[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/nAqRqrZ.png[/img][/center] [center][h3][i][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtQZOALL6GY]End of a Youth - 1[/url][/i][/h3][/center] [color=ed1c24]"No longer coated in the color of red I see. You call yourself Percival, but you wear not the trappings of a fool, nor the make-play arms of a knight. What then are you if you strip away that little boy? Hardly anything if you take away all known about you, and all that you’ve been. No, what stands before me is a little boy who thinks he’s made something of himself.”[/color] A scoffing laugh rattled out of the red knight’s helmet as he swung his morning star on top of his shoulder while rising to his feet. The tree they met under shook, the grass rustling as though whispering about this meeting as the two confronted each other. [color=ed1c24]“In the end if you wish to prove yourself a knight then do so with your arm. Is that not how you did it the first time? With a throw like a hunting bumpkin? This time such tricks shant work on me. So let us see what comes of you in an actual fight.”[/color] Wordlessly Percival raised his spear into the air, firing a blast of light that shone as a small shooting star, painting the sky for a moment. As it burned up their fight began, a knight of red and a simple youth charging into each other. The powerful swings of a spear that held such great strength were beaten back, redirected or met with a shield. In raw power even now the youth exceeded the knight with that strength that boggled the mind as to how such a child could hold such a thing. He stepped in, his wooden lance scraping at the wind with its multiple growths, almost like a trident, or rather a claw that hungered for the flesh of Ither. A brutal offense that shone brilliantly as the feelings of Percival pushed him further, and further. The voice that demanded victory, that guided his every step was only his own heart’s whispers. The skill at arms that pressed the Red Knight so far despite his advantage in his ability to take stock of a duel, and his own skill as a warrior was one that reached the realm of the famed Arthurian knights. A far cry from his undisciplined strikes at the beginning of the war. This metamorphosis was without a doubt a mixture of his mentality and the result of him coming closer to that end point. Yet the Percival that stood before him did not reach towards becoming simply a knight. Further, further, further. The world cried out, and humanity asked for a ruinous salvation. He advanced, the claws of his spear descending upon Ither’s chest- A shield slammed into his side, the red knight stepping in with trust in the armor that held a close relation to both fighters. Magical energy turned into red steel was rended, but the wound to the man beyond was light. Percival was rebuffed with that sacrificial wound, chased away by that blow and given a parting word as the youth ground his feet into the dirt, uprooting and carving a groove into the grasslands that carried him meters. [color=ed1c24]"You're less a sight that makes for sore eyes than before. But is that all then? You're hardly a match for your peers. Borrowed strength, borrowed titles. What end came of you is all inherited as well. Come, show me what passes for the strength of the man known as Percival. If you’ve ever truly become one!”[/color] The words were spoken and woven in a way that went beyond words. With a motion of his sword-arm he flung some of the blood that dripped from his chest onto the face of Percival, egging him on and inviting him to charge back into where he was a moment ago. The youth sprung forth, with a cry, spear first. Ither slowly raised the morning star. The motion that would bring a great clash in turn revealed an opening. His right side’s defense uncovered. Even with the guiding voice silenced, it was noticeable to Percival. But. The youth pushed on straight for the clash rather than going for that weakness presented by Ither’s own prepared offense, his spear met the morningstar, catching Ither’s weapon in its myriad branches like a makeshift fork. Prongs snapped, and the wood was sheared off, yet the spear held with the prodigal strength of Percival overwhelming the red knight, wrestling away the mace. Ah, so he didn’t fall for it. Or perhaps it was that he didn’t notice? Impossible with his skill of revelation. To ignore his skill... Was it because of his incitement driving the fool into a frenzy, or his own stubbornness? No matter, even if that strength had its roots in ignorance, the fool showed what was his, and his alone indeed. Under his helmet, as the youth let go of his spear as their weapons clattered to the ground, Ither smiled. The morningstar dematerialized and reappeared in his hand, but Percival’s fist was already there. It smashed through metal that could match a great legendary arm, the defense that would stand up to a great knight’s strike cratering under the blow. Combined with his nature, the power of his life in the glen merging with his curse and the anecdote of the intersection of his lives it was a mighty blow that was enough to end a legend. “I’ve got this strength, but I need more. Simply being able to fight others, simply being able to heal those who are lucky enough to survive. I can stop some of the problems, I can fix what’s left after disaster. But that’s not enough, not for what’s coming, nor for preventing the tragedy in the first. I’ve been a knight, I’ve been a king. But what I need to be is a hero to save the world, Ither!” It missed the spiritual core, and the damage that would’ve ripped apart the body of a servant was met with the red armor. Red metal gave way to a stream of blood. A ruinous blow, but not fatal. Even as the impact shredded his body, the ultimate adversary would not stop his struggle, would not open the path for a hero until the very end. Neither relented in their battle even as the birth of a calamity came. In their world [i](That which is precious to them)[/i] [color=ed1c24]they could only see each other.[/color] [color=ed1c24]“A javelin’s thorn, the slam of a fist. Both are brutish. I’ll admit your growth, but you’re still the young boy who saw only dreams in a suit of armor even when it was wrapped in a cadaver! Nonetheless, it’s a strength I admit.”[/color] His body was shaken, his energy bleeding away from the hefty wound. But that wouldn’t stop him. Gritting his teeth, planting his feet against the ground, Ither completed his swing despite the blow. The morningstar slammed into the boy’s back and the lancer fell to the ground from the blow. Blow and stomp rained down, barely able to be repelled by Percival as he struggled to get back up. There was no time to collect himself, the blows raining where he could not see, cornering him. Shattered arm. A stomp that drove it through the dirt, filling a newly born hole with blood that oozed out like a zit of the land. Tears across his clothing and body from the spikes of the morning star that shredded the boy’s flesh from glancing blows. The grass was painted scarlet from their wounds, the many of Percival, and the one gaping hole of Ither. Rising up the spear met again with the mace. Broken off shards of bark were replaced, and the shorn away tip grew again and again. The spear continued to grow as Percival struck again and again at the world that was slowly getting smaller. His mind rattled, his body screaming. But that simply made it easier to focus. Cut away the worries, cut away the memories, cut away all that restrained him. The weight of the feelings that drove him disappeared, while the drive they instilled within him clamped down and pushed him further and further. He should be better, he was indeed better. Even with him reaching so close to that point, even reaching the realm of one of the round with his arms he was not enough to stand up to the Red Knight as a warrior. Yet through the sheer force of his power the little make-believe knight was fending him off and cornering him again. The rising lancer’s blows kept on coming. Again, again, again. He blocks the first with his shield, he deflects the second strike with the swipe of his morningstar. The third is maneuvered around as he pushes in. Pushing forward simply for defense, the two had a dance that left Ither numb as he took blow after blow with his arms. Never direct was the clash, but despite the wounds taking their toll he could never close in to strike him down. Vexing, how very vexing. If it came to stubbornness and tenacity then he could match any hero. But this strength that should have long left him with his leaking body only grew. The spear that continued to grow as it thrust again and again not only repelled Ither but struck true with its bite. A thrust shattered part of his armor, another thrust rended his leg. The swing of the shaft crashed against his side, hobbling him in combination with the wound on his leg. The spear fell to the ground and began to shine. [color=ed1c24]Ah, of course. [/color] The foe that stood against a hero was a show of the evils and terrors of that land and time. Yet it was also in having a foe that a hero could show the strengths and virtues of their time. That was the reason why the dragon was one of the greatest obstacles and greatest lauded triumphs in many legends. The great beast that represented evil and sin, yet it also held another meaning. A dragon was one whose lungs carried the breath of the world, life and energy born from the simple act of breathing. To face the dragon was to face the ultimate calamity, to face the world. Man fought beast and the planet and reached this stage. Consequently when man defeated such a beast they were transformed. Gaining wisdom, gaining invincible bodies, gaining a new perspective that devoured their own humanity. When one conquered their calamity they were raised beyond man. Both in the proof of their prowess through the deed itself, and as a consequence for the act. He was no dragon, yet in essence he too carried the same element in his tale. A growing boy stood against a being who brought forth the unclaimed, untainted wild nature that opposed mankind. A beautiful grassfield was enveloped in strife. One who fought to protect man, one who fought to protect that which is beautiful. In a sense the two were completely opposed. Hero and Anti-Hero. One who sided with humans, and one who sided with nature. In a sense the two were completely the same. The knight who wore red. But now was the time for change. When legend would be rewritten and exceeded. [color=ed1c24]So naturally he fell.[/color] Percival dashed forth, taking the chance that was presented, his fist readied once more. That special something that embodied his life in the glen, that overcame the hero among heroes known as Hercules shone in that clenched fist. It would burn out, this would be the last of it. When that fist landed, Ither would die and the Red Knight's torch would be passed once more. [color=ed1c24]That would not do.[/color] His moment of weakness was no lie. Nor was his ability to read the battle so omnipotent with how the blows of that youth shook the waves again and again, like a giant throwing boulders into the ocean that forced back the waves and disrupted the tides. But everything in the world snapped into place, like the discovery of the final missing puzzle piece. Facing the strength of his current resolve in the present. Facing the strength of one ignorant to the works of man in his legend, and his death. The understanding of Percival was complete, and so too was his read of this fight. the calculations of Ither, his understanding of his foe, the methodology he cultivated to face those knights and heroes who shone brighter than him all came to a final gambit. An adversary cannot fall until the battle ends. With his battle continuation there was no loss in efficiency in his fighting no matter his wounds. There was certainly a opening caused by the last strike, but with his body that continued to return, his nature and story that would continue to raise his arms against hero after hero he could easily recover in time before Percival crossed the distance between them due to the earlier advantage that was his growing reach with his spear now becoming the ally of Ither. A blazing red strike struck Percival down. But the lashing out fist still sought out the Saber. The momentum was stopped, and the true force and power of Percival could not be brought out, yet miraculously it still reached. In comparison to the full strength that was going to slay Ither it was a tap, but it was still a blow from a servant and so his helmet crumbled to reveal Ither's face and grin. A fool fell. The [color=ed1c24]Red Knight [/color] stood triumphant.