Zelriane scoffed and turned his head to the side. "I may be a myriad of things, but bold faced lying and trickery simply aren't in my blood." Shaidra perched herself several yards away from Bruce and Zelriane, quietly kneeling while playing with her fingers. "Not while following my own desires, anyways. I claim some right to my honour, regardless. But I will not stunt myself beyond restricting my Meta energy." Zelriane's stance tightened and his head turned towards Bruce. He was prepared, calculating carefully to project his moves through a mental role play. His speed would allow him to punch and kick past Bruce's barrier through the openings it offered, but his dreaded combinations wouldn't be possible. Slowly, he'd pick away at Bruce's stamina, while counting on his own unlimited supply. Zelriane narrowed his eyes and dashed forward several feet, stopping hard on his right foot with his arm extended only inches away from Bruce's barrier. His body stopped and locked in place for a split second like some kind of machine.

"W-What?"

Bruce's inhibitions and hesitations shattered the moment Zelriane moved. He gaged the distance he covered before Jeff's tech kicked in- counting seconds would be useless since the time span was so brief.
Two strands of chain in the outer sphere of his spinning wall broke even before Zelriane stopped, each end of the chain splitting into arrowhead spikes that shot toward where his feet were after he paused. If Bruce could make the foul creature bleed from his feet and legs, it would begin to scratch the ache Bruce had to cause him pain.
'Hello, Sakki.'
While his chains were seeking to ruin Zelriane's mobility further, he angled his platform sideways, crouched down and shrinking his inner sphere of chains still flurrying around him. The outer sphere burst outward to allow him passage, and the chain followed him for a short distance before shifting into spearheads that launched themselves toward Zelriane and everywhere in his immediate vicinity. Each projectile's razor edges were tinged with red, the Ki comprising them having darkened several shades, reflecting a leak of Bruce's emotions. Their trajectory was not random, intended to push Zelriane away from him and Jeff and into a particular area.

As Bruce redoubled the chains of his inner sphere, the dirt particles that he'd been gathering formed into a familiar shape and his sword dislodged itself from the ground, sailing through the air hilt-first into an exact replica of Bruce's right hand. The blade was tinged a similar color, and the Ki rippled toward the edge, on a mission for vengeance. Choosing his position based on how far Zelriane had been able to move a moment ago, and accounting for the fact that he'd likely move a bit farther now that he knew Jeff's attack had some effect on him, Bruce waited for three quarters of a second before his dirt hand slashed downward diagonally. He wasn't counting on tracking Zelriane, only predicting.
'Welcome to Hell.' Bruce's blackness sang from within.

Zelriane's eyes stuttered towards the incoming chains, reading their intended paths through Bruce's Ki flow. The paralysis only lasted a second, allowing the monk-like green fighter to shift his stance slightly. One foot moved out of the way, while the other was impaled by Bruce's chain, straight through to the ground. Zelriane directed his right hand into a point, and glanced at it angrily. He moved his right hand at a speed beyond anything he'd shown before, leaving a green trail behind it, several afterimages, as he used it to shatter Bruce's chain, and pull the spike from his foot. While he did so, The nano-bots on his hand were evaporated from the sheer friction of his hand grinding against the atmosphere, while the rest were tossed through the air at unrealistic speeds, destroying them. Zelriane rotated his body quickly, unleashing a burst of air that pushed the remainder of the first chain away, when the next flurry of attacks found their ways towards his position.

His agility seemed relatively unaffected. Zelriane sifted through the incoming spear headed chains with several steps, pivots, and dashes, until he was out of their scope of attack. His eyes focused on one, and then the next, quickly picking apart the pattern as he escaped their range. Opposite to Bruce now, he slid into a stable stance as his muscles began to spasm for a moment. His mouth curled from an angered pout into a half grin beneath his mask, one that pulled at the black fabric. His exposed cheekbone visibly tensed up. In a moment, he was ready to attack again. But Bruce had thrown his sword. Why? He followed it with his eyes, losing track of Bruce's body, and by extension, his Ki and arcane flow. But when he realised the sword wasn't coming for him, his eyes darted back. Wide eyed, Zelriane, spun towards the manifested fist and pulled his back down as quickly as he could. The short man's muscles contracted and pushed against everything that told them there weren't allowed to move. His sheer willpower, and natural pain endurance, allowed his to dodge in the nick of time. The blade sailed through the air, and Zelriane struck at the stone hand with his own right hand, shattering it, and knocking Bruce's blade away with a carefully timed midair kick. Zelriane landed on both his feet and pulled himself up. He returned to his stance and faced Bruce. The corner of his smile peered through the jagged edge of his torn mask and he glared at his opponent intensely.

"I'll tell you now," Zelriane started, pushing his bleeding foot into the ground, "I cannot feel pain." He angled his arms carefully and changed his stance, so that his fists were pointed at the ground, and parallel with his waist. A crimson substance seeped through the cloth around his shoulder, and his robe parted slightly to reveal a deep wound that tore through the side of his left bicep.

"And I can maintain consciousness... For a very long time... While bleeding out..."

Bruce didn't blink. He didn't flinch. He didn't react at all to the sight of Zelriane's arm. Inexplicably, blood had begun dripping slowly from his right hand, despite his sage state. The hand that Zelriane had shattered gathered together again, faster now that he was aware of its existence. Bruce's blade halted in midair, flying back into the grip of its master.

"Disappointing." Bruce drawled, and though there was a note of malicious sincerity in it, his tone was dismissive.

'Exciting!' His darkness whispered.

The network of chains which were still scattered around the arena rose as one, avoiding Jeff and Shaidra though he did not consciously will it. He was too entrenched in his mission.

'Take his fingers! His toes! His arms! His legs! His face!

The chains nearest Zelriane shifted seamlessly into one of his massive maces, the red tinge a little deeper. The air rumbled as it swung at his left side from behind with enough force to shatter bones, joints and muscle fibers. Simultaneously, his floating hand made a sweeping horizontal slash. A projection of Bruce's emotion-driven Ki shot toward Zelriane from the front, the apex of the arc as sharp as his blade. Bruce knew how fast Zelriane could jump, and that he seemed to go as high as he wanted. Nonetheless, he made an estimation of how far up he'd travel and fired half a dozen spearheaded chains from several angles toward that general location.

"Your pain isn't necessary, though," Bruce's voice rumbled, taking on a hint of the anticipation he felt for hunting down evil. "Just that you bleed.

The nanobots continued to release static pulses in a cycling state of half anf half until Zelraine finally was able to fling them off of him. Under normal cirumstances the loss of these would bother the tech reliant sage, but at this point he obviously had other problems that needed to be accessed, such at the constant pain that cycled consistantly through his body. The sage fought long and hard doing his best to remain concious due to the fact that losing it would leave Bruce without his wind board to aid him against this speedy foe. Despite his efforts he couldn't do much else at the current moment but fight the pain and hold it off while his current plan went into play. And while to the naked eye it seemed like he was merely out of the fight, the sage was constantly inputing single word thought commands to the nanobots that were in his blood stream and clothing, having both take position in key spots while waiting for the right moment.

Zelriane disappeared from sight, evading Bruce's initial strike and hopping through the network of bladed chains like a mach 2 grasshopper as he closed the distance between himself and his target. Defensive opponents were his most difficult hurdle, but what he lacked in Physical power, he made up in magical might.

In the blink of an eye, he was above Bruce, with his arms crossed, and his index fingers extended. In a swift outward fanning of his arms, Zelriane released a series of flaming darts that travelled at a blistering speed towards Bruce. Pure arcane energy, weak and easy to evade, but quick enough to get through Bruce's double layered chain barrier if aimed precisely. Again, he disappeared, and appeared on the ground beneath Bruce, firing two more flaming darts towards what he'd imagined to be chinks in Bruce's tight defence. His green eyes drifted carefully across Bruce's figure, linking his senses directly into the Ki that he controlled. For a moment, he wondered if Rajaka was truly necessary here, but brushed the thought off arrogantly and disappeared from sight again. Now he was moving constantly. Catching sight of Zelriane was already difficult enough, only possible when he slowed his body to tense up for an attack. Was he shifting to a defensive strategy himself as well?

Bruce pricked a particular nerve center in his neck with a Ki-tipped finger, kicking his reflexes into overdrive and giving his instincts reign over his body's reactionary motions. His platform fell sideways at a right angle as Bruce heaved his weight to one side to avoid the first projectiles. He couldn't match Zelriane's speed, but with his body moving faster than his brain, it left him with more singed robe and less physical damage. He even departed his platform at several points, always seamlessly bringing himself back to it, rolling, flipping and twisting- his body dictated its own movements.
The network of chains that had risen from the floor snapped taut vertically and wrapped around Bruce and Zelriane with a huge diameter, the vertical chains close enough to prevent escape. A horizontal series completed a cylindrical grid that covered the ground and reached for the upper ceiling of this dimension. The cage encroached slowly, gaps in the grid tightening until only a hand might be able to get through. The mace that Zelriane avoided before broke apart into a dozen identical swords to the one Bruce carried a sheath for. His earthen right hand circled around the outside perimeter of the cage, looking as though it were patrolling for the perfect instant.

Zelriane skid to a stop and bit the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, he was immobile. The green robed man dropped into a crouch, and began to tap alongside the length of his injured foot, all while keeping his eyes on Bruce.

"Overclocking your body won't help you," Zelriane mocked, "When your muscles give out, and your mind fractures under the weight of your nonsensical display, I'll be sure to put you to rest." Zelriane waited in place patiently, tapping alongside the edge of his left arm with two fingers.

Bruce's countenance faltered for just a moment. He had seen and heard many things in his life- it required something truly absurd for him to break character.
"HA!"
A bark of laughter escaped him, and given the depth of his voice, it echoed. The Ki he'd used to strike his nerve center wasn't affecting his body by overexerting muscle- it was a stimuli to trigger a self-taught behavioral response which made it easier to shut down the conscious brain to body connection and allowed his mind to focus on other things while his body simply moved according to his reflexes.
Bruce landed on his platform and stood up straight, the dirt material of unknown origin moving beneath his robe again.
The dozen swords that had formed from the mace doubled in number again, each flying to alternating positions on either side of his cylinder of chains, which continued to grow steadily smaller and tighter. Four of them flew inside the cylinder above them above, and each sword came to rest in a position mimicking that of when Bruce prepared to draw it from his sheath in one motion. One last sword, the twenty-fifth, remained in Bruce's floating right hand.

Fractured mind? Bruce had some concerns about Jeff but he was hardly under significant psychological pressure.

Give out? True, he'd want a drink after this, but Bruce's body 'gave out' when the mission was done or he was in pieces.

The grid that Bruce's cylinder of chains had formed repeated itself at the top and bottom, just an inch above the floor. The difference was that the chains on the bottom grid served dual purposes, as each link had razor edges sharp enough to slice a thread of hair falling from one's head. The walls and the ceiling of the cylinder were the same. Within the tiny gap of each link was a spike. The gaps in the floor grid were smaller than those of the walls of chains- if Zelriane wanted to keep his feet, he'd have to jump.

At that moment, the floor grid began moving upward, ready to cut into anything that could be considered an obstacle. The twenty four blades all sang out with horizontal slashes, aiming to meet at the center of the cage. The slicing shockwave each produced burst through the vertical chains of the walls, but they immediately repaired themselves and the cage kept shrinking. The space between where each shockwave met was less than a foot, the uppermost horizontal wave just shy of Bruce's sphere. Zelriane had to keep going up swiftly to avoid them all, and he'd lose at least a large part of one appendage if he twisted his body between them. The four swords overhead brought down vertical projections of the same nature, all of them aimed to just skim the outer edge of Bruce's chain sphere. They intruded on the space Zelriane would need to avoid the horizontal cuts and get to the cylinder's wall, if he so chose to lose fingers instead of arms.

All the focused, musically tuned Ki being expended came with a price- the sphere of chains spinning around Bruce were compromised, more so behind him than in front of him. He changed them to leave a vulnerable point at his back so he could maintain the necessary spinning in front to keep Zelriane out. The swords that had slashed dissipated, having done their task.

A copy of his left hand had now formed in front of him. It flew out the hole behind him.

Two-tenths of a second after all this had been made to happen, the chains in Bruce's broken sphere shot out new lengths with spiked ends from all angles toward him- they were designed to react to his sage state and dissipate just before striking his body.

Another tenth of a second after that, his copied right hand, Ki all rippling toward the blade's apex for maximum piercing potential, came rocketing toward Bruce's back, right where his lungs would be, intent on puncturing Zelriane's own organs when the Order member inevitably came to attack. Bruce's real hands each gripped curved daggers, jamming them backward simultaneously toward where an opponent's legs would meet their torso.

Zelriane Cringed as a flurry of Ki erupted from Bruce. How much stamina did he have? Mortals shouldn't have this kind of staying power. The little man's left cheekbone tensed as he leapt into the sky, kicking off of the atmosphere with his feet to maintain flight in short bursts. Evading the rising onslaught of attacks proved as a relatively simple task, using his aerial speed to an advantage. But with such a small space to move around in, Zelriane didn't have much choice in how he chose to climb towards his target. He knew attacking or evading would force him into a position where he would be forced to defend. And without the use of his meta energy, Zelriane lacked any sort of defensive Maneuver that could overpower Raw Ki. As he flipped around, clearing the final blade in the 24-slash sequence, and narrowly sifting through the remainder of Bruce's offences, he was poised to strike at the man's back. Zelriane's eyes flared with a mist the coated the air around the focal point of his foot-first strike, and focused to a brilliant green around his hands, meshed perfectly with his skin as if his fingers had turned to pure light. Zelriane forced himself into a state of Deep focus, and breathed slowly, as the world around him ground to a halt, as if time had stopped.

"Zenpou"

The chains halted, and the air hardened. A series of calculated strikes rang out from his position, hands first while Zelriane danced in midair. Every blade in his path, shattered, with its Ki source poisoned and overwhelmed by Zelriane's Agoniki. The last defences within Bruce's orb, aimed to corner Zelriane, either pushed aside or broken.

Time began to flow again.

Zelriane spun in midair, and clasped his hands together, firing a single projectile of his meta energy towards the blade, wielded by Bruce's false hand. Shattered, once more. His body flipped back towards Bruce, oriented so that Zelriane was staring at the swordsman upside-down.

Time was catching up to him.

Zelriane reached out and grabbed Bruce's wrists just before contact, from above and clasped on tightly. An echo of pain rang throughout Zelriane's body as he channelled his Agoniki, but he ignored it. He pulled tightly, and followed through with the momentum of his back flip that defied his natural speed. As Zelriane's knee flew towards the back of Bruce's head, angled to strike just above where his neck met the base of his skull, he whispered a single phrase to himself, barely audible to anyone else.

_{"I will not lose again."}

Zelriane's tightened knee buckled as his left hand lost is grip. Blood loss? No, not just that. Something else had been cut. The pain from his Agoniki had exacerbated it. What would have been a lethal blow, quickly fell apart as the flow of time finally returned to normal. Zelriane's Knee pulled back. Rather that striking the hardened cartilage of his kneecap against Bruce's spine, the top of his foot crashed against Bruce's skull. Zelriane lowered his body into a parallel line and pushed against Bruce's back, using him as a platform while he extended his agoniki gauntlets outwards, and darted out of Bruce's cage like a bullet. The monk landed several feet away from Shaidra. It wasn't pleasant. Hard on his shoulder, rather than gracefully on his feet. Shaidra glanced at him, worrisome of his injuries and energy expenditure.

Zelriane quickly flipped back onto his feet and took his usual combat pose, albeit with his right shoulder lowered slightly. He breathed heavily as his Agoniki pulsed through his arms, before ending his Meta energy's channelling. Even though he hadn't sustained much damage, Zelriane was already exhausted. His eyes flickered to a dull light, unable to pick out Bruce's Ki or body through the dust that his body had just tossed up.

"Is he..." Zelriane stopped and looked over to Jeff's body. An unfamiliar feeling crept along the length of his spine. "Shaidra," He grunted, through two raspy pants, "Please bring me home, now."

"No... Kill..?

"If he's not dead after that... I've lost too much blood. I've sustained too much damage. I cannot use Zenpou again. This has gone from bothersome to dangerous." Zelriane turned to Shaidra and narrowed his eyes, not in disdain or impatience, but fatigue. "My arrogance has crippled me. Take us home. Home, to doctor Yezia."

Bruce's body received a shock all at once with the momentary cessation of time. Had his head not been in sage state, it could well have been permanently damaged. As it was, it was still bleeding far more than was healthy, and though he'd managed to recover from the shock quickly enough to grasp at the edge of the wind platform Jeff was so heroically maintaining for him, he knew he couldn't risk doing anything fancy to bring himself back onto it.

The forgotten copy of his left hand flew under him and boosted one foot upward until he could clamber back aboard. Bruce heaved a surreptitious sigh- he'd not called upon so much of his Ki reserve at once before, and though it was exhilarating to know it was possible, he also had to focus harder to force his body to do what needed doing.

"I can hear you." Bruce rasped, standing upright on his platform. The walls and outer cage of chains dissolved gently, "Hardly dead."

Bruce kept his gaze steady on Zelriane, dismissing entirely the occasional blurriness in his vision. He casually ran his left palm along the back of his head, only lifting an eyebrow at the blood that came off onto it.

"I hardly call this a victory for me," Bruce said, still assessing his bloodied fingers. "But if the duel ends here, there must be terms met, and we never got around to agreeing on those."

Bruce's gaze flickered past Zelriane to Shaidra before returning to the green-eyed masked member.

"I make no demands, being no victor. But equal terms for both parties strikes me as fair and honorable."

Bruce's darkness scoffed and laughed at the mention of 'honor', but he silenced it.

"Jeff and I are returned to where we were taken from," Bruce said, gesturing to his valiantly conscious companion. Remembering how this encounter began, he took out his sheath and pointed it at Zelriane. "And you both... well, return to your own home."

Bruce lifted his sheath up to rest on his shoulders, making a point of holding it in his still bleeding right hand. His two replicas hovered to either side of him, waiting.

As Zelraine turned to the wind sage he struck down earlier, to his surprise would see the being slowly standing while giving the wounded speedster one of the most intense death stares he had ever given anyone in his life. It was clear that the pain was still having his an a dangerous effect on him, but he was tired of just standing by while Bruce pulled all the weight. At this point both of his arm cannons were pulsing blue constantly with arcane energy as they expanded greatly and both were pointed at Zelraine, ready to fire.

"You better listen to Bruce there cause I promise, even with you speed and her rifts, this next shot WON'T miss." The sage roared as the wind made the words echo throughout the entire arena constantly. It was clear Jeff was done with games and whatever he had planned was his best shot. And if Zelraine would try anymore hostile movements towards them, even it was a simple flinch, Jeff was ready to fire, no hesitation.

Zelriane listened carefully as Shaidra fumbled about with her fingers behind him. He hadn't expected even a modicum of reason from these heroic blunders. His eyes shifted over to Shaidra, who was already gathering shadows in the palms of her hands. Jeff said something, and Zelriane's brow creased like moistened wax paper.

"Even after witnessing my pride tear apart any chances I had at victory, you insist on blurting out idiotic threats? Let me assure you, both of you, that if you approach the tower, even if I am defeated, even if you defeat Rajaka and every other member of our order," Zelriane paused and flung himself into a coughing fit as black clouds surrounded him, Shaidra, Bruce, and Jeff.

"You will never be a match for Chaos."

Dacer glanced down at Alvios and Oz with a shit-eating grin from across the courtyard. The area was surrounded by the entirety of Jeff's hero guild, walls high enough that normal jumps wouldn't be able to clear them easily. Of course, high ground was great for an archer. Not that Dacer was thinking about that at all.

"I don't recognise either of you drab little twerps. Ain't no big deal if I pop your heads, is it?" Dacer shouted while he fired two consecutive Ki arrows at Both Alvios' and Oz's head.

Alvios was ready for this arrow after enduring the first, leaping off to the side to dodge. As he landed, he formed three Ki blades in the air around him, and launched them at the archer, more as a test of his opponent's ability to react than a dedicated attack.

He curled his mouth, like he had smelled something foul. "'Drab little twerps'? 'Ants, meet boot'? I don't know if you're trying to sound imposing, but you should upgrade from the 'obnoxious teenager' appearance first."

Oz raised his forearm against his attacker. A shield of shimmering energy flashed around his arm, deflecting the energy arrow at an angle into a building to his side. In a flash the wall collapsed and it would appear the arrow pierced more than one before stopping. Oz looked at it and grimaced. "Whoops?" He quipped. Jeff would likely be pissed if they wrecked the guild before this conflict was over. He shrugged at the thought. Better the guild than the world.

This enemy seemed specialized for range. After all, he had a freaking bow. That meant he might suffer at close combat. Only one way to find out. Oz rushed forward, keeping wary of when their enemy might charge another attack. Alvios was sending his own attack so this was a good opportunity to close distance. His focus was on advancing and watching for the next movement of the archer.

Dacer's knuckles tightened. "Teenager?" He grunted, side-stepping the series of blades, one after the other. Seeing one of his arrows deflected so easily made him question the power of his attacks, but Alvios' comments already began to pluck at something a little more sensitive. He rose his bow and dropped his leisurely composure, strengthening the lines in his stance. Shoulders, parallel. Legs, braced. Dacer pulled back on his bow's imaginary drawstring and conjured a stream of blue energy from the tips of his fingers to the bridge of his weapon, and fired it into the sky as Oz made his way across the low ground expanse of the courtyard. "Fine, Prick," Dacer shouted, conjuring a stream of erratic energy. "Let's be adults about this." The newly summoned bolt streamed outwards with arcs of electric energy, and he fired it upwards. Immediately, it split into three shards, one headed for Oz, one for Alvios, and one for the sky, where a cloud sprawled outwards and covered the entire battlefield with its shadow.

"Fine by me."

He didn't pause. When Dacer fired up, Alvios dashed forward, advancing below the fragmented arrow coming towards him. He was under the impression that whatever followed the gathering storm was going to take a lot more than quick reactions to avoid, so this fight needed to be ended quickly and decisively. He created a far more focused blade in his right hand, hopefully strong enough to try and parry anything that could not be dodged. With his other, a flick of the wrist, and three more light swords went flying from his left towards Dacer.

"Well, I've touched a nerve, for better or worse. Doesn't change much; he's long ranged, and we're not.
We get inside his comfort zone and mess him up, and deal with the attacks as they come. Unless you have a better plan, Oz?"

With a nod, Oz acknowledged Alvios' plan. There was little time for talk but closing the gap would even their strengths at the least. The building anomaly in the sky was threatening. If it proved as bad as he was assuming he'd have to deal with it before it gave this assassin too much of an advantage. That would unfortunately leave Alvios to fend for himself for a moment under that circumstance.

The shot arcing with electrical energy zipping down at Oz made him think twice. Sure he could try to block it like he did with most things but an attack charged with lightning was a finicky thing. That kind of energy moved on a molecular level so he had no idea how it would interact with his shield. It was best to avoid it and save testing that idea for a day where getting fried wouldn't guarantee death.

Oz shifted his arms into an awkward stance as he ran. The split arrow was quick and difficult for him to dodge so he did the next best thing. He swung the flat of his palm against the air beside him. A wave of force mimicking his action hit him from the opposite side and sent him into a controlled tumble out of the shaft's way. He quickly rolled back to his feet and jumped into the air. Oz lifted his hands in mid-air, conjuring another wave of force below him to sail up to the archer on his perch in one quick action. Finally he flung his arms into the air and used that same projecting force to drive himself into the roof, feet first, where their enemy stood in an attempt to stomp him against it.

Dacer didn't make any more quips. As the light blades flew towards him, he fired three shots of equal Ki density towards them, stopping the volley and leaving him time to react to anything else that may have came his way. The bolt that headed for the cloud disappeared, and the mass grew darker. Crackles of electricity spread and grew above them, slowly encompassing the entire cloud. It wouldn't be long before it fully charged itself. Meanwhile, the bolts that headed for Oz and Alvios curved through the air, and began to follow them from behind. When Oz propelled himself towards Dacer's foothold, he pulled on his drawstring to conjure a pink arrow, keeled down and grabbed it by the shaft, and shoved it into the ground, before leaping away at the last second, and firing another arrow directly at Oswald's feet, this one engorged by flames with the clear intent to explode. While in midair, Dacer had little control over his trajectory, but aimed to land on the other edge of the guild, above where the giant white staircase lead into the main hall.