Ether: Way of The Blade.

"..." | 'How long does he expect to keep this up...' | 'Twas an orchestra, the metal soprano, which captured nature's motherly eyes most- gripping ahold of her attention entirely. For a moment, blood-thirsting blades slid back gracefully, their rackets of noise stopping shortly after - much like times of peace & prosperity, however, the peaceful second of reconciliation in distancing from each other was never meant to last. The first song of many arrived in the foreboding silence pervading the forest. Not a life form in sight. Not a sound in the distance. It was pure, unadulterated perfidy - an attempt to either disengage, or force one's hand directly, to then go for the kill. A novice's ingenuity. CLINK! CLANK! CLINK! CLANK! TSS! | TSS! | 'He's faster than I imagined...' | | 'He's stronger than I imagined...' | Perspiration was a vile disease - and, from the looks of it - never to be assuaged, like displaying the right information to the wrong enemy; to envision one's own loss or misstep in the midst of battle warranted a fate worst than that, one kin to death. Yet, the rabbit-hole of ill-will was a pitiful, deathly pit of sins & misdoings...any odd step could warrant one's demise... Pellets of passion shot from heavy bags & deep, dark eyes, down cheeks rosy with exhaustion, before collapsing into the ever-green dew of spring. Their depths, those eyes.. They stood as the foundational duality of love & war. War-sunken intentions pervaded the environment which they'd grown to love with the musk of a landfill, freely wafting in the air. The bitter taste of flesh & blood hung in the ambience wherever they went... These were their indulgences, experiences which effect the body down to the bare sense. These two - were just as connected as taste & smell. Yet, just as independent from one another. On one end stood a tall, rangy sillhouette, rising & falling with every step as it dimmed into limelight. It shed its temporal coat of shadows upon careful gaits rightward. That was when shafts of light kissed him, defining his vivid features: pinkish lips with some ashen cracks like crevasses blemishing them; milky-chocolatey hues melted into his pupils; nostrils flaring outward, capitalizing on every breath seize-able, with a nose curving down along its bridge. The sounds of footfall sounded in a snap's time. It was what accompanied them that required immediate attention, successfully capturing the menacing gaze lit into view: fire. Through gritted teeth & lethal intentions, he launched two more steps forth, his thoughts aligning with the situation at hand: | 'He underestimates me... Good.' | "HM!" Flames adumbrated their ignition below his feet like stove-tops, scintillating into sparks before breathing life into the step proceeding. What felt like seconds went by in even less - it was only a matter of time before the inconnu's gaze tracked a blazing Phoenix, accelerating forth, encircling him at jet-speeds. It was at this point he became a physical blur, an enigmatic, kinetic force imperceptible to the naked eye. The forthbringer of those flames which cease to go out in evanescence: ✧ Phoenix, of Epsilon . Epithet: Conveying Blaze. On the receiving end of the spectacle, what once was a sillhouette's eyes shut, & the flames revealed his identity: Amon. A man of imposing animality physically. If the initial swordsman was the Lion, this one was the Silverback - naught mental or spiritual erected in mind, but a brute capable of mass destruction at will. "This isn't a battle you can win, Phoenix..." He remained a skyscraper before the pacing foe, albeit bearing an identical muscular composition to the average man. That voice... It reverberated the lands with its base; his face was rough & callous, its expression hard as steel; beady, black eyes went unfettered by his utter insouciance since their clash, kin to the ever-motioning blade firmly in his grips. It had become uncomfortably noticeable... Especially to Phoenix. But, that was one thing he knew oh-too well. "I know all of your little tricks..." For a split-second, his wrists oscillated, & the blade swiped left & right. After a series of five flicks were performed - in simultaneity with Phoenix's encirclement - he held the blade inches from his abdomen, eyeing...waiting... Bravery came in many forms, as did vie. Their most prevalent form: preemptive thought. SSSSSSSS! Circumscribed, Amon's stance was given the purpose of riposte. Rather than lunge in, he took tip-toed steps, pacing lightly within a four-foot box of range. Amidst a coruscating Phoenix's dash, a fiery kick came soaring forth - aimed at Amon's right kidney. WISK! CLANK! From the sole down to the heel of the foot, his open-toed sandle met steel with an invigorated clink. There was a deep resonance which disturbed Amon dearly, so much so his face flushed pale, like he laid witness of a specter residing in Phoenix. Bug-eyed, he veered his blade right from left, with the elegance of a rapier, as to lacerate the ankle of the foot once the foe rose into the air; in response, an airborne Phoenix flipped off the blade - which brought Amon's plan into fruition. His legs maneuvered in blisteringly quick reaction, shooting into a tuck into his abdomen, before rolling onto all fours. His pants filled the air, & were quickly picked up by Amon. Cackling maniacally to himself, he ramped up the tension with his devious lips flapping on, & a face full of pure & utter grotesque plastered onto his face - he was not pleased. "What's wrong..? Is that all you've got - Conveying Blaze?" He said mockingly. Scoffingly, his grimace then begun turning into a face-full of spite. "Well then... If that's the case... Maybe I'll have to push your expiration date forward, after all." Huffing out sulk in the face of this monstrosity was resentful in of itself, Phoenix thought; stumbling back to his feet was agonizing enough, & the sweltering heat his body had been exuding only seemed to put it at a larger detriment. In the mindset he was in - with his sheer will resurrecting his determination - he prevailed forth, disappearing upon his second step. | 'YOU CAN'T STOP ME - !' | No longer a jet, but a bullet - a blazing shockwave propelled him forth before Amon's very eyes. The fire engulfing Phoenix's arms was brilliant, & shed its incandescence upon entry. His right palm balling into a fist, right-footed, lengthy stride striking the ginkgo leafs & earth, Phoenix hurled a concentrated fist-full of flames at Amon - only for flesh to be met with flesh, as, shrewdly, their fists made contact, knuckles digging into one another's, before sliding off each other. A dual stagger...! Amon came to life first. Secondary to the first, & eons more powerful with iotas less effort, a keen left hook darted for Phoenix - auspiciously, almost miraculously, it shot for his chin. CCCH! His neck contorting out of place; wisps of lost breaths & low, ghoulish growls of pain escaped crimson-tainted lips, a man-turned-corpse upon impact. Mercy, however, was far from Amon's wicked, twisted mind. He leapt off his lead foot - a hunter indulging in the hunt, amidst the hunted. Hyperactive strands of electricity[zzzzp] invigorated his fists - the first: an infuriated right, returning, seeking revenge. "AAHGH!" Phoenix's muscles locked into hyper-tension, contracting about in the welter of Amon's heavy-handed attack. It sent a bloodied Phoenix lurching back a few steps - battered, injured, but alive. He seized the moment, & seized it with unyielding pride. His subsequent act could only be described as an act of defiance to the laws of nature: like an corpse arisen into the undead, he painlessly pried his neck back into place as though adjusting a mantle. Amon's hand waxed into view, until it rendered immediate. Phoenix's answer: elusively swiveling along his lead foot around the emptied strike, before careering his body forward into a lunging, fiery uppercut. Ouch. Amon spat out crimson as he weakly ascended off his feet. From the obscurity of light that passed through his softened, curtaining eyes was the last thing he'd remember: a bloodied hand, panning into full-view. Unfortunately for Phoenix, Amon was as perspacacious as he was devious & meticulous: it was as if he knew. Extemporizing his next move, Amon electrified one step into clarity of view, like holy bolts striking down in the caliginous midst of a storm - fast, was a terrible understatement, filled to the brim with treachery. He utilized his left hand in the act of lifting the blade inches from its sheathe while sheathed, his right pitching straightforwardly, as though yearning to be countered, only for the step after that to animate, accompanied by a downward s***h from above. | 'When did h - ' | The brief susurration of a body collapsing onto the leafs was heard around from across the forest. Silence... Then, "Maybe..." The wielder of flames suspired heavily almost to the point he started wheezing. His vision was tainted in a daze; He gradually rose onto a knee before hoisting himself up with staggered composure, blade jingling in its quivering sheathe. His arms limply sagged behind upon jolting his body back into motion, charging feebly directly at the foe - only to collapse motionless, face in the dirtied dew. "Maybe..." "... I'll kill you myself. Here, and now."