El Rey was not impervious to damage so much as he was impervious to pain. Of course, his large frame and reinforced physiology did a lot to cover that which his armored second skin did not, but Xavier was a powerful striker in his own right. And yet, whatever damage had been done to the Apocalypse was only ever acknowledged with the perfunctory thought process one might use to assess a chipped nail.

When Xavier set his feet to the mat and began to pedal backwards, he not only slowed El Rey's advance but also guaranteed that he had some measure of control over the proceedings, not nearly enough to stop himself but just enough to affect a counter attack. The pool of blood that had been building at Xavier’s chest split into two segments, which then stab at El Rey's eyes with a frightening speed and an alternating pattern designed to catch him off guard. El Rey dipped to the right and dodged the first spike, then to the left in order to dodge the first, and so began a subtle bob and weave. This new movement only slowed his advance by a fraction and kept him from losing an eye. Even if the spikes still struck, without a clean hit they’d find themselves glancing off of the jaguar’s thickly armored maw, earning little more than a snarl of irritation for their effort.

But El Rey was not done.

Just as El Rey was set to enter a comfortable rhythm, he proceeded to cross his arms and Xavier's with them. On top of creating a brace for when they finally hit the turnbuckle, the act would also create a decent shield that began at chest level, in the form of two heavily muscled and woefully bare forearms. Just dodging was not enough for the Apocalypse. He wanted to squeeze every last drop of punishment out of the time he spent tangled with Xavier, if there was even a possibility that he could maneuver the Bloodbayne into stabbing his own arms then he would take it, and whether it worked or not they slammed into the corner.

BOOM!!!

The ring roared with protest but did nothing, could do nothing, to stop them. The stabbing may have stopped, but in the interceding time a pair of metal gloves had formed over Xavier's hands without displacing El Rey’s grip, proving that his opponent was both an efficient multi-tasker and a decent out-of-box thinker. Such contests could become messy, this much was true, and yet at the same time there were few things quite as playing chess with one’s opponent. Nothing would stop El Rey from executing his offense just as planned though, not even Xavier, who instead sought to use it to his advantage. It was a tight space for two very big men to maneuver around one another, but Xavier slipped his hands out of his newly minted metal gloves and ducked beneath El Rey’s elbow. Then, when his head was low and his hands free, Xavier palmed his own chest and absorbed the two puddles of blood that had formed there. These puddles became a new set of gloves, with which he delivered a thrust up and into El Rey’s abdomen; summoning a pair of spikes on the inside of each hand at the last moment for added penetration.

It was now clear that Xavier viewed his blood as a resource, but unclear as to just how much of said resource he had available to him, for even with his blood flowing freely for several turns he seemed completely unaffected.

El Rey was able to see such fine detail thanks to his ability to peer through the darkness, and with three additional eyes scattered across his body to do just that, he was more than prepared to defend against Xavier’s thrust. Speaking of which, a fourth eye had opened, only for the first one to close, leaving the total for this turn at three. The Apocalypse brought his hands down to meet Xavier’s thrusting palm with his own. The metal gloves he grasped would bear the brunt of the strike, in addition to keeping those spikes from digging into his hand, though it was all but guaranteed they would crumble after, either because of Xavier’s raw strength or his command over the material. When that happened, El Rey would already be rotating his hands down, past Xavier’s hands and to the space between his arms where he was free to grasp the Bloodbayne by the wrists and then wrench his arms wide. An act that would expose his core. Then, just as Xavier would have reached the apex of his thrust, El Rey proceeded to deliver a devastating encore in the form of another knee strike, and he brought the apocalypse with him.

El Rey did not simply strike Xavier, he unleashed a torrent of destructive ether in the wake of the blow, a veritable flood that spilled out across the immediate area eradicated all that it came in contact with. On the material plane is appeared as a deep purple flame which ate everything it touch, but this was a mere visualization, the universes attempt to rationalize that which was wholly unnatural. Beneath their feet, the white ring mat shrank back to reveal the thick plywood below, all six ring ropes severed around them, and the post itself was protected by Xavier’s body but still snapped off at five feet by way of sheer force then flew off.

As for Xavier? Well, that remained to be seen. The blow itself was easily ten times that which he’d used on the Bloodbayne before, his undead body swollen with supernatural strength the moment he unleashed a charge, but that was hardly the issue. The real question was how Xavier dealt with the rampaging ether that spread across his upper body. His skin was likely a lost cause, but were his bones and muscles dense enough to survive a meeting with the apocalypse, and would his supernatural blood be up to the task of keeping him alive once the worst had passed? If he was wounded grievously the question then was how would Xavier recover; was his blood also capable of healing wounds or was he the kind of bastard who kept fighting and ignored a gaping chest wound?

Regardless of what happened, should the blow land it would fling Xavier from the ring and into the space normally reserved for the crowd, obliterating the guard rail and toppling empty chairs before finally allowing him to stop.

In the ring El Rey would loom, his arms spread wide and a roar filling the back of his throat. The metal gloves had ceased to be in the wake of his attack and even the fog (white and crimson) would be obliterated in his immediate area. A wall of crimson roiled behind him as though incapable of advancing further, what was left of the ropes snapped like serpents of plasma, and from on high the droids drew their spotlights to him and him alone. For therein was the only person worthy of standing in the ring, within the Luchalliance and especially without, and in a booming voice he called out to Xavier; “Return to the ring and face me, or abandon your mask and flee!”