[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/WIA4zqR.gif[/img][/center]

[center][url=https://youtu.be/DtAto11566k?t=1m23s]"A memorable dance, indeed!" - Raverio[/url][/center]

[color=ec008c][h3][center]Lost Haven, Slums[/center][/h3][/color]

[color=00aeef][h2][center]"I'm sure we'll get along, kid!"[/center][/h2][/color]

Nearly inhuman movements would instantly categorize Raverio as something more, something incredibly deadly. His swift footwork acted much like a dance, the mesmerizing fluidity of a true sword master. Despite wearing an expensive suit which would otherwise restrict a man's movements, Raverio surpassed such confines with windlike grace. Darting from one point to the other, the swordsman had accomplished a feat quite impressive indeed, he was able to keep up with Milo's bionic speed and skill. Though an amazing display, this was not what would go on to widen the boy's eyes, but rather a blade unlike any other. Raverio was not alone in this fight, no what he wielded was not steel. Noticing his own sword, sturdy and reliable, chip away with each clash sent the boy's heart into a hole in his stomach. What was it that he was going up against? The soft blue hue emanating from Raverio's weapon painted it a relic of supernatural origin no doubt, the edge sharp enough to sever the very bounds of steel. This dance of blades would further reveal how the man's sword remained in flawless condition throughout the battle, not a single sign of tear forcing its way onto the reflective surface.

Simple yet elegant to perfection, Raverio's sword was undoubtedly the result of exquisite craftsmanship unlike what a smith could hope to achieve. The blue glow coating the surface of this deadly weapon would instill fear in whomever found themselves on the sharp end as Milo would soon learn, a bleeding wound tearing its way through his side. Though his mutation healed the cut with near instant results, never had he felt so helpless beneath the weight of a sword. As if cutting through air, his skin and bone gave way for the intrusion without a fraction of resistance.

Bringing both hands to the hilt of his own, mundane weapon, Milo charged forth and clashed steel with his enemy. Though agile to the point of outmaneuvering countless combatants, Milo would constantly find himself deflected by a skillful parry or steadfast block. "Amazing swordsmanship, young man! Truly, the stories ring true!" Holding his scabbard with his left hand and the blade with his right, Raverio would continue to stun his smaller opponent once the sheath vanished from sight. In a blue swirl of energy, the scabbard disappeared and allowed for Raverio to mimic Milo's decision, bringing both hands to the hilt for more powerful strikes.

[color=ec008c]"That's insane..."[/color] Though insecurity shone like a beacon behind Milo's clenched teeth, he could not afford to lower his guard for but a second. Raverio would not allow such an error to pass him by unpunished, thus he dashed forth and initiated the continuation of their deadly duel. Feeling the force of the Italian's strikes against his sword, Milo was quite easily pushed back and put at the defensive. Finding an opening in Raverio's onslaught of strikes appeared to be an impossibility. Attempts were nevertheless made. Edge lived up to his name without fault as was proven time and time again through every fluid strike executed by his immense skill in swordsmanship. Though Raverio appeared to have the upper hand, Milo did not make it easy for the man. In fact, there were times where the Italian would find himself overwhelmed by the boy's agility and swordsmanship.

Avoiding an incoming strike, Edge fainted his opponent and gracefully darted to the left. Either through pure skill or a dash of luck, an opening had been spotted and Milo rushed towards it with a swing to Raverio's hip. At this point however, one could perhaps expect the Italian's response. Reacting to the counter strike, Raverio twisted his body and blocked the attack before a kick sent Milo back. "Well done, but not well enough!"

[color=ec008c]"Who taught you to fight like this...?"[/color] Breathing heavily from the ordeal, Milo analysed his opponent while slowly moving one foot after the other. He would need to wait for Raverio to strike before retaliating as an offensive assault had been proven useless against this opponent.

"Masters from all across the world have blessed me with their knowledge. Were things different, I would have gladly taken you under my wing, esteemed Mr. Edge!" 

[color=ec008c]"Don't worry..."[/color] Milo returned. [color=ec008c]"You've taught me a lot..."[/color] Masters always said that no one could teach you more than an opponent in battle, and they tended to be correct. Though Raverio appeared to be the more skilled combatant at the start of this fight, Milo had made sure to analyse every strike, every movement, every single breath the Italian hade made. His attacks revolved around speed, accuracy and fluidity much like Milo's, but where Raverio possessed more strength, Milo was superior in terms of finesse. Indeed, an assault could be easily deflected and overpowered by Raverio's superior level of physical strength, however their continued clash had revealed that he was still prisoner to his frame's agile limitations. One would have to trade in one strength for another, as it was.

Initiating the final act, Milo waited for his opponent to strike. Instead of blocking Raverio's attacks, the boy danced between them like a graceful wind and retaliated with a series of lightning fast cuts which forced Raverio to catch them against the edge of his sword. This was however where their differences shone brightly as the Italian was unable to block every strike. Jumping back from his smaller opponent, Raverio knew that since Milo had found a strategy to tilt this battle in his favor, he would need to end it fast. 

With the scabbard reappearing in the man's left hand, he returned the sword to its confines before he lowered the weapon to his waist. With a lightning fast draw, Raverio released his blade from the scabbard in a horizontal slash as he lunged forward. The force of the strike was powerful enough to sever Milo's sword in half as the boy was forced to raise the weapon in defense against the incredibly fast attack. Feeling edge of Raverio's sword traveling across his chest like nothing stole Milo's breath and nearly ended the fight. Of course, was the Italian fighting anyone else without the capabilities of regeneration, he would have won with that strike. However, given Milo's advantage, the boy was able to lunge forth and stabbed his broken blade through Raverio's stomach. "Well...done..." Meeting the ground with his knees, the bloodied smile on Raverio's lips revealed the joy he had felt throughout this dance. Meeting someone who was able to combat him was indeed a liberation he had longed for, a splendid farewell to the Italian now ending his journey.

Joining the lifeless body besides him, Milo dropped down to the dusty floor with heavy breaths forcing their way through his lungs. His blade was broken and what remained of the weapon was a sad remnant of what used to be. The last reminder of his past had been cleaved in half. Though distraught over the outcome of his beloved weapon's demise, the boy's eyes would soon find home upon the supernatural weapon which had achieved the feat. Carefully reaching his hand out to the black handle of the late Raverio's sword, Milo felt a presence unlike any other whispering incomprehensible words into his mind. One could argue that any sensible person would have retracted their hand as the whispers appeared to subside when such an action reached the light of day, however Milo was drawn to the weapon like a hunger he had yet to truly understand. Though a mere inch from the leather bound handle, the boy would find his hand pulled down by an invisible force, his fingers involuntarily wrapping around the blade's hilt.

Gasping for air, the pain shooting through his appendage traveled to his chest and forked itself to the rest of his body as if the flames of inferno were singing him from within. Nearly screaming out in horror, Milo clenched his teeth as his eyes met their reflection on the perfect edge staring back at him. What was this blade? What kind of supernatural force was it that had invaded his very essence? [color=00aeef]"Well, well..." [/color] The whispers continued, though now audible and understandable. [color=00aeef]"A brat managed to kill Raverio? How amusing."[/color] A male voice, dark and cold yet slightly high pitched and incredibly mocking. [color=00aeef]"Do you think you can wield [i]me?[/i]"[/color]

[color=ec008c]"Who the hell are you...?"[/color] Milo tried through painful gasps, his left hand grabbing hold of his right wrist as if to subside the pain. 

[color=00aeef]"You do not know!? I am Masamune, the Spirit Blade. Masamune, the one who can slay anything!"[/color] Speaking to a sword was something Milo never thought possible, however as the blade responded, he found himself growing angrier at the pain. [color=00aeef]"Does it hurt, boy? Let go, child. You will never wield [i]me.[/i]"[/color]

[color=ec008c]"Shut up...! Whatever you are, I will not let a fucking sword overpower me...!"[/color] Placing his free hand on the hilt, the pain escalated as it shot through the boy's frame. Forcing an anguished scream from his lungs, Milo only tightened his grip around the weapon. Every second felt like an eternity but with a goal clearly in sight, Milo refused to let go of the sword so eagerly mocking him.

[color=00aeef]"The one who beat Raverio, you show spirit which by far surpasses your appearance! Very well, kid! I'll entertain the notion of being yours to command! Make this an interesting journey for us both!"[/color] The pain started to subside mere moments before the blade dissipated along with its scabbard. [color=00aeef]"Linking myself with your soul is a very painful procedure, one that you survived. Congrats little kid, looks like we'll be spending a lot of time together."[/color]

Even more exhausted than before, Milo stood but immediately stumbled towards the wall where he leaned not to fall back down. He had yet to believe that a possessed sword had linked itself to him, not to mention the belief in spirit swords to begin with. [color=ec008c]"You're in my head...?"[/color] Milo breathed, relieved that the pain had vanished. The pain was however replaced by a feeling of discomfort, knowing that he shared a consciousness with a weapon.

[color=00aeef]"In a sense!"[/color] Masamune chuckled. [color=00aeef]"But worry not, you'll get used to it! Summon me whenever you need a weapon at your side, otherwise I will act as your trusted friend and adviser!"[/color] The sword's personality seemed to have shifted completely now that the link between him and Milo was complete. The dark, cold presence which Milo had felt was gone and instead replaced with a sense of security, as if something was now watching over him.

[color=ec008c]"Friends with a sword...? This day's been really fucking messed up..."[/color]


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[i](Character sheet update: [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3586631]Masamune[/url].)[/i]