[center][h2][b][color=turquoise]The Cereal Killer[/color] Vs. Knight Sylvestre: Round 3[/b][/h2] [@Lugubrious][/center] Juniper and Erina wandered the streets of the city mostly in silence, making their way back to where the battle of their partners had begun. In the distance the two could hear the grunts and yelling that signalled they were approaching ever closer. Erina was the first to break the silence. “So, have you always been able to see ghosts, or did you need training for that?” Juniper considered the question for a moment, having to actually think it through. “Both, and neither, you could say. I was raised in my art from earliest memory, so there is no distinction of the two. Not in accordance with my past.” “Huh. That’s… Kinda deep?” The kitsune wasn’t entirely certain herself, but it felt that way. “I’ve been able to see things nobody else could for as long as I have been alive, which is quite a considerable number of years.” “And just how many is ‘considerable?’” the shrine maiden replied, stepping around a puddle of recent rainwater. “I lost track of the exact number-” Erina gave pause long enough to hop over the same puddle. “-But it was a few hundred years ago. About two or three.” “Surely you jest.” Juniper turned her head to raise an eyebrow at her walking companion. Erina only gave a playful smile back. “Nope!” Juniper’s lips slowly twitched up into a small smile of her own. “Then it would be in good form to apologize for the child comment I had made earlier. You may possess some genuine wisdom yet--despite the company you keep.” “Thanks!” [i]I will remember to be offended at a more appropriate time,[/i] came the faint whisper of Bend’s words. “I’m just glad we realized that there was no need to get into a fight,” Erina continued. “Let the meatheads duke it out; it’s not like we have anything else to los-Whaaaaaaaaat?” The two spiritualists stumbled to a stop as they rounded the street corner, the battle between their partners finally coming into view. Juniper cocked her head. “Your partner has the ability to duplicate himself?” she asked with a more observational tone. Erina shook her head. “No. These uh, they must be fakes. Made from… [sub][sub]Cereal.[/sub][/sub]” “Hm? What’s that now?” Juniper prodded. A little more loudly, but still somewhat sheepish, Erina answered, “[sub]Cereal.[/sub]” Juniper’s face scrunched up, the bizarre statement finally registering. “You said cereal?” Erina could only nod her head. [i]Runch, this is so ridiculously stupid. I love it![/i] [hr][hr] Cyril tried to pinpoint where the voice had come from, listening intently. Frustratingly he could not determine which of the many pirates had spoken. Somehow his voice was echoing around the many duplicates, as though each of these “mascot surprises” was bouncing the sound around, making it nigh impossible to find the origin. This whole ordeal, this battle, it was a farce. A tremendous waste of time and energy, one great big joke. Cyril’s mustache curled with his lips, reflecting the absolute [i]loathing[/i] he had for the situation. The knight’s mind fought through his anger. Remain calm, observant, and calculative. Screw be damned, he was still a fine warrior with an excellent head for strategy. First, Runch wasn’t going to be in front of him. That would ruin any chance that his surprise attack could work, as being in plain sight meant Cyril would just be able to defend as normal. That meant the real Runch had to be behind him, or off to the side. The vanguard quickly pivoted around, glaive extended just in case the pirate was already creeping up behind. The axe head of his weapon found itself lodged into a cereal duplicate, one which had its hands raised, sword in hand, mocking an overhead strike. With a grunt and a scoff, Cyril pulled his glaive from the statue, causing it to collapse in a heap of grain and gooey red insides. A fruity, flower-like scent wafted up. Pleasant though it was, he had no time to stop and smell the metaphorical roses. Second, the pirate realized very much that Cyril was superior in close-range combat. It would have been foolish to place himself so close, especially with the injuries already suffered. Therefore, the duplicates nearby he could afford to disregard. Cyril focused his gaze on the pirates near the back. One of these had to be his real opponent, but which one? Third, Runch had to have a clear shot at him, some vantage point unobstructed by the duplicates. Only two in sight fit that description, so Runch had to be one of them. Fourth, Runch would have to attack with his pistol, or the outlandish cereal powers he possessed. Of the two candidates, one held his ridiculous sword forward in a fencing position. The second pointed a pistol right for Cyril’s position. [i]You thought you were clever, but I found you![/i] Cyril’s anger flared as he focused on his designated target. Not wanting to give Runch the chance to mount a defense in the time it would take to close in, the vanguard instead kicked up a loose stone from the ground and caught it in his right hand. He wound up his arm then hurled it straight for the target, aiming for center of mass. The stone collided with impressive force, knocking over… Not Runch. [b]BOOM![/b] The cereal duplicate violently exploded soon as it struck the ground, blasting the nearby cereal statues to smithereens. For several meters around it rained grain and some sort of red jelly, the same that had been inside the first statue Cyril chopped apart. A fruity scent began to permeate the area, growing stronger. Damn him! [i]He wouldn’t have placed himself near an explosive duplicate… Which means-![/i] Sir Boniface wasted no time in pivoting around, performing his second one-eighty, his polearm at the ready. Behind him was… Nothing? Nothing had changed at all. The knight scanned each statue in turn, double checking his memory but each time he double checked the result was exactly the same: none of them had moved. Was this all a game to that pirate? Did he hope to psych Cyril out, to overcome the good knight with paranoia? Cyril seethed, overwhelmed with revulsion. This criminal seemed to have gained a great deal of information on him, but if he thought he could break Cyril’s iron will like this, then the pirate would be [i]sorely[/i] mistaken. It would have been easy to wade into the crowd and cut down the duplicates with impunity. Such a course was tempting, admittedly, but foolhardy. There was no telling how many were made with explosives, or what other kinds of traps lie in wait. This tactic was a cowardly one. So be it. If the pirate wanted to hide, then let him hide. He would meet the business end of Cyril’s glaive one way or another, and quite soon. The trick was to expose him. Determining that he need only repeat his previous tactic, Cyril kicked up another stone. This one he hurled with even greater force, empowering its velocity with the sheen. It struck one of the Runch’s at the far end of the grouping, smashing the head clean off. It splattered to the ground, spilling out red jelly. No time to waste in contemplation, he attacked the next, and the next, each of those splattering the strong-scented jelly as well. Then he struck a fourth, and it exploded with great force, causing more raining cereal. His opponent couldn’t have been any of them near that blast radius, so Cyril turned ninety degrees to repeat the process. Jelly. Jelly. Explosion. Not on this side. Opposite direction, go. Jelly. Explosion. Wait, what? That covered all four cardinal directions around him and Runch was nowhere to be found! Did that pirate really take the place of a duplicate close enough to engage in melee? No, that would have been an idiotic move on his part. That left only one possibility. “Reveal yourself! I’ve figured out your trick, and none of these are you! I hadn’t taken you for a coward!” The knight braced himself for combat, eyes scanning all around for where his opponent could come from. One of the buildings nearby? Hidden behind a corner? This infernal scent wafting through the air was making it difficult to concentrate! Smell! That’s when epiphany struck! Cyril had been looking in all the wrong places! He lowered his gaze to a nearby manhole cover. Certain he had guessed correctly, the knight spun his glaive around to pry open the portal with the tip of his weapon’s shaft. With a mighty heave, he tossed the large iron disk aside. No sooner had it struck the ground with a mighty [i]CLANG[/i] did Runch emerge from his hiding place, like a spider leaping up from its hole. The cereal killer was covered in muck and grime, adorned in a jacket of sewage detritus. He landed with the manhole between the two of them, but chose to skip back a few extra steps regardless. “Omnomnom! Oh well! I guess you found out my plan!” He gave a shrug in a manner that seemed to say “oh well” before drawing the spoonsaber and holding it forward. “En garde!” Cyril wasted no time charging forward, accelerating with the sheen. His rage, his frustration, he was simply [i]over[/i] this foolish battle. He aimed the tip of his blade for Runch’s midsection for a lethal wound. This enemy had already proven supernaturally resilient, and his arsenal of tricks could no longer be underestimated. If he died, he died. But he didn’t die. [i]Clang![/i] Runch caught the glaive with his spoonsaber, locking the weapons together. Unexpected, but not too troublesome. The vanguard pulled his weapon back, then thrust forward with all his strength! [i]Clang![/i] What? Runch parried the attack again? Cyril forcibly regained his composure and pulled back in order to let loose a flurry thrusts, each one empowered by his sheen to supernatural speeds! Yet one by one each blow was parried aside or dodged by Runch, who had somehow gained a tremendous acceleration himself! Runch smiled joyously as he weaved around Cyril’s attacks. He was not a violent man by nature, but if pressed he had to admit he was enjoying the thrill and adrenaline of this bout. [i]Even when he uses his sheen, his movements are quite sluggish compared to what they were before being exposed to my PM Relaxation recipe! It’s a good thing this sewage is blocking the sleep-inducing scent, or I’d already be hankering for a nap myself![/I] [i]There is no way he has gained enough speed to overtake me! What treachery has unfolded here?[/i] In order to remain vigilant, Cyril had to forcibly stifle a yawn. Wait, a [i]yawn?[/i] In the middle of battle?! Just like that, it clicked in the knight’s head, not working as sluggish as his own body. Runch had not become any faster; he had become slower. Tired. Drowsy, more specifically. The knight decided that he needed to take a moment to fall back, leaping a few meters away. “You’ve spent too much time in the aroma of my PM Relaxation, Sir Boniface,” Runch posited, holding his weapon forward. “Like a child wanting to stay awake all night, you cannot help the feeling of sleep that shall overtake you. There is no dishonor in surrender now that I can best you even in melee combat.” Those words of surrender stung the knight’s pride, but they wouldn’t hurt nearly as much as what he was about to do. Cyril detached his shield from where it locked in place on his arm and revved the engine within. Small metal teeth along the edge began to spin at an alarming rate, reflecting the light in a brilliant display of colors, which shined on through the thin red mist of Runch’s PM Relaxation. He locked eyes with the pirate, determination welling up within like a dam ready to burst. “Never surrender.” His next words were unintelligible, as the knight swiped the whirling chainsaw shield across an exposed portion of his armor, the teeth biting into the flesh, shredding meat and skin to pieces. A jolt of pain roused the vanguard from his lethargy, adrenaline surging like it hadn’t before. Then he charged forward, sheen and all. Runch’s mouth was open and agape, his eyes practically bulging out from their sockets. He could not believe what he was seeing! The amount of raw will and conviction held by his opponent could scarcely be compared! And due to his own wonder, Runch found himself caught off guard at the reawakened onslaught of his opponent. Pain rippled through his body like his own blood, the saw teeth tearing across his chest and leaving a deep, gaping wound. On the upswing Cyril even managed to slice off an inch and a half of Runch’s left-side mustache. “URK!” The pirate stumbled back, blood draining from the wound, but Cyril refused to let up and swung his halberd from the right side. “Bori bori grenade!” A single small pellet escaped the Cereal Killer’s open palm, colliding with the ground between both combatants milliseconds before the polearm made contact. The explosion was fast, kicking up great amounts of dust...