The Giant of Light VS The Knight of Madness: ArchAngel and Sylas's Grand Duel!(Private)

Deep in the desert where men nor beast tred, a monster lurked. This monster was not a creature of shadows and fright, but one of light. Light and r̶̴̡a͞͝g̷̛̛ȩ̕͝͞͝. It was unthinking, filled with only utter madness.

This monster was ArchAngel, the Giant of Might. And his mind was breaking.

It was like a dam breaking, letting loose a torrent of insanity. For this rampaging beast, there was not thought nor memory, but simple h̢͜͞u̷̡͢͞n̛͝g̸̀͞é͟͜r͏̵̷̧ and m̷̧͟͡a͢ḑ̶́͝͏n̶̡̢͞͞è̷̵͟͝ş͡s̶̡̧͟͡ it worked its way across the desert to it's nearest snack: Las Vegas.

Sylas sped up his pursuit of the source of madness many a meister felt rampaging across the desert, his motorcycle shining bright in the sun. He followed the best he could according to the directions he was given, hoping to come across the source and snuff it out. Far in the distance, he caught sight of the lumbering giant, and he increased his speed even further, trying to get in close.

ArchAngel smelled something. The smell of burning gasoline, metal, and madness. Turning, he caught sight of Sylas approaching him and roared. Raising his hand, a barrier of solid light would come up right in front of Sylas and his motorcycle. At the same time, ArchAngel dashed in Sylas's direction, his wings of pure light unfurling behind him, giving him additional speed.

Sylas felt his bike crash into the barrier of light, jumping up off the twisting and crashing machine and diving backwards just in time to see that ArchAngel was rushing towards him. He roared out, his cloak of madness bursting out around him. He brandished the false version of his weapon form, his magic weapon arm sparking lightly as he awaited impact.

ArchAngel was a enraged beast, but he was not a STUPID beast. He still had some sort of twisted cunning. He came to a jerky halt, and then unleashed a blast of burning light meant to sear his foes body and soul.

Sylas dropped like a rock, the blast searing his hood and some of his hair as he flourished his weapon. Running across the desert ground, he jumped, aiming to slash ArchAngel from groin to head.

From beneath the earth, a rumbling was heard, the boring of something unknowable and huge, and undulating with a rhythm like laughter. From under Sylas, a titanic claw composed entirely of solidified blackness burst from the ground like a geyser, cutting him off from Archangel and either smacking Sylas back to the ground with the force of a jet plane, or forcing him to retreat, depending on his reaction.
Nebun soon followed from the resulting hole, a crooked smile gracing his pale lips. His solid black eyes glittered in the light, looking as though he could see everything.

"You didn't think I'd take your arm without coming back to finish things, did you?"

He said, casually, like two friends meeting over dinner. The silk in his voice though, was belied by those knowing eyes. It was like the look of a hungry wolf, pacing before the rabbit's den. The flaring of his wavelength was so massive one could almost feel it in their bones.

Deep in ArchAngels brain, it recognized the newcomer. It recognized...

And it hated. Releasing a roar of rage, Archangel was surrounded by a aura of burning light, which rapidly fried away the black blood claw. "BURN! BURN BURN BURN!" It roared as a torrent of hateful light, punctuated by occasional blasts of multicolor energy, flew toward both Death Scythe and Kishin Egg.

Sylas huffed as he was suddenly confronted with not only the giant ArchAngel but the Kishin Nebun. He sighed and readied his axe, holding it in front of him and bracing for ArchAngel's blow.

Nebun extended a hand, statuesque, like some prophet of destruction, and from his palm exploded a black blooded tendril which split off from itself like an umbrella until it was massive. It's color, indeed all of his blood, seemed to be darker than before, a black which seemed almost to suck in the light around it. As archangels beam struck it the whole thing seemed to carve a tunnel out of the substance. It coiled an undulated as though enraged, pushing back until the light was extinguished like a candle.
Nebun's dead-pan never shifted, but for the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, though it was soon overshadowed by disdain.
"Like children..." Nebun's heavy baritone purred.
"And having conquered heaven's gates, I thus lay waste to all within."
He murmurs, almost inaudibly, before launching the claw towards Sylas, a veritable maelstrom of prospective death blows.

Sylas spun his axes around him in a flurry, not bothering to ask why ArchAngel suddenly broke of his attack and fled. Lightning surrounded his body as he continued to rage against the hurricane that was Nebun, doing his best defend himself.

Nebun didn't even have to watch Sylas. Cats have no need to fear mice. He looked off after the one that fled with a look of disappointment, a lonely child whose playmate had left.
"You and I shall have to do I suppose."
He said with a cock of his head.
With that the barrage quadrupled as a wave of his own substance erupted from Nebun's palm. Shifting shadows seemed to move within it, like grasping hands, and withering faces. They pulled on all sides at Sylas, tearing at his clothes,pulling at his skin. The worst part was the cold. It felt like something icy and wet, not hot and sharp as it should be. Bulging eyes began to appear as all the light was blocked from Sylass' view.

Sylas felt his cloak start to tear, and cried out in anger, energy swirling around him. From his body sprouted dozens upon dozens of spears burst from his body, a desperate attempt to keep the pace with the Kishin's relentless assault.

The attacks all suddenly stopped, an ominous ripple went out as Sylas found himself encased in a smooth sphere of blackness. The spear thrusts punctured the shell, forming pinpricks of light which then sealed themselves up. A noise like the screeching of a whale shot trough the thick air, before the orb returned Sylas's spear thrusts in kind with bloody needles from every direction.

Sylas felt his left arm go numb from the pain going through his body. He balled himself up to protect his vital organs, and continued to fire back, some of his spears blocking the needles.

Nebun, uncharacteristically harsh, eyes alight with the joy of the kill, smirked "Screw this." before simply constricting the orb around Sylas, with the aim of smashing him inside, just as he had with Shanghai. This was too easy. He almost felt guilty. So many epic battles all leading to this? crushing him like a bug? It was admittedly poetic, but he stopped the ball squeezing at around a 4 foot by 4 foot up-down circumference. With that he cracked it open likean egg, dropping him to the ground like so much filth.
"Stand and fight. It's just too sad to let it end like this."

Sylas hid the ground with a dull thud, his left arm torn and bleeding and hanging uselessly as blood seeped into the ground. He managed to get himself to his knees, letting out a shaky breath, before falling onto his back, looking up at the kishin. His eyes fluttered closed, and he slowly started to succumb to the various wounds.

OOC: I know it might be out of character, but don't kill him in your next post.

Nebun snarled, his face a rictus of complete derision. He saw him blacking out and frowned. "Not yet you don't." He spat, delivering a kick to his ribcage that would force him to sit up. He forced a hand beneath his jaw bone, lifting Sylas in the air and tossing him about like a rag doll. As his crumpled body smacked wetly to the ground Nebun had a thought. "How's about we make that arm loss two-for-two?" he inquired without waiting for a response, instead tearing it free like a chicken leg.
This was exasperating. "Surely Death's champion is made of sterner stuff? I shudder to think what the genuine article is like."

Sylas let out a shaky breath once again, lifting his magic tool arm and straightening his hand so his long, claw-like fingers formed a jagged spear. "You want...to know what Death is like?" He asked in a raspy voice, his arm beginning to hum violently. He started to let out a raspy chuckle, a few specks of blood flying from his mouth. "I'm not...dying here...The wounds will kill me...but not here." He said, before unceremoniously driving his hand into his gut. The effect was nigh instantaneous, thunder crackling above as the sky suddenly darkened. "I saved...one last trip..." He sputtered out, opening one eye to reveal it to be blistering red."You...win..." He finally said, as a bolt of lightning split the sky and struck him, shocking him for but a moment before he vanished from the field of battle.

Nebun only shook his head. "Damn right I win."

Sylas appeared on a hillside in the DWMA training grounds, looking out over the city as the sun set. He pulled his hand from his gut and got his phone out, managing to dial Kazuko. He wasn't sure if he'd get her or not, and either way, whether she picked up or it went to her answering machine, he said the same thing. "Need help... Training grounds. Bring Tsukiko..." And hung up.

Tsukiko's motorbike peeled out of the garage less than an hour later, dipping by the estate for the briefest of moments to retrieve the teen that had been living alongside the madness-split man. The pair made their way to the training grounds, a short enough distance but a difficult endevear with the level-headed Kazuko's control being fought for by the madness-infested Tsukiko. When they finally pulled up to the main area, their shared body collapsed, flickering between the two while Vanja took off to find her landlord.

Sylas had stayed where he had arrived, gazing out as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. He could hear them, but he was too weak to crane his head in any direction to find them. Viator, unusually silent up to this point, finally spoke to his compatriot. This is the end, isn't it... Sylas let out a chuckle, taking a shallow, raspy breath. "Maybe..."

"Leaving so soon?" The strangely melodic voice sounded like it should be laced in riddles and confusion, but the words were simple, if not laced in a tinge of anger and coating of pain, flickering red along the young girl's pale body. "What ever am I to do, Mr. Hammer?" The teacher had yet to settle, still some distance back, both halves fighting relentlessly over the other.

"Good... You came." He breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "I need you...to do something. Come closer." Each word pained him, and frankly he was only holding on by a thread at this point. He had one thing left to do, and he couldn't go before it was done.