Prepared to lay down their weapons, some of the rebellion persons had took their swords in hands, the archers behind readying their bows with the flaming tips of the arrows igniting the caelum above. A shadowy figure approached from above, the kimono wavering in the wind along with the flawless pony tail in the winds. He lands in the middle of The Rebellion, letting his soldiers stare in awe and bow onto their knees. He stood with the firm grimace spread upon him, curls of wrinkles on both sides of his chapped lips. 

He stood, easily, at six feet tall. His trademark crimson red kimono had been left behind and rippled in his previous battle against mercenaries.. wearing the obsidian black kimono that was tattered hanging down with tallness, and lapping over the land about. The eyelids had moved backward and folded to reveal his murky crimson opticals that stared outward; rebellion soldiers parted backward. In his right hand, a blade was already unsheathed.

This sword had stood at an easy fourteen feet, it was completely black with a long hilt. The tip of the sword was sharp, with blood still dripping and curdling into the curved and wicked circumference to disarm and hack through bones within a careless slice. His left hand was coated with a glove, created out of an unknown metal, colored obsidian black like his sword. Having talons for the tips like the slicing claws of an eagle, scales and lines like a dragon reaching up his arm from the glove.

The Gauntlet Of Stronghold, the expansion of unknown energies rung outward as the tip of his clawed index finger was drawn across his beautified sword, the case that held his blade falling to the ground to reveal its baby blue surface, decorated with the outter art of sakura flowers and petals descending downward to the end of the object. The soldiers of the Rebellion behind him had fallen onto their knees, blasted backward with pain.

This samurai had turned about, his eyes coated with blackness on the outside, the pupil an unbelievable blue that matched the seas behind the soldiers. Suddenly the fear had to overwhelm them, causing their bones to crack downward and the swords to be dropped; the flaming arrows exploded outward and reigned down with wrathful intent about the area. Flames of vertigo had coated the arena inwhich the two skilled warriors would fight; blade to blade.

The army had been struck by fear, his blade had been stabbed into the grind as the brachium curled around the sword itself, bending downward as he stared towards his opponent.