@Crowvette@RoflsMazoy@KillamriX88

Celestine tilted her head at the display. Ooze, missing students, some panick in their comrade's eyes. "Chill." They said, smiling. "I got this." They said as they advanced towards the ooze, their fists glowing with reinforcement magic, as she nonchalantly snatched one of Alyona's spears out of her hands, becoming something else in their hands. Fuel for a spell. Celestine's feet were no longer touching the ground, they were using their powers to levitate.

"This is cute." They said, before slamming a fist into the goop, corrosion fighting against the magical enchantment. "Let omens come to pass. Let judgement be cruel. Let woe be eternal. CURSE OF RUIN!" They said, as the spell manifested upon the ooze, the energy from Alyona's lance disippating.

"No rebound. Just as I thought. There's someone creating this sort of power. And I just transfered them some of Aly's bad luck." Celestine said, eliciting a chuckle, while floating. Celestine's grin was a mile wide. "But it's not fun if I'm just dominating everything, so I will give this perp a handicap." They said as they extracted the hand.

Meanwhile Kiwi gasped at the display, and wasting no time, had scooped both Wolf and Alyona, crawling up the wall with them with effort to keep them outside of the sludge's reach for the time being.

"How about some training, Fuzzy butt? Cross-school one. I take hungover perp, you go with my dearest friend Aly... whoever wins pays a dinner. Deal?" Celestine said, still ignoring the bubbling ooze, as they levelled themselves with Kiwi, and in a deft move, grabbed the much heavier Wolf in a bridal carry.

"I eh uh..." The third year Clausewitz tried to reply, but how could she. This person was far too dangerous, more dangerous perhaps than the ooze.

And they had smelled prey.

"Onward, cutie boy! Do you think you'll look good on a Princess dress, hm?" Celestine said, eyeing Wolf. "Feel free to struggle and fall in the goop. It'll be fun!"

Alyona

@AtomicNut

Alyona's attempts at protesting fell on deaf ears. She'd much rather be with Cel than the spider, but it seemed like Cel had other plans. Which was, admittedly, par for the course. 'Impish' would not describe them well enough. In fact, had Alyona not known any better, she'd have pegged the youth as some kind of otherworldly entity meant to sow discord amongst man - Neither human, god, spirit, or demon. Such things appeared in the fringes of folk tales, after all. Especially where she came from.

'I should not rule that out, still.' Alyona thought to herself. 'At least they manage to keep things interesting. And... It's rare to find someone that can be around me without suffering. At times I don't know how to deal with it.' With that thought, Alyona realized that she was in direct contact with the spider. 'Well. Not my problem if she gets caught up in my aura.' Kiwi already didn't seem fond of her. No need to bother keeping that bridge standing.

Cel took off with their own plan in mind - or perhaps their own lack of a plan. It was hard to tell. Alyona felt the need to speak up. "Do you have a plan? Is Sea of Death a common occurrence at this place?" Alyona's free hand reached out, conjuring an inky black lance. Just in case.

'This doesn't even really concern me, but I guess if Cel wants to have their fun, so be it. I'll cut and run if things start looking ugly.' Alyona figured it was only a matter of time before that happened, but she could at least put on a show for Cel's sake.

---

Wolf had a bit of mental whiplash after being tossed from one person to another like a sack of potatoes. He finally just crossed his arms and resigned to be carried by Celestine. They were right, after all; the other option was the strange goo below them.

He just hoped it couldn't detect them flying above it and move after them somehow.

What if it ran up the walls and dropped from the ceiling?

He could have attempted to maneuver over it on his own, but for now he still wanted to save his energy. He might need everything he had when they found the person behind this. And, at that point, he'd make them regret doing this.

This was his school.

"I won't struggle, but you'd better not drop me..." Wolf mumbled. It was mostly just awkward because of how much bigger he was then them.

@Letter Bee @Dezuel @Lewascan2



The pillar of light slid across the floor in almost an instant, scorching anything it touched as it moved with fury and determination. Seeing this incoming attack, and realizing he had little proper room to dodge The Man in the Suit lept backwards, slamming against the shadows of the door as they wrapped around him to protect him. The attack slams into the darkness, and while the shadows offered resistence, what else could defeat shadows but light, so divine and enhanced?

After a few moments of the beam slamming into shadows, the silloute of a man could be seen within the pillar of light before it shortly fizzled out, leaving his skin visibly reddened, and some of his suit seared and singed. With an angry sneer he began to move forwards once again, with the shadows heeding his beck and call he began to launch out orbs of shadow towards the teens, as to probe their reflexes and defenses. As the onslaught of projectiles increased in intensitiy, The Man began to move forwards to close the gap, with each step leaving pools of darkness to cut off simply rushing past.

"You're causing property damage. Enough."

@supertinyking @Letter Bee @Dezuel

Were it not for her Spirit's protections, Chinami decided she might be blinking sunspots out of her eyes... perhaps even literally if the words of Blondie had any merit beyond the dramatic, as he summoned forth a ring of light orbs... and a blade to command them. Goosebumps erupted across the Goth's body at the very sight of the thing, the same feeling from when she scried him before now stronger than ever before, as Blondie unleashed beam of eye-searing light at The Man in the Suit, who dove for the cover of his d a r k n e s s.

As the thunderous pillar of light raged on, Chinami finished her movement, now well and truly placed between the brunet boy and hopefully any conventional harm. As the light began to die out, Chinami wet her lips nervously, ready to lunge forward if that had done the job... Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case. Though he'd apparently not gotten out of the attack unscathed, despite his defenses, The Man in the Suit wasn't even unconscious... and he seemed understandably peeved if the onslaught of shadowy projectiles was any clue.

Her Spirit's enhanced perceptions running as far as she could push them, Chinami had no trouble watching the barrage of golf-ball-sized orbs approach in slow motion... if a somewhat intimidatingly fast slow motion in the face the sheer quantity of them. Given what she'd measured regarding her Spirit's capabilities, she could estimate that, even with her not being at her best, these projectiles were moving somewhere in the realm of a seventh to an eighth of her Spirit's speed, around 80-90 miles per hour, easily equivalent to above average fastball pitches... and far and away too fast for any regular person to dodge without enhanced senses, especially in such furious, accurate and -most importantly- increasing quantities.

Her Spirit's head briefly left the shielding of her regular speed body to glance back at the brunet boy, who didn't seem to be reacting with any particular alacrity, which meant he likely had no way to evade harm on his own... as unfortunately predicted. The scry she had performed before had informed her of no other Gift but his ability to enhance other supernatural phenomena, and while it was perfectly possible that he had other abilities that were hidden from her sight -as had been annoyingly proven by Nightman and The Man in the Suit, she didn't get that same sense of concealment from him. Which meant he was, physically, a bog standard human. Unfortunate.

Damn, I have no choice but to shield him!

Gritting its teeth, her Spirit panned its glowing blue eyes across the room, looking for options. In lieu of the ability to dodge, the brunet instead needed a physical shield to weather the storm. One way or another, Chinami currently had no other path but to take the attacks head on, her own body and Spirit the only things she really could say for sure could handle it. Even so... If these orbs were anywhere near as devastating as the initial attack that had seeped into the floor... if that ominous effect applied to all of The Man in the Suit's utilizations of his Gift? Then they were in trouble. With that in mind, it would be better to still explore every possible option otherwise.

Her Spirit lunged at barely subsonic speeds for one of the nearby chairs in the room, snatching it up and quickly interposing it between Chinami's true body and the assault, as said body continued to back away in what felt to her was a glacial pace, her heartbeat thundering in her ears from each slow motion pulse.

The first orbs impacted the chair. Unfortunately the fabric and stuffing proved little to no obstacle, and though her Spirit's physical strength held the furniture steady, the orbs of darkness punched into it like bullets, the flimsy wooden frame splintering and stuffing rupturing forth.

And then the orbs exploded.

They weren't big explosions, not really, but they were there nonetheless, a series of blasts like firecrackers going off with purely physical force behind them, reducing the chair they'd pierced in mass to smithereens. Chinami's Spirit flinched away, the hands having caught some of the impacts, and for a moment, Chinami panicked a bit internally... before realizing that nothing more had occurred. To her great relief, nothing more than high physical force seemed to be employed in this onslaught. There was no lingering shadow on the remains of the chair or her Spirit, no creeping burn or unusual sensations. It was like getting pelted with beanbags. Well, for her Spirit, it was, the spectral extension of her soul being more durable than any regular person. For anyone else, the attacks likely would be equivalent to being barbarically stoned to death, even a single one of them potentially lethal if it hit the right place, like a rock being pitched at nearly 100 miles per hour.

Her Spirit had weathered the glancing blows, and yet still... It had, indeed, had to weather them to some degree, which meant the projectiles -and The Man in the Suit's Gift by extension- possessed the spiritual element she'd feared it might. He could hurt her. Sure, these weak attacks wouldn't do much on their own, but she'd actually felt them. If she was pinned down and forced to endure them for an extended period... then that damage would inevitably add up to something far more serious.

"[Living on a Prayer], not a single one goes through!"

Even now, her Spirit's arms and body ripped forth in a flurry of motion to deflect and detonate every last projectile that came their way, the spectral guardian far too quick for even a single one to conventionally pass, despite several curving, spinning and otherwise not moving in a straight line. Chinami hissed quietly, however, as -like she expected- her arms began to feel rather... tenderized. She could physically feel the bruises forming all across her hands and forearms. The onslaught was intensifying, but her defense held strong, even as a toll began to be extracted. She was certain she could hold out long enough to reach the brunet and teleport them both to safety... but she wasn't sure she could say the same for Blondie.

The Man in the Suit was beginning to encroach again, his footfalls spreading more of the far more worrying d a r k n e s s in annoyingly large and growing pools. And as he did so... a plan was beginning to form in Chinami's mind.

Even as her Spirit defended her and the brunet... she had it begin to feign slip-ups, had it occasionally miss a wider ranging attack or two, before finally snagging them when they got closer to actually hitting her or her charge. As her physical body retreated closer to the brunet boy, Chinami's Spirit was at all times kept within a strict one meter radius of herself, as though an invisible tether yoked it, as she did her level best to sell to the enemy the idea that she was straining to defend, was on the retreat in every way that mattered, and -most importantly- that her Spirit's range, despite its speed and power, was far shorter than the reality. A ploy to make the Man in the Suit overconfident, a feint to imply her as a trivial obstacle compared to Blondie, who had actually hurt him...

And a gambit to lure him too far into her actual range to defend when she finally struck back...

Ken

Typical, Nightman's 'cleanup guy' was trying to 'rub him out', but Ken Illustrious Ikari was not going to give up even though he cannot contribute to the battle except by enhancing others' powers. Or was that his only use? So as the mysterious girl blocked the orbs of darkness heading toward him, Ken analyzed the situation.

First up, they had to hold out until his timed messages got out, and the Vigilantes were alerted to his emergency call for help. His parents, who might have returned to their apartment sooner rather than later, might come to his aid as well, preferably with the Ame-no-Murakumo. Whatever the case, he was exhilarated by the thrill of battle and the anticipation of victory. For, if he can actually back up his ego with some wise analysis, he can probably speed it up.

He was in a room, with two chairs, a desk, and a larger table with Nightman's name tag. The room was artificially darkened by the enemy's powers, so it was hard to see anything which can serve as an improvised weapon, and the boy didn't have time to check if Nightman had taken away his smartphone (not that his timed messages could be deleted from a location other than his home; he had asked his parents to set things up that way). And were there any windows at all? Wait, there was, one with the blinds on!

Ken rushed towards the window and opened the blinds, hoping that the day was no longer cloudy. If that didn't work, he'd turn towards Rev and say, "There is a window! There is a window which can be opened!"

@supertinyking@Dezuel@Lewascan2

Reverio Galand

The man in the suit, the seemingly henchman to Dr Nightman. Or were he an extension of the very man? A puppet? Or perhaps what they were fighting were an illusion created by the doctor. It wouldn't be too far fetched an idea to Rev, that someone like Simon would have been able to create some sort of false visionairy field of some kind. Which begged the question, where were he now? Was he hiding and pulling the strings of the man, watching for an opening or were he simply unaware of what was going on.

As far as Rev knew, the doctor seemed like a capable opponent, he would have likely noticed what was going on. With such in mind, to simply discard it all as an illusion would be risky not only for himself but to Chinami and Ken. A risk he wasn't willing to take just yet. But they couldn't afford to spend too much time fighting, they would end up too weakened to be able to deal with Simon.

Their current opponent which coated himself in the dark had survived the pillar of light, yet visually it seemed to have done something to him. Yet Rev knew that it wasn't only light that could cause blindness to things, but so could the dark. The man had hurled orbs of darkness towards the trio, while also leaving puddles behind him to prevent them from leaving the room by the doorway. The one before them spoke and moved in a manner of sheer confidence, despite the fact he were up against three, albeit young people.

While Chinami was defending herself and Ken, the latter had alerted them to a window which could be used. Either to provide some light into the room or a way of escape. That's right, Rev had also noticed it when he first had entered the room he were originally brought into. The windows were all bearing covers, perhaps to hide Dr Nightman's vile buisness or perhaps ward off the light itself. Rev had quickly raised his sword to parry and cut a few of the orbs coming his way, a few exploding behind him or catching parts of his cloak and searing his skin slightly. The man in the dark had spoken out to them.

"You're causing property damage. Enough." The man had said.

'Property damage?' Rev widened his eyes at hearing it, then his eyes darted to the man in question and then discreetly his eyes wandered to the ceiling of the room.

"Be wary! There may be illusions about! The doctor may be watching!" Rev called out to his two companions.

The young blonde swung his sword of light from his left side towards his right, to not only cut a few of the still incoming darkness orbs but also then swung the blade upwards, then back to the left side in a circular manner. Creating a ring of light before sending it right towards the direction of the man in the suit, but it wasn't aiming for him, it was targetting the ceiling above the man, cutting into it and making a circular shape. A thick and nice block of building materials. How heavy, but handy. Rev didn't stop to ponder on the possibility of the suited man's life insurance or his life expectancy. Neither if Dr Nightman had a home insurance. He just spoke out to the man.

"Ceiling la vie!" Rev said, as a slight upturn formed at the side of his mouth, while making a fingersnap with his free-hand. Hoping to see the man in the suit get a concrete reply about the property damage. And possibly also giving a nice little opening in the roof to allow some light inside, providing the rain had ceased that is.

@Letter Bee@Lewascan2@supertinyking@KillamriX88

@Scarifar@Dezuel@Crowvette@KillamriX88

The first thing he felt, it was being numb all over. Like an overstretched doll, he drifted aimlessly in a void as his senses failed to take the grasp of the situation. Something wet brushed his mouth, as he was far too weak to protest, and continued to invade the path towards inside his throat. He tried to grasp for air, but he could only gulp as a somewhat lukewarm liquid went in. It felt... wrong. And yet, as if an intense fire destroying the cold away, his limbs stirring back to life, the same fire burning away the pain of the injuries.

Parker was awake, as a figure who seemed to have been straddling him moments ago scurried away, ruffling their clothes as they move away. Then it dawned. The massive figure, the horns... that particular smell.

The discarded milk bottle on her hand, still with remnants of the white liquid. Parker grimaced, connecting the dots. He still remembered his first time, days ago before she moved away. It had been a particularly vicious beatdown, when trying to defend Celestine. His fingers reached for his lips. The condemning white moustache was smeared on his fingers.

"Dickie, thank god I had enough for the two of us." Her voice seemed somewhat worried, as her tail was stiff. Mina, the one who had bested him. "But you're a jerk! Who told you to touch my tail like that!? Not even Suzakura does that!" She would prattle on. "But I'm glad it worked, you see, you're not half bad. The abomination is not around, so you can be my boyfriend!" She added, beaming and bouncing.

Parker refused to elaborate on how Mina didn't seem to carry those bottles in the fight and why the milk he had just ingested didn't seem like it had been taken out of a fridge.

"Boyfriend? Don't you have King Jerk for that?"

"Well you're a boy and you are going to be my friend!" Mina answered back... as Parker got up and began to walk away. "Hey, Dickie, where are you going? Heeey! Heeeeey? Won't you cheer up for my next fight?"

Parker just grunted and walked away.

It had already been an eventful night, though whether that was in spite of or because of the surrounding circumstances, Duke wasn't sure. It hadn't started out very promising - 8 of the contestants for the day had already been put out of commission before the tournament had even started, cutting the night's entertainment potential neatly in half. Was he supposed to be sour that the night's betting would be cut short? Perhaps he should be glad that none of his favourites had been among the unlucky 8, forced to fold before the cards were dealt.

He leaned back in his chair, sipping his drink in a shady corner of the Midnight bar. Non-alcoholic, of course. No matter how much money he had, Duke couldn't afford to be drunk before the matches started - it might skew his judgement. He didn't attend the tournaments as much these days - he had exams to worry about, and his somewhat bleak future prospects to mull over. But the appearance of a dark horse had been an event he couldn't miss. The gambler's spirit in him, he supposed.

Several students around him guffawed as the sound of flesh striking flesh peaked over the music. Not inside the ring as usual, but outside, by the DJ table. The second impromptu fight had broken out tonight, and being the quick thinker he was, he had quickly set up the bets. It had been even odds in the end, showing that the participants in his game weren't quite as in the know as he was. He was familiar with Mina, the Great fool Bull of Kiburi, given her attendance in previous tournaments over the years. He did not know the other participant very well, but given the nature of the duel, he had little doubt that she would win. And he was right, though she looked a little worse for wear at the end. Duke drained his drink and slammed the cup down on the table.
"Alright, time to pay up, losers." He said, grinning devilishly.

The winners of the bet mirrored his smile, while the losers begrudgingly opened their wallets. Crumpled bills were deposited on the table's surface. Duke quickly swept them up and divided the winnings, splitting them to their new owners. The smiling winners pocketed the cash without even looking. He was sloppy when it came to schoolwork, but when it came to gambling, there was no one they trusted better. As things returned to normalcy near the dance floor, Duke got out of his seat.
"Looks like it's time for the matches. The rest of you losers can feel free to drink here while I collect my box seats." He said sarcastically.
With some jeers and taunts from the group, he made his way out of the tables. Most of the group stayed to watch from their good vantage point, but some followed. They enjoyed being in the splash zone, just like him. He shot a glance at a bookish 2nd year with a jar full of money and a bulky 3rd year student nearby. They were in charge of handling the bets while he was out, they both owed him something and stood to gain a good chunk of cash from this.

As they made their way into the crowd, Duke couldn't help but reflect on his motley crew. If push came to shove he couldn't say that anyone in the group was a "friend" to him, but he had built a certain amount of faith in them, and they respected him in turn. He didn't want to let down their faith. Duke would be an adult soon, and he should take responsibility for the result of his actions.
So you'll take responsibility for betting pools, but not for that? A part of him said, but he ignored it.
The devil was always on his shoulder. It was in his head, in his heart, in his blood. There wasn't anything he could do about it now. He would have to live with it until he died, and maybe even longer.

Shrugging his shoulders, the boy put his hands into his pockets and disappeared into the crowd.

@Crowvette@KillamriX88@Scarifar

Erisse Augusta Narrativia

Don't interfere, Erisse thought to herself as she sat on the highest seat in the stands, writing down her observations on the story unfolding before her, the story of Parker and Mina, as well as the tale of Michael and Andras. Narrative Role of Familiarity plus a few conjured up cameras and surveillance bugs had gotten her a bit of relevant info, information which allowed her to conduct her family's mission, that of recording and providing occasional guidance to would-be heroes and heroines.

However, there was just one problem. None of the people she wanted to help wanted her help, and the people more open to a chat with her were... Unheroic. 'King Bully'/Suzakura definitely deserved to be called an antagonist, although villain was too important a term to honor him with, while Mina's obliviousness rubbed her the wrong way. Not that she hadn't heard about her family and their dirty little secrets, but that didn't mean that she had the right to be, well, what she was right now.

Too bad Erisse was not good at redeeming people; she knew better than to try as long as it wasn't Kyros. To be honest, while she continued to believe in her brother's eventual redemption, her plan was to just find him and leave the actual counseling and 'talk no jutsu' to someone else - She knew her limits.

But, don't you want to surpass them? a stray thought said as she looked at the newcomer; Duke, was it? She should be careful about him too, considering what she had been told about him and what she found out by posing as a Mephisto's teacher from time to time...

@Spin The Wheel@AtomicNut@Dezuel@Scarifar@Crowvette

Andras sat in an empty booth near the corner of the bar, trying to sort out what the night had become. There was a distinct berth around her booth, with the spectators giving her plenty of space. Andras didn’t know if it was because she threw around such immense force in her match, or just because it was clear she was upset.

She didn’t care. She really wanted to curl up and wait for her throbbing bruises to stop hurting. She was at least able to stop herself from crying, so she considered that a little victory. The entire night had gone sour in an instant. She only stuck around because she had won, and it’d be an even larger insult to Vera to win and then drop from the tournament.

Well, that, but also Andras was brimming with frustration, sadness, and a feeling of powerlessness. Maybe giving someone a super haymaker would cheer her up.

She sighed aloud. “I’m definitely not in the right place at all…” She rested her head on the table, enjoying its cool surface against her cheek. “What was I thinking…?”

The sight of a newcomer who had shaken up the tournament sulking like that could easily be seen from across the bar. It stood out like a sore thumb.

Michael wandered the bar, turning his head side to side as he searched for Andras. If he recalled, she did not leave her match with the highest of moods, nor with the best of health. He was worried about her, and couldn’t imagine what she was feeling.

Fortunately, she wasn’t too difficult to find, finally spotting her at a corner of the bar. It seemed she was still not feeling well after her match. At the sight of her, Michael put a hand on his hip and sighed. Michael realized he would have to take it upon himself to make her feel better, or at the very least, try to.

Taking a seat next to Andras, Michael gave her a light tap with his fist on her shoulder. “What’s got you so down, Andras? You’re supposed to be a winner.” he asked. “I’m guessing something, uh, not great happened in the past between you and that girl back there, huh?”

Andras quickly snapped up in her seat. “Oh! It’s just you.” She calmed down considerably upon seeing her friend’s face. “No… Um, well… It’s more of something that didn’t happen…” Andras put her head in her hands.

There was a brief moment of silence between the two before Andras realized she was breaking character. Quickly fidgeting, she began backtracking what she had said: “I-I mean! T-There’s no history between her and I, Andras, except the history of… Battle…? L-Like-”

Her stuttered lies were interrupted when her fidgeting caused her bruised knee to hit the table above it, causing her to wince in pain. “Y-Yeah. Like that. Ow…” She added ‘embarrassment’ to the wide range of feelings she was experiencing, just below ‘pain.’

Michael looked down at her knee and placed a hand on his chin, thinking about what Symbols to use to help her out. Getting down to one knee, Michael gently grabbed Andras’ leg and said, “Here, hold still.” He then proceeded to apply a Symbol to her leg, a vertical line with a coil around it, reminiscent of the Rod of Asclepius.

Standing back up, Michael then raised his finger and drew a red cross symbol onto Andras’ forehead. Tapping the center of the cross, Andras would find her wounds healing up, especially around her knee. These Symbols would draw on her own energy in order to heal her body, as all they did was accelerate the natural healing process. She might feel a little drained, but a little rest before her next match would be enough time to make a solid recovery.

“There, that should be better,” Michael said. Sitting back down, Michael would proceed to seriously address his friend, “Alex, please be honest with me. You’re my friend.” He then quickly muttered to himself, “One of the few I actually have,” before continuing on, “I hate to see you like this, and I wanna help you, but I’m not sure I can if I don’t know the details.” He took a deep breath and steeled his resolve, then proceeded to ask, “What really happened between you and that girl?” He knew he was risking his friendship a bit by asking Andras this, but he had to know. Too much had happened to simply brush it off at this point.

Andras groaned, clearly torn between her desire to shrug things off and her desire to respond with the truth. She thought back to some of the times that she had leaned on Michael, even literally, and now she was being propped up by him again. The thought made her want to curl up even more.

After an uneasy silence, Alex spoke up. "Um. She and I used to be friends." Alex sniffled, wiping her eye preemptively. "Really good friends. But we haven't seen each other since I was... Hospitalized. She didn't ever visit after I woke up, and I..." She paused, searching her own feelings. "I... guess I never looked for her, either, after I woke up. But it had been so long that I... Never..." She choked up. "I don't know why I didn't."

She grabbed the end of Michael's shirt and looked up at him with a teary eye. "Why wasn't she just happy to see me?! Why did she want to fight?! And why didn't I stop her when she tried to?!" She crumbled, hiding her face and hunching over the table. "What's so wrong with me that this happened...?" Her muffled voice wavered.

As Alex poured her feelings out onto him, Michael’s mind raced through a million possible answers he could give. However, none of them seemed right to him. He didn’t know what he could say to make her feel better. The only thing he thought of to do at the moment was to awkwardly pat her on the back. Michael may have said he wanted to help, but he certainly wasn’t a psychologist or anything. It was the best he could do.

“Hey hey, it’s- it’s alright,” Michael tried to console her. He thought about giving her a hug, but he wasn’t sure he was willing to do that yet. Especially not with a crowd around them, watching the entire scene unfold. Instead, he continued to say, “I’m sure you did the best you could. Tensions seemed a little… high at the time.”

Alex let out a long sigh once more. She was going to need a long break after all this. Maybe she’d skip classes for a day or two. Depending on how roughed up she got in the next fights, she might have to skip classes. Teachers would ask questions. “She’s always been… We’re going to talk it out. Things will work out...” She turned back to Michael. “Thanks for helping. I feel better… Actually, way better.” Alex stretched her legs, surprised at how quickly her bruises disappeared. “Looks like I owe you… again.”

Alex wanted to stand up to hug him, but she didn’t want to cause any more of a scene than she already had done. She resolved to give him one the next time they met without a crowd watching their every move. Plus… Demons didn’t give out hugs. Or at least, not the kind that get into underground fights and crack the concrete foundation of a building with their bare hands.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Michael said, giving her a smile and a thumbs up. “You just do your best in the semifinals… Lady Andras.” It seemed appropriate to him that a “demon” be given some proper respect, after all. He flagged a bartender over and ordered a water, and was soon chugging it down from its tall cup.

The cheers went on for the last fight that had occurred long after the next two fighters had stepped onto the plate. It was always a spectacle to see a fight like that, not to mention the winner in question. The fight had long been over by the time the next two fighters stepped up to the stage. By comparison, they weren't anything to write home about. One was a regular who had always done semi-well, and in fact this was probably his best run yet. On the other side was a friend of his, who was also a regular, but had always seemingly struggled.

Their power sets were rather basic. And not too strong from what people remembered. Not exactly names to carry a title fight, so to speak. They exchanged some words, and it was on to the battle. And then it was over.

One moment there had been Gods knows how little people watching the fight, and then the favored combatant was sailing through the air, headed straight for, and going straight through a nearby table. Certainly a feet considering the tables were placed a little far away exactly for this kind of occurrence.

Drinks flew, outfits were ruined. Shouts, a little bit of panic, but not too much. But now, silence, and all eyes were on the stage. At least for the next few moments. The previously thought underdog was standing there with not even a scratch on him. Muscles bulging. His veins were visible. Something seemed off here.

But there was no time to really consider it, as the next fight was supposed to be underway soon. The victor of the bout stepped off the stage and seemed to vanish into the crowd as students parted for him. Well, as well as one could vanish on a night like this. He could be found and talked to if someone were to look, that was beyond doubt, but whether that would be wise would be a different question.

Amongst the many concerned faces in the crowd, surely there would be someone who knew either of the two combatants who could shed light on what exactly just occurred. But perhaps no one would really care either. This was Midnight after all, you asked questions with your fists and found answers with your own bodies. Surely this combatant wouldn't be that bad, right...?

The fabled dark horse had appeared, and it was certainly shocking, though the surprisng thing wasn't his strength. The truly surprising thing was that Duke was familiar with this particular dark horse. Duke was confident that he knew anyone who was anyone in the Midnight tournament; he had lived and breathed the tournament in his first couple of years at Mephisto's. He'd been in so deep that he saw it in his dreams too. Even now, when that passion had cooled off somewhat, he had kept track of the big name players and upcoming talent alike. It wasn't just a hobby, it was his professional obligation.

Duke didn't know the 2 fighting just now very well. After all, he didn't pay attention to every single wannabe superstar that stepped into the ring. But had seen them fight before, enough to where he had been sure of who they were - C listers with poor prospects. The one who had lost the fight occassionally put out a good performance, but not enough to really punch above his weight. And his opponent had been even weaker, consistently producing disappointing results. That was the impression he had of them from the admittedly few matches they had participated in. But the result of the bout was plain for all to see.

If he turned to look, Duke was sure that his gambling corner was filled with sullen looks and dashed hopes. The ones who had bet on the downed contestant had probably considered him a safe bet, before he had been thrown through the table. But Duke didn't look. He had bigger fish to fry, and there was certainly something fishy about this. If there was one thing he knew, it was that you couldn't get something from nothing. Power had a price, a source. He needed to find out what it was. With that in mind, Duke joined the ground and quietly approached the victor, catching up quickly and launching a sudden ambush.
"Hey man, that was great stuff!" He said suddenly, draping a friendly arm over his shoulders.
He put an unopened can of soda in the victor's hand before producing one of his own. Who knew where he'd gotten it from.
"Have a drink, on me. For a... hard earned victory." He smiled.

@Crowvette@KillamriX88

Erisse, after some thought and more eavesdropping, decided to go to the bar, buying two strawberry milkshakes with hot fudge and an ice cream float and after taking a seat beside Michael, slid the second milkshake over to him, then said her piece.

“You look down in the dumps, conquering hero,” Erisse said in a light tone, intending to joke but not mock. “Seriously, though; you and your friend fought well.”

Best not to give away how much she knew, how much she had been eavesdropping on, and instead open up with a series of compliments.

Michael looked over to this new girl that had decided to sit next to him, raising an eyebrow. He had no idea who she was, though he assumed she was one of the people who had been watching the spectacle he and Andras made. He then turned his head to face the other direction, as if looking for anyone else she might have been talking to. Of course, there wasn’t. Michael knew full well of that fact; it was just a sarcastic gesture. Turning back to Erisse, he folded his hands together and replied, “Well, thanks. So, what brings you to my little corner of the table?”

Erisse decided to imitate the stories she had read and watched, before saying, “I noticed that you and your… friend don’t seem to be enjoying your victories much, if I may be so bold. And also that you’re worried about her, but might not want to show it to her. Am I just guessing, and if so, am I wrong?”

“Figured all that out on your own, did you?” Michael asked sarcastically. Sighing, he continued, “Well, you’re not wrong. My ‘friend’, as you so eloquently put it, isn’t exactly doing too well. And of course I worry about her; it’s what friends do. But I also know and trust that she can fend for herself. After all, she’s Andras, the Demon Lady.”

“Do you know where she got that name?” Erisse asked next in a smooth tone as she waited for Michael to accept the milkshake. Then she sighed and said, “I’m old enough to know how some relationships work; doesn’t hurt that I read advice columns in my spare time. I think that both you and she - She more than she lets on - are dealing with… Things you don’t want to say yet, things unspoken.”

She then smiled faintly and said, “Forgive me for prying, but I think I can help, depending on what exactly you want to do for ‘Andras’.”

And with that, she casually conjured up, from pure Mana, a ruby. A mundane, nonmagical ruby, but a ruby nonetheless. Then she made it vanish right in front of Michael’s eyes and then pulled out a rose; a hint at what she thought Michael’s feelings were like.

Michael stared at the milkshake. While he was not above indulging himself with one every now and again, he had no idea what might’ve gone into this one before it was handed to him. For all he knew, it could’ve been drugged to make his performance worsen before his next match. So, he pushed it slightly away as he listened on to Erisse. Then came the rose.

Michael’s eyes widened as he blushed, then his face contorted with anger. Raising his hand toward the flower, he discreetly drew a fine thin line of ink around the rose stem, directly above where Erisse’s fingertips held it. It would be undetectable if you were not paying attention to it. He then flicked the rose off to the side, which proceeded to snap off like a brittle twig right at the line where he drew it, and it fell to the ground. As if on cue, a person then walked by, crushing the flower underfoot as he passed by.

“Listen here. I don’t know what you’re trying, but this isn’t some fairy tale where the guy always gets the girl,” Michael growled. “Andras and I…” He was going to argue further, but hesitated for a brief moment before deciding that it was a bad idea. Any argument would’ve only sounded hollow after that. “Forget it. Just say what you really came here for before my mood worsens further.”

“I’m a… Let’s just say I’m a combination of a journalist, historian, recorder and professional matchmaker plus mentor,” Erisse said. “My family has been tasked by our God to ensure that the guy does get the girl, or the guy gets the other guy or the girl gets the other girl. And one of my Blessings is transforming the hopes and dreams of a person I talked to, who desires something enough and is willing to put in the time, into a magical item, a capital-r Relic, which can provide a boost to their goals.”

She sighed, “Thirty minutes of talking about one’s hopes and dreams and you can get a way to fulfill them, free of the usual charges. All I ask in return is that you allow me to record the story, whatever its outcome is. Oh, and keep your eye out for my brother, Kyros, if you ever hear about someone with that name…”

Michael raised an eyebrow at Erisse’s proposal. A Relic that would give him a powerup? It sounded too good to be true. Of course, that also made Erisse highly suspicious in his eyes. The ruby and rose trick didn’t particularly impress Michael; he could create his own constructs with his own Blessing. However, a commotion from the arena caught his attention. One of the contenders had been sent flying by the other, smashing a table in the process. From the stunned silence of the crowd, Michael could guess that this was not a normal occurrence, which immediately put Michael on edge.

Turning his attention back to Erisse, he asked, “This ‘Relic’ of yours… it won’t have any side effects or anything? Frankly, I don’t believe in this ‘Fairy Godmother’ stuff that you’re trying to be, but it seems I may have to sign a deal with the devil, and if the price is really what you say it is, then I suppose I’m willing to take a chance.”

Erisse smiled and said, “No side effects; don’t worry! And thank you, Mr…”

“Michael,” Michael introduced himself. “What’s your name?” he asked, extending his hand.

“Erisse,” the lady said as she shook his hand, “Erisse Augusta. Nice to meet you.”

The underdog jumped slightly as Duke made his presence known. He still had veins pulsing at his temples and every muscle in his body seemed to tense up. He looked ready to spring, only for Duke to completely throw him off by putting a soda in his hand. His brow furrowed in confusion, but it seemed Duke had earned himself the start of a conversation, if only by power of bewilderment.

"What the hell do you want? Who are-?" The guy then frowned, looking Duke over again. "Wait, I know you. You're that bastard who's always betting on the fights these days." He grunted, cracking the soda open and chugging it all in one go. "Hmph, whatever. I get it. Can't make money winning, might as well make it gambling, huh? Your record was almost as bad as mine before you quit. Heard you're raking it in nowadays, though. Also heard you lose it just as quick," he chuckled. "Tell you what, one former loser to another. Bet on me tonight, then quit while you're ahead."

He then seemed to lose the ability to look Duke in the eye. A moment later there was a crunching sound as the boy slowly crushed the empty soda can in his hand absentmindedly, "Anyway, thanks for the drink or whatever. So unless you actually needed something, fuck off, huh?"

---

"Oh don't be like that, I'm a fan! A fan!" He said, moving to the front of the heavily muscled contestant, blocking his way forward.
Their eyes met and Duke adopted a hurt look, dripping with sarcasm.
"I just wanted to have a chat with you, one former loser to another." He said, smiling. "I'm here to help, not make money off you."

The lanky teen took a sip of his drink before making his pitch.
"You clearly know of me, but you might not know that I've seen more of Midnight than anyone here, besides the bartender. And I'll give to you straight, your side of the bracket is full of tough customers. Real hard hitting talent out there tonight."
Duke's smile morphed into a sly grin as he slid to the other side of the beefy student, putting a 'reassuring' hand on his shoulder.
"Now, I know someone as strong as you prooooobably doesn't need help from little old me, but I could run some... interference for you. You know, just to even the odds a little. I mean, I don't think you need it. But..."
He shot a pointed look at the broken table across the room.
"We both know how it feels to be on the other end, don't we?"

Before the other teen could reply, Duke slapped him on the shoulder.
"Think it over, ok?" Duke said, smiling innocently. "I'll be cheering for you."
He quickly backed up into the crowd, swiftly disappearing into the throng.

If anyone had been curious as to why Duke was often slighted as a rat, here was a clear example - flitting back and forth with danger, snatching the cheese, and scampering away at the first sign of danger. There were some in the crowd who knew of him, of his activities, and his habits in Midnight. Normal onlookers probably wouldn't know what to think, but the veterans knew. Were they disgusted by the rat's scurryings? Or were they disappointed that he got to the dark horse first? Everyone wanted to be there for the birth of a new legend, after all, and some wanted to be a bigger part of it. However, the rat in question hadn't been thinking about this.

Duke didn't have all the clues, and he was no detective. But he had good instincts, and something stank. It was as if he would smell the brimstone at any moment, and all he would need to do was turn around and see the devil on their shoulder. He had pretended to play that role, just to see what kind of reaction would spring. He had not expected to detect a hint of guilt, or something like it. It warranted further investigation.

The rat flitted through the crowd, scurrying with a clear destination in mind. Duke was heading to where the other student had fallen. If he remembered correctly, both of the participants had some kind of relationship, so they would probably know something. He could only hope that someone else hadn't gotten to them before he did.

@KillamriX88

Suzakura Plagerzes

Boredom. Complete and utter boredom. Suzakura couldn't do anything else but sigh as he pondered about his options, having watched the ongoings inside and outside of the ring.

'Damn petty Pete is looking too damn miserable, if I were to go and mess with him right now it would lose all point in doing so. What purpose is there in doing that to someone already so sad it makes the tears cry tears of their own. No. I need to wait until the beef critter is in a better mood so I can wreck it. Oh yeah!' Suzakura felt invigorated for but a brief moment, as he pulled the pinky finger our of the ear, looking at the earwax stuck to it.

"Eww disgusting." He said and quickly detached it against the shirt of the small boy with the eyeglasses which he had just given a wet willy, while his mind had been preoccupied with what he could possibly do to cure his boredom.

"Well thanks for trying to make my day better little buddy!" Suzakura said, turning the shorter more meek looking kid around, patting his shoulders with both his hands to such a degree the boy's glasses dropped down to the ground. The boy shortly after reached for them, only to hear the familiar sound of Suzakura. "Oops! You should watch out for yourself man!" As the taller of the two stepped on the glasses with his boots.

Then Suzakura zoned out to avoid hearing the sobbings of the boy, what was it with people being so overly sensitive to everything? The world was a rough place to be in, you had to toughen up! The sooner the better. Filled with new motivation, and that he had done all he could to his surroundings, he happened to throw a glance to the upper stands on his way towards the resting area for many of the combatants. Suzakura made a slight whistle on seeing what he could only describe as....

'Hot teach within reach!' His eyes widened towards Erisse, who seemed to have thrown a glance towards him. Or did he just imagine it? He had to play it safe.

"Oops." He said aloud and dropped the keys he had previously borrowed from some careless teen, he couldn't even remember who it was only that the opportunity was there. As the keys hit the floor, he made sure he was facing Erisse's direction with his back before he slowly bent down to pick up the keys in the most sexy way he could.

'I gotta keep you in mind for later and compare with Chi-Naminamnam. Perhaps a best bikini faceoff...' He rose up slowly, and threw a glance over his shoulder, tipping a hat he didn't have like a cowboy would. 'Allright ma'am.' The young man then kept walking around the various stands, thinking of his pickup lines. It had to be something a teacher could appreciate.

'A: Because you are amazing, B: Because you are beautiful, C: Because you are clever and D:... Because you want it!' The young man gave himself a pat on the back as he approached what he could only describe as the perfect subject. He was chatting to a girl aswell which could certainly qualify as cute. But Suza's keen eyes detected that she was sorely lacking in some other aspects.

'Crap. I am thristy after all this work, damn Mina. Oh wait a bartender is heading this way... perfect.' He mused in his own head as the shorter and younger boy approached with a tray of drinks, his cap clearly sponsored by those hosting the tournament.

"Man! You are a lifesaver!" Suzakura felt a sudden burst of joy as he grabbed the boy's head on it's sides with both his hands, looked into his eyes, then reached to pick up a soda with one hand, pulling down the boy's cap with the other. Then proceeding to spin the boy around abit, and then discreetly pushing him with his boot into a section of the crowd that was jumping and cheering.

The boy vanished in the crowd, only accompanied by the sound of crashing glass and yells and cursing by what sounded like some older teens. didn't take the bully long to pop open his well deserved soda and take a swig. "Oh yeah, that's what I needed." He said aloud to himself, continuing up to the guy with the eyeglasses and the girl next to him. And a teacher looking- Wait a sec.

'What?!' The teach had walked over all the way over there before he did. But what was even worse, she was holding out a rose to the NERD. WHAT?! He snapped the rose. She proposed to the nerd and he rejected her?

'Why you little shit- Bullying that hot teach... Looks like we have some catching up to do foureyes...' Suzakura grinded his teeth as he got closer and closer towards where Erisse and Michael were.

The bully of Kiburi arrived just in time to hear the two introduce themselves. 'Erisse? What a fitting thing it had two 'S' in it'. As Suzakura felt it awfully fitting as he oogled at her bodyshape. 'Alot of 'S' right there.' Ofcourse he could pull of something like that himself with his powers, but it was always a pleasure to see nature at it's finest.

Then his gaze fell on the one he had labeled as a nerd. His name was Michael. "Yo! Mikey-crikey, I've been looking all over for you! Your buddy was asking for you, she needed some super serious foureyed assistance! Also fairest of evening you woman of fine attributes!" Suzakura motioned with his both hands, one hand still holding unto his soda which he raised as he praised Erisse. He did his best impression of someone who had an urgent message to deliver.

"It's something that can't be said loud in public Mikey..." He said in a hushed manner, motioning Michael to get closer so he could whisper to him.

@Scarifar@Letter Bee

---

The man in the suit's charge was suddenly interrupted by a shower of ceiling debris raining down on him. Reverio's light had cut all the way through the first floor ceiling and into the second, so the debris seemed to just keep coming. One might have even noticed an entire computer desk and filing cabinet falling down onto the man.

For a moment, it almost seemed like the battle was won. A few hundred pounds of wood, sheetrock, concrete, and metal had just toppled down on the man's head.

Then... shadow's began to seep out of the cracks and crevices of the mound in front of them. Then, the mound began to shrink, as if being drawn inward. Before long, it was all gone with the man in the suit left before them, covered head-to-toe in shadows. The shadowy armor then receded, leaving only his hands dripping with them.

The blood dripping down his brow suggested he'd been caught off guard at first, and he was down on one knee, breathing heavily. Reverio's light had slowed his shadows down, though at the same time, the pile of debris had given him the darkness he'd needed to recover... kind of. The damage had been done.

He snarled and then threw his arms forward, his shadows suddenly regurgitating some of the debris he'd just absorbed in a shotgun spray of rock and metal. Afterward, his arms fell slack to his sides, the man looking more and more exhausted as the head-trauma began to catch up to him.

For a moment, there was thus a lull in the battle.

The moment was soon broken by a man clearing his throat. They would see that the door to the room was now open with Dr. Nightman himself standing in the doorway.

"I must hand it to you children. You're quite tenacious. Especially you, Mr. Galand; I dare say I underestimated you." He walked into the room, standing just behind the man in the suit.

"Sir, I-"

"Be quiet," Nightman told him harshly, placing a hand on his shoulder. The man's eyes unfocused and all his shadows dissolved away. A moment later, however, the shadow's returned, flowing from Nightman's hands to crawl over his subordinate's body, then spreading across the floor beneath him.

Then, suddenly, the man was sucked into the void, leaving them alone with Nightman.

"It would seem I have to pick up where he left off, but no matter. This will soon be over," Nightman said, adjusting his glasses as he did so. "However, three against one doesn't seem fair."

With that, his skin seemed to stretch, as if something was trying to force its way out from inside. Then it almost seemed like the man was about to split in half before finally "it" broke free and before them were two Nightmans.

Suddenly, both turned their heads toward Chinami, "You're a quick girl, Chinami. I wonder..." Both lifted their hands, one finger outstretched, though at slightly different angles.

A moment later, Chinami might be able to calculate that he was actually pointing past her... and in that moment two thin beams of light were fired past her, aimed to pierce through Ken.

Reverio Galand

The man in the suit had gotten what looked like a file cabinet dropped upon him from the floor above, seeing what he did Rev couldn't stop his mind from drawing a conclusion.

'Case closed.' He thought, but it had been too early, the man was seemingly still capable to fight back, even if the damage had certainly been done to him. To such a point Dr Nightman had finally appeared through the doorway itself. The doctor's words towards them, even if he felt them mostly directed at Rev.

"I am not who I used to be, Simon. But neither are you I believe. " Rev replied quickly to the doctor, while still keeping his sword of light in his both hands, as Nightman pulled his servant into a dark void, or so it would appear.

Rev simply scoffed at hearing Nightman speak about fairness, but it was the manner of speech used by the doctor that made Rev make his decision. 'So he doesn't know after all...' He thought, drawing the conclusion that Nightman indeed was no mind reader, but rather a mesmer. A deceiver just like... Rev could hear the familiar sound in his ears. Cling. Clang. The unmistakable sound of the crown falling down that long staircase, it's bejeweled and golden shape casting reflections along it's way down the well lit staircase.

A reflection. No, it was his brother. Standing there at the top of the stairs with an outstretched hand, his face covered in darkness, the only visible thing being his smile. That deceptive and horrible smile. The deceiver king. And next to him stood the princess, her inviting smile and aloofness transcending both time and space. Cling clang. Along the staircase stood all the beheaded nobles who met the same fate as his brother. It was in that moment Rev came back to the present, only a brief moment had passed but he had seen so much.

"You are one to talk, you are a thief! You think stealing our powers will fill up that void in your chest and make you like born anew? You only get one chance, one try. Life isn't fair, only death is fair. It comes to all. Therefor-" Rev said aloud, his voice raising before he dashed forwards, seeing however that Nightman was firing towards Chinami and Ken. Beams of light? It was Rev's gift being used. No.

'... you will live.' Rev thought as everything seemed to almost go in slowmotion, or was it his speed making everything else seem slow. He wasn't that fast was he?

"You are already a replica!" Rev yelled out, as he crouched down when he came close enough to the now two Nightmans, swinging his sword of light in a horizontal manner, attempting to hurl a wide-arc light projectile to attempt to amputate the Nightmans four legs at once, right below the kneecaps. Nightman didn't have to die. Not now. Not yet. Rev wanted to someday show Simon the truth of the world. There was no reason to stain Ken and Chinami's hands with his blood. It made the sword-wielder grit his teeth. What about his own? He knew the answer very well. Were it the flickering lights, he thought for a moment he could see the face of his brother. Giving off that haunting smile before fading away as quickly as he had come.

@KillamriX88@Letter Bee@Lewascan2

Michael turned to look over incredulously at the guy who had come up to him and addressed him as "Mikey-crikey". One look was all Michael needed to know that he really didn't like him. Every fiber of the guy was screaming "arrogant troublemaker", just the kind of person Michael didn't want to associate with. Unfortunately, that probably meant he had the skills to back up that attitude, too. He glared at Suzakura and remained silent after being told about his "buddy" needing help. The only person he could think of was Andras, and there was no chance she needed his help again so soon. Michael didn't know what this guy's game was, but he wasn't taking the bait that easily.

When Suzakura began to speak in a whispered tone, though, Michael raised an eyebrow, wondering what possible important thing Suzakura had to tell him. It was very likely a trap meant to get him to lower his guard, so Michael had his own ideas. Michael decided he would play along and leaned closer, whispering, "What is it?" At the same time, he had his arm tensed, ready to take a swing or two at the first sign of trouble from Suzakura.