[center][h1][color=black][b]The Hope of the Father[/b][/color][/h1]

[h3][i]A Wanderer who seeks to save his world…

A Soldier who hopes to spare the one he loves...[/i][/h3][/center][hr]
 
The wheels of fate had begun their spin once more, an endless system of cogs that would build one man up and destroy the hopes of another. Such was the way of the path these two men of different worlds found themselves on. An open space above the shifting sands rippled like the disturbed surface of open water as light gathered at the center of it. The ripples grow more violent before at last the light exploded outward before retracting and vanishing in the blink of an eye. 

There stood the Lord Cardinal of the Ninth Fleet, the man known widely as the Black Mask of the Angar-Rylla Empire. Draped in black he stood unwavering. A calm wind sending his cloak bellowing slightly to his right. Revealing the pale grey breastplate underneath, the sun gleaming off the surface of it causing it to gleam a dull silver. His two swords, Mercy and Serenity strapped to his waist. Tablurath did not need to check to know his grenades had all been returned. His sense of calm that rolled through him allowed him to take stock of his surroundings and gear in the time it took to inhale. He cleanly noted the weight of each spherical device at his belt, along with that of his two swords. He knew instantly that this place held a greater degree of gravity. Even if he had not been able to feel it pulling on him like a thousand angry hands trying to drag him to the abyss.  

His sensitive preternatural sight detected the minute shifts of energy that made up the electromagnetic spectrum. He was in a desert. Evidently. His feet sinking somewhat into the sands at his feet. He placed his weight from the balls of his feet to his toes back and forth slowly. Gaining a measure of how much the gravity had increased. Tablurath had the rare gift of being aware of exactly how much he could push his body. How much strain it could take before it broke. His visors built into his mask darkened to compensate for the blazing sun above. He noted its position to the west, placing it on his right side.

Then his opponent.

Ah, the mage. Tablurath had not known the victor of the last match. The chaos in the lobby had made it quite impossible to obtain much information from whatever staff left alive. He recalled Aquilan’s information on the man from the dossier built for him. A capable caster type, who’s magic often seemed to take the form of a pillar in shape. He calculated the distance to be roughly 60 meters away. The advised method of approach had been an aggressive stance due to the mage’s apparent reliance on some liquid he took during his first match. Tablurath had no reason to stop him from taking whatever preparations he wished however. He was confident in his ability and the outcome of this match.    

He had placed the Wanderer as the most likely to reach this far. He possessed that cold resolve for victory- not unlike the Cardinals own. He looked down into his left hand, and opened his fingers to reveal a strange metal object gleaming a dull blue. A Dream Fragment? Intriguing.

He placed it into his belt to stow away for later. He might even throw it away, but given its appearance here… no doubt his opponent also possessed one. He rolled the shoulders of his arms as he began to stretch. Cleanly feeling the weights tied to his body. Given the increased gravity here, and the chaos he had been embroiled in earlier, Tablurath decided he would start this match off serious from the start. Given the circumstance he could no longer hold back. He needed to end this quickly. He exhaled as he kneeled and unbuckled the weights on his ankles. 

Raising to his feet and spreading his arms wide before dropping the leather belt of weights. They hit the ground with a significant thud, spreading dust into the air from both sides. Perhaps his opponent had felt it even from this far away. Now he felt worlds better, carrying over two times your body-weight was no simple feat. Ironically it had been designed to emulate conditions for gravity even worse than now. He had been training in conditions like this since he had been a child.  

His mask hissed as he began filtering oxygen stored in his mask. He never bothered using the air in alien environments, even when he had first arrived in the Dreamers Lobby. It was a practice he was not going to suddenly abandon now. It paid to be prepared for every eventuality. 

Feeling remarkably light if a bit light headed; Tablurath began walking forward his hands resting on his hips on the handle of each sword. He had been holding back for most of this tournament, perhaps he might put a little effort into it this go around? There was a favor he needed to return...