[Archive] [2v2] V & Adell VS Hyojin & Syn Shenron

Still was the God Dragon that reviewed the doctrine left behind by the savant of The Eternals. Though precocious, the dragon's complex mind was befuddled. Through tenacious observation the polymath struggled against the ceaseless ocean of time to uncover the the methodology behind the Book of Prophecies and the hypothesis left behind by the celestials. For how long? The world of alabaster reflected through limitless mirrors encapsulating his isolated laboratory was the antithesis of his then mechanical mind. The complex matrix array supplementing his fortified mental faculties remained puzzled by the cryptic shortcomings of The Eternals guide. Regal, ostentatious, The Lord of Infinity had long since reached the apex of existence and affluence. The Nibiru Alliance, the Kingdom of Fabrolias, everything he ever desired was reduced to things he could count on a mere hand; yet they all remained out of his reach perpetually. It stirred a rancorous riot within him: he had become infinite, yet what did it really mean if he was still limited? Finally the sun-blessed savant sighed. For how long had he spent his life struggling against the impossible? The unification of the cosmic serpents, the execution of The Crimson Knights and The Aesir Empire, every desire he truly were absurd to even think of. 

Inconceivable though? Adell Illiandes Laemington refused to believe that. It was for this reason that he spent much of eternity in a place outside of time where he could formulate the necessities needed to defy futility. The Book of Prophecies was infinite in its wisdom, yet so convoluted that it could not answer the questions that he desired most: so continued the ambivalent struggle. Finally, however, for a moment isolated from the others, he decided to end the struggle in favor of another matter on his agenda. The book of aggregated knowledge dissolved into nihility, leaving his cosmic eyes to observe his callous hands with indifference. 

“...the genesis project will take longer than I expected…” the sage whispered to himself. In a situation where even the Ten Wisefathers were useless, he knew that time would not remain still forever to solve the quandary in question.  

“Lord Adell...” a soft voice echoed beyond the veil of translucent mirrors.  

“Enter,” the loud thunderclap demanded with realm shaking command.  

A pale woman entered, her naked hips switching pridefully with every bare footed step against ivory. The ethereal platform that held them high above the clouds was mystical as it were divine, and every step of the bare woman bounced succulent breasts atop her chest. The culture of Fabrolias was one of exposure, raw, to admire the flesh of one self below the solar. Only the Lord of Infinity could defy the religion for reasons that didn't take much understanding. 

“The metadata of the Babel Tower has been indexed...information on Old Jerusalem and the lost children have been located.” the thick-thigh'ed woman only five feet tall knelt before the throne, its back turned to her to face the sky beyond.  

There was a silence where only the quaking heart of The God Dragon and the servant could be heard, for entirely different reasons however. Old Jerusalem was the lost arc of mankind's civilization born shortly after the collapse of the world's beginning. It was a world shrouded in the darkness of humanity's mistakes where even the matyr could not absolve it. With a mere thought he pulled the information from the Babel Tower and assimilated it into his mind, sifting through the modified data deciphered by those who swore fealty to the scholar and dragons alike, and it took five microseconds for him to compile the reports altogether.  

The throne of white rock shattered into particles of sand, just as Adell rose from it, the ivory-suited scholar grunting in dismay. The arbiter of evil was in the hearts of man— yet their existed another evil, the shadows of that which basked in the light. The ever conceptual world was one that few minds alone had ever comprehended, yet now the knowledge was within his grasp. Even after he stood and the scintillating flecks of sand ephemeral though blessed dissolved into enigma, there was silent for a few moments before he spoke once more. 

“All matters of importance to be delegated by Zandakar, my brother. I will be gone for some time...” he commanded of his servant. “Though there isn’t much left of our influence or being in this world, perhaps it’s time to make a final impact.” 

The red-haired servant replied with impetus, “Yes God-King, forevermore.” 

In that very same moment he was no more, nor was the platform, and nor was she. Everything dissolved into the very white that was the sky above, and like that, The God Dragon was gone. 

The idea of manifesting himself in his true form in the material was an absurd idea until it actually occurred. Aureate shards of incandescent energy collapsed onto itself, warping several mediums of matter onto itself meticulously. As if programmed by existence the volume of power that assimilated into one place as dense as was— the potential for a black hole as imminent. Yet the dark matter seemed at bend to this unique entity forcing its way through the astral leylines from the planes and into the material. When his outline became defined by the medium of cosmic perception, the entire world world around quieted. The more his influence strengthened, the the stronger his control over the kinetic energy directly associated: and this far removed from his “Astral Chi Dragons” tamed under his discipline of Jingenken. 

His mind, body, breath, and soul were unique in ways that betrayed his human aesthetics. In the vacuum of absolute space he drew not a breathe and never once blinked. Bearing the physiology of a dragon meant giving him the aptitude to exist within the currents of dark matter and the cosmic forces, and when combined with the celestial blood of his mother, one could say The God Dragon’s very existence was derived from his own power alone. 

A power he was convinced was without rival.  

“Our client is pretty cheap…” his mind echoed into nothingness, “I can’t maintain in this world for as long as I could before. Let’s finish this so I can take care of my own business.” 

Whether or not his brother throughout time and space could hear him, he fashioned himself for the occasion. While a translucent platform of aggregated cosmic essence rest beneath his feet, it stood to reason that he was omnidirectional. Then again, most weren’t. The ivory-suited king of colossal size began a steady amble across the five-hundred by five-hundred meter platform. His ivory hair swayed as did his white suit with wisps of golden ether, palpable only to the keen of eye. Seven feet and four inches tall with a wingspan four inches longer on both arms, he was a mesomorphic freak of nature that resembled a giant more than a man. Yet the suit about him drawn to fit around his cut body depicted him as an unnatural paragon, and this fit the universal eyes that swirled with every color vanishing into the void of his iris. 

He kicked his lacquered sable dress shoes and assured himself that he’d materialized his signeturgy-woven “Armor of the Ark” (as one of his worshippers called it) before he continued with his walk. All of his other armaments rest within reach of will, but he had no reason to manifest them from their pocket space and he was almost sure he wouldn’t need any of them. 

As the weeks went by in other universes, time flowed differently in the Black Lagoon. While wars were waged, while souls traveled back toward the multiple sources, while suns rose and fell in a myriad planets, Vincent Fiorelli's counterpart negotiated with one of his long forgotten half-sisters in the comfort of his lair. The demonic heritage that once sought to control the Red Magister's vessel was currently a separate entity of his own, adopting the moniker of 'V' and spearheading a group of slavers in one of the fringes of the Multiverse. Nearly six months had passed in the outside world while Vylena and V discussed a profitable relationship, regarding specific plans Vincent's biological father - and thus, his biological father - had in mind for expansion throughout the realms. They would surely keep in touch after the night's negotiations had concluded positively. 

With a dark chuckle, the woman disappeared in a burst of deep purple smoke, right about the time a black sphere hovered into V's chambers. The bunch of naked women surrounding his throne all cowered against the wall, understanding the function of these devices quite well. Tools of torture, these drones crafted by the Red Magister's counterpart possessed a myriad functions, though this one specifically was nothing more than a messenger carrying the notice of a war brewing upon one of the universes found far to the west of this realm. It would be practically impossible to get there traveling in light years, and so V considered the proposal. More importantly, however, he considered how these people knew about him. It was impossible for them to have heard about him, especially when he was laying low in this place. But then again... Even his half-sister had found out about his latest enterprise in the Black Lagoon system. From the looks of it, this group of individuals requested V's services as a mercenary in the upcoming war against an enemy known simply as the 'W.G.S.', initials that sounded familiar but he could simply not remember when or where he had heard the name. 

Regardless of the situation, V could not ignore an excellent opportunity to bring despair, to inflict terror, to propagate pain and destruction in another region of the Multiverse. Vincent would know that his counterpart was not staying still in one place, that his goals still remained the same, and that his reign of terror would extend across the realms. With a single step forward, the manifestation of the Red Magister's darkness transcended the realms, traversing through the thin veil separating universe from universe - the Void between Worlds - to stand right beside the God Dragon in the blink of an eye. Nothingness was erased as V came into the picture, walking alongside Adell as though it was a routinely endeavor. 

"Children only exist to suffer under the weight of the world surrounding them. If these haven't learned by now, then they shall perish." The arrogant voice of the demonic creature permeated the air as though acid sizzling through flesh. "I expected you to be merciless, God Dragon. Don't tell me your thoughts revolve around whether to let these people live." 

Partially taunting him, partially letting Adell understand that his motivation was to kill every single individual in his way, the Red Magister's counterpart chuckled under his breath. It had been a while since he could let loose in this manner, given that during most of the time spent on Black Lagoon, his group of slavers were handling all the 'negotiations' along with the raiding on nearby planets and star systems. All that was required to quell any possible resistance was a mere fraction of his power. Hopefully, the enemy in this location would prove to be more resilient. 

V was often found garbed in crimson robes that appeared to adhere to the skin from the waist up, embracing his neck, torso, shoulders, arms, and even the tip of his fingers in a velvet-like fabric. From the hips down, however, this fabric flared outward, not unlike an oriental hakama, though the ends remained slightly tattered to expose a minor portion of the layered leather battle boots beneath them. This was commonly known as the Set of the Shadow Queen by the Red Magister, and though most of its capabilities were often stifled when he wore it, V tolerated no limiters when it came down to his prowess in the arts of war. The suit was fully functional, shifting in form and function depending on the wielder's desire at the time, yet it was unlikely that anyone ever witnessed every little bit of what the 'armor' could do. Beneath these clothes, V wore a pair of black silken pants fastened together with a deep crimson sash, which were hardly ever seen by his opponents. His tan complexion was highlighted by vibrant scarlet irises surrounded by black sclera, and disheveled ashen grey hair descended along his shoulders and down to the middle of his back.  

What was war but the redundant slaughter of both sides' finest brothers and sisters at the hand of the powerful? How are we to truly evolve if our peak is gone? Both perceptions are muttered with hatred and rancor, and instead of rectifying the issue with words, they'd rather use force. Fists. Hands. This time, however, it'd be different.  

This time, Goliath had the technology and David cowered behind false ideals and weak murderous intent. This time, when they rose? They'd stay on top. Anyone who'd oppose them would get that good ol' Dagda Mor treatment, and trust, no one wanted to be brought to an end like that. 

Kitten soft, but in they songs be trapping hard as Jeezy. I don't believe it. 

The frame that was divine obscurity drapes itself within an ominous, brittle silence, for there were no testaments to supervise the underlying zeal of Hyojin Ryuusei. 

A care in the world hasn't crossed his mind thus far, but then again, beings of his magnitude seldom found themselves subjected to change. He was high in the sky, and he never wished to come down. Floating briskly amidst the scintillating music motes of a forlorn serenade, there were no ailments that could cause him detriment now. He was beyond the scope of man's hollowed pool of light, and laid with goddesses in the dark. Demure, albeit enchanting, the cosmos waft ahead in the vast plane that he'd found his serenity in. When he found another, the target of his superstition, they'd wish that they never made a God out of this kid. "Come home, Hyojin. We still have to fight. You said you wanted to get stronger, right?" As her words float and ricochet between the multiple corners of his mind, an unspoken and shrouded sorrow drained through his immaculate, mesomorphic physique rather than skating over it, leaving him unscathed. It'd been forever since he'd truly spoken with or fought the woman that raised him, and this thought was what led him to the stars for solitude in the first place. Indecisive and scatterbrained were one of an array of facets that befell the prismatic tessellation that was his mind. Knuckles were cracked, gear was woven into place, and the only choice he had to make was whether or not he'd follow her voice. 

He's boundless, adrift in space, and still, he hears her.  

In reality, it wasn't. He just couldn't bring himself to venture back into that organization as if nothing happened, as if he hadn't created an indescribable furor with every man and woman affiliated with them.  

He was indisputably one of the strongest creatures in the multiverse, and was letting his mom dictate his every action— Then again, there was always a loophole to her madness. It would take some time, of course, as everything did, but he was coming home. His quest had been one of the ages. First, he found himself fighting one of the Nethuamamagos, an affiliate and rival of Niveah's, and ultimately destroying what he stood for with nothing but his hands, and then entrapping himself in a prison for three years because prophecy foretold her arrival there. It'd been a slippery ride, but hopefully it was coming to an end. With a hopeful mind, he sets off to Vehemente, the place where she'd most likely be before anything and anywhere else. 

His manifestation outside of the Vehemente Head Quarters caused every light in the massive edifice to swing violently from the ceiling, as if something from the sky fell and struck the Earth with all the might of an imminent tempest. Some lost their balance, but others knew exactly what was up. The Dragon Fist was back, and this time, he was there to stay. Nature's substratum indents in the wake of his disposition, as the terrible rumble from gaia's stomach came to a cease. He saunters into the main atrium with the same indifferent look he'd always given his comrades, which didn't look dissimilar from the one he gave his enemies. Doors fling open with ease as Hyojin embarks on the journey for the woman that challenged him. If she wasn't here, then where could she have possibly been?  

Suddenly, something blocks his path as he's rushing down hallways. 

"Oh, it's... You." Fist deep in a bag of hot Cheetos, the man with flaxen tresses mused. An unpleasant sneer follows his declaration, "Move, Judicael, or be moved. I'm busy."  

"With the thing and the beings and the other thing? Yeah, I was just about to head out." He's intrigued, but his visage doesn't show it. His facade is still remnant of boredom. Judi always was able to read beyond that mask, though. 

"Where is this?" With the revelation of these whereabouts fresh within his mind, he dissolves into naught, and manifests at the edge of battle. Looks like he hadn't returned to stay. 

___ 

Dimensional striations were capitalized on with ease, as scattered motes of cosmic influence pave the way for impending battle. His stature reforms into the gallantry that is this void, and all the while dreck-like essence of the aforementioned stacks up and become his disposition before stepping through the gates that merit passage. Six feet and four inches tall, and nothing shy of three hundred and forty five thousand pounds, one would think someone so immaculate would have at least obesity as one of their drawbacks based on these statistics, but no. He'd held the same cut, refined physique that he'd carried with him since he was a child. He didn't wear a shirt, so every muscle in his torso and arms were showcased with unabashed vigor, but he wore small, red shorts, barely passing his thigh. He truly was a work of art, and anyone with eyes could see it.  

Tendrils of undying temperament fetter slightly, as his crimson curls define him with every urge. The physiology of a Ryuusei, by law, merits a few somewhat slight changes to the space, even if he hadn't truly been there. The mass around his person would grow undoubtedly colder, and the space around his person would become thicker, and somewhat warped visually. Ensnaring his ankles were numerous microscopic weights, swathed in the same pearlescent, uncolored boxing wraps that were on his hands. They were there more so for their protection, and not his. His body is welled with stardust and his own life force, which, when amalgamated, caused one of if not the most detrimental maladies known to man or otherwise.

He steps forth, and it's like he's been there the entire time. No further indication aside from the visual would aid them in their quest, for nothing but a carapace befell their eyes, devoid of the sentiment that would cause it to earn the title's they possessed. His eyes hold pain untold, which is a direct attestation to the fact that he wasn't himself in the moment. His body was there, but his head was in the clouds. Nonetheless, he intended on fighting these men with everything he had, and more. From the opposition, he stands about fifteen feet away— Just enough distance to act, as well as react. It was perfect. Perched on his side was his set of nunchucks, visually mundane but bearing insurmountable power completely under his own aegis. He was ready. All he had to do was speak. 

There he floated among the sea of stars, marinating in the chill of the final frontier with his limbs sprawled out as if he floated atop water. He lay among them face down in the direction facing a celestial body. Behind that? More stars. Which way was down again? 

Orbiting the planar structure, he lay in silence merely observing the graveyard before him. It was the largest he had seen in a while. This wasn’t to say that he hadn’t turned entire planets into graveyards alone, but none as big as this planet. It just hit him that he needed to share this battleground with previously arranged allies. Simply aggravating. How annoying for him it was not to claim the lives of all of then himself... but his word was to be kept in exchange for freedom. After this war, he would be able to do as he seen fit and would single-handedly slaughter more and more armies in his own due time. He had even hoped most of his “allies” would retreat so that he would claim more kills to his name. Such a self-entitled bastard. Such was he; a tyrant of combat who moved only to cease the movement of others. 

Floating behind him were six royal blue orbs in the shape of a halo tilted above the back of his head. Each orb was adorned with black stars varying in numeric value. A grimace upon his face in memory of his own agreed terms. How dare they make him give up kills? After his first couple victims, he would be sure to interfere into other engagements and steal more kills from under their noses, and if he were to be interrupted, the opposition would be met with a swift death regardless of allegiance. They were lucky he even agreed to these terms.  

Reforming his body to resemble a complete vertical stand (if that were even possible within space) with two pythons of arms coiled across his pectorals, he allowed his own still-body descent from atop the stars and leaving the orbs behind to cascade freely in different directions at whatever pace space would allow them to move in.  

Like a whistling rocket engulfed in spontaneous combustion from the friction around his form, he came like a meteor b-lining to the terra firma beneath him. Upon impact the ground rippled in all directions across it’s surface like a blanket being flung across a bed. Loose debris jumped from gravity’s clutch only to fall back down. Following the ripples was the imminent destruction of the area beneath his feet, effectively being forced away by the shock wave from the collision. Gusts carried dust and airborne debris around the circumference of the dome-like shock wave, throwing everything loose like shooting stars in the sky. 

There he stood within a cloud of smoke, leaving a faint silhouette of his stature within a mile-deep crater. The edges of the craters perimeter were broken with bolts of fissures scarring the terrain. When the smoke cleared a glow in his scarlet pupils gave off the vibe of his tenacity. This was just his arrival, imagine his combat.  

The shine on the orb within his forehead seemed to not be dirtied from the impact, nor did his clothing. He may have made a mess, but he kept himself pristine. Smoke cleared finally unveiling the tall stature of a sapient being with white spiky hair and black spikes adorning his body in various places. He was ready for war.  

Syn Shenron: Base form.  

1 Star Ball equipped. 

The many misinterpretations about The Lord of Infinity were often times absurd and nonsensical. Without mercy did he vanquish his foes where the determination of his armament was as capricious as causality. While the comfort of his technical aptitude was peerless when utilizing his hands there were a multitude of other weaponry that he had mastered beyond certainty. As ambiguous as the God of the Battlefield title he bore was, the dragon was equally frightening. Did “V” truly believe he would seek nothing more than the absolute destruction of his foe? Perhaps the carefree eloquence of his words weren’t enough. The elation of actuality in the material brought the king vigor. Like times before the blood of those unknown would rain under his fists, and his draconic fury would scorch the black void of space when there was no planet left incinerated. 

The misconception of his intentions stirred unrest within the warrior who's aura was parted only by that of V’s and perhaps that of the then nameless, shirtless warrior of the opposing faction. This was of little consequence. While the opponent’s aura was sharp and indomitable as characterized by the perception of the dragon’s Yangan, Adell's aura was heavy and enigmatic. Contrary to its appearance, it wasn't incandescent as the cosmic eyes of the beholder or the resplendent gauntlets that suddenly burst into his forearms, coruscating with divinity that vibrated with attraction to mysterious opponent, but rather it was comparable to the cold like that of the vacuum of space itself. Glittering about the air were flecks of shards that was his very presence manifested throughout the atmosphere, conjugating in unity for something unseen. Perhaps to empowerment of the primogenitor itself? While his disposition had been to parley and dance with the enemies, it seemed that there were other comparable presences felt throughout the material. The distortions in space from their power echoed across his many esoteric senses. 

That name. A vociferous shriek signaled the birth of an aperture by which the perceptions of time and space reeled in fear. 

The recoil was instinctive and the coddling lapse of the world within the dragon's very reach could have come with devastating effect were it not for his innate control of the Deus Artifice used to summon weaponry from a vacuum outside of the material. First did the silhouette of an edge appear, rigid and esoteric, hugging the veil of its construction within the world for the better of a second before the glittering blade manifested true. The opulent lange messer itself held a violet hue that descended along the length of the blade into lavender, and then into decadent shades of blue. In the wake of the weapon did the golden gauntlets along each of his arms dim their hues, as the soul of the Nibelung Messer commanded respect. The digits of his left hand grasped the glossy silver hilt and swept it through the air above and to his side. Motes of ether drawn directly from the crystal soul within suddenly tore through the luminous energy suffocating the space around them and from just outside the minute spherical axis of a four meter circumference in any three-hundred and sixty degrees around them—everything froze. Matter, energy, when the particles of exotic ether made contact with it, the vibrations of the molecular bonds became absolutely still, almost as if commanded by the blade itself to halt. 

With their opponent less than a hundred meters away, they had less than a second to react to the sudden psionic expulsion of exotic ether by the legendary blade. 

The sudden release of specialized ice magic that turned the world gelid and sapped the color of that which it froze temporarily, the Nibelung Messer began to gather its incantations to cast another powerful ability when the time came: though that day would potentially never arrive. The shoulders of the massive king rolled forward as if prepared to move suddenly and fiercely, but he remained still, repositioning the Nibelung Messer into his left hand and propped onto his left shoulder. The five foot long single-edged lange messer rest against his ivory suit, while his right foot slid forward and his right hand outward, positioning his right side to his forefront. 

“Guess I’ll deal with the boy and you deal with who comes after?,” he barked to V, “but something tells me you want to do your own thing today…” 

V perceived the sudden spike of sheer power in the depths of Adell's very soul, much like the Red Magister himself would have if he'd been standing right next to the God Dragon. Extremely short and most likely imperceptible to those that hadn't understood the very nature of the dragon's energy, not to mention the fact he was practically holding himself back to not collapse the entire star system in on itself, the culmination of the power spike was the ultimate manifestation of a particular weapon. The beautiful luminescence emanating from the glittering blade partially reflected off of the both of them, mere millimeters away from skin and cloth, as V nodded in approval. The light was mostly visible around the crimson-clad digits of the Red Magister's counterpart, with the major concentration of it found within the tribal patterns adorning his forearms and resting upon the back of his hand.  

"Haven't heard that name in a while. For all I know, she's either dead or dying, and if not, she's just hiding in one of the many corners of the Multiverse." V figured he'd inform the boy near the both of them, though he doubted the Ryuusei would be able to hear his words amidst the onslaught of Adell's Nibelung Messer. 

The best thing about being absolutely safe in a four-meter circumference around the dynamic duo was that V could use this area to his advantage.  

At the foot of the dome of safety, deep indentations were created by the mere act of sudden bursts of kinetic energy pushing downward against the crystalline surface all three combatants were currently standing on. All it took was a snap of V's fingers to send enough focused power through means of one branch of magic found within the school Vincent Fiorelli had chosen to adopt as his own, coupled with the mastery over the wind element he currently possessed. The 'drawing' was nigh-instantaneous, with a perfect circle surrounding the God Dragon and the heir of darkness. Moreover, right after that particular snap of his fingers, a white porcelain cup filled to the brim with a crimson infusion materialized itself from seemingly nothingness in his grasp, with a second cup floating near Adell.  

As always, the canvas upon which V's mental map was drawn already had every little detail about the star system they were currently located at. Extrasensoria Perceptio coupled with the fact that he could see, feel, and sense every form of energy from birth - a skill that was only further honed through the following years - allowed him to extend the reach of the map through entire galaxies if he focused upon the dark energy making up roughly ninety percent of the universes. In this case, this was unnecessary, requiring only to draw up the entire star system to understand the entirety of the battlefield, with both allies and enemies showing up as tiny little dots varying in intensity according to the power they currently emanated.  

In the back of his mind, words whispered themselves, as though his subconscious urged him forth beyond this battle, and toward the battles to come. 

As if two pristine amalgamations of graphite and onyx, his eyes were soulless. Lifeless. When the light of the candle graced their temperament, a flame of particularly bright lavender is the result. These ... Whatever these monsters were ... Ignited this silent ember within his eyes. This didn't mean he'd been getting serious with these creatures, no. Of course not. He just wasn't going to take the slightest chance of losing, because in reality, Ryuusei's never lost— At least, not very commonly. He himself never found himself succumbing to the might of another being, but he was just beginning to indulge in the status of existing as one of the strongest creatures in the multiverse.  

This was only capitalized on by his eyes, which held nothing to behold. His shelled brilliance gave nothing else to be desired by a pure visual standpoint, so without further ado, the match begins with a few core fallacies put to shame almost nigh instantaneously— He knows his target, hues fluctuating from being to being with a posthaste precision, but he wasn't stupid enough to willingly and hardheadedly luxuriate himself with the thrill of battle just yet. No, no. He's waiting for the opportune time to strike, like... say... a serpent?  

An angry drone of dissent, rather than the soothing, alluring tones he'd deemed a normality spawns forth, heard only by the residue of their poisonous bloodline. He vested himself in the unbounded cosmic prowess of the Ryuusei Shiryoku, a measure for something as drastic as the ability this being procured.  

Time decelerates within his eyes, pupils resembling the endless void around them, as the temporal stream their warped perception operates on is activated, as if it hadn't been before. Just the combined manifesto of his destructively malignant chi, with the forlorn ancestral powers of the bloodline, he'd be able to handle them both with ease. 

A cacophonous cry reigned supreme above interim resonances, as if that was the bell to signal the commencing of the battle. Unseen, and unheard, he carries out what he had to. To get to Senko, these fools were clearly of some sort of preliminary. No matter.  

His aura redirects the flow of this sea of ether-pervaded vacuum, simply by rewriting its prerogative and route before it could grace his skin. Regardless of the way this energy source was programmed, what it was demanded to do, the moment it touched his chi was the moment the administrator would find himself dead with seemingly no viable reason in mind because it wasn't just chi. It was so much more. 

It was a poison, seeking to gnaw at these different sustenance's and grow off of them not unlike a cancer would, but more spontaneous and rapid. Its effects are naught, and even if there were a slight chance in hell that these didn't work, it still wouldn't touch him. He's just too great, and so is his ancestral chant. With seemingly no visible effort, these valiant attempts are disparaged without a moments notice, and with that, the chess piece moves. 

These outside driving energy sources are undoubtedly the most resplendent he's ever come across, and he's encountered nearly all of them. This one was different. Snap, crackle, and pop— His hands contorted to resemble that of a serpents mouth, putting the strain on his "bones" and cracking what little of the brittle yet powerful matter he had left into submission, his left leg drawn slightly back. He's stancing, and before you know it, he's off, but not for the target one would've initially thought would be his choice. 

Obvious, yet destructive, he unsheathes his nunchaku, transmogrifying it into its lance-like form almost nigh instantaneously, and enmeshing itself with the motion that'd brought God's to their knees just by movement. The rhythm echo had been something passed down from generation to generation and the only time he'd ever seen it used in action was when Senko was beating up some nameless freak with ease. It was only right that he'd use it as well.  

The one unclad in any form of armor would become the target of his affections, particularly his solar plexus, directly after the other male's weapon arrived, and not a second before. 

Any indication of its existence on this plane was swathed in the unknown, whether it be visionary or otherwise, unless they held an affinity towards the cosmos, and even then, this, like his form, was just a vessel of chi. The moment they'd attempt to trap this carapace in a vice or something of the same magnitude and greatness, its pandimensionally charged particulate was to wipe the slate clean and rebound on the tether that his chi possessed to his form. They were all one in the same.  

There was an anomalous burst of kinetic energy below, and that's when he figured that his aid arrived. The framework of his power and disposition were different from who he'd have expected to show up, but then again, who he hoped to be his partner was a chameleon, ability wise. He didn't care either way. He wasn't truly fighting until he was fighting, so his movement would be a little less needed aside from a few changes to his stature. Chi unceasingly welled up within his augmented person, as they were towards some sort of stand still. 

It was as if he and this so called 'God Dragon' resonated on a level unknown to most. It was as if they were destined to fight by some higher propagandized order. No matter. He'd handle him the same way he'd handle any other clown, and that was by force and inquisition. 

As he carries on the fight below, he's peering at what could've been and laughing with earnest, just imagining the insurmountable hill of shit he's had to climb through to get to Senko. It's been a while since he even thought he was getting down like this again, but then again, it was bound to occur one way or another. According to his Gran, he was practically brimming with power, much more literal than it would've been about five years ago, and this attracted challenge. 

Challenge attracts ego, and we all know how ego can tarnish the perception of even the most benevolent of men. 

Patience was never a point of interest for the embodiment of corruption. With a firm stamp of his already flat foot against the terrain, a large forceful wind swept up from the impact and carried the dust and smoke up from the crater to move it away from his position.  

“Tch.” Where was everyone? This was the location he was told to be at. Coming to a rise in post, he levitated from the ground and began to survey the area in sight of where they may have been. Without any sight of his partner he closed his eyes and made the effort to search for his energy.  

It was at this point where his partner was reacting to the endeavors of the opponent before him. He recognized his partner but not the other two he seen with him. He got a feel of their essence however and made note of it to discern them from the other essences involved in this war. Opening his eyes he looked off to where they were. From what his eyes showed him, they were right above the horizon. What the curvature of the planet told him was that they were a whole quarter of the planet away. This was fine. Even from across the planet he was more than capable of reaching them in under a second, but perhaps that was not the proper plan of action.
 

From his position he seen the two males next to each other from the side. This put the smaller one in front of the bigger one from his perspective while his partner didn’t see them in the same way from his position since he faced them both.  

For Syn it was a straight line, perfect for two birds and one stone. He unfolded his arms across his torso and leaned his top half forward. His mouth agape, he let loose a stream of crimson negative-energy racing to their positions in about a second’s time. As the energy traveled, it increased in volume and by the time it would reach the duo, it would be the size of a freight train enough to engulf them both and inflict damage, but nothing too fatal unless they were caught completely off guard. A careless position could fall victim of even the most minuscule of details.  

Regardless of success rate, action would follow. He closed his mouth and his face displayed a grimace. It was a big “fuck you” to his opponents for being so far away, even though it honestly wasn’t their own fault. Crimson ki erupted around his form in an explosion of aura which danced along his surface like flames of war. In his aforementioned position, he seemed to crouch down even more and kick off of ground that wasn’t even there.  

A stream of energy tailed his body as he shot towards the others in a rush of aggravation. He was now en route to battle with his energy rising in company to his tenacity. They had their one warning shot, next time it was going to be death. 

Many are called but few are chosen. Since the beginning of time the balance maintained by guardians throughout the generations garnered many names— but most were lost to. The greatest vanguard, heralds of cosmic perseverance, only the Lord of Infinity could perceive their somber tale. Unbound by the harsh standards of time, it shaped the destiny abound with conquest and victory. The world moved only relative to his perception— the complex matrix of tiny quantum computers to unchain his processing speed broke the barrier of data analyzation and comprehension assisted by subsequent ancillary processors throughout his flesh. The time that it took a synapse to communicate through nerves and impulses was circumvented entirely, everything that metagenically enhanced biology was capable of perceiving was already processed and understood. A quintillion of comparatively minded mortals or even thousands of dragon’s minds couldn’t compete with the quantum surgery funded by The Nibiru Alliance. Behind his glazed, astral eyes did he perceive all through the dozens of multi-dimensional senses, all orchestrated by the mastery of his genealogy. 

Adell Illiandes Laemington was far from judicious, nonetheless he seemed quiet. The ivory-haired king was known to be voracious, headstrong, destructive. Many had suffered to his violent mood swings and it seemed the suffering wasn’t yet done giving. When the aura of chi suddenly erupts from his opponent, the slight widening of the sage’s eyes could be perceived. There weren’t many in the universe who specialized in using chi on such a level that it proved effective, and there were less who could stand before The God Dragon with such power as their main tool. This intrigued him. The destructive energy caused the vacuum of space about him to distort, and seemed to interact with the ether exuded by the blessed blade Nibelung Messner in an oddly mendacious way. It was impossible for his opposition to know it immediately, but ether as an energy form represented the base energy existent in all of the cosmos. This ether represented by its neutrality was far different than “aether” its positive counterpart or “‘nether” it’s negative. Not only was it impossible for such energy to be sentient or guided by way of psionic prowess, but ether from different “planes” of existence all had unique qualities that made them different from one another. Much like the other laws of physics, the effects on the world on both a perceptive and multidimensional level were based on the construction of reality long before they were worthy of existing. 

It was this code of the verses that the dragon had come to master. This was the key to eternity. The exotic ether expunged by the Nibelung Messner was of the world Celestia which existed in the higher collection of planes and carried far more density of ether than most other ether variations— but with how little was emitted, it was the lack of fortification behind its purpose that made it no match for the chaotic aura of his opponent, not what they may have suspected. There was no psionic guidance or technological programming, the ether was guided by physics of what the exotic energy naturally desired, and the magnetic attraction between it and all forms of matter— attempting to displace the two realities or Celestia and the material plane colliding— made it impossible to overcome without expulsion of a ridiculous quantity of energy generation to tether its particles to. This of course works, his opponent had far more energy to recklessly spend (apparently) than he did, but that was just an opening trick to probe what his next decision would be. 

Atleast, that, accompanied by the recklessness born of his own hubris. 

Adell was no stranger to these lessons. Many a time he sought to conquer the most reckless of challenges. He learned through the pain necessitated by arrogance. Regardless of when it happened, at what point it happened, he had to come to them. Failure to do so would guarantee his defeat, but was either really an option? When it happened, that is, when he pulled the wool over the eyes of the cosmos and subverted the conventional senses in a sudden display of raw speed, The God Dragon’s soul smiled. The Yangan otherwise known as the Soul’s Eye was more than a focus of biological potential— it extended into metaphysical and multiplanar sensory perception. To the myth himself it was nothing special, a requirement to survive the wars he had seen. Regardless of what it was and what on frequency, plane, or dimension that it existed in, if it existed in the same overlayed space, he could feel it, and even more accurately determine what it was that sought to attack them voraciously. 

Largely speaking, it was inconsequential. There was nothing it was capable of doing that he wouldn’t be able to virtually ignore. The weapon aimed at his solar plexus would have appeared to strike were it poised to strike, but even if it’s aim was his contemporary, Adell’s body became a canvas of rippling waveforms unfurling into nothingness. 

By then the deed was already done, of course. He unleashed his true aura of chi into the world and the color from the stars bled into its outline that spread like an eldritch virus across existence. Robbing the world of its color, the very weight of what could be considered his soul’s pressure caused even the atoms in the world to act abnormally (but to what end yet unseen). From where the man himself stood, he reappeared, displacing the space around him with his presence alone. Two chi masses, Sei and Dou, cascaded through space like a tsunami of ethereal energy threatening to collide with anything it struck. The scope of this bitter storm would even trickle to the planet itself, scorched by unstable wisps broken from the leylines of his metaphorical veins. Arcs of superheated atoms scattered about the abundant release of chi, scorching much of what would come to lack color or life. 

“The kid is mine…” The God Dragon’s will howled across any discernible frequencies any could dare perceive. Adell’s lips didn’t move, but his true form did, hidden behind the astral. Slowly his right hand raised, his will communicating with The Babel Artifice located on the boundary between the higher and lower domain. Things were going to draw increasingly complicated, but this was the first time the dragon had a chance to involve himself and have fun. U-DO...here? They’d have to earn it. Internalizing his discipline he instantaneously channeled the mantra of The Earth Dragon into his form, multiplying the durability of his callous facade. Chiseled like stone his body slowly began to resemble a monolithic vanguard of old than it did a human beings body. An errant dye of gold twinkled from within the cosmic eyes of the martial-artist. 

——————— 

The Sephaiark was built by The Nibiru Kingdom as a godslayer capable of bringing salvation by the hands of anyone chosen to wield it. Generations of children sacrificed themselves to the forbidden weapon in hopes to change their lives. None succeeded. No one who had uplinked their mind to the Neowave Engine of the complicated weapon made it past the boot up screen: but Adell was different. After-all, he wasn’t human. Heralded as a prodigy of strategy and the epitome of strength, it came to no surprise that he alone held a mind capable of surviving and controlling Sephaiark. The demi-plane where many of possessions The God Dragon commanded suddenly released one of its many dangerous surprises. 

When the beam of negative energy tinged by crimson missiled towards V and Adell from afar, something intercepted it half-way, through the midst of the chromatic dissonance that warped the life of their surroundings. 

Twelve meters tall, fourth eight metric tons, a colossal mecha emerged from the distorted demi-plane instantaneously, the red-plated lockardized, miasma-cast delirium alloy transmitted the wavelengths of psions cast by Adell to the hyper mobile mobile frame just as fast. Beneath the plates within the chassis began the gyration of the Hyper Resonance Drive, studying the existence of be world around them while simultaneously factoring the battle situation and what best way to eliminate its new foe. 

The negative blast before impact split into hundreds of vectors that shot off into the distance and was inevitably absorbed by Adell’s presence. 

With the dragon rushing forth with such energy, it was only natural that it begin its on defensive protocol. Twelve spheres materialized from light, using Matter Editation technology facilitated by the resonance system to create them instantly. 

And then it remained still and waited. Would he collide with it and attempt to destroy it as was the cause with war? Or would he recognize the obvious trap and think outside of the box? 

The God Dragon didn’t expect much, but he was suitably interested in his opponents. Enough so that it seemed like he might have to try for once. 

It was often the case that Vincent Fiorelli was the one who pulled Adell out of the frying pan, such as the time when the latter charged directly into a field of pandimensional energy designed solely to counter-attack with a burst mimicking the impact force clashing against it. All the Red Magister had to do in that case was pull the God Dragon back, saving him from quite the headache, the equivalent of which would have been getting drunk on the Blood of the Multiverse. Somehow, somewhere, the entity known as Soguts sneezed internally. But that was there and this was now, and regardless of where this pandimensionally charged particulate was or how it could or could not be felt, the relevancy of the matter was that V had chosen to 'ride' Adell's energy. One might ask themselves how, but the proof was in the pudding, as they said.  

First and foremost, speech was no impediment to V's movements, as the Nibelung Messer itself was impeding the approach of the incoming object of unknown signatures, grasped firmly in its wielder's hands. A hundred meters between the duo and the target; ninety six meters before he'd clash against the dome of safety surrounding the God Dragon and the heir of darkness. Chances were Adell's weapon was currently affecting the entirety of the construct they were standing upon, along with a sizable portion of the space surrounding it. But how did V even understand what was coming his way? It was as simple as understanding the way his mental map worked when coupled with his Extrasensoria Perceptio, and the fact he could witness, sense, and feel energy as a whole from the day he'd been born. This was no secret to those that knew the Red Magister, only the ability was further pushed to the limit by his darker counterpart. As such, there was nothing that would escape his 'eyes', and the little things that could weren't currently present in this battlefield. 

Secondly, whilst Adell's mind relied in the technological advances of the Nibiru Alliance's finest engineers and their cutting-edge research in quantum surgery, it was through the sheer concentration, focus, and training that the Red Magister had undergone through his years what enabled him to calculate a myriad scenarios along with every little variable found within them. His studies in magic had only served to further strengthen this focus, and the fact that he could deeply alter his genetic code pushed the physical vessel he inhabited forward towards evolution in every possible way. V, however, tolerated none of the limiters the Red Magister enjoyed, seeing it fit to tear them down and alter himself as much as his physical and spiritual vessels could take. As such, plans could be modified as seamlessly as a state-of-the-art neural network calculating Chess moves over millions of matches, and he still wouldn't miss a single variable in all those scenarios. 

Thirdly, once Adell's body became a canvas of rippling waveforms, unfurling into nothingness, the physical vessel of the heir of darkness instilled itself within it, temporarily merging with Adell's very ether for all but a moment. The reason why was simple enough; to partake of the God Dragon's limitless ether and further fuel the defensive field surrounding them. Those four meters of safety which were, at the same time, surrounded by the Nibelung Messer's influence - an influence that Hyojin had attempted to thwart to no avail - allowed V to act freely, unable to be approached unless the defenses were dealt with. When all that ether was pumped into the bounded field, causing it to shimmer vibrantly, the luminescence reflected off of both Adell and the heir of darkness further intensified. And it was in this very moment that countless beams of light jut out of the glowing dome, harmlessly passing through Adell's Sei and Dou as though the energies' affinities were inconsequential to each other. Furthermore, the beams were unaffected by the Nibelung Messer's influence; V had seen to every little detail regarding the God Dragon and himself, attuning the current spell in effect to their energy signatures in such a way that the effects of the spell would not harm each other, but rather affect every other energy signature outside of the Nibelung Messer's, Adell's, and V's himself through a simple spell modifier. Naturally, the colossal mecha possessed Adell's energy signature and, as such, would also remain unaffected. 

The Aionion Petrosis - Eternal Petrification - was one of several spells found within high-ancient magic within the school Vincent Fiorelli had adopted as his own. Normally, this spell was fired from the fingers, with novice wielders requiring to speak the incantation for the effect to be made manifest within the material plane. Masters of this school of magic, however, could cast the spell without an incantation, employing what is often referred to as an 'Unincanted Spell', while utilizing other devices or mediums to cast it, such as the eyes, or even objects. The Red Magister often enjoyed imbuing bounded fields, provided he was allowed to set them up in an area, with spells, thus manifesting the effects of spells within the inner or outer world created by the boundaries. In the case of circular or spherical bounded fields, the inner world was anything contained inside, whilst the outer world was anything on the outside of the field. It only took putting two and two together to understand how the Aionion Petrosis, an attack spell releasing beams of light that forcibly petrify all living and non-living beings in contact with it would work in this specific case. 

Due to the concentrated nature of the spell, a single beam obviously has a small effective range, though when applied to a bounded field and allowing beams to shoot forth from the 'walls' of the boundary, this weakness is overcome. The beams are also capable of penetrating shielding both magical and physical as though supernatural drills, and also possess an extremely high destructive and cutting power. Attempts to modify the effect of the spell from an outside source would find their influence slipping away, as though they could not ascertain the exact nature of the energy allowing the manifestation, and they would be correct in failing to ascertain it for, you see... Energy was consumed within the heir of darkness prior to the manifestation of a spell's effect, fueling the casting, however immediate, and leaving an opponent to deal with what was in front of them. There were no tricks, no veils, only the offensive moves themselves. 

Ultimately, countless beams of Aionion Petrosis jut forth from the dome surrounding the God Dragon and the heir of darkness. Anyone or anything that was charging toward the dome would find themselves most likely pierced and petrified by the myriad laser-like concentrations of light, all whilst V calmly sipped from the cup he'd been holding in his hand prior to the whole shebang. Perhaps Syn had a better chance of escaping the onslaught due to how further away he was, but things weren't looking too bright for the young Ryuusei. Well... At least a handshake wouldn't take this one out.