[hider=Echoes of the Past][center][h2][b][color=turquoise]The Cereal Killer[/color] Vs. Knight Sylvestre: Round 1[/b][/h2]
[@Lugubrious][/center]

Upon hearing the pirate’s request, both the vanguard and the shrine maiden ceased their circling. He had actually just said that? The audacity caused Cyril’s lip to curl in anger. Juniper found the request to be rather quaint. The notion entertained her that it should come from some criminal openly bragging about his own bounty. Silently the carrier of the God Hand hoped that her partner would deny such a request. If she were honest with herself, she wanted another chance at a brawl to show off her strength and vent some frustrations. There had been [i]a lot[/i] of frustrations as of late.

Cyril pointed the tip of his halberd directly at the pirate in a threatening manner. If he desired, he could probably reach his opponent in a single burst of his sheen ability, take the enemy off guard, and hopefully put an early end to this fight so he could be on his way to whatever fate awaited them all at the end of this thing. But he didn’t do that. “You mock me, pirate,” he said curtly, jabbing his polearm a bit for emphasis, as he began playing with the screw in his head, seeking out that sweet spot. “Such images of the honorable knight are nothing but the illusion of fairy tales.”

Juniper cracked a small smile from the side of her mouth, and tightened her knuckles in anticipation. Erina prepared her nerves, tightening her grip on Bend’s sword. In preparation, she summoned a trio of small blue flames to hover around her, just in case. Runch warned that the shrine maiden had similar powers over the dead, and while the idea of meeting someone else just like her was exciting in and of itself, Bend’s killer instincts and experience made sure to keep her focused.

“I see,” Runch began, disappointed at first, but he lightened up after a second. “Omnomnomnom! I see! Well where I come from, fairy tales all too often end up being real! Omnomnom!” 

He laughed it up, but despite the pirate’s sick joy, he didn’t let his guard down. Cyril perceived that. The knight’s eyes narrowed. He wanted to move forward, to strike immediately, but found that he couldn’t. Why? This Cereal Killer’s entire attitude frustrated him, yet he couldn’t beat some worldly sense into the fool. Then it clicked. The screw gave him insight on a number of topics, from scanning the pirate’s stance for weakness, to personal insight. Foolish though he was, the pirate’s views reminded Cyril of a simpler time, when he was yet still a young babe. Unspoiled by reality’s harsh truths.

Cyril grumbled and covered his face for battle. “You frustrate me to no end, pirate. But I will agree to this request.”

Juniper cocked her head. “You’re going to fold just like that? I didn’t take you for the kind of man that cared what others thought of him.” There went the opportunity to crack some skulls.

“But I need to know that your partner isn’t going to jump in on your behalf, pirate!” The vanguard made his declaration loud and great, as though decreeing some mighty law. Runch opened his mouth to assure his opponent, but Erina was quick to speak first.

“You won’t have to worry about me. I’ll be keeping busy as I duel your partner!” she cried, thrusting her blade at Juniper dramatically. Uninterrupted time with someone like her, someone that shared similar gifts. The kitsune could not have asked for a better situation. Juniper smiled to show her own approval, and the women locked eyes. In unison, as though bound together by the strings of fate, the two spiritual ladies took a single step away from their male counterparts. Then another, and another. Before they knew it, The Shrine Maiden and The Itinerant Exorcist were sprinting full speed together off in another direction.

Runch laughed his signature “Omnomnom!” at the sight, following their departure with his gaze. “Those two sure are spirited, mind the pun! Omnomnomnom!” That was the opening that Cyril needed. His glaive still directed straight for his opponent’s chest, the vanguard threw himself forward with a mighty leap! The glint of a shining light caught Runch’s peripheral vision, the only warning he had that the fight had begun. Realizing something was already off, Runch twisted his body back toward the charging knight. This reaction unintentionally, but thankfully, prevented him from receiving a finishing blow off the bat. The halberd’s blade sliced into his gut a good half an inch, sending waves of sharp pain throughout the captain’s nervous system. 

Cyril hadn’t planned on his opponent turning the blow into a shallow wound, but had no intention of letting up. This would go easier if he could disarm his opponent of that ridiculous looking weapon, and so he pivot his foot while twisting the polearm upward, intending to slam the shaft into Runch’s elbow. Ideally it would force the pirate to drop his sword-like thing, but at the very least it would send the man’s fighting hand up too high to retaliate and sting mighty fine in the process. Yes, that would leave Runch open for a decisive finishing strike to the chest and end the battle quickly. Cyril’s natural battle prowess and the analytical ability of the screw really made for an optimal situation.

Fortune favored the vanguard exactly as predicted, at least for a moment. Runch’s arm indeed was knocked upward and off balance, though the pirate fought through the pain to hold onto his blade. That said, fortune was a fickle lady and soon turned on Cyril. The Cereal Killer did not even attempt to fight back with his sword arm, but instead thrust his empty off hand toward the knight’s chest. In the half second he had, Cyril’s empowered brain puzzled over just what the pirate could have hoped to accomplish. The range of his glaive meant that there was far too much space between them to even land a strike! Even if that were to happen, the man’s muscular structure was nowhere near built enough to get through armor. So the pitiful criminal was just uselessly flailing? But that didn’t seem right either, else how could such a weak person make it this far in the tournament?

“Bori bori firehose!” Runch cried out. With the thrust of his open palm, a spray of little yellow and orange pellets burst forth from his skin. [i]Shit![/i] thought Cyril. Unable to avoid the spread of whatever that was, he was forced to remove one hand from his weapon and defend himself best he could with his shield. Some of the small pellets struck with great force, pushing Cyril back. He could feel tiny dents in his armor, pushing down on his skin through the under-armor padding. Others didn’t apply any detectable force whatsoever, but splattered harmlessly against the metal. 

The Knight Sylvestre took a fraction of a second to look over the splatter on his shield, and the still whole pellets that had fallen to the ground, desiring to figure out just what it was and what had happened. So the pirate could create some sort of material, but what was it? A strange power indeed. Judging from the color and consistency of the liquid splatter, all signs pointed to it being-

“Honeytrap recipe,” Runch said, interrupting Cyril’s train of thought. “Mixed with some classic ironberry. Figured I would need to slow you down with that Sheen ability of yours! Omnomnomnom!” Runch had recovered his footing and his stance, holding his spoonsaber up to the opponent as if to say, “En garde!” 

Cyril frowned through his helmet. This man somehow knew about his sheen ability, enough even to call it by name. Meanwhile, his own abilities remained somewhat of a mystery, and Cyril didn’t like it. Not one bit. His armor was coated in a layer of sticky, goopy honey, and the area around him was just as saturated with the stuff. That’s when he realized that his perceptions weren’t as keen as before, his mind not as quick. Getting knocked back had ruined the screw’s adjustment. Well there was no time to find the sweet spot again, he’d just get attacked. Throwing caution to the wind, the knight leaped into the air, activating his speed boost once again. 

Though he didn’t get as much air as he normally would have, thanks to that infernal honey trap, Cyril was still able to muster an impressive attack from above. He thrust his weapon down at his opponent who had clearly been taken aback by the unexpected angle of assault. “Bori bori pillar!” Runch cried out, raising his off hand upward, and with it a column of grainy material. Instead of striking his opponent, the halberd struck the pillar. This obstacle would not stop the Knight Sylvestre in his onslaught. Reapplying his momentum, Cyril used the stuck spear in a pole vaulting maneuver the toss himself over the barrier entirely. From his new falling vantage point he couldn’t strike Runch with his trusted weapon, but he did swing a powerful backhand.

“Urk!” Runch grunted, feeling the force of his opponent’s shield slam hard into the right side of his face, which in turn forced the left side to collide with his own pillar. Before Runch had the opportunity to recover he felt his knee buckle under him; Cyril had jabbed it with the butt end of his polearm. Just as Runch lifted his head to catch sight of his enemy, he found himself uncomfortably pinned to the pillar. The vanguard pressed his halberd tight against Runch’s throat, giving him no room to breathe. He attempted to move both hands to defend himself, only to find his left was also locked in place, while the spoonsaber’s unique shape prevented him from moving his right hand with any significant force.

“I still don’t fully understand your powers, but I’ll easily claim your phylactery once the asphyxiation takes hold.” Cyril’s voice felt cold and distant filtered through his helm.

“Uch… Bori… Bori….” Runch could barely wheeze out.

“Save your breath,” Cyril cut off, applying more pressure to his opponent’s windpipe. “I’m being kind, but the second you use that power of yours, I can crush your windpipe.”

“S-s-s… Snotberry… Surprise! ACHOO!” Bartholomew K. Runch sneezed in that moment. A large glob of green and yellow fired from his nose with the force of a gunshot, not quite mucus, not quite cereal, but a mixture of both. The glob struck Cyril’s faceplate, spraying into his eyes.

“AAAAH! WHAT THE [I]HELL?![/I]” screamed the knight, recoiling back in a mixture of disgust and pain. Runch took the opportunity to gasp, filling his lungs with precious oxygen. Sneezing with a pole stuck up against his throat hurt horrible! Meanwhile, his opponent struggled to tear off his helmet, then wipe his eyes. Small traces of translucent green fluid hung around his skin. The blood boiled over as rage overtook the knight. “You filthy pig!” he cried. 

“Uh-oh!” Runch jumped to the side to avoid the tip of his enemy’s weapon. He readied for a counterattack, swinging the spoonsaber toward the opponent’s midsection. He miscalculated the enemy’s ability, and so instead of successfully striking Cyril, his face was the landing pad of the polearm’s blunt side, as Cyril swung the back end around in the same motion as his initial attack. The pirate stumbled to the side, and made sure to put some distance between the two of them by jetting back a good number of meters, propelled by cereal from his feet. 

[i]He’s a much better fighter, but if I keep my distance and use my devil fruit, that will give me victory,[/i] plotted the Cereal Killer.

[i]His strange powers make him unpredictable,[/i] mused the Knight Sylvestre, [i]but if I keep the pressure on, he will fall![/i]

As different as the men were, their thought patterns converged together. [i]No matter what happens, he’s my toughest challenge yet![/i]

“Bori bori marbleshot!” Runch threw out his hand in the same motion a gambler would throw dice at the craps table, releasing a swarm of multicolored pellets to litter the ground between both fighters. What recipe could it be?

[hr]

Meanwhile, the foot race between the kitsune and the one armed lady carried on, taking the two far away from where their partners engaged in battle. [i]As destructive and mobile as Runch can be, best we get a good distance away![/i] Erina thought to herself. Juniper, despite showing signs of being quite the brute before, never complained about the long run. In fact she took it in stride, partly as a gesture of kindness to her new opponent, and partly as it was a good workout for her new legs.

Erina, and thus Juniper, slid to a halt in the middle of a wide street, a few cars parked around. “This should be far enough,” Erina commented with a nod. Juniper scoffed, dropping her pleasant demeanor for her battle ready persona. Had she both arms, they’d be crossed right now.

“Didn’t want to stick around close enough to see your partner get his teeth broken into pieces, hm?” The maiden took her fighting stance.

[i]No, I just wanted to be alone with the only person I’ve ever met who is just like me.[/i] “Please. We needed this much distance for the ass kicking I’m about to give you to be considered ‘noninterference,’” she lied with bravado. Not hesitating, Erina sent the three wisps of blue flame streaking toward her opponent. Unless the shrine maiden were undead they wouldn’t do anything, but Bend wanted to measure how this single-armed bare knuckle brawler would react. And she did not disappoint.

Juniper, unaware of the harmless nature of the wisps, ducked the first, then weaved gracefully between the next two. “Slow, and pathetic!” she taunted, charging straight for the fox girl. Erina grinned. Next she made use of her illusion magic. The girl put on a bit of a show, exerting more physical effort than was necessary in order to make it look more impressive. She tightened and strained her muscles, waving a hand upward. What appeared to be a solid wall of rock sprouted from the ground between the two women. “What the-?!” Juniper skid along the ground to slow down, daring not to crash head first into stone.

“Now!” urged Bend. The woman channeling him wasted no time, taking hold of three throwing knives from her belt and, with the skill of an ancient assassin, chucked them with pinpoint accuracy through the illusion. The God Hand’s owner focused as three sharp blades tore through the wall like a curtain, causing the wall itself to completely vanish from sight. In the middle of a backpedal, there was no opportunity to react and dodge. They struck exactly where Erina had aimed, piercing into Juniper’s forearm, left thigh, and right of her gut.

“Urgh!” The shrine maiden tore out two of the knives, but the one in her only arm proved to be rather difficult to remove. She accomplished this by wrapping her arm up in her kimono, then twisting quickly. The knife fell harmlessly to the ground and her bleeding was minimal. The resilience of the God Hand was truly a blessing. “Illusions. I won’t fall for such trickery again. You should have made your one shot count.”

“She’s correct,” the ghostly assassin spoke in his host’s mind. “If you choose to forgo my poisons, you should have at least aimed for lethal strikes. You underestimate her.”

“I’m not underestimating you,” Erina said out loud, more for Bend’s benefit than for Juniper’s. “I just want to see more of you.”

“That,” Juniper began, holding her hand out, materializing a simple sword by projecting and solidifying energy from her God Hand. “Is a definite certainty.” Blade in hand, the shrine maiden launched forward, locking weapons with the itinerant exorcist. 
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