The sudden strike caught Onikage off guard. As the kick was delivered, Onikage was sent sprawling. It was only by the virtue of his armor that his legs hadn't been shattered by the strength behind the kick, as they were only human, even if his skill was not. While Onikage was most definitely a dangerous force to be reckoned with, any Oldblood had a massive speed advantage, one that made up for Onikage's inhuman thought processes and capabilities. As Onikage instantly balanced out the fall to land right back into a position to defend against incoming attacks he judged that it had been too great a risk to face off against Rhyss in such close quarters combat, as there was undoubtedly too great a chance of failure in this situation. While Onikage might be able to overpower Rhyss, his nearby companions posed quite a large risk, and if he were forced to fight two or more Oldbloods in close proximity it would mean certain death.

However, even as Onikage reasoned as such, Rhyss' blade swung past his face. A direct hit, the first real hit on Onikage in the fight, as a sliver of his mask is sliced away, electricity crackling as the circuits of the cloaking system are cut in that area. And as Onikage looks up at the one that had dealt this blow, a blue eye and a lock of bright golden blonde hair can be seen over pale skin. The look in the eye is dead, as if it's owner had already died, and instead of joining the ranks of the undead, it's corpse had merely been controlled from afar. However, even in this short instant of eye contact, they seem to focus, like a dead man waking.

And they are filled with unspeakable hate.

A psychic scream explodes from Onikage, ripping through those nearby as his body twists and convulses, although no physical sound is made. HIs fingers stretch and grope at thin air, as that unspeakable gaze focusses on Rhyss. A gaze that was somehow familiar, somehow known, and yet unrecognized. As if once he had seen these eyes before, and yet had forgotten. And, in the midst of this spectacle, as the screams reached their peak, and the darkness that had been hiding in the depths of Onikage's soul bursts outwards, enveloping him in an aura of anger. Blazing as if ablaze, whether by illusion or fact one could clearly see six sets of wings, hovering behind the mute assassin, the mark of a Seraph, highest Angel of the First Sphere of Heaven, those who guard the throne of God. "YOU FILTHY SCUM!"

It was hardly movement. At such speeds, could it be classified as such? So fast that it took an instant simply to realize that the space the Seraph had occupied was no longer filled. A lightning bolt, as pain filled Rhyss. The wings dissipated with the wind, a mere illusion conjured in the minds of those that watched, an image imprinted upon them by the creature before them. Onikage stood behind Rhyss as, cloaking mechanisms activating, he sheathed his sword. Motives inexplicable, thoughts unreadable, even as the black aura once more died down, Onikage stealthed back into the forest, holding his hand over the hole in his suit.

Meanwhile, Rhyss had stood unable to move. Even as he focused, his body refused to respond to his mental commands. He was unable even to speak, to utter a single word, as slowly, reality caught up to what had happened. Blood trickled down the lower half of his face slowly. Equaly slowly, the top half of his skull slid down a diagonal angle, crashing to the floor with a soft thump, even as Rhyss' body collapsed. Onikage had missed Rhyss' brain by less than an inch.