[b]O'Menus[/b]

[indent][indent]O'Menus set aside the deep-seated loathing growing in his breast. In the midst of war there was no room for hesitation, only unrelenting dominance. The clanging of their respective blades reached a sharp peal that seemed to consume all other sounds for him. He realized that the two of them, God and Man, were contending for control. Humans had reached a level of pure astoundment; that even as weakened as the Gods were, the undeniable fact that they were capable of [i]contending[/i] against them were praiseworthy. Even still, that fact was an abomination in his eyes. Reaching deep, pass the loathing and arrogance, pass the pride and blazing fire, O'Menus found a shred of strength that allowed him to push even further. And though he had not acknowledged or even grasped this fact, reddish flames were beginning to perch and flow from his skin because of his efforts. 

He refused to show the Horned-Mortal his struggles and so he had forbade himself to grip the handle two-handed. With a single firm grasp, he held his white blade steady against the mortal's intentions. A resolute glower piercing the orbs behind the mask. He threw every ounce of power he could muster into rebounding the Horned-Mortal's red blade, pulled back his white sword and went for a divine thrust. 

[i]'Aim for the heart. Meet your target!'[/i], he growled.[/indent][/indent]