The Achromatic Eclipse of the Psyche, part II.

[Nayt]

And the bombardment came again--but not from above, this time . . .

By the time Eilert would have the chance to notice, it would be too late. He'd be clipped in the left shoulder with excessive force, with a rush of power continuing past him, tearing through the air and leaving behind a gust so strong, a hurricane would be put to shame.

At the time of Silver's attack, Eilert had placed three more teleportation glyphs. Unfortunately, though, he was lacking one. The glyphs had to be placed on a flat or at least modestly curved surface--something that wasn't remotely jagged or broken. If the stone a glyph was placed upon was torn to shreds, the glyph, too, would be no more--and it had already happened. The very first one Eilert had placed, moments before Silver descended from the sky moments earlier, had ceased to be alongside of the ruining of the flat surface.

This still gave Eilert four glyphs to work with, though.

It was, however, a matter of educated guesses at that point. Silver would come again and again, dashing through the openings between pillars, across the arena, and out of another opening (which, oddly, Eilert could not do; the gaps between pillars, to him, would feel much like a solid wall). The speed he had amounted was tremendous, and being struck by him at any point would result in shattered bones instantly, as well as being tossed away and thrown off balance. The directions in which he came were almost completely random, with Eilert's body as the only target.

[Zach Kaiser]

Silver did not telegraph his attack like the previous time he vanished from Eilert's sight. Eilert had no idea he'd returned to the offensive until he felt something smash into his shoulder, sending him flying and bouncing across the ground once more.

This was a different attack, one that would be much more difficult to deal with; rather than a large energy blast that could be detected, he was simply using his phenomenal speed to make hit and run attacks on the Orange Enigma.

Pulling himself to his feet, his arm useless for the moment from the force of the blow, Eilert quickly came up with a plan. Silver had blinding speed...but how well could he control it?

Regaining his bearings, he noticed he was near one of the pillars. Perfect. He quickly planted a teleporation glyph, managing to move away from it just in time as Silver clipped him once again, this time a little harder, sending him back towards the center of the arena.

In terms of speed, strength, and even simply ability, Eilert was clearly outmatched. But his strength wasn't in direct combat anyway--it was in his ability to control the battlefield, to predict his opponent's moves and maneuver them to where he wanted, which was usually right into one of his glyphs.

It took several more near-misses and being flung about the arena like a ragdoll, but he finally had it. Telling which direction he was coming from was nearly impossible, but the timing of his strikes...that was another matter. Even the most brilliant mastermind could not avoid a pattern entirely, and Silver didn't seem to be bothering to change it, relying on his speed to overwhelm Eilert before he could react.

He got up once more, bloodied, his regeneration unable to stay caught up with damage being done. If he didn't find a way to stop Silver, he'd eventually be worn down and killed...

He's coming...by the time I see him, hear him...sense him at all, he'll already be here. I don't know where he'll come from, but I know when...therefore, there's only one place I can control...

He took a deep breath, putting faith in his judgment, and waited. In his mind, he pictured Silver dashing around the arena, setting up for his next attack, approaching, knowing he was too fast for his target to react to...

Now. Eilert only moved fractionally, just enough to prevent the blow from being instantly fatal, but at the precise time of the impact he activated his glyph, sending both he and Silver to a different spot in the arena: right next to one of the pillars.

Eilert himself was sent flying off to the side, smashing against the invisible barrier surrounding the arena that only seemed to affect him. But Silver would find himself barreling straight into one of the pillars he erected...

[Nayt]

Again and again, Silver plowed into Eilert, throwing him down or sending him part of the way across the arena--and inevitably leaving the man in absolute shambles. His regeneration abilities didn't seem to work quickly enough to keep him alive in the end, and had he sustained just a few more blows, it would have been the end.

But Eilert made sure that wasn't going to happen. Since the first couple of blows, he had a plan, it seemed, and though it took him awhile to make use of it, he inevitably did. Silver plowed fist first into Eilert, implanting his un"afflicted" fist into the man's gut--but in that instant, the both of them were gone, vanished from the center of the arena. They were, instead, off on the far side of it, where pillar and barrier intersected . . .

Eilert was lurched into the barrier, while Silver continued to move. His fist hit the column, but that was it. Silver stopped running the very instant his fist connected with the column. Bones shattered instantly--but even still, Silver leaned forward with his fist still upon the column, bending his arm at the elbow, and pausing for a brief moment. At his feet, flakes of skin and bone could be seen falling, collecting upon the floor of the arena as his hand, broken beyond repair and use, was seemingly replaced by an "afflicted" one; its digits twitched and moved without rhyme or reason, constantly, much unlike the other "afflicted" hand. It, too, had skin that appeared cut up and stretched over bone and muscle.

Without warning, Silver turned on his heals, and began to approach Eilert once more. This time, though, he didn't run at him. He walked. Briskly, he marched towards Eilert, but there was no malice in his eyes, nor hate in his expression. The shadows covering his face gave little insight into the goings on within his mind, but with only part of the hood remaining, and half of his face "afflicted," the shadows slightly betrayed themselves. Silver seemed altogether expressionless.

There was only a short distance between them, too--and activating a teleportation glyph would send Silver to the same place that Eilert would have intended to escape. If Silver managed to close the distance between them, Eilert would be hard pressed to defend himself, as Silver would jab at his stomach at a blindingly fast rate, enough to take the breath out of him for some time, and leave him defenseless . . .

[Zach Kaiser]

The tactic affected and hurt Silver, but not nearly as much as Eilert had hoped. He'd been looking to see the director plunge full body into the pillar, not just sink his fist into it. And recovered far too quickly--Eilert was still recovering from the blow himself and wasn't not nearly as far away from his opponent as he would have liked to be.

In fact, he was too close to use any of his glyphs effectively; teleportation would send both of them and accomplish nothing, and eruption would catch himself well within the blast radius.

Left with no other options, he backpedaled on his hands and feet, each hand planting an eruption glyph as he did so. If Silver continued to draw near, he'd be stepping directly on them...and Eilert would, after they were several feet from their initial position, detonate the first one he laid, judging the distance so that Silver would be just inside the blast and he'd be out of it, though he'd still be pegged by shrapnel.

[Nayt]

Silver continued to trudge forward at a slow pace. It seemed to matter little to him how quickly he erased Eilert from existence--only that it happened, in whatever time was necessary. Caution also seemed to be thrown to the wind, but with the odd transformation he was slowly undergoing, Silver's mind may have also been deeply effected. He simply continued towards Eilert, even after the glyphs were placed.

They were so noticeable, too . . .

And when they exploded, Silver had been standing right on them. He had stepped forward towards Eilert once more, but not at the distance that Eilert had preferred. He would inevitably be caught up in the blast, too, as Silver had been walking towards him a bit faster than Eilert was backing, at one point, which didn't leave much distance between them when it was imperative to let the glyphs of eruption off. Of course, that didn't mean Eilert was going to be out of it for any long length of time, only that he'd be tossed back against his will, and possibly break some more bones.

Something strange happened, though, when the glyphs were let off. The sky trembled violently as if an earthquake had occurred within the glass menagerie of the heavens. The fractured sky, with ominous gold shimmering within its cracks, fractured more and more with each violent rattle. The gold color behind it began to dark as smoke erupted from the craters left behind, and more cracks began to gather and web out from the last ones. It looked almost like the shards of the heavens were going to crash down to the "earth."

Smoke remained where Silver once lingered, a thick cloud of smoke and dust and dirt and debris that always seemed to remain behind each and every time a glyph of eruption was let off--let alone two. The crater this time was massive. Both worked together for a much stronger effect, an effect which no man could have possibly maintained even a semblance of form after. The sky continued to rattle and crack, and the ominous yellow continued to become more and more prominent, but there was no trace of Silver . . .

[Zach Kaiser]

"Hwah!" Once more Eilert had underestimated the strength of his attack; the edge of his blast caught him and he was flung backwards with enough force to break bones and tear muscles, though fortunately not kill him. It was...very painful, but this entire fight was being very painful. At least he healed quickly.

Once enough of his body was repaired that he could stand, he did so, and noted that Silver had against disappeared...and something cataclysmic seemed to be happening in the sky.

Even before making preparations, he had to wait for his body to fully heal, and all he could do while that happened was keep his senses alert for the next attack.

[Nayt]

The sky continued to crack; the webs worsened, and soon, the cricking of glass coming apart, slowly but surely, was audible. It was a horrible sound. A horrifying sound. Shards began to collect, as crooked lined webbed their way through the skyline, and before long, pieces of the heavens were not longer connected . . .

And they fell.

A single massive shard of broken white descended from the heavens, plunging into the once pristine ivory that comprised what Eilert had come to know as ground. It erupted dust and debris into the heavens and almost clouded the sickening yellow which permeated where the shard once rested. The entire world itself shook violently, so harsh that even with his alterations, Eilert himself would not be able to stand. It was like the earthquake was right under him-- but not. No. It was everywhere. The end of the world was approaching.

And more fell. One by one, the webs across slowly shattering glass loosened pieces, gargantuan pieces that would have boasted the size of entire nations on the worlds that Eilert knew-- that stabbed deep into the heart of the planet when they fell, and worsened the constant shaking.

Yet no shard came crashing down into the arena.

And each time, the true nature of the heavens unveiled itself. Where the perfect ivory once set, there was only the dark, pulsating, rotten yellow. It had traces of green and black and red, like rotten fruit, yet so much more imposing; a sickening blend of colors that could stir the common man to wretch violently, perhaps as violent as the cataclysm befalling the world of Eilert's mind.

In the smoke and debris that lifted from the powerful attack to end Silver's life, a shadow stood. The shaking of the world around them seemed to do absolutely nothing to it; it didn't fall, it didn't stumble-- no. It stood hunched over with knuckles dragging audibly. Metal brushed against stone as it took a step forward, beyond the smoke cloud that lingered in the place of Eilert's two glyphs of eruption . . .

The form was no longer Silver. It was nothing that Eilert had ever seen before; but not something he was entirely without memory of. After all, with his practices before death, he would have indefinitely read the mythologies of some of the most famous cults in the world.

It, or he, stood at six feet tall-- a man. A slender figure bereaved by cuts and scars from head to toe, over every inch of skin, slashed even across his eyelids. He didn't bleed anymore. He had no blood left. His was was battered and broken body that worked in spite of itself, much Eilert's own, after he awoke from death, to find what was once his life to be a broken mess of a world. A wife dead, damned, with no hope of salvation, a study long since abandoned, and life completely forgotten. Even as a scholar, he was no more.

His clothes were torn and tattered: a button up shirt, blood soaked, which barely hung onto his body; his tattered slacks seemed burned off at the knees, and he wore no shoes. He had short, unwashed hair that clung to his skull, and a well trimmed goatee, which, like his clothes, was soaked in his own blood. However, more awkward the metal ring on the right side of his lip were the two stubs on his back: wings. Or what once were wings. They were no more; pulled, ripped, and torn away from his body. It was a horrific avatar of something that should have been perfect; in mythologies and stories alike, something which should have never been tainted.

At first he was hunched over, enough to drag his knuckles across the ground, but once he was clear of the dust filled crater, he stood up--tall, completely straight in stature, with his eyes focused upon Eilert-- staring coldly into the eyes of Eilert Draugr.

[Zach Kaiser]

The sky shattered and the ground quaked, throwing Eilert off of his feet once more. It was not dangerous to be in an earthquake, not so far away from buildings or anything else, but it was disconcerting all the same, not to mention he'd be prone when Silver reappeared.

But he never did. Even after all the shards of the sky that fell had shattered and the ground ceased trembling he remained absent, and when the smoke cleared it was no longer Silver that remained. Instead, it was a face Eilert knew only through pictures, in some required part of his studies that he'd never been truly interested in. Yet, he knew he was not mistaken.

Before him stood Gaia, the creator, eyes locked on him with the same stoniness Silver had earlier. This...it really is the end of the world...

Whether it was by some divine manner or whether Silver simply released the third seal on his Gaiasoul was unimportant; the closest thing to an omnipotent god he knew of was standing before him, and presumably intending to fight to the death.

All his nerves screaming in unison, Eilert scrambled to his feet and fled, attempting to put some distance between them. Weeks...months...perhaps even years to prepare wouldn't have been enough to face a god. Could one ever be prepared for such a thing? Even with increased power, could he possibly hope to beat him?

[Nayt]

Eilert ran-- but how far? And how far would truly be enough? With his speed increased so tremendously, would it even matter if he got miles away from this scarred and foreboding entity, this creator of worlds? Was running even an option? Could it even end successfully? Eilert even passed through the coliseum itself-- he passed by two pillars and continued on as if the barrier had never been there to begin with, but was that enough?

The answer was no.

Just as Eilert started to put another foot down, he'd feel it stop, physically incapable of reaching the ground. His body, too, would stop moving--in just a single instant, stopped dead, standing, one foot hiked up in the air, ready to plow down upon the stone floor and propel its body forward, a body falling back ever so slowly, with or against Eilert's own will-- dragged back, tugged off balance, but slowly. For the time being, nothing of his own will would stop it, not while he was on the ground-- perhaps not when he was airborne, either . . .

Which would come at an unexpected time. Eilert would feel, at the last second, as if there were hands upon him--invisible hands, hands that in no way had physical form, but all the functions of such. Like a rubber band stretched to its limit, he'd rocket back into the arena, dragged airborne, thrown back into the fray absolutely against his will, with little to nothing he could really do about it.

The man still remained staring at Eilert; he watched him go, and now he watched him return, and as the rubber band effect took hold, he slid one foot back and one foot forward. He twisted his body just enough to no longer face his profile to the oncoming Eilert, as he reached his left arm off to the side but bent, to place his hand close to his chest. His other arm arced forward and his right hand slid up next to his left, both held open yet closed-- as if they were holding onto something, but it simply could not be seen.

And yet before Eilert could collide with the man, he'd find out first hand what it was: a blade. A long blade, curved and forward-- a Cizokian blade, but longer than a katana. A nodachi. A weapon to skewer Eilert upon, and then with a simple slash to the right, toss him away as if it were nothing at all . . .

[Zach Kaiser]

In his panic, Eilert forgot about the invisible barrier around the pillars which enclosed him into this arena; the fact that it only seemed affect him made it especially easy to slip his mind when Silver had been moving so quickly beyond the borders of the dodecahedron without impediment.

At first it seemed he broke the barrier, or perhaps it had been dropped, but soon he found himself struggling to make progress, and then pulled back, launched towards his opponent...no longer Silver, but a god in his stead.

He had only fractions of a second to make a decision, and as he did so a memory filled his mind, an entire scene playing in that small space in the reality warping way memories tended to come to a person...

It had been a weekend like any other; Helena, his wife, was out for the day--shopping, or visiting a relative? He couldn't recall. He was alone in his study, mired in his research having finished grading the last of his student's papers.

A loud rapping echoed down the hall into his study. He frowned slightly; he wasn't expecting any visitors. With a sigh, he removed himself from the tome he was poring over and, grabbing a small cane he was no forced to use to get around, he made his way to the front door.

"Professor Eilert Draugr?" a man in ornate, violet robes asked before he could greet him.

He responded with a nod. "How may I help you?"

"I come on behalf of King's Army; I have a matter to discuss with you, in private preferably." It was called the King's Army, but the country was run by merchants more and more. The monarchy was little more than a symbol these days.

Even so, he was surprised by the visit. He'd never warranted so much as a letter from the ruling powers that be before, let alone a visit from someone who looked decidedly important. "I'm afraid it's not the grandest home, but please, come in--I am the only one home, so we can talk without being disturbed."

And so he led his knew guest to the sitting area. The pleasantries were all a blur to him; he remembered vaguely offering the man something to drink and being asked about his wife and the academy, but the specifics eluded him.

That is, until he finally touched about the reason for the visit. "If I may be frank, Professor Draugr," he began, "your studies are of great interest to the King's Army. These "glyphs"...we are hoping you will consider leaving your position at the academy and come work for the King's Army. Your job wouldn't be any different, truly; you would be conducting the same research, but you would be teaching soldiers rather than students."

With effort, Eilert managed to keep the same expression on his face. In truth, he knew this day would eventually come, and had been preparing for it for some time now. So, the polite smile remained on his face.

"I would certainly be willing to, but I feel I would be doing the country a disservice if I did not ask what use glyphic arts could possibly be to a soldier."

This seemed to puzzle the envoy. "But I have heard that glyphs can be used to topple buildings, communicate across large distances, even transport things instantly. And you lecture about such things to your students. Surely in the hands of the King's Army it would be an immeasurable advantage?"

Eilert couldn't help but be relieved. This person had clearly not actually read any of his research; if he had and had come despite that, it would have possibly been trouble.

"I have, of course, considered their military uses, but they are impractical at best. A glyph could indeed topple a building, but in the time it would take to create it several buildings could be toppled by more conventional means."

The envoy only seemed further confused. "I was led to believe you were capable of creating glyphs with a pen. Is this not so?"

"Indeed I am, but it is a special pen, that writes not with ink but with mana. And it is attuned to my mana specifically; it would not work for another, and I suspect I would be incapable of making one for another. I imagine that the time it would take to carve a glyph of any usable size into a stone surface would be far longer that it would take to knock down the structure down with a battering ram."

"But your students-"

"My classes are mostly theoretical; only in the most advanced lessons I teach are my students required to create glyphs, and they must do so by carving it one into the dirt or a piece of wood. Even then, they only learn the simplest of glyphs. It takes many years of practice and research of being able to do anything that could not be done easier manually. Besides, glyphic arts were never developed for combat--as far I've been able to uncover, they were used more for show and entertainment than utility. I maintain that glyphs could be put to good use in a domestic or even industrial setting, but thus far I've been unable to persuade others to put in the time required to make that a reality. Of course, if you consider it worthy investment, I would be more than happy to serve my country first and my students second. But while I would be glad to serve in any capacity I can, as you can see-" he gestured to his cane "-I myself am unsuited for the battlefield."

From there the conversation continued into more specifics about some of his glyphs, but he could tell the envoy was just being polite; he would return to his superiors, report that glyphic arts were a dead end and probably a waste of time in general.

And that was fine by him. As soon as the envoy bid him farewell, he returned to his study--but not to continue his research. He had all but forgotten what he'd been doing before he'd been interrupted. Instead, he performed a thorough search of the house, and when he satisfied that he was absolutely, unquestionably alone, he returned to his study once more, moved his desk aside with some difficulty, pried up a semi-loose floorboard with much more difficulty, and between fits of coughing prompted by the dust he'd kicked up aggravating his sensitive lungs, he pulled up a stack of books and papers.

For the truth was that amount of glyphs with practical, everyday purposes paled in comparison to the amount that had been developed primarily for war, and he suspected the former were originally used for the latter as well. And the truth was also that anyone could use the mana-pen he'd invented, though he never let anyone else touch it and had never made a second one.

Some would say it was wrong to hold this knowledge back from one's king and country, but this knowledge was dangerous--far too dangerous. He wanted to study glyphs, and he wanted to see them used, yes--but not for acts of war, for brutality and slaughter. He wanted to see them improve lives, not take them away. But the part of him that was ever the scholar continued to research it all, even if most of that research would never see the light of day.

But it had been some time since any new discoveries were made; all he had were materials that he'd read and reread over and over again, ancient tomes uncovered in dusty ruins and his own research written down. And now, in his hands, were all of that which related to the art of using glyphs for war, for combat, for killing.

It was possible that was the last he would hear from the King's Army, but he couldn't risk someone not believing his story and uncovering this material. So with a heavy heart, he tossed the entire stack into the fireplace. The flames quickly engulfed the papers and books, spitting thick smoke and glowing embers back out. Coughing all the while, Eilert gathered every last scrap that was blown out of the flames by the heat, until it was nothing more than ash, and repeated the vow he'd made in his head: That he would never use those glyphs that's only used was for war, for combat, and that he would ensure their secret died along with him...

More than anything, it was the vow that stuck in his head. Even in his life as the Orange Enigma, he'd never mentioned the existence to such glyphs to anyone, not even Sturm, the closest person to a friend and confidant he currently had. Nor had he ever used them in his duties--those that he could recall, anyway.

But there were still there in the far reaches of his mind, the patterns burned into his memory as surely as he'd burned the pages they'd been on. The thought of using them twisted his stomach, but...what was his petty morality in the face of a world ending crisis?

It was nothing, that's what. Sturm had been willing to cross any number of moral lines in his research, conducted in order to save the world. And while he cared for this world far less than Sturm did, what he did care for were the wishes of Sturm...his hopes and dreams, as well as those of Icsorue, and of all the Enigmas who shared the heavy burden of defending the world, never to be granted respite even in death.

For their sake, he would break his most sacred vow.

Eilert would collide with the blade, but not to be impaled upon it as was intended. No...with a resonating, metallic clang, Gaia would feel the force of his flight upon his arms, but the target himself was sent off at an angle, and rather than tumbling into the dirt for the umpteenth time his landed on his feet, his hand pressed against the ground to stabilize himself as he skidded backwards--

--No, that was not quite right. It wasn't his hand itself. From the back of it extended something that stuck into the dirt--a short, curved, metallic blade. As he came to a halt and stood up to his full height, a replica could be seen on his other hand as well.

With a grace that belied his ill appearance, he adopted a martial arts stance, learned in one life but not another, combined with glyphs learned in the other life but not the first--or was it the second? He could not be sure.

What he could be sure of was that at last he was ready to defend the world he'd sworn to protect, no matter what it took, no matter the cost--even it meant fighting a god.

[Nayt]

Gaia-- a representation of Gaia-- Silver under the guise of Gaia-- an avatar-- it mattered little. What assaulted Eilert Draugr now was the ideal Gaia, and it was best to approach him with the same caution and concern that one would approach such a being otherwise. Not just a simple god, but origin.

The blade did not impale Eilert as planned, but was instead knocked back--up, rather, pushed up into the air in instant, one far too quick for simple eyes to keep track of--but not the eyes of these two men. There was a spin and a strike up against Gaia's blade, pushing it up, only for Gaia to react by bringing it back down once more, as soon as Eilert was in range. He even stepped forward with one foot and put his strength into a downward attack, an attack which incidentally struck Eilert Draugr's other blade and tossed the man back, to inevitably land upon his legs and skid back to avoid rolling to a stop. He was a lucky man . . .

Gaia straightened up. His nodachi fell to his side, held with a single hand, as he peered down the distance between he and Eilert Draugr. There was quite a ways between them, but as Eilert had found out first hand, that distance truly mattered very, very little.

And he'd find this out once again, too.

Gaia pushed forward with his left foot as he took his nodachi by the hilt with both hands. He propelled himself forward instantly, but in that same instant, he was gone, vanished from sight--no, that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. To assume so might be a fatal mistake. The distance between them was cleared in that very instance, as Gaia appeared just feet before Eilert, nodachi held up with both hands, only to swing it down in a motion, down towards Eilert's shoulder, blindingly fast--at least to all those that weren't he and Eilert. Indeed, to them, this would feel like moving at a completely nominal speed.

[Zach Kaiser]

Indeed, Gaia was blindingly fast. However...

I can see him!

Perhaps his eyes merely needed to adjust; or perhaps his determination was increasing his perception. Either way, Eilert found that Gaia's movements were readable, and he was able to react to them--equally fast, to an outside observer, though he was actually most likely slower than his opponent.

As the nodachi was brought down, Eilert sidestepped and turned, spinning out of the way but also towards his opponent. A blade that large had quite the advantage of reach...but it was for naught if his opponent could get through his guard.

Which was just what Eilert attempted to do, using his spin to both evade and counterattack, his hands outstretching mid spin to in an attempt to land a barrage of slashes. With the short blades on his hands he couldn't cause nearly as deep of a wound as the nodachi could, so he had to make up for it by simply landing more blows.

[Nayt]

Indeed, Eilert spun to evade Gaia's blade, but that would only go so far for him. In the end, he'd find a blade clashing against that of his own . . .

Clearly, the man could react to Eilert just as quick as Eilert could with him--but such was to be expected, if Eilert was truly dealing with the monster he thought he was. Even if he wasn't, an imitation of such a being would still likely be monstrously skilled and unnaturally powerful.

Gaia, too, had stepped to the side, a full arm's length away from Eilert's direction, and one handed, swung the nodachi across, yet close to his body, to strike against Eilert's blade. It was a close swing for Gaia, requiring him to practically press his forearm against his chest, but the swing allowed him to clash against Eilert's blade. While a one-handed swing would not push Eilert back any excessive distance, as Gaia himself appeared to not boast much more physical strength than Eilert did with a fairly suped up glyph of strength constantly attached to him, he could still block such a maneuver. Gaia allowed the horizontal strike of his, to block the attack, to pass by Eilert, only to bring his arm back again to block the second intended attack of Eilert's.

That clash, however, would last a moment, held there by Gaia, at least until he grabbed the nodachi with both hands again, and pushed forward with all of his might. Two handed, he was tremendously stronger than Eilert . . .

[Zach Kaiser]

Eilert's attack was stopped, both parts of it, and this was disappointing...the speed at which Gaia could intercept attacks equaled the speed that he could deal them out; if he couldn't get inside his guard even with an opening like that, this would be extremely difficult.

Not that he truly expected it not to be.

Getting quickly overpowered, he tried reinforcing one arm with the other, but even with both hands he still was outmatched in strength. So instead, he quickly moved one hand to slap the flat of the blade aside with his palm as he leaped back and away, taking a moment's breather...

...and also to detonate the Glyph of Eruption he placed on the nodachi, which would shatter it if it was a normal nodachi. But that was a pretty big if.

[Nayt]

Gaia's blade was, if only slightly, pushed to the side, but it continued on its downward course to meet the ground of the makeshift arena of theirs, as Eilert propelled himself back to put distance between he and Gaia. The tip met the ground almost instantly.

And then, there was an explosion. Eilert's glyphs of eruption, as they were increased in power, were enough to blow craters into the arena. He could easily shatter a simple blade, and even take a man's arm off for just holding onto the blade during the activation of the glyph. Due to range alone, such an explosion should have killed a normal human being. That was the nature of a full powered glyph of eruption, something Eilert may or may not have been capable of pulling off, at least this quickly, before his battle, here in this world of light, with "Silver."

One drawback to the extra power was the guaranteed cloud of dust and smoke. Even when there was little to produce such smoke, the eruption itself caused enough of it to cover a decent sized area for some time. Some of the earlier eruptions hadn't even completely settled yet.

And yet it was less than a second later that Eilert would encounter an attack behind him. Holding the nodachi, seemingly unscathed, with his left hand, Gaia was behind Eilert in an instant, this time an instant which Eilert would not be able to follow adequately. He might feel it, though, the presence of someone or something behind him. With his left hand, he'd swing with a wide arc at Eilert's back . .