JrVader

Fairy Tail: Fenix Tear, A Crimson Song Upon Azure Skies

_{^D.O.B X768·12 · 12 | ^Age 25 ^y.o | ^Guild Fenix Tear | ^Type Independent | ^Race Mildian}

𝕴𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖞
A mage educated from the Court of Merlin, a former Magic Knight, and rumored to be a future prospect for the Roundtable Knights. Ifrit had it all. Extreme talent, notable progeny, even a seat next to the king himself. It seemed Ifrit's destiny was dead-set, but the funny thing about fate is that it can take turns no one would expect. Seven years ago, he resigned from his position as a Magic Knight, forever killing any chance of becoming a Roundtable Knight. Instead, he and a young Azuria helped form a new guild. One independent from any outside influence or organization. One that would surely cement itself into legend. This would end up being the birth of Fenix Tear, with Azuria as its first (and only) Guildmaster.

𝕱𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊
Ifrit was born in near Bargrovyzaria to an otherwise un-notable family. In truth, he doesn't have many memories of his mother and father. At a very young age, when his profound affinity for magic was found out, his parents sent him into Bargrovyzaria proper to study in the Court of Merlin. He never cared much for the teachings themselves. To him, the fundamentals of magic were as natural to him as breathing. He quickly excelled through the ranks and years, on track to graduating early.

Ifrit needed something to challenge him. He showed great aptitude in all the basic magics taught to him, but they bored him greatly. To Ifrit, he wanted a challenge. A spellcraft to learn that no others would dare touch. A magic of this caliber could only be a Lost Magic. Knowing this Ifrit soon joined the White Creed. AN organization of Whiteout Mages with an affinity to studying Lost Magic (alongside setting magical regulations_ So, throughout the nights, he would go out into the city. Visiting decrepid libraries, following whims and stories of ancient texts and forbidden information, and often setting out for days on end to follow tales and rumors.

These sleepless nights and dangerous journeys paid off in the end. By the time his final year at the White Creed came around, he discovered, practiced, and become proficient in a lost art, time magic. Keeping much of the stories of where he found the information about time magic to himself, his fame only grew wider. After his departure from the Creed, he was immediately slotted as a member of the Magic Knights, a group of mages entrusted by the king to uphold his law and order. He was 13 at the time.

Four years passed, and Ifrit's power only grew. He knew much knowledge of his time magic was, well, lost to time. So discovering new techniques and practicing the magic art was difficult. But when he turned seventeen he was at a master's level. This achievment, alongside the rumors of him possibly being scouted to become a Roundtable Knight, Ifrit was extremely content with his life and future. A few months after his seventeenth birthday, though, fate would decide to change course.

He found himself bored. dissatisfied with his work. Ifrit was a man of determination and drive, constantly wanting to challenge himself to learn new things and achieve greater heights. But here he was, at the precipice of greatness. And when he looked back on his journey, he found it... easy. He didn't like that one bit. Where was the challenge that was promised? The prestige and laurels were lost on him, he felt dissatisfied with it all. Not knowing where to go next, he sought out the king for counsel. When he told the king his woes and worries, the king couldn't help but chuckle at Ifrit's plight. He told Ifrit that "one of the greatest challenges one can face in life is helping lead others to their greatness."

Ifrit sat on these words for some time. And a few weeks later, he asked the king to resign from his position. If leading people and guiding them was truly one of the most difficult things a man can do, than he will do it. He will master it, become one of the greatest leaders of this generation. Only when he does that, he can truly feel satisfied about his journey. The king accepted his request, and entrusted Ifrit to create a knew Mages Guild. Ifrit knew nothing about creating such an organization, but he knew where to find help. From his connections in the White Creed, he heard of a young girl named Azuria. A child prodigy and well renowned mage. After some time talking with her, they both agreed to set out and make this guild.

There were many trials and tribulations with creating an organization at the level Fenix Tear would be. He had to learn to work with others, tolerate their immaturity (this one came especially handy when working with Azuria), and more importantly he had to learn to set his ego aside. It was very tough for Ifrit, but he persevered. He kept improving day in and day out. Than, the fateful day came. The Fenix Tear Guild could officially open her halls to the wider world. When it came time to decide who would be the guild master, Ifrit insisted that Azuria take the position. He truly believed that he still had much to learn, and that Azuria was already molded to bear the title. Though he still holds a position of authority within the guild, it's largely in reverence of him being a co-founder (among other things).

𝕬𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

_{Class: Magus | Origin: 3^rd | Deck: Ether | Ethos: God}

_Glazing
^Rankd: S

^Grade: S+

_Affinities
Abyss

_Magecraft
Esoteric Art: Time Magic, a lost magic that allows for temporal manipulation and cohersion. Ifrit believes that the magic art could possibly extend to paracausal manipulation, but this is only theory. Ifrit also have access to Mystic Eyes Magic, something he learned while in the White Creed.

ESOTERIC ART: TIME MAGIC

Time/Accelerate - Ifrit forcibly increases the flow of time around him. This allows him to do practically everything faster. Pushing the flow of time could theoretically increase his speed, but Ifrit never pushed it. There is still a lot he doesn't know about this specific spell, so he's committed to keeping the flow within a "safe" level. Of course, this means that those mages with greater cognitive, perceptive, and/or speed skills can keep up with him easily.

Time/Decelerate - Ifrit causes the ebb of time around him to slow all living being except him. He doesn't know why the time slow effect only works on living beings, tests have all come back inconclusive.

NOTE: Time/Accelerate and Time/Decelerate cannot be used at the same time. Ifrit tried it once, he almost tore himself in two.

Epoch - Forcing the flow of time to shunt directly to his palms and consolidating a large amount of mana, Ifrit can create (in essence) a physical paradox. After enough temporal energy is stored, he can release it in an all engulphing blast. Usually, to use this spell safely, Ifrit must ward himself in ethereal vestiges that come in the form of golden clocks. This is an end-all-be-all move, if scorched earth is the only option.

Centennial - a much smaller and localized version of Epoch. Used in general combat and, while still destructive, doesn't have anywhere near the potency of its more dangerous counterpart

Aeon, Era, Origin of Creation - Ifrit's greatest spell. Massive, golden dials and clockfaces fill the sky around him. The pull of time can be felt physically. A chime rings out 66 times. And on the 67th chime, all of time stands still for a minute. Ifrit is still free to move around and cast spells. Aeon, Era, Origin of Creation is an extremely powerful spell, and one Ifrit has never cast before. He (theoretically) know how to do it AND CAN cast it, but the risks are severe. Altering the flow of time at such a massive scale is prone to cause problems, possibly irreparable. Outside of Azuria, he's never revealed the truth about this spell to anyone.

POWER-UP

The ebb and flow of the streams of time...
As natural as the sea and as mighty as the wind.
Domains fueled by Chronus and her chosen.
That stream has halted,
Her authority revoked,
I will see it set in pace again.

During his fight with Setsuka in the Icy Fjord, Ifrit revealed a trump card. During his time studying his Esoteric Art: Time Magic, he was able to tap into divine authority. Calling upon the powers of Kronos, the Goddess of Time, he can scale past the limits of mortality and charge his magic with divine energy. He becomes a paragon of Kronos herself. It grants him Devil Slayer Magic (usually time manipulation does not work on devils and demons, his does when in this state). Alongside new spells

Time Angel's Rage: A black hole forms above his target. It blankets the space below the rapture within multiple layers of time.
Dagda Tuatha Dé: A cathedral of golden shards forms around Ifrit. Chains and binds form around his target, as they are forced to gaze at the time mage. He hovers over the apse, and his opponent is chained before the altar. This, in essence, temporally locks his target in place.

Eye of God

An Ether Gear that enhances sensory observation by peering into the literal temporal flow of time, when in use, his eyes change to a golden hue with time arrows skin to a grandfather clock.

<sub>Advancery

Jutsushiki | Projection | Telekinesis | Telepathy | Teleportation | Bullet | Chain | Speed | Heal
Holder Type</sub>
· With Jutsushiki, Ifrit can conjure chronorunic runes of letter-based solid script magic as word enchantments, the ingredients for his pen is from an elder tree bark of Drasil, tears of a Phoenix and a Philosopher Stone of Aja, from his heirloom ancestral Mildian Tribes.

_{Caster Type}
· Ifrit can summon two Thought Projections of himself at the cost of having ¼ each of his magic evenly split into said projections, leaving him halved, rendering him unable to use Time Magic.

· Telekinesis at an advanced level, allows Ifrit to play with magical rubix cubes, mentally control pens to do the paper work, and temporal flight.

· Telepathy is for comms-based, Ifrit can choose to omit information as what any S-Class can do.

· Teleportation allows Ifrit a total of 3 times in a row long distance burst travel, which takes half of his magic power.

· Ifrit can shoot magic bullets, at his level it is magic beams.

· Ifrit can restrain with basic chains only.

· Ifrit can Heal himself by reversing time, however he loses 75% of his magic power.

_Talentstree
Three Nonmagic things you're good at.

𝕸𝖊𝖉𝖑𝖊𝖞
Your theme songs.

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

RYUNOSUKE KAMADO

Mentions: @Digmata@Randomguy

PRE-TIMESKIP

Why was everyone so official?
Why are the other brats introducing themselves?
Why are the lights so GODDAMN LOUD??!?

Ryunosuke's brain was still wracked with the pain of a hangover. He vaguely remembers Kairi ushering him along a hallway, a few familiar faces, and a few unfamiliar ones. To be honest, he lost himself in his own thoughts. Now, regaining some form of lucidity, he finds himself in the Hashira meeting. He sees his master, Takaya, addressing the penny crowd. He thinks he hears mentions of training, new faces, calls for him to fight his alcoholism? His inner self scoffs at the idea. He's not an alcoholic! He just likes the buzz it brings... Ok he might be an alcoholic.

Inner contemplation aside, he's silent and disobservant in his corner. Even when Takaya was listing off the names of the deceases, he was detatched from the wider conversation. Sure, he held his own reservations, but those were for himself only. He doesn't need any of them knowing his true thoughts. Hell, he doesn't need any of them! To Ryunosuke, the greatest insult he was ever given was being named a Hashira. His mother spoke of them like venerant gods. Legends in their own right. The best of the best of the best the Demon Slayer Corps had to offer.

He hated them.

Nihilistic sycophants with a martyr complex. Those who would sooner squander their power in sacrifice than use it for personal gain. It was a waste of god given talent. You want a hero's end so much? Fine, let the little guy take the killing blow. Let the legend live on. Hunt demons, kill whoever's in your path. Don't pander to the small man. Don't be the leader. Be the weapon, the killer, the self-righteous prick you were meant to be. And, in a twist of irony, Takaya-Sama mantled the title onto him with little discussion. There was a reason Ryunosuke distanced himself from the Corps. More than just him hating to work with others.

He hated the Hashira. She hated the Slayers, the Corps, the whole lot of them

Well- all except one.

In his fugue state, he hardly gave Tenko any thought. A smallish-figure with a bubbling personality, and eyes that betrayed her youth. A paradox, if Ryu had to put a title to it. She was too happy, too demure, yet deadly all the same. Ryu still knows how to gauge an opponent, even in the stupors of a hangover. She was skilled. Some kind of switch in her... The longer he analyzed her, the more his head hurt. "Look, kid-" he manages to mutter. "If its an autograph you want, tha-"

“Umm…Kamado-san? Are you all right? I have aspirin if you’d like.”

He froze midsentence. He was stunlocked. What was this? A... genuine act of kindness? A heartfelt gesture. Not one of pity, or misplaced care, but undiluted kindness?

The paradox of Tenko Thompson grew to an unfathomable scale. Can this person... really be a Slayer? Is she a hallucination? An angel, sent by God to aid Ryu in his time of need? Was it an apparition? A joke? Anything??!?

But no. All it was was a genuine act of kindness. To Ryu, that bottle of water and packet of aspirin were like an oasis in a desert. Someone... was actually being nice to him. And without any prerogative to do so. He collected himself before he could leave his mouth agape for too longer. He grunted as he stood up and gingerly grabbed the water and medicine. The aspirin was almost as sobering as their short interaction.

"Uhm- thanks, kid. I'm good, for now." For anyone who knew him, or even been around him, this must have been shocking. Ryunosuke is never this diplomatic to anyone. No snarky remark, no backhanded compliment, no unneccessary beligerance. It was almost too neutral for him. Something uncharacteristic.

'Tenko... I gotta remember her.'

POST-TIMESKIP

His jailor turned into his sparring opponent... As if this day could get any worse.
The lingering effects of his night have all but subsided. Thanks to the efforts of that strange Kinoto, the Dragon was back in tiptop shape. "Yknow something, Kai, there's a real fuckin irony about all of this. We, swordsman, are learning how to hamper an opponent using our fists. On top of that, that fuckin demon that's gaslighting as a regular human!"

He really wished he was back in Shinjuku. He never should have traveled to Tokyo. Buuuut, who was he to decline Takaya-Sama? He still curses to himself for listening to the pipsqueak. "Soooo, what's next? We get you hopped up on some iron dust?" he put a sarcastic emphasis on the 'you'. "Who knows, that shit might give you a fighting chance against me."

A Fairy Tail RP

Yuh you know I'm here

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

His ass was tracked down and forced to show up for the quarterly meeting. Not much Ryunosuke can do when he's in the throw's of a hangover

Also, just makes continuity a bit easier if he can actually be in a plot relevant location for once

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

Ryunosuke didn't like coming into work. Especially while hungover. He was far from the picturesque image of a Hashira. He looked disheveled and unkept. He still had bedhead, and his Wasegawa University uniform was thrown on haphazardly. The only thing that could remotely insinuate his status as a Demon Hunter was his large Mark sprawled across his face and his massive Nodachi strung across his back. His sunken eyes examined his "captor".

Uzui Kairi. Hotshot Hashira. Gaslights the nightlife as a rich heiress or something. A master of masks and manipulation. AKA, the only person that could ever find Ryunosuke. It really was bad luck on his end. He was brought from Shinjuku to Tokyo and immediately went AWOL. He's never been this far outside of Shinjuku. And, well, its a completely new territory to spread his legend. Of course, the night he decided to party hard was the very same night he got in a drunken brawl at a bar Kairi knows. One thing led to another. And next thing Ryunosuke knows, he's getting a rude awakening and an immediate summons.

"Soooooooo... no chance you'd let me off the hook?" Kamado asked sheepishly. Even saying those words felt like he was dragging a knife through his skull. He makes a quick reminder not to mix his liquors next time, or to check if his drinks were drugged.

"Ya think you could stop me if I try to leave now?" he asks again. "I heard you were a good fighter... why not show me firstha-" a wave of nausea and vertigo cuts him off as he stumbles to the ground, obviously still suffering from a major hangover.

He chuckled to himself. Mainly for the absurdity of this all. After a moment, he sobers up his disposition. He wasn't an idiot, he knows why all the Hashira are being summoned. Moon is dead. Ozawa, Harukano, Nanbu, Todoroki, Nakamura, Kishimoto, Furukawa, all of them dead. The yakuza, Corps, whatever you want to call them, are losing this war. Ryunosuke still remains one of the greatest cards his Oyakata-Sama can play, and one of the organizations greatest liabilities. This taciturn train of thought did no favors to his migraine, but that all seemed a bit distant now.

Was he... actually starting to think like a proper Hashira? "Nah... not in the slightest." he whispers to himself. Realities of war or not, he was still the Dragon of Shinjuku first and foremost. Whatever happens to the Corps, happens. He wouldn't lose any sleep if any more of his peers died... right?

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

---

Ryunosuke

OC pic

'R Y U N O S U K E K A M A D O, T H E D R A G O N O F S H I N J U K U'
'R Y U N O S U K E K A M A D O, T H E D R A G O N O F S H I N J U K U'

A g e: 20 | R a n k: ???

^{P e r s o n a l i t y} :
The victory rush. That is all Ryunosuke looks for in life. The high he gets from victory. The catharsis of an overwhelming triumph. The fame, recognition, privilege, and life it all brings. To him, the nightlife of Shinjuku and the fortune that comes with his infamy is the closest he will ever get to Nirvana. His moniker carries weight. His feats are whispered like legend. Bosses and criminals nod their heads in respect, or glare at him in hatred. Good and bad, he loved it all. In the night, he is more than just himself. He's greater than the long war between Hunters and Demons. He is an Icon. He is the Dragon of Shinjuku.

He grew his legend where many others did. At the Wangan route. A hotspot for illegal street racing, and where everyone who was anyone would gather to watch a spectacle. Though he was indoctrinated into the Demon Slayer Corps at a young age, the track is where he always belonged. He is a top tier racer, undefeated and counting. Driving his heavily modified Ferrari Testarossa (partly thanks to Takaya-Sama), his racing style matches his personality. Raw, aggressive, overzealous, and confident. He's raced countless opponents. There have been those that have claimed that they would be the ones to defeat the Dragon. But history always remembers them as "The racer who almost caught up".

Outside of the Wangan Route, Ryunosuke indulges in everything Shinjuku has to offer. His morals are dubious at best, and the vices he enjoys are numerous. Gambling, clubbing, drinking, smoking, sex, and everything in between. He's extorted people for money, interfered in gang warfare, and much more. The one line he would never cross is cheating. In his mind, if he needs to cheat to win, he has no right winning. And also, why cheat? Ryunosuke is already the greatest there is, no point in cutting corners when victory is always guaranteed.

But through it all, at the end of the day, he is still a proud member of the Demon Slayer Corps. Underneath his bravado and ego lies an unextinguishable hatred of Demons, and a pride knowing he's good at what he does. now, more than ever, he stalks the streets of Shinjuku looking for a fight. His ambition, pride, and ego are the flames that burn all that oppose him. And the fuel that constantly drives him forward.

"Listen listen. I know I'm a bad guy. But I'm the best bad guy you'll ever meet. So sit back and watch the show! You're getting frontrow seats to this smackdown. And don't worry, I'll give you my autograph after this."

^{S h o w a S e c r e t} :
As far back Ryunosuke could remember, he always wanted to be a gangster.

Gangster's never looked back in fear. They demanded respect. You could tell who they were by just a glance. This was the life he yearned for. But by curse of his blood, he was born a predestined soldier in a war against demons. Worst yet, he was destined to be one of the greatest slayers of his time.

His parents were poor paupers who lived in the slums of Shinjuku. Ren and Tamayo Kamado were their names. Times were hard, and meals scarce. But his parents always held their head high, like they knew something others didn't. Refusing to align with the Corps, they kept themselves in abject poverty to distance themselves They always had plans for Ryunosuke. The combat lessons his mother gave him in the middle of the night, the history and dance lessons his father would give during the day. It was blatantly obvious that he was being groomed for something. It was stifling. The lessons were brutal and nonstop. He missed out on his childhood, being forced to learn the realities of his bloodline, the eternal war between Hunters and Demons, and the cruel facts of life and death. Every truth was laid bare to him. He often questioned. Why did the war start? Why not live with the other Demon Slayers? Why are we so special? Questions were often answered with more questions. Nothing was obvious, all was subjective.

In the brief moments between his intensive training, he would climb to the top of his steel hut and stare at the Shinjuku skyline. The illuminated concrete jungle dazzled his young mind. He dreamt of being at the top. Being known by everyone, and hated by everyone else. Where he got to do what he wanted, whenever he wanted. A playground of danger, where the only thing louder than the thumping beats of raves and clubs were the screeching of tires on asphault. He wanted that life, not the one he was being groomed for. In fact, he hated it. He hated the mark on his face the most, a supposed blessing. IN reality, it was a doomsday clock. He knew what it meant. He wouldn't live to be an adult.

His parents died when he was still young. Ambushed in the slums by demons. By the time the Demon Slayer Corps arrived, everything was burnt to a crisp. Huts, shacks, humans, demons, all felt the touch of the sun's blaze. All that remained was Ryunosuke. Covered in soot and shaking in anger. After that day, he was taken in by the Demon Slayer Corps to train with other future prospects. Into his young adult life, Ryunosuke was a difficult child. He would butt heads, argue, and be difficult whenever he could. His rebellious nature and bullheaded attitude were fueled by his evergrowing ego and lust for true freedom.

Going into his adult years, he largely abandoned the Demon Slayer Corps. Continuing to grow, train, and learn on his own, he set out into the mythical nightlife of Shinjuku to live his dream. Starting at the Bayshore route, he quickly grew in infamy as the greatest nightracer to run the route. His image only grew. He embroiled himself into everything the night had to offer, and loved every moment of it. He became a sort of "pop-cult" figure for Shinjuku. Given the moniker "The Dragon of Shinjuku" for his loud and iconic racing car. The Ferrari Testarossa. Outfitted with illegal engine parts, flame spewing exhausts, and a nichirin-reinforced body, it is his prized possession.

But as he spent more time growing his legend, his hatred for demons grew. He gained an innate understanding of why the Corps was necessary, and what threat the Demon's posed to humanity. Right when he turned 17, he made a promise to himself. He would do everything in his power to live the life he wanted. He would never listen to people unless he wanted too. Every choice and action he took was because he wanted too. Not because of any responsibility, or ideology, or philisophic crap.

Ryunosuke is 20 now. He's enrolled part time in Wasegawa University. He's still is a popular and frequent face at the Bayshore Route. And he holds a more open (albeit still limited) line of communication to the Demon Slayer Corps. He will only take orders from Uyubashiki Takaya, who he sees as the only person who has the right to be his master. He has a superhuman stubbornness and ego. But cemented somewhere in the middle, is his undying will of flame. He will burn all those that stand in front of him, and those left will witness the fires of the Dragon of Shinjuku. All in a name to live up to that promise he made himself.
_________________________________________________________________________

'K o k y ū'
'K o k y ū'

^{F l a m b o y a n c e} : Alongside his Demon Slayer Mark, the Hinokami Kagura, and his master of Sun Breathing, Ryunosuke wanted to create new forms that were tailored specifically for him. So tailored, in fact, that it would be impossible for anyone else to replicate. These forms take advantage of his massive frame and self-centered mindset to wreak havoc on anyone he fights. He calls them "Dragon Stance". Their principles are still rooted in Sun Breathing.
✧ Dragon Stance/First Form: Ego Made Manifest: Utilizing his Sisyphean ego, he wills it to manifest around him in a blazing aura. Anyone who stands close will be singed at least, burnt at worst. He can activate this in the middle of other Sun Breathing forms to surprise any opponent who gets too close
✧ Dragon Stance/Second Form: Implacable: A strike that always finds its mark. A massive, pointed attacks thats more akin to a wave of pure sunfire than an actual sword strike. Unabashedly burning everything in a general direction. If it doesn't hit his opponent, it leaves them with nowhere to run. The very air singes the skin. breathing becomes a labor and standing becomes a chore
✧ Dragon Stance/Third Form: Noble Soul of the Dragon: Tossing aside all restraint and fear, Ryunosuke hurls himself at an enemy in a all-or-nothing series of powerful strikes. This form leaves no room for defense, and boosts any form of offense. It's his most dangerous attack, for himself and his opponent.
_________________________________________________________________________

'N i c h i r i n'
'N i c h i r i n'

^{B l a d e W o r k} : Ryunosuke's arsenal is unique. He has a garage full of cars, all outfitted with Nichirin bodies (yes, he has used his cars as legitimate weapons in duels. Yes, he has killed demons with his cars). Outside of that, he carries a massive Nodachi. It's twice the size of him, And unruly/difficult to wield. Thanks to his hulking frame and surprisingly dexterous body, he can use it as dexterously as a regular katana. The blade itself is surprisingly simple in design. The blade itself is crimson, and it has no proper Tsuba or hilt. Instead, layers of dirty bandages wrap around the gripping end. This is by design. Per Ryunosuke's words "The last thing anyone would expect is for me to use an incomplete sword". There may be greater meaning to his Nodachi, FOIP.
_________________________________________________________________________

^{U n i q u e T r a i t s} : Ryunosuke has a supernatural ability to be in the right place at the right time. Hell, most of his hunts happen just because he stumbles onto a demon. Rarely does he ever actively go searching anything out. This extends outside of combat as well. He'll find his way into meetings he never knew he needed to be at. And anyone who really needed him, would find him strolling right past them. He doesn't have a proper explanation for this. He just chalks it up to good luck, or a god's favor.

Nainoko: Devilslayer

Count me in

Fenix Tear [Invite | Ask Only]

The ebb and flow of the streams of time...
As natural as the sea and as mighty as the wind.
Domains fueled by Chronus and her chosen.
That stream has halted,
Her authority revoked,
I will see it set in pace again.

Ifrit has never been in a truly life or death situation. Albeit, never in one outside of his own volition. By the very nature of rediscovering Lost Arts, the coin toss of life and death through its exploration is a burden one must carry. A payment for the chance at unseen powers. Ifrit paid this price when he was a White Mage. He continued to do so as he saw Azuria build the guild up from the ground. The imminent threat of death was a feeling Ifrit was used to. But this... This felt different. Never before has he been challenged like this. Thrown time and time again to the limits of his power, only to rise again like the Phoenix he represents. Was this the power of a True Devil? Would he not be enough? His Guild?

His ascension to his Devil Slayer state sapped him of what little mana reserves he had left. Much less his ultimate move, Aeon, Era, Origin of Creation. In truth, the narcissist in him truly thought it was enough to stop Setsuka. He let his stoic mask slip, relished in the thought of it. Hell, he even screamed a challenge at Elektra.

"Man, I need to watch my mouth next time."

Setsuka rose from their bout. Unscathed and at a new level of power. This time, Ifrit could not rise to meet her. Were it not for Jehrico, Jaina, and all the others joining him, he surely would have died. Now, engrossed in a mass melee to decide the fate of the world, he does what he can to aid. A sigil of power there, a Time/Accelerate there. From the back, Ifrit kept weaving words of power together and altering the flow of Time to better aid his teammates. He hated being relagated to a support position. But until he can regain some Mana, he can't help any other way.

Fenix Tear [Invite | Ask Only]

Ifrit had done it. Manifesting into an nth degree of power he only theorized of. In truth, his search for Devil Slayer magic started a while ago, while he was still in service to the King. While scrolling through forgotten tomes and legends on his search for the Esoteric Art: Time Magic, he came across one constant rule. A blatant weakness of Time Magic. It does not work on Demons. Something about their anatomy or inherent nature. Some time after the guild was formally created, he started experimenting with his magic. Seeing as it was a Lost Art, much of his own magic he had to learn himself.

What became blatantly clear, after establishing connection to Kronos' domain, was that he would be able to tap into a reserve of power beyond this Material Plane. To tap into the realm of divinity and harness a raw power that could combat any Demon. Time Demon Slayer Magic. Something that goes beyond his Esoteric Art or his Eye of God. For weeks, he drew up theories, treatises, and essays explaining his findings and establishing outcomes. Once he finished his work, he presented them to Azuria. He wanted to show her what he had discovered.

Her opinion on it was clear. Using this awesome power would be prohibited unless absolutely necessary. Ifrit was already a once-in-a-generation mage, alongside his peers and guildmates. But tapping into divine power is best kept as a trump card. Especially since Ifrit's base power was already extraordinary.

And so, he bid his time. Between paperwork, official meetings, and cleaning up after his Guildmates messes, he would practice. He made a secret bunker deep beneath the Guild Hall. He encrusted protective wards and runes into the walls and reinforced the bunker with magic. All so that he could have a place where he could practice his Time Magic without worry of collateral.

And now is where it pays off. Here he stands, at the precipice of an era-defining battle. Something he would only read in books or stories about legends. His opponent was a Demon of great caliber. If he can defeat her... Surely even Elektra and the Roundtable Knights would hear about this.

Taking a moment to collect himself after his blitz, he peered into the Temporal Sea around him. He took notice of where his allies were. "Eris, Gwen, Lucas, Nirvana and Jericho are near... Good, they are alive. Jaina, Shinra, Ruel, they are fine as well." He muttered to himself. Because of his elevated state, his voice was distorted. As if it was fracturing between the ebb and flow of time. He wanted to reach out to them, to aid in their fight. But he did not. His original purpose was to observe, intervening only when a substantial threat was sighted. He must trust in his Guildmates. He must trust in Eris. "Everyone... Stay alive. Live through this."

His focus locked back to Setsuka. Her evolution was complete. A visage of blood and ice. A servant of a malevolent entity, hell bent on bringing it back. To Ifrit, she was a threat to everything he fought to protect. His ultimate enemy. Someone you should show no quarter too. As her metamorphosis completed, she screamed out.

"You will know the name of Setsuka Cocytus Vanisis of the Underworld's Level 306, an Absolute Demon."

Ifrit placed his hands together, signing a series of forgotten gestures. His presence was growing greater, now physically clashing against hers. After completing this series, he opened his eyes. In Lieu of his Eye of God was a completely golden hue. Above him, massive golden pillars descended out of wormholes. Golden and gothic, they began to swing back and forth. Each time they did, a chime emanated. This echoed throughout all of the Icy Fjord that was their battlefield. It rang past the bridge, beyond seas, to the forgotten corners of the world. He was powering up for something.

One... Two... Three...

"Then hear me, Setsuka Cocytus Vanisis! You face an agent of the King of Bargrovyzaria! Chronicler of the Fenix Tear! And Master of the Lost Arts! I have weaponized paradoxes! I have held the flow of time in my palms! What you face is your death manifest!"

Five...Six...Seven...

"I have seen my own demise countless times, Demon. And it is not by your hands. I declare this my victory day! TIME/ACCELERATE!"

Imbuing himself with a rapid temporal current, He rushes Setsuka at blinding speeds. Imbuing his fists with the weight of a lesser paradox, he strikes her. His punches do more than damage her, he actively severs her connection to time. Bobbing and weaving through devastating attacks, he slowly but surely locks her temporal flow into this immediate moment. No past, no future, only present.

Twenty... Twenty one... Twenty two

Ifrit senses power manifesting from beneath him. And using his Time/Accelerate, he launches himself backwards just in time to dodge a barrage of icicles. Only one second sooner and he would have been impaled. Unlucky for his opponent, he is a master of time. While midair, he coalesces his lesser paradoxes into his open palms. Willing them to strike at Setsuka. A break in reality occurs at his hands, and primordial, chaotic beams of magic are launch at his opponent. "CENTENNIAL!"

Forty four... Forty five... Forty six...

He kept counting his chimes, he knew he was getting close to his spell's end. All he had to do was keep the attack up. Don't give her a moment to recover. If he does this, he can win! "Dagda Tuatha Dé!" From the space around Setsuka, A golden, etheric cathedral manifested. Chains bound her in place, just as before. They were digging into her skin. But her recovery factor was keeping her alive. Ifrit knew this spell wouldn't hold. But he didn't need it to hold. He just needed to buy a few more seconds.

Fifty eight... fifty nine... SIXTY...

As Setsuka was beginning to break through the chains. Ifrit once again sped himself up. Within a second, he weaved together complex spells and wards. He added more chains and hindrances onto Setsuka, compounding on top of the Dagda Tuatha Dé. Within the cathedral itself, Setsuka was bound to the Nave. Now practically hovering over the Apse like an angelic figure, Ifrit spoke. His voice echoed with the authority of the universe itself. It was heard, felt, and comprehended as truth.

SIXTY FOUR...
"Infinitesimal waves, scouring the etheric sea. Observance, deliverance, and reverence to the shores of Kronos' domain. By her authority do I ordain your defeat...

SIXTY FIVE..
Aeon..

SIXTY SIX...
Era..

...SIXTY SEVEN!
Origin of Creation."

All around the translucent golden cathedral, in the area surrounding the now fractured land that was a battlefield, there was true stillness. Not the stillness you find in a dark room. Nor in the peace of a serendipitous heart. No, this stillness was beyond that. It was unnatural. It was eldritch. It was true stillness.

To those that can see time, it is often presented to them like a delta. Veins of rivers that lead to oceans and seas. Those that can feel the ebb and flow can sense temporal fluctuations. If they were to peer into the temporal sea now, they would view something that shouldn’t be possible. There was no ebb, nor a flow. There wasn’t a current or a passage. The veins of time held still. The golden chimes and clocks jutting from the sky held position like a soldier at attention. The wind was frozen, the birds in the sky laid still. Time itself stopped. The only thing that moved was this Angel of Time.

Ifrit collected himself as he held his position above the frozen Setsuka. Her face was contorted in a frozen rage. A defiant roar carved into her visage like a statue. He knew he could only stop time for a short while. Even in his Devil Slaying from, it took most of his concentration to keep the walls of reality from shattering into a million different paradoxes. But this is exactly what he wanted.

This was his greatest spell. Aeon, Era, Origin of Creation. A spell that could stop time. In theory, there was no limit to its range. But even with a small, localized zone he knew its dangers were great. Paradoxes would run rampant, or even worse. Luckily for him, he could weaponize this. Similar to the spell he used previously, Centennion, he channeled all the energy brought upon by the time stop and localized it into an ever growing ball in front of him. It grew and grew until it was the size of a basketball. He held his hands around this ball of primal energy, keeping it in a controlled state until he was ready to unleash its power.

Thirty seconds passed, he knew his time stop would soon be breaking. His eyes, now absent of any gold, stared down at the frozen Devil in front of him. He couldn’t keep his smile hidden. “And now, you are beaten. Setsuka Cocytus Vanisis,You are nothing but an overambitious demonling. Know your place, vermin…”

“EPOCH”

Just as his time stop fractured, a torrent of primal mana jutted from his contained paradox. A blast the size of the cathedral itself. It roared like a bat out of hell, releasing a howl that shattered the sky like a knife. It engulfed everything in front of him, disintegrating it past its subatomic principles. He yelled out in pain and defiance, as he maintained the wards he placed on himself just to be safe from this attack.

After a moment. The energy finally dissipated. He fell from his hovering position, barely managing to catch himself on the snow ridden ground. His Demon Slayer form fizzled in and out of existence as he panted and regained his energy. He looked back up, towards where he chained Setsuka. The phantom-cathedral was long shattered, and he only manages to catch the last vestiges of his golden clock hands being engulfed back to the heavens. There was no remains of where Setsuka was. As he looked to the horizon, he saw a physical scar he left on the land. A chasm that went on past the horizon.

He couldn’t contain his laughter. He cackled like a madman, far from his usual composed self. He did it. Something that was only theory he made into reality.

He stopped time.

He beat Setsuka.

He won.
No.
Fenix Tear won.

“ARE YOU SMILING NOW, ELEKTRA?! DID YOU WITNESS ME??? I AM GREATER!! I AM ABOVE!!! I AM BEYOND!!!!” He yelled out cathartically. Only the wails of the wind answered him.

Himitsuraku [Naruto RP]

'Fucking hell, I hate this...'

Tsuruwa had a lot on his mind. When doesn't he? Two major clans pestering him for marriage arrangements and petty disputes, policework stacking on top of his desk, official state visits, meetings, agreements, disputes, compromises, you name it. So much was on his plate, in fact, that he was tempted to abstain from this meeting. If it weren't for the personal request of the Lady Hokage, he wouldn't have shown up. But now that he has, he's faced with an almost insurmountable problem.

Surrounding him are his K12. The best of the best (supposedly) that the Land of Fire had to offer. In honestly, he was surprised the Lady Hogake was able to scrounge up so much raw talent. Though he did question the choices of personalities. Uzumaki's? Volunteers? Hell, even Kumo's and Hyuga's. As if he had enough people putting targets on his back... Well, at least he was chosen to lead them. He held faith that he could make the K12 into a great fighting force.

And a great fighting force they'd need to be. One of the Land of Fire's greatest enemies, Yusuke, was sitting right across from him. Talking nonchalantly, as if they haven't traded blows in the past. No one knows the extent of this prick's evil. Oh, how Tsuruwa wishes he could trap him in a prison of wood and kill him on the spot. But that would be to easy... It would make him just like Yusuke. No, if he had to fight his brother, it would be at Tsuruwa's own game. Beaurocracy, boardrooms, and backstabbing deals.

Taking a deep breath and mentally going over what to say, Tsuruwa spoke up. "With all do respect, Lady Hokage, I still believe it to be in our best interest to distance ourselves from the Kaminarion Company. Diplomatic missions and matters of state are best left to the public offices, not the private eye." It took all his willpower to be composed and elegant in his speech. But his Sharingan was keeping track of his brother. Even in a boardroom, filled with powerful people on his side, it's best Tsuruwa air's on the side of caution.

"Of course, if Mr. Yusuke and Mrs. Akane wish to lend their opinions and thoughts on certain matters of state, they are more than welcome to do so."