[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/vfXYyKI.png[/img] _________________________________[i][b]Saber Class[/b][/i]_________________________________ [u][b]Fighting Again - Western Farmlands[/b][/u] [@Sageage]-[@Scallop][/center] [color=00a99d]"Right, I almost forgot."[/color] Roland said, taking the second sword from his belt. It was indeed an impressive sword, and in his cursed arm, it was so light. as he could throw it all the way to the moon. But, he turned, and with carefully relegated strength, he tossed it across the clearing the two had made between themselves. But he did not pick up the blade Dietrich had given him. Instead, it remained there as a totem in the ground. A drawn line for Roland. He would take all the might of Trieu, and match it blow for blow. And he would never be pushed back beyond that line he drew with that sword. [color=00a99d]"As for your terms. I agree in full. Your legend versus mine. I warn you though."[/color] a grin crossed Roland's lips, and those eyes focused upon his friendly opponent. [color=00a99d]"I will hold nothing back, and you must promise the same in kind! Because this land! This Fuyuki, is my gift to my uncle! And when I bring it to him, finally... HE WILL LOVE ME!"[/color] His hands wrapped around Durandal, firmly wrapping around the handle. The glittering gleam of two miracles remained, but Roland doubted he would need them. No, for this he would take on his enemy in one go. His legend shimmering without the need for miracles. He had already overcome that. He had overcome his own legend! He had overcome the odds and with that knowledge, he was ready to chart a new legend for himself. Taking that point, a surprising distance still from Trieu from the chase, there was more than enough ground for the both of them to run towards the other. He raised his sword before him, and charged. A full heroic charge, ground tearing up as he ran. [color=00a99d]"Show me, the power of your legend!"[/color] He declared, baiting out a charge from Nanyue. Which would be stronger in the end? ___________________________________________________________ [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/LRTXGTr.png[/img] _________________________________[i][b]Master[/b][/i]_________________________________ Native District - Riot Control [@Seirei No Hai][@Sageage][@floodtalon][/center] It happened suddenly. To a few of the men of the mafia. A poor man who had left his home briefly to see what was going on, found himself spotted by two of the mafia thugs. It was for a moment that they held a gun to that man's head... Then they stopped. Because suddenly, there was a sound like grinding glass. [sub]Shink. Shink. Shink.[/sub] It came suddenly as shards of a black glass began to appear from an alley way. And the two men turned to run. They couldn't run fast enough as the crystalline plague spotted them. Or maybe, it sensed them? It didn't matter. The first fell as a growing crustal punctured his foot. And then it exploded expontentionally. Ripping through him, growing and surrounding him. All he could do was... SCREAM! The second man had a similiar fate. And then, the crystals began to recede. Collapsing back in on each other, two piles of bones landed on the floor, before the crystals retreated back into the alley way. Back into the hands of a doctor named Xerxes Kaveh. [color=fff79a]"Sir, get back into your house."[/color] Was all the doctor had to say. He was careful. Avoiding sight, and moving between the alleys. He struck at the mafia with the same tactic. Inciting fear as dark crystals grew from the ground, and spread out like a plague. Devouring groups of man, who would fire their rifles either at the crystals, or into the alleyway the crystals had come from. Each time they did though, Xerxes had moved to cover, the bullet striking some other part of the two buildings. An entire street would be covered in those dark crystals, before vanishing back into the cup he held in his hand. Each time wiping out at least ten men, leaving only their bones and clothing behind. It was horrifying, but effective. For the few men he did run into, they would be on the ground, eyes rolling back before they could raise their guns. A curse born of a glare, the Evil Eye. A curse of weakness for most of them, knocking them to the floor and turning their skin dark and ill. They would be too weak to move, and that was more than enough time for Xerxes to move on. Xerxes was an efficient man. He had lived many years, most of which he had spent watching the growing advent of gunpowder. As if he would ever allow himself to die to a gun. Those who weren't mafia though, they returned home. Every one of them would see a shimmer, and a voice would tell them to go home. The natives returning to their homes, and they would settle in and stay safe. It was the best Xerxes could do It wasn't that he had anything against the mafia, but if they took the native district without some kind of fight, he wouldn't be able to turn in favors with the yakuza.