The deep sea was truly something to behold; thousands of diamonds glimmered on its cobalt, shifting surface, while waves shifted crests of salt water lazily, warmed by the sun and cooled by the wispy northern breeze that, despite its continued touch, could not move a ghostly pirate ship sitting idly in the Palanen ocean waters. The vessel seemed to have been in a fight recently, or a storm, as its sails were not but ragged tendrils of white cloth, and several holes riddled its hull. Despite this, the main deck was clean of debris, and held only a small layer of grim on its surface. A small row boat was tied to one side of the ship, and a light-haired man pulled himself over the boat railing (or what was left of it) and onto the deck.

Luke Duke scratched his chin idly as he looked over the boat. It was hardly in prime condition—but that was to be expected, after all. It was a month ago that a crew of pirates sailing this vessel attacked a merchant ship that the Knight was stationed aboard, guarding. By his advice, the merchants surrendered, and they were boarded without a cannon shot being fired. He had went immediately into action, using his prowess with a blade and arcane abilities to apprehend the pirate crew and bring them to justice—though, unknown to him, there had been a stowaway on the merchant vessel who, not being privy to Luke Duke's plan, and thinking that the merchants were soon to be turned into pirate slaves, prepped the merchant cannons and fired them at the pirate ship. The cannons ripped through the pirate ship's hull cracked the main sail's below deck support, sending it crashing down on the merchant ship. Splinters of wood and debris ripped through the air, embedding themselves in ship, merchant, and pirate alike—though thanks to the quick-thinking knight, no one was killed.

“Oh, the life of an adventurer! Why do I suffer so?” Luke lamented with a feigned sigh and facetious tone, looking over the ship. The main deck itself was fairly large from the bow to the cabin door and stairs at the stern. At equal distance from one another sat three pillars of wood from which the vessel's rigging and sails were attached, with the middle one being little more than a splintered stub—remnants of the stowaway's attempt at heroism. Most of the deck was clean, though splinters of wood, along with a few bottles of rum, lay here and there at sides of the boat, beside the railing. The railing itself had caved in somewhat near the middle on the starboard side, and cracks stretched over that side of the wooden planks.

Below the decking lay a storage area that had also been used as a sleeping area for the crew. Much of the ship had been cleaned out by the merchants, who had towed it back to the harbor, though just barely. The vessel was on its last leg, and any more damage to it would see the thing sink. It was this danger of sinking and the uniqueness of fighting in such a place that lured Sartana into taking the ship off the merchant's hands to use it for the tournament. That's what he had told Luke, at least. The knight was more than glad to help his friend in judging, too; the Guardian of the Sun had more important matters to take care of, being the powerful being he was, so for now the tournament was being judged by a select few friends, or distinguished individuals that the demon hunter trusted. Luke Duke was proud to be one of them.

From the corner of his eye he spotted his own ship once more; the one that had towed the pirate ship here. The ship was lined with spectators that wished to get s glimpse of the exotic battle that was about to take place. Luke removed a scroll from his side and read it once again. Contestants: Xoco, guardian of the shadows vs. Nero Sen Blade. The knight replaced the scroll at his side, spotting another ship now resting beside the spectator boat. This was likely where the contestants would arrive from, but individuals as powerful as The Guardian of Shadows often had little taste for such mundane methods of travel, and would likely arrive in another fashion.

Once both contestants had arrived, Luke retreated to the elevated back of the vessel, where he would watch from. He spoke up lightly. “Greetings, and welcome to your first round match. Introduce yourselves if you will, and start as soon as you are ready. I will judge from here. Good luck to both of you.”

The slight breeze went through Nero's head as he casually rowed into the large vessel on a boat. While he could've flew there, he was much more careful then that, so he figured he would leave his angel abilities un-accounted for until they were actually needed. His hand quickly went through his dark black hair as he got onto the boat and withdrew it, the great axe heaved on his back. Spectators eyed him thoughtfully, as if this were the last time they would ever see the man. The axe on his back shone in the sun as he got into the main part of the vessel, not noticing were his opponent might be. Ah, the guardian of shadows... what an honor having a tournament with a guardian for match one! Wonder what I'll have to face in round two...if I get to round two. Nero thought to himself, gulping at the fact that this was...a guardian. He never had meet any guardian before, the first time he would meet one would be today, and for a fact he really didn't want to meet one. He was actually hoping for someone much like himself. Though it was no matter, he would have to dealt with a guardian sooner or later.

The starting of training that I have made will do great against the guardian of shadows, evil detect... something that with no skill I can muster. Nero thought to himself, his eyes wandering the ship and it's many wonders. He didn't want this battle to happen, what if the guardian was in an awful mood? Would it kill him? That 50 gold that he had just put in was now floating away it seemed, like he has just scammed out of it to face a guardian. A light appeared on his face...it had been reflected off the water. Nero had aimlessly drifted to the side of the boat to look off it. A new inspiration had just caught wind of him. A slight crease formed around the end of his lips. He could do this, it would take a lot of him...but why not? Just because the person he was facing was guardian, didn't mean all hope was lost. There must surely be a way to defeat a guardian... Nero kept thinking in his head, his brain was something that he would have to rely on for this match, brawn would do nothing here.

The man...thing he was facing was more powerful then anything he had faced before. It would take every last ounce of energy in order to defeat the guardian, and that would be something Nero was aware of. He was always a person who dealt with pain well, the death of his two parents proving so. Out of no were it seemed, he heard: “Greetings, and welcome to your first round match. Introduce yourselves if you will, and start as soon as you are ready. I will judge from here. Good luck to both of you.” Nero shifted his gaze upwards as he saw a blond haired man, looking closer he could see this was Luke Duke, the person he had handed the money over to start this tournament. Anger and rage filled up Nero at first for paring him with a guardian, but then the smirk appeared on his face again, he was ready to battle this out. He wouldn't hold a grudge against someone for anything they had done. Surely he wouldn't have done this on purpose. That would be a fact Nero would have known. As he averted his eyes off the water he saw his opponent, the guardian of shadows.

"Hello, hello..Xoco!" Nero said excitedly as his gaze redirected from the water to the guardian. His smirk was still the same. He didn't want to be cocky, it was a personality that he resented at points. The breeze crept up on Nero again as the ruffles in his cloths appeared. His hair was slightly moving from the wind, but not as badly as when he had first rowed to the spot. The sparkles from the water gleamed up from beyond the boat, revealing Nero's appearance and his great axe that was strapped on his shoulder. Though if the guardian was watching him, he would have gathered a great amount of knowledge in the process of his actions: He was a thinker, he wouldn't rush into battle for anything. He had heard myths and such about this guardian, and if they were true he was nothing to mess with. His hand stretched back for his axe, and he unstrapped it off his back, it laid in his right hand. The sun shone off of it with a gleam.

I can use this to my advantage...but then so can he. Nero said, thinking of the gleaming off the axe. If he could direct the light of the axe at his opponent, then he could temporary blind him, even for a moment. This would lead to an advantage for Nero right of the beginning. But there would only be certain spots were he could use this, not all the ship would be available for this tactic. Even though it was in its early stages, a plan was already formulating in his head, different tactics and schemes that he could use against the guardian of shadows...Xoco. The name would strike fear in most, but Nero was too far into this already to back out of the match. He would keep going, he wouldn't tap out of anything and he wouldn't complain about his first match.

All seemed quiet on the ship, save for the splash of the waves against the hull. The sea was relatively calm today, providing little resistance to the ship as it plunged through the small swells. The sea mist left a layer of salt and grime over the entire surface of the ship, giving it an entirely unclean feel. The gruff sailors did not seem to mind it so much, as it was their profession to endure the unhappy life at sea. Then again, the intellectual caliber of some of them did not seem to be of the highest mark. All brawn, but little brains. They were trained to do one thing, which they did well, but after that, not much crossed their minds save for how much ale they could buy with the pay from this voyage.

Rightfully, they were all slightly startled as a small patch of shadows on the boat began to swirl. The air on the ship became dreadfully cold, causing some of them to grip their arms and shiver. The uneasy breath of the sailors became visible in the chilled atmosphere, small clouds of white smoke escaping their lips in ragged bursts. The water on the deck froze in places. One crewman slipped and fell as the wet deck underneath him suddenly turned into a slick hazard. The wind picked up slightly, adding to the effect. The shadows formed into first a completely amorphous blob, but then, gradually, took the shape of a man. Finally, they solidified into a recognizable form, and another, otherworldly chill settled over the crew. This cold was not of the air, but an overpowering sense of the deepest evil, which they could only grasp at understanding.

Even the crashing of the waves seemed silenced by this new presence. Even the gruffest of the sailors backed away from the strange black figure that now stood on the deck. His face was swathed in black cloth, leaving open only slits for vision. A cloak draped around his shoulders, swaying in the wind, its tattered ends snapping like whips as the stiff ocean breeze took them. His gaze seemed downcast, but none could tell, for his eyes were not visible. Doubts grew in the sailor’s minds as to weather or not a real face was actually hidden beneath the surface of the black bandages.

For a moment, everything was still.

Some of the sailors made gestures in the air with their hands, others clasped holy amulets or symbols. Three or four performed a short, odd sort of dance that involved clapping, spitting, and spinning around three times. It was almost laughable for the stranger who stood upon the deck. But he did not laugh, or make any sound. He simply stood in place. Slowly, only his head swiveled to survey the scene. He made out the shapes of a large ship, a merchant vessel by the looks of it. They had come up alongside her and were now making their way around the stern. The Lantern Bearer was written in large, gold lettering on the back of the cabin.

“A ship?” thought Xoco as the considerably smaller vessel rounded the Lantern Bearer’s stern. Then, as they completed the maneuver, he saw a rag-tag pirate ship that had been blasted full of holes. He looked at the cannons that were still protruding from the starboard side of the merchant vessel. The main mast was gone, the rigging snapped and a portion of the deck shattered. The sails were ripped and many stray pieces of sharp wood and metal laid on the broken deck. Xoco wondered how it could possibly still float with all of the damage.

“A… sinking… ship. Great,” he thought. Inwardly, Xoco began to work out how best to wage his advantages on this ship. The sun was low in the sky, and the canvas sails would provide plenty of shadow to fight in. Unfortunately, the sea was not going to aid him. He noted how grateful he was not to be fighting Merenwen, the Guardian of Water, who surely would have been an unstoppable force on this battlefield. His bladework was good, good enough to fend off most swordsmen. But there were a score of men who were better with a blade than he, and those types loved a good tournament. His magic was his best bet. But, unfortunately, Sartana had managed to work enchantments to restrict the use of spells and such. The rules were strict, but reasonable, and with his wide arsenal, Xoco considered them to be little obstacle. The biggest trouble he had was a feeling of weakness inside of him, a wound that he could not heal. His powers as a guardian were restricted here, to prevent him from simply smiting whatever mortal he was pitted against.

“No matter,” he thought, “This pitiful weakling will be no match for me, divine might or not.” Xoco knew that he should not be so cocky. Overconfidence had been the undoing of so many skilled fighters in the past, and he did not care to join their ranks. He knew that to keep his mind open and his skills humble would be the key to winning this fight. His bag of tricks was limited, but the hand-and-a-half demonic blade which hung at his side was not. When all else failed, he still had the refuge of cold steel to rely upon.

Xoco was stirred from his thoughts by a sudden jolt of movement. The clank of a chain rapidly unwinding rang through the air, stopped only by a solid thump. They had dropped anchor, and were right next to the pirate ship. Xoco looked up at the cargo net that had been thrown over the side for them to climb. Moving his feet for the first time, Xoco made his way swift and catlike up to the edge of this small boat. He jumped over the railing, catching the rope of the net in his grasp and using his momentum to swing up. He climbed with all the skill and grace of a masterful sailor, as if he had been doing this his whole life. With one final swing, his jolted himself up over the railing of the pirate ship, and his feet landed soundlessly on the wooden deck.

Looking around, Xoco saw his opponent. He smiled under the black cloth of the mask. He looked up to meet his opponent’s eyes. Finally, the slits in the black bandages lit up a deep crimson, which flickered and moved like fire. His eyes burned with an unholy flame, which licked up at the corners of the slanted pupils. The two small blazes seemed to be two beings all their own, drawn from the deepest recesses of the abyss. Only his eyes, if not his entire being, seemed to the very incarnation of terror.

Swiftly, surely, Xoco’s hand slipped the knot holding the cloak together and threw it away. It landed, and then all at once, dissipated back into the shadows, joining its brethren. Underneath the cloak, he wore only loose and comfortable clothes, suitable for mobility. A sword hung at his hip. Slowly, in a dramatic movement laced with malice, a single gloved hand reached down and wrapped five well-trained fingers around the hilt. Then, in a swift motion, the sword was drawn with a short zing. He held it in his right hand confidently, slanted at a 45 degree angle to his body. It’s menacingly sharp edge caught the sunlight and gleamed. The evil of the blade radiated a cold aura, one that would freeze any wounds it gave with an unholy frost. It was one of Xoco’s most prized possessions. It would serve well against the axe his opponent wielded. Depending on the other man’s skill, the heavy axe would be clumsier and less accurate than the sword. Xoco could work this to his advantage. Such a weapon would be a strain to wield for a long period of time. Patience, vigilance, and endurance would be the keys to overcoming this opponent.

“I wish you a swift and painless demise, Nero of the Angels. I hope only that your precious do-gooders will give you a warm welcome when I send you plummeting into the abyss that awaits,” said Xoco. His words were filled with hatred and a cold yet unmistakable evil. They wrought for themselves a psychotic attack upon his opponent, one which could be more devastating than any piece of steel. The terrible doom he spoke of would be swirling around in the edges of his opponent’s mind as they fought. It would set him into a state of unease that would make him careless and weak. Xoco needed to spin his advantages and play on the weaknesses of a foe like this.

After pausing a moment for effect, Xoco put psychological warfare aside and decided to set to work destroying this thing which dared to stand in his path to victory. Using his latent ability of telekinesis, he lifted several pieces of debris that laid on the deck of the ship and hurled them at his opponent’s face. Sharp splinters of wood flew at his eyes, while dangerous timbers threatened to cut his opponent’s legs out from underneath him. The onslaught was merely a pawn’s maneuver, a small move that was meant only to set into motion bigger things.

With the other attack covering him, Xoco dashed forward soundlessly, covering the 30 yards between himself and Nero in a matter of seconds. Using his momentum, he leapt into the air, swinging downward. Landing on one knee, not even looking to see the effects of his attack, he lunged his arms forward at Nero’s gut in a feint, and then twisted his wrist at the last second. He used the motion of his hand the momentum of his blade to make a quick swipe at Nero’s side. The blade moved swiftly, cutting through the air, and only seconds away from tasting the blood of his adversary.

Nero seemingly sensed his opponent. His red eyes became visible as slight slants of redness appeared in the presence. The angel's smirk turned into a frown. How did the guardian of shadows detect his holyness? Was it that perhaps a guess...or was it something more... Nero didn't understand, but saw his opponent throw away his jacket carelessly, which was enveloped by shadows itself. Nero gave a startled look, but quickly ended it, as he heard his opponent speak: “I wish you a swift and painless demise, Nero of the Angels. I hope only that your precious do-gooders will give you a warm welcome when I send you plummeting into the abyss that awaits,” Nero gave another started look, but like the first he recovered it quickly. His axe lifted off the ground as he watched his opponent. How could he have known..? Thoughts swelled into Nero's brain, as much swelling as what was hitting the ship at the moment.

Debris around the ship was now being moved, and he saw his opponent staying in one position. It must be him, the ship isn't rocking that violently. Nero thought to himself as he saw a pipe coming right at him. His axe quickly came up as it broke the pipe in half as the two halves went overboard. The big axe quickly was brought up again as Nero backed away and kicked off one of the sides of the boat, a large crate was smashed through as Nero's image appeared through it. He stopped as he saw a large black figure moving swiftly and silently to him. His curved smile appeared again as he lifted his hands, one with the axe, the other free of a weapon. His shirt broke straight down the middle as two angelic wings appeared by the sides. His smile was still worn on his face as he jolted up into the sky, his axe falling to the side as the other hand was still above his head. Going up into the sky, he didn't go up to high. Though he still saw his opponent on the boat violently doing moves to the spot were he had once been. A startled look appeared on his face as he watched the man move with such speed.

His hand that held his axe quickly swiped his back, the axe strapped back into place. Both of his hands were placed in front of him as he looked at the shadow still swiping violently at the spot were he had once been. His eyes caught sight of the guardian as a ball of energy appeared in between both of his hands. A light orange ball was made as Nero looked down. "Sun-Beam" Nero said, a stream of orange was hurled down at his opponent with stifling speed. He of coarse, did not expect this to be something that would hit the guardian. The thing he was facing was something more then he could have reckoned for, his angel wings soared as his right hand felt the axe and pulled it out of the straps again. The axe heaved over the right side...if he had done it overhead there was always a chance of him being left open...so he had chosen to bring it to his right side. The blade quickly was brought to the left to were the guardian he thought would be there should've stand. He was aiming towards the left arm, something that wouldn't be much of a downfall to the guardian, but it would be a hit. He didn’t think he stood much of a chance to the guardian, but the moment he thought of that he would surely lose.

For a sublime moment, all that could be heard was the slight howl of the blowing wind as it tore across the deck of the pirate ship. Xoco held his sword out, where his opponent should have been. There should have been hot, red blood flowing over the blade’s length as it tore flesh from bone and vanquished his opponent. There should have been the dull, pain-wracked grunt from the opposition, a guttural sound because he could not even scream for the pain. There should have been the heavy thud of knees, and then torso hitting the deck as the lights left his eyes forever…

And, yet, Xoco heard none of these things. His sword simply stuck out harmlessly in front of him, having just taken a swing at nothing. The silence was broken by many splashes off the port bow, signaling that not only had his sword attack failed, but the debris he had thrown had also missed its mark. Dust settled. He wondered exactly where his opponent had gone to avoid the sting of Ice’s sharp edges and the heavy debris which he had hurled. It seemed an impossible feat, except if he had…

Xoco felt a hot energy crackling in the air above him. His eyes widened and he looked up, just in time to see his now-airborne opponent collecting a massive amount of magical energy between his two hands. Xoco had to throw up one of his arms to shield his eyes from the spell. Obviously, it was of some form of light energy, most likely sun energy. Its radiance hurt him, burned at his core before his adversary had even fired the spell. His muscles tensed. He could not jump away too quickly, or else his opponent would adjust his aim before firing. So, Xoco waited, until he saw the lips begin to move. He waited further… further… The spell was getting very powerful now. At any moment, it would discharge, and rocket towards him, and he would have a split second to jump out of the way.

All at once, the ball of energy became a bright beam. Quick to react, Xoco leapt backwards. The spell slammed into the deck, burning the wood with its white-hot energy. No fire sparked, it simply burned as hole in the deck that charred and smoked. A shockwave followed the spell, hitting Xoco and throwing him back. He landed on his back with a solid thud. The deck splintered under the impact. The wood was getting weak. His vision blurred slightly, obscuring his view of the sails above him and the tattered ship upon which he lay. The scent of the sea and the acrid stench of burning wood filled his nostrils. After a moment, he regained himself, and his eyes straightened. His head smarted fiercely from the bump it had just received. Xoco reminded himself to hunt Sartana down and kill him for these power-restricting enchantments. Not only was his influence over his element restricted, he was also able to be injured like a normal mortal. For a second, Xoco wondered how a guardian who was lower in the birth order than himself could have woven such a spell. Then again, there was no saying that he didn’t get one of the Ainur to do it for him…

His thoughts were cut off by the familiar sound of a sharp blade cutting through the air. His eyes whipped around to the source of the sound. He saw his opponent swinging the axe with masterful ferocity, directly at where he had been not a moment before. It looked for a moment as if the blade might not make contact at all. But Xoco dismissed the thought as quickly as it entered his mind. To let down his vigilance would be a fatal mistake. It was always best to parry rather than assume your opponent was going to miss. After all, it might be a feint, and if it was, he was a sitting duck. Xoco was off-balance, but he still threw Ice up to defend him…

But his parry was weak, and since he was barely sitting upright, he had no momentum and the force of only his one arm in the parry. Normally, one swung the sword with the more powerful shoulder muscles, supported by the torso. Now, he had no such backup. He mal-parried, and the strong, skillful swing of the axe knocked Ice aside like a toy. The sword was knocked from Xoco’s grasp, flying off and sticking precariously in the stump where the mainmast had been before. But he had no time to think, no time to react. He watched as the axe’s edge sliced a glancing blow across his chest, renting open a cut from one armpit to the other.

Xoco released an inhuman screech of pain. It was high-pitched, a horrid sound that made the crowd on the other boat clasp their hands over their ears. It sounded like a hawk’s call, only with a distinctly unnatural undertone. It was a terrible, primal outcry of fury. For a moment, it seemed as if the wound would not bleed. Then, for the first time in a long while, red, hot blood seeped out of the wound like sap oozing from a tree. It dripped in random streams down his stomach. Xoco was enraged that his opponent had the honor of drawing the first blood of the match. He examined the wound, finding that it had not torn muscle or struck any major arteries. It was hardly a centimeter deep. But it hurt worse than anything he had felt in a long time.

Xoco laid for a moment on the deck of the ship, looking down at the wound. Then, slowly, his expression changed from pain, to confusion, to absolute hatred. Before, he had considered possibly claiming victory without destroying Nero. He was going to simply incapacitate his opponent, as were the instructions for the tournament. But Xoco decided that the rules could burn in hell for all he cared, along with those who had written them.

Nero was going to die on this deck.

Slowly, Xoco regained his footing. His opponent was still in the air. The fire in his eyes flared with a terrible, otherwordly rage. He stared at his opponent for a moment, and then considered his arsenal of spells. A wicked grin spread over his masked face as the perfect one came to mind. Time to show this pathetic mortal the real meaning of pain. He summoned his mana.

“Brave little birdie, to fly so high!” he yelled. His voice was no longer the scholarly monotone he had used to greet his opponent. It was now a layered voice, as if a chorus resided in Xoco’s throat. The overtone to it was threatening, while a deeper, more pungent, deep evil supported it. A vibrato enriched the malice in the sound. It was the voice that one finds in the most terrible of nightmares, an omen of certain doom to all those who heard it. It was the true voice of Xoco, Firstborn of the Darkness, and one of the most feared sounds in all of Arda.

“Gravitus Maximo!” he yelled. Xoco stretched out his arm, wavering it in the air, and then pressed down, hard, mana coursing out of him as the spell discharged. He dropped to one knee with the effort of the Improved Gravity spell. It would send Nero plummeting out of the sky at a bone-breaking rate, to a horrible fate below. He would either slam into the deck, where his limbs would be snapped by the hard impact. Then Xoco could finish him. Or, he would slam into the dark ocean, where the impact would certainly knock him unconscious. The fearsome depths of the sea would claim him. In either case, only death awaited unless he could find some way to counter the spell.

Once he felt the flow of mana cease, signaling that the spell had run its course, Xoco looked up to see the effects of his attack…

An angel... flying high in the sky...He felt a breeze of air sift through his hair as he soared down from the sky as he made a deep crescent cut in his opponent. His opponent didn't do much to parry the move at all, but that was situation. While he was aiming for his left arm, the spot were the guardian was gave him little to no power over momentum for the hit and while it meant the guardian escaped the left arm hit, he had made a bigger hit then he had ever expected to make on the guardian which was indeed a large spread across the torso.

The axe in front of him brightened as he watched gold letters appeared, he didn't know what this was, if was the first time he had landed a hit on an opponent with it. As he read it he heard his opponent give a howling screech. The gold letters shimmered: You may choose to heal yourself, or one of your allies. He felt no longer the will to choose to stay in his spot, he felt as if the demon inside the guardian was coming out, and he wouldn't want to stay in that kind of predicament. His wings flapped as he sent skyrocketing into the air, crisp water flew up into his eyes rather then before. He did a 180 in the air as he stopped on a dime, looking down. He regained his composure like never before. His ears were alert and sufficient, his tongue was dry from tasting the air...all for this.

A frown appeared on his face for the first time in the battle. Was the guardian of shadows toying with him, merely letting him get a hit in to make him think that he could beat him? Or was this actually the fighting style of the guardian of shadows. Nero knew that power restrictment rules were in place to make sure guardians couldn't get to powerful during the match though Nero thought for sure that the guardian would have much more swordplay then this. His sword was that of vibrant, Nero respected all guardians regardless of a battle. Though he felt he had lost the respect with this guardian, it seemed like he didn't want to just beat him anymore...kill him... He could tell by the fiery red eyes of the guardian as he watched him say something.

“Brave little birdie, to fly so high!” he yelled. A coarse of surprise and anger swelled in Nero, what was this guardian doing yelling? Couldn't he make himself known with his tactics rather then yelling? Nero could feel rage swelling in the guardian for the hit he had landed. The fiery red eyes supported this, his theory was correct, it seemed as if the guardian was going to forget about the rules and just hurt him beyond all relief in this fight. His heart seemed to be feeling what his head was feeling. Absentmindly his hand went directly to his heart as he felt his heart beat. It seemed to be doing double time of what it was actually suppose to be doing. Though maybe it sensed the end was near, maybe it was actually trying to get all the heartbeats a normal heart would in a lifespan. Maybe the heart was trying to tell him something that the end was coming of Nero Sen Blade. His body started to relieve the tensing it had done in the sky, for he had feared the guardian of his vast amount of power. Could the guardian break the rules of the tournament and go ballistic on him? The angel could not be sure, though he wanted to stay in the sky forever to make sure nothing bad could happen to his body. That could never happen though, his opponent had endless amounts of magic at least it seemed to Nero. How could he have any sense of hope against someone who had endless amounts of magic, it seemed to be impossible.

He heard his opponent screech another high reeled tone as a deep voice spoke: “Gravitus Maximo!” A weird feeling encased Nero, his legs felt weightless for a moment as he saw everything around was blurry. Even the ocean seemed to becoming compact, Nero's head already felt weird. He suddenly became unconscious as he blacked out and started free falling. If he had been more reliant on his ability to sense what an evil alignment person was doing this might have not happened...but he had been careless in that sense, and this was the price he paid for the fact that he had not paid attention. Every minor thing in this battle would be a hard thing to overcome, but he was seemingly being sucked down into the ocean. Nero did not choose this path, for he had blacked out.

It seemed as if he was done in this battle, his body was dragged farther and farther until... SPLASH A deep hurdling thud was heard as the angel was being sucked into the ocean, bones snapping as he was endlessly going to be derived to the bottom of the ocean, though the smack of the ocean had woken him up from his deep slumber. But now it seemed as if he was going die... do angels deserve to die? Nero repeated this question in his head as he thought of the question. The angel felt a weird sensation in his hand, for some reason he was able to keep the axe in his hand, but with both of his legs broken he could not swim out with an axe.

He was about to drop the axe and try to get out of the water with both hands, but it seemed hopeless now...he had no chance, his angelic wings swayed in the water as his eyes were open but weary...he still held his breath for that one moment were he might get out. Then he felt a weird sensation in his hand as he looked down at it. The glow still surrounded it as he sifted it in his hand and let it relax in both hands. His eyes fluttered open now as he felt feeling in both of his legs. He moved them both with chilling ease now. The hit he had landed on Xoco was still in effect, and he had chosen to heal himself, for which both legs mended. His wings went as way back as Nero could put them as he thrusted them forward, he seemed to skyrocket out of the water, though he remembered something.

Xoco wouldn't know he was still alive, or that he had been able to find a way to mend his broken bones. He had no knowledge that Nero would have survived the onslaught of that attack, and for that Nero inched his way to the top of the water after he was able to make a quick surfacing though he took a big gasp of air. With the swelling hitting the boat it would be nothing in comparsion from taking a deep breath of air. Nero hugged the side of the boat as he recovered quickly. He quickly spread his wings again as he kicked off the side of the boat and rose high enough in the air to come over the side of the deck. The angel saw his opponent as a mean look appeared on his face.

"So you thought you could kill me?!" Nero roared, a big deep of his own evil appeared. While the guardian had tossed the rules away, Nero would never give up...never That was something the guardian didn't understand. It would be like seeing someone you tried to kill, and then they came back in a zombie form. It would be the most absurd thing you could have seen, and for that Nero would take advantage of it as he slowly approached his opponent.

"Thought you were going to give a crap about killing people, well how about I teach you a lesson!" Nero skyrocketed forward without warning as his axe was brought to the left, and then rocketed to the right for another major torso hit. After which he sprawled to the side of the deck that was very near to them and ran at full speed as he turned another 180 in the air, but this time with more anger then he had before. His legs vaulted off the side of the deck as his eyes locked onto Xoco. Weather he was hurt or not that didn't matter anymore.

The guardian had chosen to try to kill him, so he would do as much damage as he could towards the guardian. He vaulted off the side as he skyrocketed forward and came with another swipe. Using his wings he carried himself forward to the other side as he repeated himself two more times. He finally came out of this rapid succession of attacks as he landed on the ground ten feet away wondering what had happened to his opponent. He let his axe sway in front of him as he looked on towards what had become of the guardian. He wouldn't be hurt anymore, he wouldn't stand for it, and he would make sure that every ounce of energy was spared to make sure that the guardian of shadows would not hurt anyone else again, that he would pay for all the past killings he had done. Nero would make sure he would take every ounce of beating he had gave out to someone, back to him. Nero gave himself a goal as he shot a suppressing look to were Xoco was supposed to be standing, to were he had gave all the rapid shots of movement towards.

A menacing look entered Xoco’s eyes as he watched the spell take its toll on his opponent. The sudden woosh of air as the spell plucked Nero out of the air and threw him mercilessly towards his fate was like music to Xoco’s ears. He watched as the angel plummeted out of the sky, falling faster than normal gravity would have ever allowed. Xoco lost sight of him as he passed parallel to the ship’s railing, and a split second later, slammed into the swelling waves of the ocean below. The splash was loud, and sent a torrent of water droplets up onto the deck of the pirate ship. Xoco stood, and walked casually over to the side of the boat. It was as if he was simply strolling through a forest, nothing out of the ordinary. He leaned with both hands over the side of the ship, looking down into the depths of the ocean. All he could see was the white swells of water as they slammed against the ship and rocked both boats.

There was a lot of commotion on the spectator ship. Every man, woman, and child had rushed to the starboard side, trying to catch a glimpse of where Nero had just fallen. No one could make him out in the murky blue water. It was as if the sea had simply swallowed him whole, gone without a trace. The people murmured amongst themselves. Was the fight really over so soon? It had only barely begun. Xoco was almost astonished at the shocked expressions on their faces. Had they really expected Nero, a mortal, to be any match for the Guardian of Shadows? He shook his head, and turned back to where Luke Duke was sitting, confident that this fight was over.

“My opponent has been vanquished. I claim victory!” he called, yelling loud enough for the spectators on the other ship to hear. Slowly, they began backing away from the railing. Some of the women sobbed, while the men shepherded the children away from the scene. Obviously, some of them had not expected to witness a fatality. Xoco paid them no mind, not really caring if they were upset that he had killed Nero.

“Do not weep for him,” yelled Xoco, “His foolishness has brought about his demise. If he had any sense, he would not have stood in my path. For the shadows are with me, and he is but another candle that I need to snuff out in the quest to bring the power of darkness over this land. The glory of his death is mine, and his blood shall flow like wine into the goblets of my servants. Do not weep for him, I say, for his idiocy is not worthy of your tears. Dry your eyes and lift praises to me and my cause, lest you suffer his fate with due time.”

For a moment, all was stolid and silent. The wind blew stronger while Xoco preached his word to the others on the merchant vessel. Perhaps this great show of strength would sway them against those who were like Nero. After all, mortals feared being weak, and sought strength. There was great strength with the shadows. Xoco waited for Luke to respond with confirmation that the fight belonged to the darkness. But there was not time for him to respond, nor even consider Xoco’s response, as a great stir rose among the crowd on the other ship.

“So you thought you could kill me?” came a call from the port side. Xoco wheeled around on his heels, his eyes flaring with hatred. How the hell had he survived that fall? From such a great height, with the added velocity of Xoco’s spell? It must have been some very, very powerful sort of healing magic. Yet, while under water, Nero would not have been able to cast a spell, for he could not speak. Some sort of relic he had on his person must have healed him, some blessed object or holy amulet. Yet there was nothing of any obvious value…

Then, with a glint of the light, Xoco saw several lines of glittering golden runes on the blade flash across the surface and disappear. Some of his blood still hung on the edges of the blade. It was only a split second until the text disappeared, but he could still make it out. So, the axe was like an Infernal Blade, taking the pain of others and converting it into healing magic? It seemed odd that an angel would carry such an evil weapon. Yet it was crafted with gold and fine gems, and a blessed radiance shone from the blade. What powerful magic was this?

“That is quite a weapon you have there. It will make a fitting trophy when I pry it from your cold, dead hands!” yelled Xoco. His terrifying voice caused the crowd to shudder and back away from the railing a few paces. He smiled. Xoco enjoyed invoking fear into mortals.

Nero advanced menacingly, but Xoco remained unphased. There was little in the way of confident walking or slow, meaningful footsteps that could intimidate a guardian. He sensed little power in this angel, very little indeed. He was certainly nothing to fear. Though Xoco did make a note to do a better job of avoiding that blade of his. The wound across his chest was really stinging as his clothing clung to it, the clotting blood acting like glue. The pain was manageable, but ignoring the pain was not the same as making it go away. With a grin, he saw Nero’s muscles tense as he began to attack. Xoco whispered a few quick words and flexed his muscles, invoking the Draconic Might spell. He felt energy course through every fiber of his being, as if the essence of strength itself now flowed through his veins.

Nero was now angry, which threw Xoco a little. He had not expected rage from an angel. It was highly uncharacteristic of them. Using his powers of telekenesis, Xoco yanked his sword out of its resting place. It flew through the air, slipping back into his grasp seamlessly. His fingers curled around the welcoming hilt of the blade, feeling completely at home with the weapon grasped firmly between them. It felt good to be re-united with his sword, but Xoco had no time to revel in the moment. As soon as the sword entered his grasp, he gripped it tightly, and swung hard. The power of the Draconic Might spell aided the parry.

He deflected the first blow, the edge glancing skillfully off of Ice’s. The culmination of years of practice made parrying second nature. Nero’s wild blows were strong, but inaccurate. He swung again, this time putting all the momentum of a 180 degree turn into the blow. This time, Xoco swung Ice parallel to himself, such that it met Nero’s blade perpendicularly. The enormous strength of the spell and Xoco’s natural skill stopped Nero’s axe dead in mid-air. For a second, their blades simply stood, locked against one another.

The force of stopping the blow jarred Xoco’s arms and shoulders, but the pain was tolerable and passed quickly. However, he had the strength-enhancer helping him. He was sure that having all of that energy stopped so suddenly would do a number on his opponent. But, perhaps he was underestimating the other man. He had already done so once, and it had made for the rather upsetting circumstances under which they now fought. Xoco made a quick but firm push, unlocking the two blades. He vaulted backwards several steps, distancing himself from Nero’s magical axe, and his fury. An angry opponent was difficult to fight if they knew how to harness their anger. However, it appeared to Xoco that Nero’s rage only made him clumsy. His swings were powerful, but wild and easily deflectable. Xoco stored this away in the back of his mind for future use. He faced off against his adversary for just a moment.

“You have much anger in you, Nero. It makes your strong, gives you purpose. This is a sure mark of the darkness. It has already entered into your being, and eventually, it will consume even the strongest of warriors. I’m certain you’ve heard of the powerful Archangel, Zenith, having fallen into his true calling. It is only a matter of time before you follow. You fight for power and glory. My teachings can grant you these and more. Lay down your blade, and follow me, and I will show you how to harness these great powers,” said Xoco.

The words were a distraction. Behind his back, He moved his fingers in complicated symbols, using his own speech as both a cover and an incantation for his Prestige Class ability, Crimson Flare. As his mana charged, and the ability was ready, he whipped his left hand out from behind his back and fired the ability, the hot flares of black fire rushing out at Nero. Xoco continued to discharge huge spouts of the dangerous black energy. He lit the deck on fire, and, using the last great surge of energy, ran fire up along the remaining mast of the ship. The foresail and rigging crackled angrily as the fire consumed them.

A great surge of relief rushed over Xoco as the black fire consumed the wood. The ability granted him health equivalent to whatever the black fire ate. He watched as the wound on his chest mended, and as various bumps and bruises disappeared. He took a deep breath luxuriously, taking in the health like breathing air.

Then, regaining his focus, Xoco ran up the steps to the stern of the ship, and using the strength from his spell, slashed at the foremast. Ice’s sharp cutting edge, combined with the Draconic Might spell, made it a clean strike, slicing all the way through the mast. He quickly sheathed Ice, and grabbed ahold of the foremast. He mana strained as the Draconic Might spell gave him the power to lift such a heavy object. He took it up into his grasp, smiling as he found it to be light. He really found this spell useful at times. Grinning fiendishly, he swung he flaming foremast towards his opponent. Either the heavy timbers of the booms, the burning sails, or the foremast itself would collide with Nero. Xoco ensured that the boom was dragging along the deck, providing no escape to duck under the attack.

The audience gasped as it seemed Nero was about to meet his doom…

“That is quite a weapon you have there. It will make a fitting trophy when I pry it from your cold, dead hands!” Xoco said with his deep voice. Nero looked at him as he stopped and watched him. His lips spoke in a low, slow voice: "Too bad." Nero's voice stopped as they two looked at each other for a moment. As Nero reeled in and out of his opponent he watched the people around him. It seemed as if they had been sobbing, or doing some sort of crying while he had been under water. The guardian raised his hands as his ability to lift objects came into life, his magical blade flying towards the guardian with ease. His axe felt his opponent’s sword Ice as he parried it with ease. The person he was fighting had more power then it seemed the regular swordplay would have. The spectators seemed relief for a moment; they didn't like the idea of Xoco winning. For whatever reason that was, Nero didn't know the schedule of the guardian therefore he didn't know how he handled people when he had his regular guardian skills. Though one thing was sure: Xoco was a danger to everyone around him and even himself.

His axe felt Ice once again as they seemingly locked in the air. That was another thing that Nero understood now, that Xoco and him were almost equal in swordplay skills...at least while the recruitments were in play. Though the guardians magic far surpassed his own, he hardly knew any spells, while the guardian seemed to have endless amounts of magic that he possessed. His axe withdrew as he came back onto the ground and watched Xoco back flip a couple steps back away from him. Nero raised his axe quickly as he expected Xoco to come jolting towards him with lightning speed...but it didn't happen. Nero heard his opponent speak again as he saw him put his hands behind his back while he spoke.

“You have much anger in you, Nero. It makes your strong, gives you purpose. This is a sure mark of the darkness. It has already entered into your being, and eventually, it will consume even the strongest of warriors. I’m certain you’ve heard of the powerful Archangel, Zenith, having fallen into his true calling. It is only a matter of time before you follow. You fight for power and glory. My teachings can grant you these and more. Lay down your blade, and follow me, and I will show you how to harness these great powers,” said Xoco.

Nero's blade seemed to barge a little bit from the pressure the guardian was already putting onto him with words. He said while he was strong, he had much anger. He had heard of Zenith, who had been such a powerful angel who had turned to the evil side. Nero never understood what had happened to him. It seemed he had been the strongest angel there had been, and someone had to replace him in his spot. There didn't seem to be to many do gooders anymore, everyone seemed to be going dark. Nero wouldn't ever fall into this spot; he could never imagine himself to turn into an archangel or to hurt people for the fun of it.

"You suggest me to lay down my blade, you suggest I follow you into the darkness. If you do that, then you disgrace yourself. You’re asking an angel to follow you? Do you believe I posses the same amount of strength as Zenith? While I'd like to agree with you, I doubt I'll become anything close to what he was. He gave us all hope; I just hope he knows how much it hurt all us. I will fight until the end, even if you kill me, what is the difference? How many people will you have to kill before it’s not fun anymore? I don't fear death; I welcome death and whatever it brings. If you fear death, then you fear life." Nero said as his axe strengthened in its spot. The guardian seemed to be mumbling something though, Nero couldn't make out what he said but the hands were moving behind his back, the angel could see the shoulders moving slightly. He saw Xoco's left hand whip out as black fire came out, something Nero had only read in books.

The move had been known as Crimson Flare though Nero had never seen it in person until now. In fact, he thought the move was just a myth, because of the power it had behind it. Nero's eyes fluttered as he whipped around the blade in a circular moment in front of himself. The fire seemed to hold its spot for a while until he saw it dissipate in front of him. Relieved, his axe was brought up towards up in a defense position as he saw the deck starting to burn. The angel saw Xoco vault forward at the mast as he unsheathed his blade, cutting clean through the mast. The angel’s eyes grew big for a moment, but what he saw was true: The guardian was lifting up the mast and had swung it at him. He was dazed as he saw the mast coming at him. Though the guardian had forgotten another thing that Nero had for almost the entire time, that the ship was almost demolished, any damage done to it was almost fatal.

Nero felt the wood underneath himself crack, as it suddenly became a huge hole. The guardian had done far too much damage to the deck for it to remain stable. It was only a matter of time for this to start happening. The angel fell through the hole, nearly avoiding death for the second time today. Nero suddenly saw other holes starting to appear as he landed on a soft cushion. It appeared that a discarded pillow covered his landing. Though that was the only thing that was covering his landed, his back that was exposed was hurt, though he shrugged it off because he had bigger problems then his back hurting himself. He watched as debris made other numerous wholes on the exposed deck that the guardian had burned to shreds. A burring mass covered up the hole that he had gone through.

Apparently more debris was still falling above him and as suddenly as he thought he was safe he wasn't. Debris was making more holes overhead, as a large log type structure was heading towards Nero. The angel’s axe was brought to his side and overhead. Perfect timing... Nero thought as he saw a clean-cut straight through the log. His smile appeared on his face, he realized that being mad or angry made him stupid and not to think about things... though that was the downfall of many others before him. They also fell to things like cocky-ness, and other things, but being angry seemed to be the most irresponsible thing he could do right now; so he stopped that. His hands swirled around as he looked up at the holes. Maybe Xoco was surprised again? Maybe he thought the hit had landed on him and had thrown out the idea that the ship was already in horrible condition. There hadn't been much damage to the ship itself until now when Xoco seemed to seemingly charred it to a crisp.

Nero thought quickly, as his hands twirled around. Suddenly he thought of it quickly, the deck was already damaged, why not damage it more? This was the perfect opportunity to trap and hurt Xoco to extreme measures. Maybe he had thought the ship was stable enough to do that kind of damage to, but he was obviously wrong. He'd have to make use of his last two spells... it seemed that the end of the battle was near and that he'd have to start putting out his best. His hands twirled together as he brought them together and outwards as his lips murmured a word; Blizzard. Shards of ice and a blizzard of snow started to appear small, but then quickly started to grow to an enormous size. He ran to one of the holes overhead as his wings fluttered open and started soaring as he brought through the already broken deck.

He didn't see Xoco, but he didn't need to know were he was. He kept flying as high as he could, and as soon as he looked down he saw what he wanted to see. The blizzard was acting sort of like a tornado in acts. It had broken through the already damaged deck, the shards of ice quickly taking apart the boards, and already broken wood was sucked into it. It carried light pieces of wood, but it wasn't as strong as a tornado was. Nero heard screams as some of the spectators quickly got into nearby escape boats and carried off some way, others stayed there with Luke. Nero watched his plan unfold, the already damaged and eroded deck that was the doing of Xoco was now going to be used against him.

Light debris rose off and carried around in the circular motion. The already ocean was feeding the blizzard, it seemed it would only end when Nero wished it to. The angel didn't know were his opponent might be though it seemed the move would be a fatal one. Debris and shards of ice rotated in the huge blizzard cast move that Nero was able to cast during the time underneath the deck secretly, so the move would come as a big surprise to Xoco. What was also going to be another problem for his opponent was the amount of snow that was now tossed into the mix of the move. While he couldn't see from outside of the ship, Xoco would only have limited view of the incoming shards of ice and light flying debris. And with the moves Xoco had already performed to get to this point, he should have been pretty drained for he had used about twice as much magic as Nero had.

His eyes fluttered and for the second time he frowned. While as much as he wanted to win the match and overcome a huge obstacle, he only felt sorry that his opponent had to undergo so much pain and suffering. He was an angel of coarse, and that meant that he would feel pain and remorse for anyone who had to undergo pain. Though that thought suddenly left him... he thought back to the two times when Xoco had tried to kill him. The time were he had broke both of his legs, and the oh so near pounding were he should have been smashed into a billion pieces. Nero was playing on pure luck it seemed, while Xoco on skill. The frown disappeared though he didn't smile, he had simple straight lips, not wanting to be happy and not wanting to be sad.

It was tough being an angel, you had to think of everything before you made an action and for a moment Nero wondered if that was the reason Zenith had left to go to the dark side like Xoco had said. His hand went to his head as he watched the onslaught of his attack starting to take the ship hole. If he continued the attack too long the ship would sink, though what had been wrong with that? Without any land his opponent wouldn't have anything but debris to stand on while Nero would seemingly have flight by his side. It didn't leave him though the thought he had not so long ago: Xoco was a threat to everyone around him and had to be stopped.

It was such a melancholy pleasure to see the fire spread. It crackled and spit, flowing across the deck in rolling rivulets. High into the sky rolled the thick, black smoke that poured forth from the fires as they consumed the pirate ship. The dank wood, which had long fallen victim to mold and mildew, smelled particularly abhorrent as it was consumed by the flames. The passengers on the merchant ship hacked and coughed, suffocated by the caustic haze that now hung over the decks of both ships. Eyes watered, some even collapsed onto their knees, holding their stomachs. Xoco saw a few dive over the railing of the ship in an attempt to escape the fumes. He found himself bothered by the smoke as well. Every breath he took now burned his throat and stung at his lungs. The embers fell hot on his skin, smoldering painfully against his flesh. But he put these things aside, for he had not the time to concentrate on what ailed him. He would make a point to get the hell off this blazing schooner, and fast, as soon as he saw what became of his attack one Nero.

Through the obscuring billows of smoke, he saw nothing of the other contender. Though, he also did not feel anything make contact with the foremast as he swung it. So what had happened to Nero? Twice, now, he had somehow escaped a seemingly inescapable attack. That was not to say that he was skillful, or even moderately talented. He was simply the luckiest person Xoco had faced in a very long time. What were the odds that he would be able to activate a healing relic while underwater and quickly dieing? What were the odds of avoiding at least one ton of scorching timber and rigging, and without a scratch to show for it? Xoco cursed his opponent for having such good fortune.

But the problem with luck was that it eventually ran out. And when Nero’s series of godsends ceased, Xoco would be waiting with 30 inches of cold steel.

However, now was not the time to think to the future. Now was the time to figure out what to do with the enormous deadweight that now sat in Xoco’s hands. Not only that, but having used this spell before many times, he knew that it wouldn’t last much longer. Xoco would be doomed if the spell ran out while he was holding this kind of weight directly over his head. Then, the thought crept back into his mind that he would need to make a prompt exit from this ill-fated ship once he was assured of Nero’s demise, or escape. If the angel had managed to elude his attack, he would probably have to run to the other ship to continue the battle. Fighting on this ravaged vessel was not an option, nor was taking the fight into the water. If he did not get to the other ship, his opponent had the advantage of flight, and he would be a dead man.

So, he set the flaming timbers down as gingerly as possible, trying to ensure that the quick-to-spread flames were as clear as possible from the railing of the other ship. No point in setting that one alight as well. Spectators dove to the hard wooden planks trying to avoid the crow’s nest that was situated atop the foremast. The poorly-constructed lookout point cracked and splintered as it was set down on the deck of the other ship. The railing of the other vessel also splintered, never meant to support such great weight as was now being placed on it. The other boat swayed and rocked, tipping its passengers off of their feet. For a moment, it swayed so violently that it seemed it might capsize.

Then, with a sigh of relief from all parties involved, the ship righted itself. Nodding, Xoco turned to see if he could catch a glimpse of Nero. He thought he saw a hole in the deck where opposition had been before the attack with the foremast. Was it possible that he had conjured some form of magic to escape? Not likely. It was probably just another turn of fate, another flip of the coin that descended from the heartless hands of Lady Luck. The deck was irreparably damaged, and had not been particularly sturdy to begin with. The poorly-maintained boards had given way under the stress of the fire and Nero’s weight combined.

Xoco gagged on the appalling stench of the smoke that hung heavy in the air. He walked haphazardly through across the deck, placing his feet lightly so as not to have it give way underneath him as well. He made his way slowly over to where Nero had been, and dropped onto one knee, examining the whole in the deck. Then, suddenly, the air around him felt cold. The fires were still blazing, with more intensity than ever. Yet their heat seemed stolen away, as if a great, invisible hand had suddenly snatched it away forever. The sweat which had accumulated on his skin now froze into tiny icicles all over his body. He felt like shivering.

“What witchery is this?” he thought. Xoco had never seen a spell like this one before, especially not from someone aligned with Light. Some demons and lichs, and other powerful evil being carried with the a constant cold aura, but Nero was none of those things, so Xoco dismissed this out-of-hand. He could have sworn he felt the wind picking up. His clothes whipped as it first was a stiff breeze, then a strong wind, until finally, Xoco had difficulty withstanding the intense gale. The wind howled in his ears as it began to circle into a tornado. Bits of ice and flakes of snow whirled into a deadly cyclone of hypothermic doom .

And Xoco was caught directly in the middle of it. He shielded his face from the onslaught. His eyes watered from the cold, the winds drying them faster than he could produce tears to wet them. The small streams of tears froze on his face as the wind blew them sideways out of the corners of his eyes. Already, his clothes were saturated and his fingertips were numb. It was so damned cold. His face felt like a million pins and needles were sticking out of it. Pain erupted from all over his body as he was struck by sharp pieces of ice. Xoco saw his opponent go rocketing off, high above the ship, safe from the storm which he had conjured. Xoco reminded himself to rip those wings off of the angel before killing him.

But if he was going to live long enough to have that pleasure, he would need to find a way off this ship, and fast. He began to run. Even though he couldn’t see, he still knew the general direction of where he was going. He grunted in pain as the thousands of tiny daggers ripped his clothes to shreds. He just kept running, first gritting his teeth, then opening his mouth to cry out in rage and pain. Every ounce of him was in agony. He stumbled, nearly falling. The edges of his vision began to flicker black. He realized he was going to succumb to hypothermia soon if he didn’t get out of this. With a steel resolve, Xoco refused to give in to the pain, to simply fall and let himself pass out. Let the sweet blackness come and fetch him away from this agony, and relieve all his pain…

Suddenly, with an exasperated grunt, the railing of the ship caught him in the gut. He followed it five feet to the foremast, which he gripped with weak fingers. Using his last ounce of strength, Xoco climbed onto the foremast and threw caution to the wind, running in great bounds across the bridge to safety.

All at once, Xoco stepped out of the whirlwind, stumbling the last few yards to the safety of the other ship. Once he slid off the foremast, he slumped to his knees. He slowly opened his eyes, looking down at himself. His extremities felt like pins and needles as the warmth returned to them. He had many small scrapes and cuts on his body, where the sharp edges of the ice shards had caught him. His clothes were in tatters now, revealing his wounds to all who looked on. He simply knelt there for a moment, amazed that Nero had been able to hurt him so.

But, as quickly as the astonishment came to him, it converted in an insurmountable rage. His hatred for this angel was now beyond expression, beyond any amount of worldly pain he could inflict. He death would be slow, and very, very painful, and then Xoco would claim his soul, and torment him even in death, an eternal torture. Such was the punishment for angering Xoco. Slowly, he stood, his fists shaking, his eyes now raging with hellfire. The crowd backed away from him now, some running, others slowly inching away. General cries of alarm and exclamations of fear rippled among them.

A great crack resounded through the air, turning even Xoco’s head towards the source of the sound. The backbone of the pirate ship had snapped under the intense stress of the spell Nero had cast. Then, as the fire took the gunpowder, it exploded into a fiery ball of smoke and flames. It sank slowly into the water, until finally nothing remained. Xoco saw several men draw knives with which to cut the lines tethering this ship to the one that was soon to be on the ocean floor. The whole boat rocked violently as the taunt lines released.

Looking around, a wicked idea sprang into Xoco’s mind. He smiled a heartless grin. Conjuring up some mana, he called forth another ability he had learned in his training under Raku. He summoned a giant obsidian skeleton, armed with a deadly cutlass. The creature was enormous, almost twelve feet tall, and its obsidian construction made it nearly impossible to damage with most normal weapons. It was perfect for what he had in mind. The Legion Skeleton turned to its master, waiting for an order. Xoco looked around him for a target.

He saw a small child, holding a stuffed doll in one hand. She was young, and innocent, and even cute. Perfect. He pointed to the child, ordering his skeleton, “Take her into your grasp, under point of sword. If I give the order, kill her, but until then, leave her unharmed.” The skeleton nodded dumbly, and took one giant step forward on the deck. The child looked up at him and screamed, terrified as one giant obsidian hand stretched down and grabbed her around the torso. Its grip was firm, and the child wriggled, but was not hurt. The child’s mother cried out, dropping to her knees, sobbing with sadness and fear.

Xoco looked up to the sky, where his adversary flew.

“Nero, thrice-cursed scum of Lothlomendil, come down here and surrender yourself! Lay down your axe, and surrender this fight to me, or I shall order the child’s blood to be spilled here! Her life is in your hands now. Surrender the match, and her life will be spared! Run like a coward, and her life is forfeit!”

“That ought to do the trick,” thought Xoco. Perhaps he could not land a solid blow on Nero directly, but the angel was too good of heart to sacrifice the life of a child for his own personal glory. And, if Xoco was proven wrong, then he would be able to play on such a dark act, furthering his psychological warfare against Nero.

Xoco smiled, drew Ice, and awaited his adversary’s reaction.

Nero saw the effect of his spell. A few moments after the fact that he heard pain and screams of his opponent he snapped his fingers as the blizzard slowly faded from the ship. He heard screams from the other ship as he turned his attention toward it. The hell... He saw Xoco running to the bridge for safety.

"Is this guy invincible? God he's stronger then grandma's chicken noodle soup." Nero said as his hand absently mindly went to his head. He thought to himself for the longest time, his hand on his head. There wasn't anything he could do, the last of his spells had been used, and there was only one last spell he could use in order to defeat the guardian of shadows. His fate was now up to this final spell, and how he used it was to his own accord now. It seemed like the guardian was far more then he had ever bargained for, and that wasn't something he had expected since the start. The odds were against him in the fight since the beginning, when he first started the match he felt as if he had been scammed out of thirty gold in order for Luke to have more money.

Though after a little while battling out the guardian, he felt as if luck played more of a role then actual skill. In all actuality it had for the most of the fight, though some things was his doing. He heard more screams from down below, but he felt no meaning to look down. More then likely Xoco would be going on one of his tantrums again, though he probably resented rage, it had consumed him more then Nero during this fight. Nero looked down as his head began to throb hurtfully, the sense of evil doing something wrong was tingling inside of his head. As he looked down he saw Xoco raise his hand a skeleton was built. For a short second the skeleton came towards Xoco and listened to what he had to say, but he quickly dismissed from his master as he headed toward a girl and her mother.

"Please don't take my baby!" The mother said, trying to shove gold into the skeletons hands but failing miserably. It would do absolutely anything the master wanted, and it meant to do his masters evil work for him. He saw the gold dark fingers expand from his opponent to make Nero come his way as Nero shifted in his spot and with dazzling speed headed toward were Xoco was, but still remained afloat in the air. His mouth began move but Nero paid no attention to the words he had to say, his eyes more in spot were the girl was being held captive while not to far away from them was the mother on the ground on her knees balling uncontrollably. Though he hardly heard Xoco speak, he could hear something; "Nero, thrice-cursed scum of Lothlomendil, come down here and surrender yourself! Lay down your axe, and surrender this fight to me, or I shall order the child’s blood to be spilled here! Her life is in your hands now. Surrender the match, and her life will be spared! Run like a coward, and her life is forfeit!”

"First off, if I was scum how would I have been able to hurt you? Do you recommend that scum has provided you with all those cuts? I believe my attacks on you were more then you could comprehend. You had under estimated me the entire time, though you do not learn from your mistakes do you? You believe in all theory that an angel has to be good at all times. You think your theory is correct do you? Look at Zenith, everyone thought he was good until he started to turn on everyone. How do you not believe that I will not do the same? You want me to surrender my match to you because you hold a human life to me. And you call me the coward, the moves you've made just now prove that you are a coward. Her life is in my hands now...I don't give a damn about her life, and you may lay to that."

Nero said as he lifted both his arms giving a high-exhilarated laugh. Something had consumed Nero, though he didn't know what it was. This was all part of an act though, he knew what he was doing. The angel knew more then anyone that the guardian would be momentarily stunned for the fact that the holy being could give more of a damn about money then a human being; though it was a bluff. While Nero's hands were behind him he reached for the wooden staff he always kept creviced in between both of his wings. His right hand sprawled outwards as he let the wooden staff fly towards the skeletons head; it still couldn't attack the human without being ordered too. Nero whipped around as he let his axe fly out of his hands towards Xoco's chest. A whizzing was heard throughout the air as the axe flew at his opponent’s chest with enormous speed.

"No more spells for you by the way! ANTI MAGIC FIELD!" He roared out as he let the spell consume him as a great big outburst from the angel’s location outwards for 50 paces as it stopped and creviced. It was the last thing Nero had, he felt the end of it here, and if he didn't act fast then he would be destroyed. He had used all his spells in this fight, and he sensed his opponent had a ton more spells then he had. He could only rely on simply astonishment and flabbergastment to win on this fight. For the first time, he was relying on skill rather then luck. For the first, he wanted Xoco to be thrown off guard that he didn't give a damn about the girl getting killed. The second thing he wanted the guardian of shadows to be astonished about was the fact that he threw a wooden staff at his skeletons head.

For a fact knew he couldn't kill the skeleton without doing a very large blow, and that he didn't want to deal with the fact that he could have another fight with the skeleton on top of the fight with the guardian of shadows. No, he already had too much on his plate for that to happen. Though after the astonishment of the staff being thrown, the first thing Nero would have done in his form would have looked to see if the hit would have landed. The angel couldn't predict that this would actually happen, but he knew that he would have to hope for it to happen. After that tiny misshapen, Nero hopped for a fact that the axe thrown would be another complete throw off.

Why of coarse, would the angel of Lothlomendil throw his valuable axe towards his opponent without a good cause? Because he knew that his opponent still had magic able abilities to behold... so he only knew one spell that would stop magic for a short while and that was his last spell. He relied on it rarely, but on this occasion he would have to use it just at the right moment. For a while he wanted to use it on the ship but he thought otherwise, for he could only use every spell once for each battle. All these things rolled through Nero's head quickly as he did all these movements, a plan quickly unrolling through his head. He thought the girl would have enough common sense to run away and if she didn't Nero could only hope Luke put in special rules for killing innocents during the tournament.

Though he could not rely on Xoco not trying to kill the girl, so instead of seeing how it played out he rather went towards his opponent at a flying speed for he had never landed. He always kept off the ground at these moments, it was particular in this plan. His wings fluttered open as they shut and vaulted him forward at an intense speed. The angel flew forward after the axe as his hand was brought backwards behind him. If the axe hit the astonished Xoco then his punch would too. And if he parried the axe outwards he would be wide open to his punch to the face. Without his magic, Nero though, that the guardian didn't stand a chance to him with swordplay.

For this whole match he used magic to uphold greater odds against him. Now that he was stripped of his magic, would he be more stunned on this fact? Would he try to use magic as a shield but fail while Nero's incoming blows landed without caution? When trying to hurt an innocent Nero was mad, his situation earlier was sure to make Xoco stunned for a brief moment. Though he never had acted before, so he didn't know how authentic he would be.

It all laid in lucks hand now...

The crowd gasped and screamed as the razor-sharp edge of the skeleton’s blade came ever so perilously close to the girl’s dangerously exposed throat. She wriggled and kicked, crying out for help. She was terrified, and rightfully so, as she was now dangerously close to a very sudden and very painful demise. Some of the men drew knives and one even produced a short sword. They stood about ten feet from Xoco’s magical construct, wondering what their weapons could do to hurt such a powerful being. The guardian simply shook his head at them absently. There was nothing they could do to save the girl, but that didn’t mean Xoco wanted them to try anything. He sighed, turning his head towards them.

“If you have any mind, you will not interfere. Only death awaits those who make themselves my enemies. Sheathe your blades and step back, or face my wrath.” The men looked at him. They were obviously frightened for the girl’s life, but they were drop-dead terrified of having Xoco come after them. Picking the far lesser of two evils, the men put their blades away and backed quickly away from the construct. All eyes were on the girl, who was helplessly kicking at the hard obsidian skeleton. The Legion skeleton simply stood, as if at attention, ignoring the pathetic blows dealt to it by the four-year-old feet. The whole scene was laced with macabre humor.

Xoco listened intently to what his foe had to say. He expected Nero to contemplate a while, but then, finally decide to abdicate in order to save the little one’s life. It was the move that anyone would have expected out of an angel, especially one so valiantly devoted to Life. Yet, Nero spoke words that Xoco would expect to hear from a demon’s mouth. They were laced with malice and an underlying evil that threw Xoco a little. He had never seen an angel with so angry, or downright destructive, as this one was. He was certainly a unique opponent, but it seemed as though he was running out of options. Nero was not amazingly powerful, and thus Xoco did not expect many more spells from him.

But what shocked him the most was that Nero cast away the child’s life so lightly, as if he did not care at all for her. It was utterly deplorable, malevolent, heinous… exactly what Xoco needed in a servant. Nero was fooling himself into thinking that he was meant to follow the ways of good. There was much evil promise in him, if he was able to do something so unthinkable as sacrificing the life of a child for money and fame. But, of course, there was always the option that he was bluffing. In which case, Xoco now needed to call the bluff, and make good on his threats. He never failed to make good on a promise, and now, he had one to fulfill.

Nero laughed, a high, menacing laugh. It showed an inner enjoyment, an almost inexpressible joy that came from the thrill of battle. Such horrible evil as this was a rare find indeed….

“I find little humor in your ramblings, knave. You think yourself to be crafty, but for all your snide comments you have not cleverness. But, of course, if you really do not give a damn about this life, then you won’t mind in the least when I commend her body to the sea,” said Xoco. He smiled a malicious grin, one of the purest evil. He turned to the skeleton, and snapped his finger. A great cry of alarm grew among the crowd as the scimitar came back for a moment, and then thrust forward, striking home. The scream of pain was too much to take for some of the spectators. The women sobbed, and the men yelled in anger and sadness.

Blood dripped down the length of the cutlass, falling off the hilt and dripping onto the deck below. The light faded from the eyes of Xoco’s victim. As if it had just killed a fruit fly, the skeleton retracted the scimitar and then threw its prey overboard. The sea consumed the corpse, dragging it down into the murky depths, depths from which few ever returned. Now, there was the matter of Nero’s reaction. Obviously, if he was bluffing, now he would be crushed. Perhaps he hadn’t thought that Xoco would actually make good on his threat. It mattered little, though, for if he was angry, then it would be all the easier for Xoco to defeat him. He lost his focus when angry, as Xoco remembered.

“What a shame… I must say, though, that was astonishingly cold. Sacrificing an innocent life to further your own agenda? Seems downright evil to me. As I’ve said, the darkness is already festering inside of you. How long will you resist before it claims you, Nero?” he said. Xoco watched as the angel threw his walking stick at the skeleton. The staff struck its head harmlessly, bouncing off and turning on-end several times before following the girl into the ocean. It floated on the top, carried by the swells. Xoco wondered by Nero would try such a seemingly futile move, and sacrifice a valuable resource to do very little damage to the skeleton. He smiled. Nero was beginning to get desperate. He was making mistakes.

“Excellent…” thought Xoco. But he had little time to revel in the fact that his opponent was slipping up. He watched as Nero hurled the magical axe towards him. For a minute, Xoco was alarmed. That was quite a show of strength, to throw such a heavy weapon a long distance like that. And with such accuracy! Nero was obviously more skilled with this weapon than Xoco had anticipated. But, nevertheless, it was not an uncounterable attack. The axe came zooming towards him, slicing through the air with a dangerous hiss. Xoco watched it come, keeping his eyes focused on the threat. But, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Nero casting a spell. He had seen this one before.

“Damn him…” thought Xoco as he felt the binds fall upon his mana. It was as if he was cut off from his power source, alienated from his greatest advantage. Nero certainly knew how to hurt. But Xoco knew how to strike back, and he had been a master of this blade since before Nero was born. Not only that, but without magic, Nero himself was defenseless. He had just thrown away his two weapons, and now, his own magic was restricted just as much as Xoco’s was. The best thing for him to do was to ensure that Nero would have a hell of a time getting his axe back. Unarmed, Xoco could hack him to shreds easily. Or, perhaps he would fly away, and then Xoco could claim victory under the reasoning that his opponent refused to carry on the fight.

Xoco looked to his hip, where a Blade-Tipped Flail Raku had granted him hung coiled at his belt. He took his left hand, and with a cobra’s speed, he grabbed the wooden handle of the whip. It was coiled so that he could easily remove it from its holster simply by pulling hard on the handle. With a sharp crack, it pulled free and snapped violently in the air. The axe was dangerously close now. However, the harrier axe was never meant to be thrown. It was a fighting axe, and thus, was not weighted for precision. The handle spun quickly as the heavier blade seemed to haphazardly draw the weapon through the air. With a split second to react, Xoco lashed out with the whip. The chain wrapped several times around the hilt of the axe, locking itself in place.

Xoco spun the axe-flail around over his head, and then launched it away. It wrapped thrice around the mainmast, and then the blade caught the wood, biting in. It was solidly bound, and would take anyone a long while to get it unstuck. Nero was now without a weapon, save for his bare hands…

Which, surprisingly, Xoco saw coming straight for him. He smiled. Nero was vaulting towards him, attempting to punch him. It would be nearly impossible to stop himself. Xoco waited until the last possible second, watching as Nero came closer and closer. Then, at the last moment, he sidestepped, swinging Ice out. The cutting edge was only inches away from Nero’s gut, and getting closer. It was only a half second away from renting open his enemy’s flesh, but Xoco had underestimated the angle before. Just in case the attack missed, he made a second one, swinging backwards after the first one had finished. If Nero managed to elude the first swing of the blade, he would surely be caught by the second one.

Ice gleamed hungrily as it descended upon Nero, just waiting to bite into his flesh and end this match.

It would all end here, Nero saw the horrible display of Xoco as he took out the chain whip and literally took the axe out of the air throwing it at the mast as it wrapped into the wood. The guardian of shadows now had his blade out as Nero neared closer and closer. Battling was something that Nero had hardly done before; other then the battles with Xenon Nero had never really battled anyone else. This meant he had little experience in the field of fighting, though that didn't mean anything at this point. Nero saw himself fading, the little's girls life being pared because of a bluff...winning didn't mean anything anymore.

As he neared his detect evil presence had gone off, and at that moment Xoco side stepped him and raise Ice as he made a downward spiral cut. Nero's eyes fluttered open but he had already gone to fast to stop completely, as he neared Xoco he shifted his body weight around so not to go in head first but leg first. The last thing he wanted to be was decapitated, especially in front of all these people who were looking away from him. His spirit and energy were now being taken away from him for the people saw that it was his decision to hurt the girl, she died because of him... Nero's mouth opened as he let out a battle cry.

As Ice neared down it felt the flesh of the angels bottom part of his leg. His battle cry took away from the actual hit cry that was what he wanted but his leg did feel extremely cold afterwards. He looked down as he saw the wound being covered with an unholy frost as he shivered. He roared again as he stopped after being wounded the first time, the second swing of Xoco's sword missing him by millimeters. Nero dismissed the fact of the wound for now, there was only one thing Xoco did not understand at this point; the fact that he was extremely close to the guardian while he swung his sword meant that he had clear shots. His right hand backed away from the guardian as it reared towards the midsection.

His left hand followed as he tried to deliver a series of blows to the midsection, after which he cocked back his right hand and let it fly through the air with speed. Anger for the girl that Xoco had just killed now pulsated through his body and the hand now flew with more speed then he usually would have. After which of this move he didn't know weather or not it hit, he didn't care for tiny tears were falling out of his eyes, the match wasn't a match anymore. Nero was handicapped; he needed his edge again... The wings flapped as he soared through the air with intense speed toward the mast. There would be no way that he would be able to get it out by pulling it out, so he would need to push it out.

Though while it was in the mast... The angel looked behind him as he moved slightly to the left while moving forward. He saw the glimmering holy axe had been stucked in the mast as he still moved slightly to the left, like he did before to his opponent he did again going feet-first into the mast. While the axe head was clearly in the mast, the handle was still out in the open, so now he redirected himself slightly to the right...everything would have to be perfect in order for the plan to work out for him. His feet hit the outer handle of the axe as he heard a deafening...

CRACK The axe heaved forward slightly all the way through the mast as it popped out the other side. Using his flight he flew around the mast as his hand feel on the axe, and he flew up to were he had just made a huge incision. He looked down to see Xoco, weather or not his hits had landed were still unknown to Nero, for he had his vision blocked by trembling tears. His eyes locked on Xoco as he raised his hand and gave him thumbs up. Giving a slight grin Nero hacked straight through the mast, but at a downward angle. The mast gave another deafening CRACK but this time it heaved forward towards the part of the ship were Xoco and Nero had just been. He flew higher up in the air as he looked down to try to see the effects of his work.

Though something stopped him...it was not Xoco, nor a magical being...something inside of Nero ticked as he recounted the past...even though it was minutes before; The skeleton raised his blade as killed the girl, picking her up and throwing her over the side of the edge. The girl had an astonished look on her face, etched for an eternity. The mother sobbed uncontrollably as Nero's eyes fluttered open. Tears began to form in his eyes as they started to come out. The angel was now sobbing uncontrollably now... Luke would hear about this if he was able to come out of this fight himself... Then he remembered how the people looked at him as he flew towards Xoco. The man was truly something...to kill an innocent girl in order to try and win a match.

The angel should have given up the match in order to save her. Then he caught himself again, he couldn't do anything now, she was dead and he would have to live with it. Would she want him to give up at this moment, to think that her death was for naught? She thought he could save her, but he did nothing to prevent it. Another roar came out of Nero as he heard the mast finally hitting the ground. The roar was deafening and several people from down below had heard it as they looked up to see what was happening in the air. Sudden hatred filled Nero as he saw the effects of the mast falling. Splinters and wood were all that was left, the mast still hung onto the part were it was hacked from, but barely.

"WWWWHHHHYY?!?!" Nero gave a gut wrenching yell, his axe back strapped on his back as his hands flared out to the side, his shirt ripping in two as the wings spread out further then they had for the entire battle. His eyes seemed to change color, even though it was for the slightest moment. He looked down though turned, he didn't care about Xoco anymore, but simply the girl who had lost her life on the boat. A gloomy desperation overcame Nero at that moment as he turned back onto the boat, the many faces that were overcame with shock. Nero's right eye twitched once as he faced the boat as he flew closer to the boat. His heart seemed to slow down beats, but yet blood still forcibly came swelled around the angel’s body.

"Come out Xoco, if you wish to face your doom! You will pay for you’re past sins, and I will be the one who repays them to you!" Nero said as his lips curved into a mad face, the angels face coming together as an uncontrollable part of Nero seemed to come out. The angel looked through the rubble from above, though he was still high up and might have missed his body because it was now dark every were. The angel swooped down near the boat as he grabbed his staff that was rocking between the swells and the boat, then came back up. "WHERE ARE YOU?" Nero let out another roar, though he didn't know weather or not the guardian of shadows was toying with his brain or not or if he had just simply missed the body staying in one position.

The lips on Nero's mouth curved in a perplexing way, making him even look more vicious then he actually was. The guardian no longer intimidated him, he no longer cared if he harmed him, for he had killed someone that didn't deserve to be killed. An innocent that had no reason to be killed, no reason to even be hurt. Though Xoco was a person that didn't care who got hurt as long as he was around. Nero would put an end to this so that no one else got hurt, even if it meant his own body had to be exploited. He had had enough of the guardian of shadows and his different amounts of warfare, and the fact that he played on the angel's weaknesses. Luck, it seemed didn't play a factor anymore in Nero's reasoning, it would be all about putting his rage into carefully amounted bursts of energy to take down his opponent, every inch of his body was hurting but it was no matter to attend too now.

Being an angel meant throwing everything aside even if it hurt, he had the advantage now, no more spells could be used at least for a little bit. Nero raised his axe as he looked thought the rubble again. He's playing games with me again...and I've had enough of all of them...he's caused a little bit too much disorder in the land of arda for the people. I'll end this weather he likes it or not. Nero thought as his axe laid in his right hand again. He would have to be more careful with it now, for the fact of him losing it again would have meant that he would lose the battle. He had no more magic to play on, he only had his two weapons for the remainder of the match. Though what he did have, was a considerable amount of rage that could be put into concentrated bursts of attacks. While his body ached, his mind raced with concentration...It was one of the skills he was most accustomed too.

Hot, red blood flowed over Ice’s cold blade, oozing over the crossguard and cascading over Xoco’s fingers. What a pleasure it was to finally draw a wound on his opponent, who had gone unscathed for far too long. The exhilaration surged through him as the wound froze over with an evil frost, causing even more pain. Pain, suffering… Xoco fed on these. The fear and misery of others gave him strength, confidence. It made him sure of himself, for when others were in agony, he was at his strongest. This held especially true for Nero, who had in honesty began to frustrate Xoco with his damnable luck. Seeing that good fortune finally come to a sudden halt was a pleasure beyond simply hurting the angel.

Of course, his attempt to mask his scream of pain was also enjoyable. Xoco had to suppress the urge to laugh. He had inflicted enough pain in his time to know the difference between a roar of ferocity and an outcry of suffering. Unfortunately, though, his second attack missed. He allowed the momentum of the strike to turn him on heel, as his opponent was now directly behind him. He stopped the blade and himself after turning 180 degrees, such that Ice’s tip was barely hovering above the deck. A single drop of angelic blood dripped off the tip and onto the deck, reflecting the sunlight in its clouded crimson swirls.

He was met with an enraged, desperate punch in his gut. Air whooshed out of him in a great cough as the fist made contact, compressing his stomach painfully. It was something he had not expected. However, Xoco was an experienced fighter, and rule number one was not to stick around to get hit again. He backed away quickly, swinging Ice in an attempt to parry the punches. With any luck, perhaps he would deal a cut or two to his enemy’s hands. But if he had, he was quickly too far away to see the wounds. Provided, of course, that there were any wounds at all. But now that Xoco was a few seconds away from Nero, his foe had a clear path to the axe which was precariously stuck into the mainmast.

Eyes widened all over the ship as Nero somehow managed the strength not only to dislodge the axe, but actually to push it all the way through the mainmast and out the other side. Xoco wondered how he could have possibly gathered such amazing might, especially with such a grievous wound to his leg. It must have hurt something gruesome to pull off a maneuver like that. He was surprised that Nero had not blacked out from the pain. He watched, dumbfounded, as his opponent flew high up the length of the mainmast, hacked through it, and threw a large timber down at him. Thinking fast, Xoco leapt backwards, out of the way of the timber. It did, however, managed to smack into a spectator, knocking him overboard. Nero was getting careless, but he was definitely in a state of berserk rage. Otherwise, he never would have been able to conjure the strength to throw such a heavy object without magical aid.

Then, a peculiar thing happened. His opponent began to cry. Tears streamed down his face. Xoco grinned. There it was. The reaction he expected the angel to have after condemning that little girl the way he had. The unbearable pain, pain which would haunt his dreams and stab at him in his waking hours. His nightmares would be laced with the screams, and he would see her face everywhere he went. Such mental agony was worse than any wound which a sword could deal him. Xoco was proud to have spawned such misery in his adversary. Now was when the fun began. Now, that his mind was vulnerable, and his heart rent open with grief, Xoco could really mess with his head.

He looked at the anti-magic field. It was only 100 feet in diameter, and the merchant vessel was well over 100 feet long. It was probably not very wise to use a spell which enacted a circular boundary on a skinny, lengthwise battlefield like a ship. The spell did not cover the entirety of the ship, only the bow and most of the midsection. Xoco turned and looked, seeing a shimmering golden line where the field ended. With his opponent consumed by pain, he ran to the stern, outside the influence of Nero’s anti-magic field. It felt good to have the bonds on his mana lifted, to be freed of that terrible restriction. Now that he had his magic back, he knew precisely the spell that he needed.

But, first, it was time to ensure that he was not seen by his opponent. The smoke from the destruction of the other ship was now blotting out the sun, providing Xoco with plenty of shadow in which to hide. In the blink of an eye, he dissolved, like water spilling forth from a carafe. He became as simply a shadow among shadows, joining the bliss of his own element. Inside this company, he was the strongest. He was also unseen, but he could still be heard. He began to slink across the deck, moving from one patch of shadow to the next, unnoticed by everyone on the ship. His essence was so free now, just swimming… swimming…

He stopped in a particularly dark patch, and summoned forth his selected spell. He was careful to remain outside the anti-magical boundary. He searched for the target, picturing her in his mind. He whispered a few words, enacting the spell. For just a moment, all seemed deathly quiet. He heard Nero calling him out, to come and fight. If Xoco could smile while in this form, he was smiling from ear to ear. Now his opponent was really enraged. Excellent. He would be wild and out of control. His actions would be filled with a vengeful wrath. This was why it was, for now, best for Xoco to remain unseen to him. He would reveal himself in due time, after he had a spot of fun first.

He controlled the target of his spell like a puppet, dancing on his strings, obeying his every command. This would really do a number on Nero’s psyche. He commanded his puppet to climb, climb up the cargo nets which were cast over the side of the ship. The macabre marionette obeyed, gripping the net and slowly making its way to the top. When it completed the climb, Xoco saw what he had temporarily brought back to life. The abomination was the risen corpse of the girl who had just been cast into the sea. It was amazing what the Animate Dead spell could do. She seemed a ghost of the child which had just been cast overboard. Her skin was now pale, and her long hair stuck to her in haphazard strands. Some of it hung over her face, halfway concealing eyes which were open, but had rolled back into her head, such that only the whites showed. Already, her lips were turning black and blue. The sword wound in her gut still oozed fresh torrents of blood, and saltwater spilled out of the corner of her mouth.

It was truly a terrifying sight. She was completely under his control, and now, it was time to make good use of the spell which he had cast. He commanded her to speak.

“Why?” she said, “Why didn’t you save me, Nero? All you had to do was give up. Look at me, Nero. It hurts so much…” She gripped her stomach with one hand, and then walked forward, reaching out to the angel with her free hand. “Why do you go on, Nero? Was I not nice enough for you to save? Was it too much to ask, for you to give up the riches, and let me live my life? The sea is so dark, Nero… it frightens me. I didn’t want to be consumed by the waves. Why didn’t you save me? Why?”

The zombie walked purposefully towards Nero, droning “Why?” over and over in a dreary monotone. Xoco knew that this was going to give Nero nightmares for the rest of his pitiful life. It was so much fun to inflict fear like this. Xoco loved every second of it. He decided a change of pace would be good. Upon his command, the abomination began to sing. It was a low, slow, melancholy dirge, music drawn from the dark bards of the abyss. Her haunting voice floated across the entire ship.



Once the song was complete, Xoco smiled. The people on the ship were stricken with grief as the words entered into their hearts, this preaching of despair. Such evil teachings were Xoco’s alone, and this song was of his disciple’s creation. Coming from the mouth of the zombie girl, it was truly a testament to the darkness. When the girl was finished, she simply stood, a puppet waiting for the next tug on the strings. He quickly turned the controls, this time making the girl violent and filled with rage. She jumped up at Nero, clawing at his face with her hands. She kicked, bit, scratched, anything she could do with her bare hands. Now, she let out an infernal screeching, one laced with a deep and demonic undertone.

“Why didn’t you save me? Why?” she screamed, repeating this over and over as she attacked. Xoco wondered how Nero would handle the challenge of fighting the zombie girl. Would it twist his thought to have to hack away at the body which he had been weeping over? Only time would tell. Of course, Xoco had little faith in the girl’s ability to defeat Nero with just biting and scratching. But, what did that matter? The fun laid in playing these cruel games with Nero’s mind, driving him into madness while Xoco remained hidden in the safety of his shadows.

And so he watched as the girl attacked Nero like an animal, waiting to see what would unfold from this twist.

Nero, calm and just watched the tiny girl climb over the deck as she came over to him. “Why?” she said, “Why didn’t you save me, Nero? All you had to do was give up. Look at me, Nero. It hurts so much…” She gripped her stomach with one hand, and then walked forward, reaching out to the angel with her free hand. “Why do you go on, Nero? Was I not nice enough for you to save? Was it too much to ask, for you to give up the riches, and let me live my life? The sea is so dark, Nero… it frightens me. I didn’t want to be consumed by the waves. Why didn’t you save me? Why?” After which she recited a poem as Nero watched her come over and kick him, not literally hurting him, though Xoco was trying to play with his mind and he for one would not stand for it.

"You should be resting, Xoco has brought you back for no reason except to try and hurt me, though the hurt does not come for you to come back to life, it was how you died. Your already resting, your soul has already past on to the next life onto the greater keep. Your body is simply being toyed with, and while Xoco thinks that this will hurt me, he doesn't understand the essence of being alive." Nero said as he raised his axe above his head, and with a downward spiral the girl’s head flew off over the deck. Nero kicked the body off the deck as he walked back to the anti magic field. As he stepped in he placed his axe on the ground in front of him, and kneeled down, as he said a few words. Now he retraced back upwards and looked around for Xoco as he started to talk again to the people on the deck that were astonished by Nero's sudden bursts of movements.

"She was being controlled by something called Necromacing, a type of spell that brings back the dead, if only for a little bit. He thought he could hurt me more then I already was, but she was already dead, her should was gone. My strike did no damage to her whatsoever, and I feel no grief whatsoever on the fact on what I had to do. Her soul has already passed, and while I feel no grief over what I did just now, it doesn't mean that I don't have grief about her passing. Though I cannot linger on her death, if you still wish for me to win I will go on, but if you don't I will no longer go on." Nero said, his eyes locked on the mother the entire time. Many people looked at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, others with open mouths but Nero took no reason in their answers on their faces, for only one answer really counted.

"I wish for you to keep going." The mother said, her words short and precise, others looked at her wide jawed, but she continued with her own words. "If you don't go on, he can do this in many other battles, and while you’re not at his power level, you’re his weakness. Keep going, for all of us. I entrust you to finish this battle now, for her." The mother said, her cloths becoming ruffled in the mid wind. She backed away in the other spectators as Nero was left alone in the anti magic field, the huge main mast still in the middle of it. Nero started flying again high up in the sky, careful to make sure he stayed within the boundaries of the anti-magic field.

He saw a particular dark patch that had some type of red glow, then disappeared. The only thing that could possibly be red was the eye of his opponent, so his wings sparked as he suddenly jolted forward, many thoughts in his head. His sudden actions had probably caused Xoco to be taken back, though he probably understood him now that he had explained himself. As he neared the spot were he had just saw the redness, he took out his starter staff as he placed it in his left hand. His right hand had the axe; if his axe failed to block he always had his first weapon to rely on.


(Sorry its so short, I can't think of anything to write, and your character is kinda hidden. =\ )

Xoco noted, with great frustration, that Nero seemed to care very little about the fact that a risen corpse was talking to him. What was wrong with him? It seemed that one moment, he was completely rent open, a total emotional disaster. The next, he was calm and collected, seemingly above feeling for anything around him. One minute he wept, and the next his tears were dried. One moment he knelt, the next he stood tall. It was as if he continually failed to make up his mind, to pick one emotion and stick to it. Xoco had to give it to him, though, he was certainly a puzzle. Perhaps Nero was in shock, and that was the source of his calm demeanor? Who knew?

Nero raised his axe and hewed off the head of the body, which flew over the railing of the ship and was claimed by the waves below. He did it without expression, without remorse, or pain, or even pleasure. A splash resounded as Nero nonchalantly tossed the body over the edge as well. He proclaimed words of hope and reverence, each spoken in a measured voice with no hint of fear. His heart was certainly iron-clad, an impenetrable fortress. Any lesser man would have long ago succumbed to madness from Xoco’s taunting. His psychological warfare was getting him nowhere, and this frustrated him. How could Nero be so placid in the face of such horror? Perhaps he was simply not pressing his attack hard enough…

The people on the ship seemed uplifted by Nero’s kind and encouraging words. Just when Xoco had brought them into despair with terrifying magic, he lifted their spirits with only words. Their joy was like a bee’s sting to Xoco. He despised their happiness. However, if words were what they wanted, he could give them many words. Xoco had learned long ago to preach the words of evil unto every corner of Arda. He was an artful speaker and especially good at intimidating others with his words. He would need to make good use of this ability in order to sway the crowd back into his favor. It would not do to have the plentiful mob of people on this ship turn against him. He needed to keep them terrified.

And such, after Nero had finished his speech, Xoco did not call out in anger. He did not fume, did not rant. He did not even attempt to discount what Nero had said. No. He simply laughed. Laughed at what a fool Nero was, and what fools the crowd made themselves into by believing him. There was no hope. There was no glorious salvation to come. There was only death, and tumbling into the black abyss that awaited. The laugh started out as a low chuckle. It was deep, low, and evil to the core. It was a laugh that sent a chill down the spine of even the heartiest man among the crowd. The laughter climbed higher in both volume and pitch, becoming more resonating and continuous. It was a full, roaring laughter that radiated cruelty. It silenced the hopes that had grown among the crowd. Xoco’s laughter ended slowly, coming down gradually until he let out the last chortle.

“Fool of the Light. You know so very little of which you speak. If you truly do only care for her soul, then it should please you to know that I own her soul now. She has been delivered into the domain of darkness and pain. Even now, she tumbles endlessly into the infinite blackness that awaits her. I will be certain to instruct that she be suitably tortured for all of eternity. Her soul will never rest, there will no long, solemn peace. Only pain will she know, now and forever. Torment will be her only companion, and misery her only guide. The demons of the abyss will rip her open a thousand times, and each time she will not die, but simply return to experience such pain again. She cannot escape it. And she has you to thank, Nero. You have doomed her to this eternal hell, all so that you might have a fading chance at glory and fame.” Xoco’s words were as cold as the deepest winter, resonating across the deck. They seemed to have no source, as if the air itself was speaking. Now, he was on a roll. It was time to start shaking things up.

“And let this be a lesson to all of you,” he said, his voice growing louder, “This angel knows nothing about that of which he speaks. The afterlife his beyond his mortal comprehension. But I know it, and my words are the ones you should heed. Take no heart in his preaching. Gain no hope from his presence, for he is a fool among fools. He serves a lost cause. He is weak. But I am strong, and with darkness there is strength. With the night, there is power beyond measure or imagination. If you have any sense, you will turn from his false teachings and serve Raku. The Black King is merciful to his servants.”

Of course, that last part was a lie. Raku knew not the meaning of mercy.

Xoco smiled as he watched the mother of the young girl encourage Nero. “And you,” he said, “What purpose do you see in encouraging his lost cause? There is no hope for him. Even now, he dares not face me on the open deck. Instead, he hides like a dog behind his anti-magical barrier, too much of a coward to attack me at full strength.” Xoco saw on her face that his words rung true. It was a flash of realization on the faces of every spectator. There was no hope for Nero, only death. Slowly, they began to back away from him. Even the mother took a half-pace backwards. She realized that her words meant nothing; Nero was still doomed.

But, in order to avoid being called a coward himself, Xoco figured he ought to come out of hiding. After all, he hated hypocrites, and would be damned if he would join their ranks. He slunk through the shadows, back several feet from the anti-magic field where Nero now stood. The wind picked up slightly, causing the swells to smash harder against the ship. It rocked and rolled around in the waves, dancing upon the sea. The shadows swirled up into a vortex six feet high. For a moment, they just swirled, and then, some of the shadows fell away, rejoining their brethren all over the deck. All that was left was Xoco, who was left face-to-face with Nero. He clothing was repaired, and his face once again completely concealed. The wounds were still there, but at least he managed to conceal them for effect. It wouldn’t be very intimidating to have a bunch of scratches all over him.

The wind died down. For a moment, everything was silent. The people now had their eyes downcast. They were demoralized, and fearful, exactly as they should have been. Such sorrow hung heavy in their hearts. It made him smile. Their jubilation and hope had been stolen away. Xoco was really enjoying this.

“Look at them, Nero. They realize that there is no hope. There is no light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. There is only more darkness, more eternal darkness. You hope against hope, chasing the end of the rainbow. Carry on like this, as a fool, if you wish,” said Xoco. His words were menacing, and they cut like daggers.

“But if you insist that we finish this,” he said. Xoco paused. He reached down and grabbed the hilt of his sword, drawing it in one strong motion. He held it out from his body, twirling it maliciously off to his side. It begged for use, pleaded to taste his adversary’s blood once more. He reveled in how threatening he looked, holding the weapon which would destroy Nero. “Then let us finish it. Come out of your hole, and face me like a man. If you do not dare to challenge me at my full strength, then I claim my victory here.”

Xoco smiled, his eyes glowing with pleasure. He waited, calmly watching for what his opponent would do next.