“Well, that was… simple.” The Archivist had not expected the sudden forfeiture of his foe, nor the instant teleportation and rejuvenation, followed by the immediate teleportation to the next field of battle. It was all rather baffling, and to a creature like the Archivist that was more worrying than a barrage of arrows.

The spider-like being took stock of his arena, his four unnatural eyes scouring the lake he had been deposited on the shore of. It was wide, to be sure, and he had no particular longing to enter its watery embrace. Rather, he began to scan the strange waters with his Data-pad, and slowly began to make his way across its shore, clockwise, assuming he would eventually have to run across his foe, or catch them floundering in the water.

He made a strange sight, the human torso attached to a spider’s body like some grotesque centaur. Few had met with the Archivist’s species, the Akarid, and lived to tell the tale. Perhaps this new foe would be one of the few? Or perhaps one of the many…

A stomp to the ground, and a headbutt crashing into.. well, nothing. The still-raging Fuchsia found himself in a completely different environment. His wounds were healed, his spent hellnade had been replaced, and the Hellzooka he so clumsily hurled into the void, was planking across his folded arms like a dead hooker on a Monday morning. He was shaking, his body was far from used to being completely rejuvenated in the middle of an adrenaline rush. The sudden absence of the adrenalin was a previously unfelt sensation. There was now a void in his cruel heart. It was as if he had lost a lover, a friend, something of great value. Was he in love? In love with the maddening rush that had taken hold of him so violently. Why was it gone!? How could it abandon him like this? He bit his lip. His eyes narrowed. A small line of blood fled his maw, and fell apart upon hitting the ground. Eyes darted around, first now did he care to deduce his location, and the reason for him being on it.

There was a lake, stretching far into the distance, surrounded by a cold wintery landscape. Nothing new there, Fuchsia figured he should have brought a warmer coat. Not that he would have easily found one in his natural climate, it was after all, fucking hot. The mesmerizing water was mirroring the weirdly pink hued sky. It matched Fuchsia's pink t-shirt neatly, complimented further by his black shirt and pants. Fashion. Why was he here? He wondered. It took him a few moments to come up with an informed and logical answer. He had obviously headbutted Tomaru so hard in his previous fight, that time and space itself had collapsed around them and created an alternate reality. A reality where he was not injured, and in which he was placed in a completely different environment. Perhaps..! Yes!

His eyes locked upon the form of a spidery monstrosity across the lake. Only now did he notice the creature. It confirmed his suspicions. Since his fight with Tomaru came into existence after he had stepped on an unseen opponent in his previous fight, he reasoned that in this reality, the very same creature that he had squished, was of far greater size. In this reality, the bug was yet undefeated, and more formidable than in his own. He had, in other words, crossed realities in such a manner that he was now back in round one. So he would have to meet an alternate version of Tomaru in the next round, once he vanquished the bug. What a drag.

He shouted across the lake. "Bug! I squished you once already, why don't you give up now and spare me the effort? I'd rather kill me another swordsman!"

What is that fool shouting about? The Archivist wondered with faint amusement. He continued to scuttle around the lake until he was close enough to call it fighting distance between him and his foe. That brought him into another phase of observation, besides the water to his right and his foe straight ahead, the field was set. His foe himself was a small child-like opponent, with signs of great strength about him, with giant iron gauntlets and what looked like an explosive ordinance propulsion device, or bazooka as they were more casually referred to by those who he had encountered in the past. His memory of the weapon was such, a dangerous punch and a fiery inferno were like to be felt when the shot was fired. That had to be avoided, but space was too free around him, with little to hide behind or use for cover. He pondered this as his data-pad scanned both the foe and the field.

Slowly, his lower hands came together, his upper hands free of the weapons he pilfered in the previous battle. It would be of little consequence, he thought confidently. A familiar sticky secretion between his hands was enough to remind him that he had weapons he had yet to employ at his disposal. He scuttled within thirty feet of his foe and retained an eerie silence, seeking to unnerve his foe for the Archivist’s own amusement.

An arachnid of terrifying stature. Many a child would have fainted with fear just by setting their eyes upon him. Fuchsia was not such a child. Fuchsia had a Hellzooka.

As the bug approached, it became evident that it lacked the proper etiquette to converse with him. It was either rude, or lacking the ability to speak verbally, due to either a minimal level of intelligence, or a physical impediment in the face. Fuchsia took one glance at the creature´s facial features, and assumed the latter. The spider came ever closer, scuttling on it´s many legs like a multi-limbed monkey with an erection. The demon child allowed it´s approach. What sound would it make if he stepped on it again? He wondered. Did it have bones? Oh Satan, please let it have bones. The sweet nurturing sound of grinding it to dust was pure nostalgia to Fuchsia, his mind drifting to the days when he was but a little runt, his spawn breeder playing the sweet melodies of torture. Investing physical impediments upon an unfortunate visitor. A lovely childhood, and it was far from over.

He pondered. When he grew up, big and strong like his asshole father, whoever the fuck that was, would he be menacing? He licked his lips. Would he be strong? Brutal? The biggest there ever was? Would he be scary!? Frightening!? The embodiment of fear!? Would he be cunning? Deceiving? A craftsman of lies?.. Would he..- He shivered. Drooling, his saliva mixed with the blood and made the ground filthy.

"I will be death." He muttered, and flipped his Hellzooka sideways, his hand clenching the handle, finger twitching the trigger. As it spun, the weapon awoke. The skull adorning the front of the barrel opened it´s jaws wide open, fiery eyes glistening with hatred and malice. Towards the spider it was turned. -Click- The trigger sang, Fuchsia dashed backwards. Creating distance between himself and the arachnid. It was a sound strategy, at least until the monstrosity revealed whatever tricks it had up it´s non-existing sleeves, if any.

"LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE SKIPPED OUT ON ARM DAY!" - The Hellzooka shouted, mockingly. A single rocket came screaming out as Fuchsia started moving, it´s face shaking back and forth in agony. Oh the humanity.

The Archivist created a thick web between his lower hands and scuttled ever closer. His foe was strongly against such action, apparently, as the little wretch moved his bazooka into firing position. The Akarid launched his web like a spear, even as the rocket was loosed from the weapon with a berating cry.

“How droll.” The Archivist muttered watching his net-like web collide with the rocket in mid-air. It wrapped around the projectile and exploded, far closer to his demonic foe than the spider himself. However, when the dust cleared the little demon’s vision would be no more clear, as the Archivist had activated his cloaking and dashed forward, in the confusion becoming nigh on invisible as he closed the distance between he and his little foe far faster than the demon’s backpedalling could extend it. If a crater was left by the explosion the Akaraid would nimbly skirt around it, or jump over it, whichever was quicker and more efficient.

It would take less than five seconds for him to reach striking distance, running at top speed, and when he did both of his right hands would stretch outwards with lethal precision, aiming to stab the little demon child in the neck and upper chest respectively with poisonous claws. The cloaking would deactivate regardless after his attack was made, to save the energy of the data-pad. However, the Archivists great strength and momentum hoped to serve him in a head-on collision. Where once his claws were set he could lift his hand (for he struck palm upwards) and launch his foe skyward for additional harm.

The rocket propelled on forward, exploding not long before meeting it's intended target. Had it hit something else? It looked like the spider had been holding something in one of it's hands. The rocket didn't leave much of a crater, as it never really hit the ground. Fuchsia was safely out of it's blast radius, his noteworthy running speed driving him away his original firing position. The explosion tore some of the surrounding dirt and snow apart, primarily in a cone at it's front, scouring the surrounding area with shit. A collection of smoke had shot out around the explosion, and was somewhat preventing the demon child from getting a clear look at the damage he may or may not have caused. He couldn't see any silhouette. No way. Had that done the deed? Had he won so easily? Fucking hell, what a let do-.. Oh wait, there he was.

As Fuchsia continued to run backwards, aiming to get some distance between himself and the monster, his eyes located his hidden foe. The bug rushed out of the smoke cloud, and came at him in what he reasoned to be an attempt at a frontal sneak attack. Silly, really. Everyone and their demonic grandmother knew that sneak attacks only worked from behind. Fuchsia was unable to see the bug itself clearly with his eyes, but the sand and snow being kicked up by it's forward movement, and the slight movement in the smoke cloud as it passed it at high velocity was a dead give-away. Like in that one movie about the German muscle guy fighting against an alien hunter in a jungle, the spider had some kind of semi-invisibility cloaking ability. Would never have seen it if not for the dirt-kicking straight-forward nature of it's approach.

It had a formidable speed. Faster than Fuchsia, able to catch up to him in four, maybe five seconds. He reckoned he would have been as fast, if not faster, if he too had ran around with that many legs. Note to self; Get biological enhancements. He wasn't overly fond of the idea of going up close and personal with a multi-limbed opponent, and felt he should get out of the way before it came close enough to hit him with it's arms or something. No biggie. He took the liberty of firing another shot towards the faint outline of the approaching creature while the distance was still safe, before bending his knees forward and kicking loose. "YOUR MOTHER IS SO UGLY, SHE THOUGHT YOU WERE HER BABY!" The Hellzooka went - Fuchsia launched himself far up into the air, his massive strength easily hurling him more or less a distance of 30ft upwards. Avoiding the Archivist's attack before he got close enough to perform it. All while firing his Hellzooka downwards in a spread burst. Intent on blasting the area the Arachnid was at into oblivion. If the spider started moving around to avoid the rockets, he would spot it, and adjust his aim accordingly before continue firing. Unless it was by jumping towards his currently airborne position, of course.

"HEARD YOU GOT BANISHED BY DRIDERS FOR BEING TOO UGLY!"

"EIGHT LEGS!? SHOULD HAVE GONE FOR EIGHT HEADS!"

"HALF MAN, HALF SPIDER? I'D RATHER SEE THE HALF SPIDER, HALF MAN!"

"YOU'RE NOT A REAL NINJA!"

"APPLE CALLED, THEY WANT THEIR IP BACK!"

It was apparent to the Archivist as soon as he left the smoke cloud left by the collision of web and rocket that his foe had quickly spotted him. It was irritating, though it suggested a lack of trust in his own weapons if he had so expected the spider to survive. He also had failed, or at least logically had failed, to spot exactly what it was the Archivist had sent to strike against him.

His demonic foe had obviously overestimated his own perception, as he fired at what he could see, the dirt kicking up from the ground. The rocket skimmed past him and exploded on the ground some distance behind him, sending grazing sand to scour the Archivist’s back, but doing little to halt his approach.

The Archivist was incredibly intelligent, but it was hardly rocket science for him to note the bunching of his foe’s muscles that suggested some form of leap upwards was coming. He decided it was only polite to cut the little monster off there, because in his lower right hand the sticky web substance still remained, and he launched it like a whip still attached to him, upwards and straight across, to collide with his foe in mid-air. It had taken milliseconds for the Archivist to calculate his momentum and trajectory, so his web-like whip would wrap around his foe’s upper-left leg as he had barely left the ground. Certainly before his rocket attack would be plausible, lest he be blown to pieces by his own explosive, as the Archivist continued to barrel forward while his whip was extended, abandoning his camouflage as he did so. When the whip of web made purchase, which he was certain it would as significant movement in mid-air was beyond any creature without wings, he would simply launch web from his other lower hand, ensnaring the other side of his foe’s body while continuing to move towards his position, and tugging towards him. Once completely unbalanced, it would be easy to bring his claws into the small child-like creature’s body, while negating the usefulness of the rocket launcher.

Splat! Something warm and sticky hit Fuchsia's upper-left leg as he hurled himself upwards. What the fuck? Did that spider just ejaculate on him!? What kind of-.. Okay, It wasn't -that- bad. He'd been subjected to worse things in hell and all. But still, that was the weirdest thing he had ever been attacked with in a fight. So fucking disgusting! Oh Satan, it even reached all the way back to the spider like a thread! A sperm thread! Stuck to his leg! He felt violated, to say the least. The Archivist was such a pedophile.

It didn't halt his jump much though, odd thing that. He drew his dagger, Slaughter, with his left hand. The spider kept approaching, now no longer invisible, it seemed like it had started doing something with it's other hand right after he ejaculated onto Fuchsia the first time, as if it pleased him to see. Oh. Wait. No, it wasn't going to.. Did it..? Was it masturbati-..SPLAT! OH! WHAT?! NO! RIGHT ON HIS PANTS! GET THAT SHIT OFF! Fuchsia immediately slashed across the two strings of spider sperm with his dagger, the blade tearing through it like butter, cutting him loose before the Archivist could attempt to pull him down. Disgusting!

Fuchsia continued his upward movement as intended, and eventually reached 30 feet. Before doing so, however, he screamed out in disgust. His fancy pants was smeared with the sticky white substance, and would have to be thrown away and burned. He also had a strong urge to take a shower, something demons rarely, if ever, do. Needless to say, he was angry. Really angry. That the spider had the audacity to think him it's sexual plaything..! He was way underage for that! He was saving himself for someone special, and that fucking arachnid had to go and ruin it! His usual cheerful demeanor took a drastic turn for the worse. Vengeance. He would violate the bug so badly, so thoroughly, so far past the line of anything a human would deem overboard, that it would force the most hard-boiled demon to throw up just by -attempting- to imagine it. Death would be a welcomed gift that neither excessive begging or pleading would ever bring! Eternal damnation.

As the dagger tore through the web, he sheathed it, simultaneously bringing down his Hellzooka towards the now very visible Archivist, Fuchsia's body hurling upwards into the air, a fire in his rage-filled eyes. "Fuuuuuck yoouuuuuu!" He shouted, as he pressed the shit out of the trigger, launching rocket after rocket, insult after insult, down towards the spider in a spread burst. Five rockets, all in all. They would blast the ground and his foe apart upon impact, reducing the Archivist to mangled body parts if it didn't move. If it did, Fuchsia would adjust his aim accordingly. By the time all the rockets had met their mark, he would be 30 feet up in the air.