of the captain's meal. If anybody was hiding there, they'd definitely have heard it.

"The structure is clear," spoke Serhan, calmly returning from his scouting of the area. He positioned himself near the captain, slightly off to the side, and looked down at the man. The pirate glanced up, smiled, and gestured toward the spare bowl nearby through his chewing. The Turkish man's eyes followed the gesture and came to rest upon the ceramic bowl. "What is this for?"

"Gotta eat, keep your strength up!" Runch replied, accidentally spitting bits of crumb onto the floor.

"I would rather not ingest your infidel food. Besides, I've already tasted it. When you nearly crushed my body." Though his volume never increased beyond what you would expect in a normal conversation, the irritation was plain in the assassin's voice.

"Omnomnom, don't be like that now! You've got to keep your strength up and get nourished! Besides, that was a completely different recipe made for combat! This is my special Rainbow Sor-Berry! It uses over twelve different berry flavors and mixes fried ice cream sorbet! Omnomnom! Delicious and very healthy. Go ahead and try it!" Runch again gestured to the bowl on the floor.

Serhan sighed and sat down next to Runch, gripping the bowl in both hands. So long as he remained enthralled he couldn't refuse. Allah would have a very special place in Hell for this infernal pirate. Eyes squinted, he pulled the spoon toward his mouth with some measure of trepidation. One last time he dared to look at the captain, who encouraged the action once more. Serhan opened his mouth, placed the food upon his tongue, and began the process of mastication. Shock. Amazement. It had been as though electricity surged directly from his mouth to his brain! The killer couldn't help but smile as he chomped on a little more.

"Omnomnom! I had no idea that you could actually be happy!" Runch reached over and slapped the hitman on his back, causing the man to gag and choke for a good five or six seconds before he spat out the offending pellet. A glare of pure malice and death shot over to Runch, who recoiled sheepishly, nervously whistling and avoiding eye contact. Serhan finished his bowl, but not without keeping his eye on the pirate for the entire meal.

A good twenty minutes later, and Runch continued making seconds, thirds, and fourths for himself, the duo had their fill of rejuvenating nourishment. The pirate stood up and announced, "Alright, now we be ready to take on our next opponent! Omnomnom!"

"In what capacity?" Serhan criticized. "We don't know who they are, what they can do, or where to find them. Intelligence and preparation are key."

Runch opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. He had been halted in his tracks just like a flattened tire. That is, until he once again picked up some steam."You're right on most accounts. Once we see them, the journal will tell us everything we need to know, but I don't think they'll show up, let us read a book covering their whole abilities and weaknesses, then start up the fight. But Oren did say something about finding this guy in the next district over."

The Turk shook his head. "I got lucky when I found you so early yesterday. That allowed me to tail you for some time. An entire district in a city this grand, how do you propose we find them?"

"Well," Runch shrugged then scratched the back of his head. "I did actually have a plan about that. Oren called us up earlier today you see. We have 3 free calls to get advice or hints from him, but we can also connect directly to our opponents, like a den den mushi."

Normally fairly unflappable, Serhan had to double take to make sure he had heard Runch correctly. "Den den mushi? What in Allah's name is that?"

"You know, a den den mushi. Does... Does your world not have them? It's a snail that sends electronic waves to other snails, so you can talk to people far away. Anyway, what's important is that I can call up our opponent through my phylactery. So we go out to meet halfway, then while you prepare the field I'll call him up and tell him to watch for my signal."

Serhan looked like he was trying to follow the pirate's description of this "den den mushi," but wasn't quite grasping the concept. Eventually he just shrugged it off as another oddity from this already bizarre man. After all, he could create and control baked wheat, so what else could possibly be surprising at this point? "Very well. I would prefer to have an understanding of this man before setting up the battlefield, but I suppose nothing in this situation is ideal."

"Don't worry, mate!" Runch went in for another slap to the back, but pulled away at the last moment as he remembered what had happened the last time he tried. The end result looked like an extremely awkward attempt at a hug. "This isn't the end of Cap'n K. Runch's adventures! I can feel it in the air! Omnomnom!"

"I could only pray that it was," Serhan shot back. "But it is not your end that I worry for."

"Not to worry. So long as I still draw breath, my crew is under my protection! Omnomnom! Now let's head out. We shouldn't have much daylight left."

---

---

Two hours later, the pirate and assassin duo had traversed back across district lines from the Holy Grounds to the Oldtown. Again crossing the flooded zones was irritating, but not a major issue. Runch had instantly known where he wanted the battlefield to be as soon as his eyes met with the grand structure. Serhan had reservations, saying that it was not only too obvious, but too open. It had lacked cover and placement for his traps, there was too little to take advantage of, but the captain didn't care. The large colosseum was to be the battlefield. Or at least part one of the battlefield. For some reason, Runch felt like this would be a drawn out process.

The colosseum had been partially flooded out, just like the rest of the Historical District, but it wasn't too bad. Other than some rooms within the larger structure being totally submerged, the arena itself was merely wet. The assassin did his best setting up his preparations, not just within the arena but scattered throughout the larger structure, in the stands, the halls, and anywhere else he thought the fight might end up spilling out into.

"Everything setup?" Runch asked, once he saw Serhan approaching him in the middle of the arena.

"As much as can be," he retorted, irritated. "Inside the building has a good deal more I can work with. Out here we're sitting ducks."

"I'll be the sitting duck, so don't you worry about that, omnomnom! I'm not risking your life in my fight, mate. So consider it captain's orders to head back to the wishing machine. Once I win, I'll come back for ya! Omnomnom!"

"You... Want me to abandon you in a battle to the death? Heh heh. You're far more foolish than I anticipated." The Turk shook his head as he chuckled, then did exactly as ordered. Of course he would have done exactly that even if he weren't magically compelled to do whatever Runch ordered. Runch didn't read too much into it, though.

The pirate excitedly pressed the button on his phylactery to contact Oren, then spoke with the excitement of a schoolboy. "This is the cap'n! Go ahead and connect me to whatever trouble I gotta tussle with today!" He waited, impatiently tapping his heel, until the connection came through. "This is Cap'n Bartholomew K. Runch, cap'n of the Krunch Pirates and worth a bounty of 32 million belli! I'm here in the Oldtown Colosseum and ready to take you on for the honor of a wish! Omnomnomnom! In case you did like I did and won your last fight without killing'em, then I challenge you to a one on one duel! Let your crewmate prepare you if you like, but once you step into the fight it's just you and me! Omnomnom! Oh, and if you don't know where to go, just look for my signal in the sky in.... Three, two, one."

Runch grinned, then placed his phylactery inside his shirt, buried under three layers of fabric. "Bori bori... Jet!" With a mighty leap the pirate took to the air, propelled by a constant high pressure stream of cereal pellets blasting from his feet. One, two, three, four, five hundred feet, six hundred, seven hundred, all the way up to a thousand feet he soared like a jet plane! "Bori bori fireworks!" The pirate threw his arms and legs out and spun wildly around the air, firing out tons of cereal of every color imaginable. It was like an explosion of rainbows peppering the sky. That was one hell of a signal!

Gently Runch let his fall be slowed by pressurizing out another, slower jet stream until he touched down on the ground. He then pulled out the phylactery one more time and spoke into it. "I'll be waiting."

Sophia took a moment to catch her breath and then listened in elation at Sunspot’s enthusiastic response. She’d done it! she had converted someone with her words alone! Together they would sweep this land of the heretics and xenos!
_{He’s playing you for a fool. Which you are, by the way, for believing that hogwash.}

They were of course just words... but she held out hope! She would need to get some kind of proper affirmation of loyalty of course, to ensure he was not simply a man with a serpent's tongue, but this was promising.

"This is excellent new, Emperor bless this day. I shall arrive shortly to cement your new found faith and our holy allegiance."

She continued on her way through the forest and the burnt remains of trees gave way to the same lush forest she had been in yesterday before she had burnt it to the ground. It was nice, the sounds of nature where causing Sophia to relax a little, which was perhaps not the best state to be in when there was an assassin around. In the relative quiet however that little seed of doubt was getting a chance to grow. The faithless where a untrustworthy lot by nature, their meek minds easy pickings for Chaos and xenos influence. Until his mind became an iron bulwark of faith he could not be considered an ally she reminded herself.

He hadn’t answered her question either. What did he really want. For what would a man risk his immortal soul for. Had he held that back deliberately, knowing the answer would give him away as a heretic?

"What was your wish anyway?"

---

About 10 minutes later, after a pleasant stroll that included briefly stopping to drink from a stream, she arrived at what she assumed was the narrow canyon mentioned by the announcer. It really was about the time that he said he would be sending another drone. At least she guessed that it was. She drew her melta pistol in her working hand and put her helmet back on before she began to carefully make her way down the dead end canyon, a little concerned that she was going to be ambushed within its confines.

With his ultimatum issued, Cyril need only stare at his opponent, plainfaced, until she made her decision. It didn't seem possible that this situation could go any other way. Oren's words puzzled him -after all, he certainly wouldn't describe himself as a hero, and if this woman wouldn't give up her soul voluntarily after hearing his wish, she wasn't either- but to be frank he didn't care enough to challenge him. Those that talked a lot, he knew, craved an audience. By ignoring the announcer he would render his irritating speech useless. All that remained, then, was the question: how could he make this morning, with its golden rays poking through last night's clouds and the rain pooled in the ditches, a stepping stone toward his goal?

Juniper put off the decision, however, and her words made the vanguard's lip curl. “Gleeful? Forgive me, but are you simple? What about me says 'gleeful'? I don't even enjoy cutting down those who deserve it. Anyway, the announcer said 'hero', not me. Fighting evil doesn't make someone good...” Though such a statement could have just as easily been issued by a self-assured vigilante, Cyril's low, morose tone spoke more of self-depreciation than anything.

Her next question made him want to sigh and roll his eyes, but he didn't want to be rude. Instead, he averted his gaze, and replied, “What? I don't need to...debate philosophy with you.” He paused, gears turning in his head. Despite his dismissive declaration, he felt oddly nagged by the impulse to justify himself. Why? If he admitted to himself he wasn't a hero, he didn't need justification. The reasons behind his wish should have been self-evident. He wasn't deluded, or insane, or anything. Just a man sick of suffering who finally saw a way to end it. In his head, he didn't even want to do it to be seen as a hero, but just to bring peace. His only personal gain would be a life of safety, without worry. It made perfect sense.

Another moment slid by before the knight spoke again. “I'm not some wide-eyed idealist or justicular. There's no point. I don't know where you come from, but the place I'm from is a world of monsters, demons, and men who can be worse than any of 'em. It's a fight for survival. People fight every day for reasons they don't understand, for causes they don't believe in. But here...in this Crucible, I've found a way that just might be able to end all that. So a few lives, my life, my soul...it'd all be worth it, even if it's the smallest chance.” The words hardened his tremulous heart, helping to calm his troubled mind and build the confidence he needed to do this. “I'm nobody,” he said, more firmly. “So even if I'd be happier if I didn't, it doesn't matter if I die, or have to kill. It's a small sacrifice for something that would bring so much real good. I've finally found what I was looking for: a fight I believe in.”

He took a quick, deep breath and stepped back. “So what are you so high and mighty about? Huh? What do you believe in, looking down on my wish?” His dull eyes harbored a certain spark. “Revenge on those who hurt you? A new arm? Doesn't matter. In the end, you're just like me, wishing for something. One of us is getting the other's soul, so might as well forget the chitchat and see who's wish is stronger. Last chance to surrender, miss.” He released the shaft of his glaive with his left hand and held it in a fist across his chest, a gesture of his army's that signified both respect and acknowledgment of an imminent fight.


A dark chuckle, amped up in volume, emanated from the phylactery on which Saria had a strangehold. “Yeah, I'm sure. I've brushed off scarier things than you today, but whatever, request's a request. Your opponent is on the shore, not far, hiding in a big bunch of plant's he's summoned. I'm sure ya can see it from there.”

Not wanting to have his eardrums further stimulated, Oren cut the line after that. His drone, also in the general area, would automatically capture events preceding the fight between the Blood Devil and the Fungal Knight. When the time came to get the party started, he'd flick the switch that would connect him and officiate the match's beginning, though at this point he did not at all expect the frenzied Saria to wait for him. He exhaled deeply, which turned into a shudder as he remembered the malformed abominations that Saria discovered on the shipwreck. Man, first the giant bird, now this...these echoes have some flippin' crazy stuff. Maybe I oughta start a report to the College, titled, 'Like Everyone Who Messes With Stuff We Don't Understand, We Bit Off More Than We Could Chew and Might be Screwed'. Snickering he said aloud, “It's a work in progress.”



Sophia's paranoia proved unfounded as her trek into the narrow ravine turned up no ambush whatsoever. In fact, this entire area had been far enough away from the events of last night as to avoid fire damage completely, and this local in particular stood out as quite the peaceful, picturesque little spot. Several different varieties of tree stood on the crevice's edges, their roots snaking in and out of the dirt bent like old fingers, and amongst them poked out the elegant heads of lavender wildflowers. It would have been more scenic still had there not been a supply cache stuck in the ravine's far end, wedged between the walls. With the fuel contained within, the good sister could easily ascend to the clouds and fulfill Oren's request before seeking out her new opponent. The announcers drone, meanwhile, hovered nearby in autopilot. Mindless, it had followed Sophia during her trip, ready to be picked up and lofted skyward when she was ready to accomplish her task. Evidently, Oren did not concern himself with the two contestants' conversation.

That said, he did keep his end of the bargain. The very same drone held an item box, and within awaited the treasure that was both Sophia's reward and her impetus toward greater service for the College.





While the sculptures in the art gallery's entrance hall alone were many, the artifact in question wasn't exactly hidden. A golden shape lay in the lap of a man reclined against a pillar behind the main reception desk, who held his head in his hands as though bemoaning the object upon him. Though sporting an odd design, the item Mountain had been sent to retrieve was clearly an arrow of expensive make. However, Mountain did not get the chance to stare at it for long.

Something small and dark moved behind the reception desk, and the next moment, something happened. The mechanism for it happening was impossible to discern, but with extreme abruptness and speed, the art gallery receded. The entire building sped backward -or so it appeared to the museum's visitor- at a rapid pace, only slowing down when it reached about a half mile away. A quick look around would determine that the landscape had changed. To either side, the plaza had appeared to expand lengthwise, putting a large amount of distance between Mountain and the gallery's inside. The ground itself appeared to have stretched, and the patterns on the buildings duplicated over and over again to fill the new space. Inexplicably, the plaza was now twice as long as it had been, with the building a good distance away. Having been at the top of the stairs, right at the door, when space extended, it appeared that Mountain was still on that same ground, but the exact portion of ground just ahead of him had been lengthened to put him at a safe distance from whatever had caused this. This must have been what Oren meant when he said his drones were 'sent back', and it didn't take a below-average mind to be confused by it.



Having scrutinized the activities of the courageous captain and his Ottoman accomplice for some time, albeit idly, Oren responded to Runch's request with a greater-than-usual swiftness. Perhaps in anticipation of what everything indicated would be an imminent battle, the announcer obliged his caller with very little prevarication, and in a tone that echoed some of Runch's excitement. “Comin' right up. Let's see what our mutual friend's up to.” A series of mouse clicks later, the bespectacled bamboozler succeeded in making the connection, and for the second time yet spoke to the enigmatic vampire and his vulpine acquaintance.

“Heyheyhey there, Crue! I know ya've been havin' fun with Fluffer Number Two there for a while now, but a certain someone's dyin' to get down to business. Say hello to your next opponent!”

After that Oren kept quiet to allow Runch to make his own introduction, and with no small amount of fascination he watched him ascend to the heavens afterward, buoyed up by a towering Babel of whole wheat. For a time, his mouth hung just a little bit open, though his eyes remained as squinted as ever. Only when the pirate reached Terra Firma did he find his tongue. “Whoa. If I ever need new glasses, I know where to look, 'cause that was quite the spectacle. Betcha won't have any trouble getting' your Round 2 started. Good luck, cap'n!”

The Fungal Knight - Setting the Stage

After hearing the incredibly loud and intimidating war cry from his opponent, Bonesword's soul raced around within him. She was angry, that's for certain, and in his experiences that didn't mean that she was going to play completely fairly. Although, while people in rage do have a tendency to be reckless and blood-lusted, it could be pretty beneficial on the other side of the spectrum as they don't think rationally. If Bonesword could play his cards right (and dance around a sword with enough mastery), he could outlive her and stay on top of it all.

He was curious about one thing, though. What was the wish of his opponent? He forgot to ask for Big-Big's wish, but he could at least ask her wish before it was all over. Maybe the two could reach a compromise, as far-fetched as that sounded considering her current state.

"If you aren't too angered to answer, may I ask why you joined the Crucible in the first place?"

As the skeleton spoke, the area around him turned more into an area fitted for his favor. What was once a beach, cast out before a large rock, was now an oasis, still growing by the second. Thick walls of cacti and trees lined the area, even providing some tight corners from within, as a circular area remained in the center, with thick roots casting down from the skeleton's feet. His vision was becoming a reality, as Bonesword knew that what he was doing would give him an edge. One that he'd likely need in order to survive against the opponent.

@Roughdragon1@Lugubrious

Saria saw the tumorous mass of green over on the shore, and began to make her way towards it, each slow step sizzling and heating the sand below her, turning a bit of it into glass. Her heart pounded faster than she could control, but she was wasn’t scared, nor afraid. She was excited. She was vying for a kill, and it didn’t matter to her who or what it was.

"If you aren't too angered to answer, may I ask why you joined the Crucible in the first place?"

“My wish?” Saria froze. For a moment, she couldn’t move; she couldn’t breathe.

My wish, my wish, my wish, my wish… DAMMIT! What was my wish!

Saria started to claw at her helmet, like she was trying to reach her brain and rewire it herself. After a few minutes, she stopped, her helmet outlined by fine, white scratches.

“My wish? I want to die.” She let that hang in the air for a moment.

“However, I will not be killed by you. I must find someone truly worthy of taking my life.”

With that, Saria began to walk towards the clump of green. Even through her frenzy, deep down, she wasn’t thinking about the possibility of losing. In fact, she was thinking about all the ways she was going to kill whoever it was she was going to fight. Whoever it was may have had some plants, but she would burn them all down.

@Banana @Lugubrious

The Fungal Knight - Prepare for Combat

Bonesword stared at his opponent from an opening in the walls of his paradise. Her wish was to die at the hand of someone worthy enough to take her down. If she won, then she'd wait even longer to receive her wish, but if he won, he could make her wish a reality. He could make a wish come true. He may not have been what she first thought of when she formed her wish, but he did know that he was a damn fine opponent, and that was something he knew for sure.

"Well... I may not be what you thought of first, but I can be that opponent." Bonesword actually felt his soul constrict inside him. Was he truly an opponent worthy for this woman? He hoped that he was, or he'd be dying in the face of his own righteousness. Regardless, he felt like he should tell her the wish he had in mind.

"It's a long shot, but if I win this, I want to bring my soulmate back. She was all I had after my own kind rejected me, and she met her sorrowful fate at the hands of the man I once knew as my best friend. I miss her every day of my existence, and unfortunately for me, I can't be reunited with her in death, as I live in the afterlife already. She fights for the Heavens, and I am rejected because of my very existence..." a single purple rose grew from the sockets in the skeleton's eyes as he uprooted himself, his paradise now fully built. "I am Bonesword, the Fungal Knight. A swordsman who has spent his entire afterlife in sorrow..."

"... and I'll make sure that your last fight won't be as sad as me."

A single clear path, shown by the sandy trail leading up to the skeleton, was visible in between two walls. His paradise was fully built, and it was meant to house a sword duel that would go down in this city's history forever.

@Lugubrious@Roughdragon1

"Seriously?"

She gives the drone the flattest of looks (not that it can be seen with her helmet in the way) as she stares at what the box has in it.

"SERIOUSLY?"

She threw her arms up in exasperation.

"your lucky I think spying on those bugs is a good idea! The fuck is that supposed to be, ugly jewelry?"

She said in a rage, possibly only to herself, before stomping off in a huff down to the cache to resupply. 5 minutes of reloading and careful refueling later she approached the drone once more, which was still hovering there holding the weird egg. On closer inspection it seemed to consist of a red material which had all the parts of a face in all the wrong places. With nowhere presently available to put it (the remaining pill was now squashed under a clip on her ammo belt) she tossed it over her shoulder to Gromory.

"I’ll deal with whatever that is when I get back. Every moment wasted is another that the Xenos get to make their vile plans unseen."

With the weird artifact unknowingly left in the lucky hands of her Emperor’s puppet, she ignited the jetpack’s thrusters and tried to take off. She immediately veered to the left as her tentacle arm throw of her learned center of mass, causing the woman to ram tendril first into the nearest tree.

After a string of curse words and 3 more attempts she managed to get herself stabilized in her flight again. Well, somewhat stabilized, she was still a wee bit wobbly. It was good enough and so she grabbed hold of the drone and rocketed skywards, up, up, past the treetops and into the sky. The pack wasn’t really made for this kind of maneuver, but the Adeptus Mechanicus’s creations still performed remarkably well. That is to say, she did not plummet to her anticlimactic death. They rose veer higher till they were level, though somewhat far away from, that giant bird like thing that hovered ominously above the city.

"Alright you Xenos scum, lets see what you're up too"

She engaged the binocular setting on her helmet's visor and zoomed in. Presumably the drone, whose camera was facing the great avian, did the same.

"Why yes." An answer made more to rile him up. "A wish to end all the universe's evil? And you would entrust this to a machine that eat souls?"

Regardless of Juniper's nonchalant attitude and her not being in any recognizable fighting stance, she was already prepared to fight. She had been unable to shake off her bad habits brought on by being complacent for so long, but with the few life or death fights she had recently, slowly but surely she was returning to her old self.

"Such a wish, fed into such a machine, would only bring disaster. Have you not realized it? Or did you simply did not care, counting those deaths as necessary sacrifices? Playing a number game without regards for the lives behind it."

An enemy hiding behind their own illusions and images. Not something uncommon from where she came from. Of course there were always the crazies there, ranging from kooks who thinks lizards were talking to them, to disillusioned people like this man trying to poison an entire water system just to purge the gangs, unable to comprehend the people who lived off that water system would die as well. Not to mention water being one of the only things even the gangs were reluctant to tamper with.

There was no kami, no youkai, nor any other force that could bring evil into man, for both good and evil sprung from their hearts. That was what she believed, after living for so long in her world. And this metal man's wish, was not something she could allow, for the only way she could see that wish being granted, was the death of all mankind.

There And Back Again

Not long after their prior conversation about food, Motley's phylactery piped up for the first time in a fair while. Pulling it from within his clothing, he was accosted first by the voice of the announcer from before, and then again by his opponent, one Captain Bartholomew K. Runch. The most annoying part of his speech came from learning that he was back in Oldtown - which sounded far more like the location Motley had just come from than where he'd been going - whereas the most interesting was the desire for a one-on-one fight. No allies, just the pirate captain and the vampire. Not that any preparations of Erina's could help him here, but if the pirate captain was so concerned with honour... well, he was going to wind up having a bad time.

And then came the position marker. From the muffled voice coming through the phylactery, it seemed to be a two part move - first, something relatively invisible, and secondly something extremely visible indeed. Clearly, the former move let him find a way to get insanely high in the air, in this case in preparation for the second move, but already it revealed a key factor in this fight: Runch had the ability to fly, and not slowly either, through some means or another, which would give him air superiority over Motley if push came to shove. At best, Motley could pull off a fairly high leap, following by using his Nega-Ripple to push against the air and hover around relatively slowly, maybe using Heavy Fuel to pull himself around when possible. So, preventing Runch from getting airborne if at all possible would be important.

That said, following the trail of whatever colourful substance he'd just scattered around would by no means be difficult. It was just the journey back that'd be tedious, since he'd already travelled it once. And that would annoy him, and he decided in advance that that meant perhaps being a bit more coarse with the good captain than was strictly necessary, starting with not telling the man his name.

'I'm afraid you are not going to like what happens next, Captain Runch,' Motley droned into his phylactery, intimidation the aim of the game. After that, he put the device back beneath his shirt, then motioned to Erina to follow after him, back the way they came. More of a leisurely pace this time around, since a ten meter wide pool of life-sucking energy would be more than sufficient to keep them both safe from harm if need be, and it only made sense to let the man stew in his own worry for just a little while.

It wasn't long after they re-entered the Oldtown district that the first scattering of brightly-coloured cereal made itself known to Motley, floating atop the surface of the flooded district and rather soaked by now. Surely the same stuff that had been emitted by Runch, or whatever devices he held that let him create so much cereal. Another important point worth noting, then: Runch could create and potentially control cereal, in abnormally vast quantities no less. So, whilst it was his usual MO anyway, Motley would definitely want to get as close to Runch as possible to prevent the man taking advantage of that capacity... if his Black Ripple wasn't sufficient to nullify the cereal on its own, since a quick test showed that it was simple enough, at least, to disintegrate just the one waterlogged puff of whatever grain was in that thing. His lightning mode might also be useful for that purpose, preventing Barty from making full use of his abilities and/or devices if the electrical surge was strong enough.

Figuring out where to go was simple enough based on the thickness of cereal covering the water and land, and it eventually transpired that the destination was a large, ancient-looking colosseum. Halting outside it, Motley took a moment to gather in the sight - it wasn't exactly an eyesore, after all - then pondered on the streak of humour that Runch was showing off by setting their fight in what was quite literally a giant arena. And wouldn't it be equally humorous to force an anticlimax by making the ship's captain come and fight him just outside of it? Although there were better reasons to force such an event, after all... it could be that he'd rigged the entire building with traps whilst Motley was making his way there. Or perhaps that he'd done so before even contacting him. He seemed very certain that that was where he wanted Motley to go, after all... he pressed a hand over the phylactery under his clothing, muffling any noise that might otherwise reach it.

'Erina, you're a smart girl. I want you to stay outside the amphitheatre,' Motley ordered quietly, 'to wait for myself and Captain Runch to emerge, and if you see me having trouble at any point, to use Bend to end the fight decisively. Can you do that?'

'Tch, what, do you think I'm some sort of-'

'Okay, I made a mistake in my wording, so let me clarify: you are going to do that for me, because I'm sure it's within your power to do so.' Now was not the time for her to be contradictory, and he needed to be absolutely certain she could assist if he needed the assistance.

'...yeah, I can do that,' she murmured, just a tad surer in her words than before. 'You'll know when I make my move.' With that, she wandered off, hand already at the hilt of her blade.

And with no further distractions, Motley began to climb the colosseum's wall, fingers puncturing sets of holes into the rock as he ascended. If his theory about the place being trapped to Hell and back held true, there was no reasonable way that he'd want to wander through the halls of the amphitheatre so casually. That was just asking for trouble, after all. So, instead, he'd climb up to the top level, and make his foe come up there in order to fight him. A risk, if the air superiority thing held true, but one that might be worth taking.

A mere minute passed before he reached that top level, and he found himself within what seemed to be the amphitheatre's uppermost stands. And that raised a good question: was the ability to summon cereal the man's Stand ability, or was that a factor of some other power source, in the manner of Erina's ability to summon flames that burned the undead? He knew not, and from the look of the man below him, it could easily go either way - he certainly seemed to be an old-fashioned captain of some sort or another, at least, though the torn-up cape was somewhat less standard.

Pulling out his phylactery again, and making certain Heavy Fuel wasn't visibly manifested beforehand, he spoke into it before putting it back under his shirt: 'Come up to the stands.' If the pirate wanted to make this quick, then Motley certainly wouldn't mess around with smalltalk.

@Lugubrious@ProPro

"This is excellent new, Emperor bless this day. I shall arrive shortly to cement your new found faith and our holy allegiance."

Wow religious people really are stupid. Jin had to hold back a laugh as she ate up all his bullshit like it was a primo steak served alongside caviar. That was what rich people ate right? Hopefully he could find out when he became rich after all this was over. He took his Tsubaki out and dropped it on the ground, covering it with some dirt just in case things went wrong and he was disarmed. He was pretty sure he could just gut the bitch up close while they were shaking hands or kissing or whatever the fuck it is that religious people do when indoctrinating others. he was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he almost missed Sophia's question about himself.

"What was your wish anyway?"

Jin shrugged, no harm in answering the question. She might as well know in her final moments that he killed her for a good cause. "I wanted to be strong enough to kill a certain man. With your help though I believe I can get strong enough to kill him without some evil soul stealing wish granter."

Suddenly she started screaming about something or another, guess she wasn't too happy with her supply drop. Hopefully that meant it was just food, the last thing he needed was her getting weapons to make his job harder. He heard the sound of a jet in the background of the connection and surely enough when he looked up he saw a humanoid like thing flying through the sky. Humanoid because whatever was flying around had a tentacle arm which brought up all sorts of nasty images involving japanese schoolgirls. Gross. "Is that you flying through the air?" Although flying was a strong word as she was swerving about trying to maintain control. Not that he was judging, flying was probably pretty hard. Actually no he was totally judging she looked like a complete idiot right now.

The Blood Devil: Prepare for combat

“Well… I may not be what you thought of first, but I can be that opponent.”

For a moment, Saria was… insulted. How can this impotent voice claim he was a match for her? She remembered her training, those early days full of Hell. The fighting, the abuse…

The killing.

She winced as she remembered Alina, sinking into the lake. Another poor, unfortunate soul. Once again, she saw the last memory she had of her: a single hand breaking the surface of the water, then being dragged back down without remorse. She remembered every single day after that, the fear of being killed like Alina was, and the utter vengeance she harbored towards her entire family, before slaughtering them all.

Did this pathetic creature dare compare its suffering to mine?

"It's a long shot, but if I win this, I want to bring my soulmate back. She was all I had after my own kind rejected me, and she met her sorrowful fate at the hands of the man I once knew as my best friend. I miss her every day of my existence, and unfortunately for me, I can't be reunited with her in death, as I live in the afterlife already. She fights for the Heavens, and I am rejected because of my very existence..."

Saria listened, her interest peaked.

"I am Bonesword, the Fungal Knight. A swordsman who has spent his entire afterlife in sorrow... and I'll make sure that your last fight won't be as sad as me."

For once in her life, Saria felt a certain pang in her chest. No, it wasn’t an arrow or a knife, it was different; a pain that sprouted from the heart and tickled the bottom of her throat. It was terrible. She shook her head, ridding herself of the strange feeling. Even though she was still frenzied, and her insides numb with continuous pain, for a moment, she felt a moment of clarity.

“You’re a husk, are you not? Strange, that a ghost such as you is stuck here, wandering the earth. I suppose your loss was… painful. I am no stranger to loss. In fact, I’ve lost everything. I think…”

She paused. There was that strange feeling again. She took a deep breath, and continued.

“I think… I might change my wish, after this. But first, I’ll make sure I end your suffering.”