[URM] Solus VS Ignis

Being reduced to menial work wasn’t without its merits. Sure there was the endless piles of paperwork for him to deal with day in, day out, but at the same time, that allowed for him to stick to his own schedule more than he already did. The Head hadn’t assigned him any actual tasks, just that he meet his deadlines; as such, venturing out into various worlds wasn’t an issue if he met said deadlines. That was as easy as doing several days’ worth of work and leaving a schedule for his assistant to drop off the marked folders accordingly. 

Walking up to the Dimensional Gate Room, Solus was wearing his usual work attire: a navy blue tailored suit, black tie and charcoal leather shoes. His hands were wrapped in the red and black Ehrgeiz, its knuckles studded with what appeared to be diamonds. Beyond them, the Turk was surely wearing his bracers, but they were concealed beneath his coat sleeves. That was all he ever wore, all he ever used, the notorious brawler relying solely on his hands to crush his foes. Even venturing to foreign lands, his skill was considered top class and some how saw him through the tough missions he now seldom saw. Of course, he also had his jet black sunglasses, the rectangular frames matching his well kept flat-top of identical color, streaked with silver. 

The Gate activated and with a wave, the hulking Turk slowly walked through, deactivating shortly after he vanished. 

What he found on the other side was a world he’d identified as Fayn Sigma. Like many others it was host to a variety of climates, both large metropolitan hubs and scattered village/towns. The Gate had dropped him somewhere outside of a large city surrounded by dense woodlands full of towering trees. The wildlife thrived within, but the moment he appeared within the forests, all fell silent. It was a surreal experience, and one he craved between the piles of busy work lying in his office. His private investigations told him something was to be found here. 

Sure enough, not moments after he arrived, Solus could feel the presence of another, and he turned toward it. He reserved himself to waiting, knowing that should it be hostile he could handle it. He wasn’t particularly eager to waste precious energy on nothing. Spotting the remains of a fallen tree not far from him, Solus walked up to it and propped his left foot on top of the surprisingly dense husk and leaned his forearm supporting his weight. All there was left to do was simply wait and enjoy the silence. 

The bite of cold obsidian drank deep of charred flesh, followed by gutteral groans against lips stained in crimson. Serrated rivets parted, ripping slowly through the skin, taking pulped chunks of meat and tissue along with it beneath thickening drips and bloodpools; shimmering against gentle sunrays that crept through rivulets of azure plastered against the veil of the forest's canopy. The corpse tossed to the ground in a plume of ashen dirt, and with a swing of the blade came the stains of blood-spatter against bark and singed grass. Smoke and steam rolled from ashen craters that gleamed like smoldering embers, and where charred cadavers lay in the dozens against spatters of black blood and eviscerated flesh. 

Molten hues flickered across the foliage, scanning through the soot and blackened ash that danced aloft on the hot breeze like flocks of obsidian butterflies. His stoic visage veiled by a stygian oni-mask that seemed fastened to his body; clad in an armor of identical ashen hue. He wore it like a cruel second skin, plates of exotic living metals which fit precisely against his herculean physique and matched his muscles with every twitch and motion. Beneath them were woven bundles of fiber and steely sinews meant to mimic the most minute of muscle movements; the armor conforming to his body like a symbiosis of flesh and metal. From broad pauldrons came untamed ivory locks, pouring over his form wildly and drifting silently in the shifting winds. -c- 

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His left arm seemed reinforced with an additional gauntlet, clad in runic fixtures and a single circular apparatus woven tightly around the forearm. The arm itself gleamed a deep vermilion hue; and burned to the touch like a blade fresh from the forge. In his right arm held the armament that wrought such devastation. A spear, it's shaft forged of crystalized blood and emblazoned with the names of those whose essences coursed through it. The pommel itself was a small blade, meant for counterattacking and parrying, yet the main blade, or series of blades, was entirely different. Three distinct blades, each larger than the last from tip to end and separated into sections by large, serrated rivets meant for catching weapons and rending flesh. A surface chiseled by reinforced obsidian-like elements, where carved several small air-holes along it's surface which made the blades whistle in the wind.  

The neo-horseman did not receive the answers he desired; the the fragments of his shattered belongings were yet still nowhere to be found. A single inhale sounded through widening nostrils; taking in the scent of the living nearby. He pivoted on his right foot, roughly a hundred meters to his adjusted front stood another, leaning against a husk of dead wood. An exhale followed, expelling a steam of flammable gases from his mouth to crackle into the atmosphere. Metal-clad digits coalesced around his spear, holding it with both hands, and grinding clawed sabatons into the charred earth with bent knees and lowered stance. 

Ignis was finished talking. -e- 

It didn’t take Solus long to determine the presence he detected was evil. Who or whatever it was had the distinct aura of something consumed with darkness, so much so that it had a mild effect on its surroundings. Of course, this creature was far from the level of darkness he’d been tasked with slaying in the name of Shinra. Despite the distance between the two, Solus’ highly practiced senses were capable of identifying the magicked armor encasing the body of the evil one, and form an idea of its strength from there. Naturally, this was merely a preliminary opinion, as the only reliable way to gauge something was with one’s fists. He reached up into the sleeve of his left arm and started his customary timer, programmed so as to follow a specific sequence, and then dropped his right arm to hang alongside his left leg. 

Having already determined that the creature wasn’t going to make the first move, mayhaps due to recovering from delivering the stench of death that was beginning to waft towards Solus—or maybe it was afraid of him? In any case, Solus made his move from his apparently relaxed posture, suddenly vanishing from the forest albeit temporarily. The fallen husk exploded into countless splinters of varying sizes as a result of the Turk using it to launch himself into the sky, expertly avoiding any larger branches that might have slowed his ascent. As he neared the apex of his leap Solus held both arms out to their respective side and allowed a small smirk to spread across his face, eyes ever concealed by his almost annoyingly squared sunglasses. The wind rushing over his body was refreshing, and he savored it for the brief instant he could before he carried out his duty. 

Seconds later Solus fell backward in a gradual curve, aiming himself to supposedly land near the evil one. He had been several hundreds of meters high, but as he descended his velocity increased several times at different intervals. Once he neared the treeline, 

Solus twisted his massive body into a calculated spiral, maneuvering himself beyond the reach of the web of branches that could have slowed his fall. He didn’t take the obvious route should his chosen target try to determine the most likely entry point from above, instead twisting himself in a manner that didn’t coincide with his size and popping out a few meters to the target’s right side and slightly behind.  

Upon breaking through the canopy, the Turk flipped himself over while reversing the direction of his spin at the last possible moment. This simple change threw the Turk over to the opposite side of the target where his feet found purchase with the forest floor, ending his fall and placing him inside the target’s guard nearest his left arm. The result of his high-speed movement backed by tremendous power was enough to shake the earth immediately in the vicinity, which might or might not have the added benefit of surprising the dark one. Nevermind the concussive, albeit harmless shockwave that would upend any loose debris.  

Throughout his maneuver, Solus kept his left arm angled in front of him ready to utilize his bracer to defend against the counter-attack that was sure to come, meanwhile showed no sign of attacking until after he landed. The Turk’s attack came in the form of a blisteringly quick snap of his right hand, aiming to first strike with his foreknuckles with crushing strength enough to shatter most conventional armors, and open the weaker surface of his opponent’s body—specifically aimed at his left ribcage, or arm should it get in the way—for the delivery of the full force of his punch. Solus held back considerably, as this was merely a gauging strike, but if it found its target then bones were sure to break, perhaps even the being’s lungs would liquefy under the sheer trauma. 

As with all martial artists, positioning was critical at all times. Solus had landed in such a way to keep his left side facing the black one, his left bracer ready to defend all the while. His knees were slightly bent and the majority of his weight had been transferred to his right foot, his trusty shoes holding up to the task as always. He didn’t waste any precious time with words, but a single beep from his watch chirped the instant his punch either connected or missed. 

Granting the initiative was a courtesy Ignis gave seldom to others; however, the whispers of the shattered horseman coerced him into a defensive posture. Convinced that their bout would be more enjoyable if the martial artist was not on a defensive backfoot against the onslaught of his inexorable advance and peerless martial prowess. Molten orbs beamed through the plume of debris and wooden shards that exploded into a tumultuous torrent of sheer force. A smile swiped across his cheeks like the slash of a blade beneath a cold, emotionless faceplate. His flamboyance was entertaining, and not all that dissimilar to himself. The combatant vanished above the forest's canopy, and Ignis merely responded with a handful of steps forward, ensuring he could maintain a suitable distance flourishing his spear in a calm fit of boredom as he awaited gravity to bring the foe back down to earth. 

It was impossible to determine the location where his foe would approach and land, even for him. Though his innate 'Battle instinct' granted to him by the fractions of the warsoul he possessed, granted him experience and tactical awareness beyond his years. That, coupled with a small, secondary brain underneath his frontal lobe which focused on processing reflexes and fast-twitch muscle reactions would be more than potent enough to offset the lack of foresight. Finally, like a bolt of lightning the martial artist descended in a downward torrent of raw speed and violent force. Even as he fell upon Ignis, exotic living metals roiled to life, digging deep spikes into the earth; where armored plates closed together and the steely sinews beneath clenched to mimic every minute muscular action to brace himself for impact. His spear flourished fully to his right hand as the impact sounded, an explosion erupting about their forms. Though, Ignis had not moved a single inch, standing grounded like an immovable bulwark. -c- 

With his spear in his right hand, it appeared that Ignis' left flank remained completely exposed, and that Solus had bypassed his guard, though the apparatus on his left arm had remained coiled and silent as bait for this exact causality. Ignis pivoted at the torso to the left, raising his forearm using the slight distance he had made between the two after walking forward previously. The armament unfurled, plates clacking outward in resounding clanks to form a large round shield as Ignis swiped his arm forward to meet the fist that leapt through the plume of smoke and debris. His right foot smashed forward to force all his strength and body weight into the bash of his shield; where metal muscles clenched and tighten to augment his already obscene strength further. Knuckles met the hard bite of hellforged alloys in a clash that sounded like a gigantic church bell. The shockwaves scattered the dirt and smoke around them like ashes in a gale, and Ignis pressed forward. 

The force of Solus' punch was redoubled back onto him, crashing against his forearm that had been raised to guard him, and pushing the shattered bones in his attacking arm back toward his aggressor, rendering his right arm completely useless. Further, the sheer onrush of forward momentum send the martial artist pinwheeling at high speed into the depths of the forest, shattering trees and left and right into shredded chunks of bark and splinters.  

The plates of the shield coiled back, folding in on themselves and back into the apparatus on his left arm, where his hands gathered to meet the polearm of his spear once more. Fingers twirled around the armament to spin faster and faster, until the whirling weapon was no more than a blur which spun into a vortex, creating a ring of ash and blasted dirt around it's edges. He continued to flourish the weapon in this way around his body, awaiting the next time his foe attempted to clash with him. -e- 

Solus wasn’t some run of the mill martial artist. He certainly wasn’t a fake—some baseless oaf with big muscles and no real strength. He was the prevailing epitome of sheer power within the company responsible for the conquering of hundreds of entire worlds, all in the name of repairing the fatal scar of their own. While he may have had his start as a typical SOLDIER, when the opportunity presented itself he applied for a position within the infamous Turks. Exceeding all expectations and passing with perfect scores, Solus had proven to those whom actually matter that he was multi-faceted, and possessed of power beyond most. Considered a tactical genius, and now known to be strong enough to put their best augmented personnel several rungs down the ladder, there was no mission too tough, too dire, too hopeless to accomplish for the Turk. That said, it was going to take a lot more than mere “living metal armor” to fend him off. Solus was relentless, merciless, and all business. Every action however minute had a purpose. He chose to execute a gauging strike to get a better understanding of this walking aberration, and it told him all that he needed. The man’s armor was clearly beyond inanimate, and as it shifted to absorb his decidedly weaker strike, its abilities were made much more clear to him. 

Now, aside from being essentially the definition of strength, Solus was anything but slow. Capable of bursts of extraordinary speed and possessed of equally impressive albeit much more sustainable agility, Solus wasn’t going to sit there and wait for the aberration’s counter-offensive, which came much too slowly, having only begun to move after he’d landed his first strike ((as written)). By this time, with his weight already resting on his outside leg, Solus simply shifted his body with a twist, maneuvering himself outside of the attempted shield-bashing. 

That shield bash was over-committed to in the form of a forward-step and kick, and with Solus nowhere in its vicinity he was free to attack. Even if Solus was cocky enough to stand still and wait for it, there was little doubt that he couldn’t just stand his ground much like the aberration had. However, again, he was renowned for his tactical ability, and was already operating three moves ahead of the foolish ‘knight’. 

With his opponent pushing himself forward against naught but air, Solus decided to execute a skill that couldn’t be absorbed. Absorption was annoying, as were sentient or otherwise “living metal” armor that restructured itself to compensate for its wearers ineptitudes. In Solus’ experience they were a pathetic stop gap which only delayed the inevitable, as the aberration was due to find out. 

握拳, Wòquán 

Having twisted out of the path of the aberration, Solus slammed his left foot down immediately as his target threw himself forward, simultaneously executing one of those enormous bursts of speed to drive his right hand forward in an unshakeable fist. The skill drew virtually limitless power to destabilize the space immediately surrounding it, subsequently destroying all matter and energy in its vicinity. The effect was typically lethal to any object be it living or not, and it wasn’t one that was over quickly. The power utilized to destroy the space was reverberated continuously until whatever it comes into contact with was no more. Naturally, such tremendous effect on the world let alone an overzealous cretin what slayed innocents wasn’t one that could be shaken easily. Were the fist to be tanked, whatever it struck would see itself locked into place. Considering Solus’ fist was only so big, it was still enough that it would mean ripping out a section of the aberration’s spine, as the Turk’s fist targeted the center of its back. 

If by sheer dumb luck Solus missed, his forward momentum would end just behind the calculated position of his target anyway, and thus it wouldn’t be possible for him to overshoot the aberration or get any closer than he chose to. Instead, his still unoccupied left arm remained at the ready to defend against any attack, should it somehow survive. The Dragonscale Bracers weren’t quite indestructible, but they provided enough boon that the aberration was going to have to do a lot more than blindly charge him like some animal to break through. Meanwhile, the Ehrgeiz was indestructible, and ensured that Solus could unleash whatever his heart desired without fear of destroying his own hands.  

As things stood, the Turk saw no reason to utilize any of his more advanced martial arts, no cause for concern, and no reason he couldn’t end this swiftly. The aberration might have been powerful, but the Turk had never failed to crush everything in his path. 

Three moves ahead was a rather presumptuous assessment of the situation; so too was the flamboyant conceit of his foe to assume Ignis could not match him move for move and blow for blow. Until this point, he had been under the assumption that in this realm he could only use his physical prowess alone to win his battles. His foe corrected him, but not in a way that would bring the martial artist any benefit or credibility. Besides, the dead cared not for their reputation. The turk could easily notice that even as Ignis missed, the warrior's molten hues followed the combatant wherever he weaved, dipped and turned. His 'battle instinct' flared as cranial synapses accelerated with each moment as the warsoul became his senses, allowing Ignis to focus on his movements. This was his 'Battle meditation.' A fist climbed toward his back, a single eye watching as Ignis reared his head to witness the space-distorting strike near him in split moments. An interesting technique, but Ignis had techniques of his own; just without the pretentious chinese names. If he had to give this one a name, he'd call it... 

Ching chong ping pong! 

Ignition flared beneath stygian sabatons as ionic winds crackled and unfurled into sparks of lightning, and in a fraction of a second the battlefield gleamed alight for a brief moment in a blinding monochrome radiance. In that moment, jet-like thrusters exploded outward from his shoulder blades and the soles of his feet in a torrent of pure heat and force that burned at thousands of degrees centigrade. The ground beneath them flash-melted into liquified pools of molten glass as he exploded forward in a concussive shockwave; it's force pushing air out of the space where Ignis stood creating a miniature vaccuum for a brief second which would have sucked the opponent toward it as Ignis propelled himself away from the danger at supersonic speeds. -c- 

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The thrustered borne from his dominion over heat and thermal energies died as he slammed his sabatons into the dirt in a grinding slide, causing a friction that sent a massive tumult of dirt and soot spiraling into the sky in a gigantic plume of debris, acting as a makeshift smokescreen. He readied his stance, hidden in the smoke for a brief moment his feet dug into the earth where smoldering rivulets buried deep into the soil. He drank of the geothermal energies of the planet, the churning magma between tectonic plates and primordial fires of liquid metal fuelling him with newfound strength as a corona of deep vermillion flames coated his figure in an aura of untempered heat. The smoke cleared to reveal his figure with winds generated by the flourishing of his spear, and Ignis motioned for his foe to come closer, and try again. 

However, it was unlikely that the turk could. The earth where he stood had been turned into molten glass, and his feet were likely quite literally fused into the earth. The flash of his propulsion generated a light that likely rendered him blind, and a shockwave at point-blank range followed by the sheer force of his jet thrust likely ruptured his eardrums to deafness and destroyed his internal organs. The speed at which the turk would have had to retract his attack to dodge would have been a near-impossible feat, coupled with having to escape the pull of a force-generated vacuum for a split second further decreased his odds of doing so. -c- 

Though, just like his foe, that was only a miniscule fraction of what he could do, and it was an evasion to say the least. His attacks from herein would be far more devastating, although, that's only if the martial artist was still alive. -e- 

Strength only got someone so far, even if that someone was Solus. His previous duty was that of SOLDIER, where he fought alongside a man known only as Enki. Having spent years together, Solus was exposed to some rather harsh surroundings all of which were primarily side-effects of the man’s skills. In particular, the Howling Steel ability had exposed Solus to extreme sound-pressure, resulting in his building up of a rather abnormally high tolerance. Then there was the matter of his Magma Quake, which presented Solus with several opportunities to both deal with and work around a molten ground. These were but two examples of environmental hazards that Solus had recent experience with, which he would draw from to deal with the aberration’s actions. 

With the reveal of his armor’s hidden thrusters, the aberration managed to activate them in the knick of time. The window for his options was made exceptionally small based on the close proximity Solus commanded, and the speed with which he struck, yet the aberration was able to see it coming and react nonetheless. The thrusters roared to life, releasing the to-be-expected shockwave, heat and force that accompanied such equipment. It was a hairy situation to be in for an average fighter, of which Solus was anything but. It was all thanks to the constant shadow of the General of SOLDIER cast over the warriors of the company, that Solus pushed himself to not ignore the importance of speed. That man was fast, extremely fast to the point he was beyond catching. While Solus wasn’t exactly popular, it would be accurate to say that he was as strong as Ahriman was fast. Knowing he could never catch him, he could shorten the gap by utilizing his strength to emulate speed. In any case, Solus had fought against and alongside men whom operated at significantly higher levels than his current situation had showcased, across countless battles that had helped him develop his already impressive senses. 

The aberration tore off at what Solus gauged to be supersonic speed, which explained why what little of the shockwave that washed over him hardly fazed him. There was little because it was a simple matter of shifting targets from the thing running away from him, to the area immediately infront of him. His attack became his defense, and all of the flashy effects of the thrusters firing off were consumed by the distorted space lingering in front of Solus. The same fate was handed to the “force-induced vacuum” that was tugging at the loose dirt and leaves surrounding him, not that it could have budged the warrior to begin with. It took a man of considerable durability to weather the might of Primals, and the skills born of Primals wielded by a not-quite-so-sane SOLDIER turned KNIGHT. In the end, the thousands of degrees centigrade worth of heat was stripped of its fuel the moment it entered the fractured space, subsequently leaving Solus unscathed. The vacuum was broken due to the space which it occupied being distorted already. The flash of the lightning-like ignition of the thrusters was similarly diffused, though that wouldn’t have done anything considering Solus never went anywhere without wearing his astronomicaly expensive sunglasses. In fact, nobody could actually say what his eye color even was. In one fell swoop the large majority of his opponent’s attempts at roasting him and the surroundings was absolutely crushed, with only the fire from his boots connecting with the ground. 

Solus stopped himself just as he’d intended in the first place, his movement having only been enough to bridge the gap between them to enable his striking him in the back. With his opponent’s choice to vacate the area altogether, and Solus’ to shift his target to the space in front of him, stopping was the only logical action. The ground immediately beneath the aberration’s feet in fact melted, though it didn’t turn to glass as they were occupying a forest and not desert sands. Having already stopped in order to strike the space immediately before him and not take himself out, it was a non issue upon initial onset of the melting. 

He relinquished his assault on the space before him that had missed its original mark, having to do so before it ran amok and destroyed too much. Solus then demonstrated his own ability to move quickly, except that he moved several times the velocity of the aberration and didn’t require some fancy thrusters to do it. What’s more, he hadn’t been using merely his eyes to track the cretin, the thing stinking of death both literally and ethereally it stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t his maximum but it was enough to overtake the aberration well before he took his time stopping, traveling parallel to the path and only ten meters apart. By the time the aberration did come to a stop, things were not as he expected. 

Solus utilized the self-same strength which had propelled him at great speed to stop just ten meters away from the aberration. His left arm was extended forward, palm facing toward himself to expose the yin-yang on his backhand to his opponent while keeping his elbow slightly bent. His stance was otherwise neutral as he stood still with his legs shoulder width apart, right arm hanging freely at his side. Then for the first time Solus released his unique silver aura to serve as a new first-layer of defense His silver aura barely extended a single meter out from his body and had no impact on the environment whatsoever. This was quite unlike the massive draw from the planet’s energies exhibited by his opponent, eventually turning that power into a bright red aura his own. Clearing the smoke that was perhaps meant to obscure his opponent’s escape with a flourish of his spear was unnecessary, as Solus was clearly capable of tracking the him all along. 

The aberration could hoot and holler all it wanted for him to attack, but it was high time for it to prove itself worthy. Every second was precious to the Turk –well known for biding his time—and he wanted to see something worthwhile before ending this skirmish. 

A single beep from his watch was all the Turk offered in response. 

The flourishing of the exiled emperor's spear was no act of showmanship, nor of arrogance. Every twitch of his muscles held purpose, technique refined by his people over endless millennia of perpetual warfare. However, Ignis was the first to combine the arts of magecraft with the weapon arts of the polearm. Every thrust, an incantation, every slash weaved ancient energies; and every flourish and spin of his polearm invoked a spell. He wielded his weapon in the same way a wizard used a wand, striking with precision and acuity whilst casting magical spells at the same time. Even as he darted forward a sound barrier-shattering speed, his opponent followed, and Ignis watched. In truth, his armor was not the source of the power of his thrusting forward; but in fact, his innate power and dominion over heat and thermal energy; using extreme temperatures focused at specific points around his body to produce ionic wind, thus generating jet engine-like thrust.  

The smokescreen cleared with a flourish as his opponent landed several meters away, and it could be noticed the faint semblance of glyphs and magical circles emanating in from the spear's circular rotation for a brief moment. Another spell had been cast in that seeming moment of showmanship, but Ignis had to acknowledge one thing. Most foes would have been reduced to ash from that simple evasion, the fact that the Turk still lived commanded respect. Ignis did so with a slight nod, and as the martial artist raised his hand to reveal the peculiar symbol, Ignis prepared his stance as well. Knees bent, sabatons dug into the soot-charred earth with both hands clenched against his armament. The moment his spear fell still, the whistling of it's blades ceased, and the vermilion glow of his left hand simmered into a molten orange hue as embers crackled off of it's surface. -c- 

The beep of the Turk's watch signalled his advance, another explosion of pure heat and power not unlike his first sounded forth; pulling from geothermal energies increased it's overall power, thereby propelling him even faster. Soot and ash exploded upward in a massive torrent where left behind pools of liquified dirt and molten slag. From his chest and midsection came ten smaller explosive thrusts which drastically shifted his momentum at the last second. Most bodies would have liquified from the sheer G-forces of such a shift, but Ignis' armor and physiology allowed him to remain relatively unscathed. The sudden shift in momentum placed him to the Turk's right, roughly a foot in front of his outstretched palm and three feet to it's right, ensuring he did not stay within it's general direction. However, the distance between them is what Ignis would exploit.  

A single thrust of his spear sent forward toward his xyphoid, threatening to skewer him through and through. Further, another, smaller explosion of ionic wind burst behind Ignis' left elbow, further propelling the thrust forward coupled with his already obscene speed and strength. The whistling of it's blades ceased, as if air was no longer passing through it's microscopic orifices. 

This would likely be their final clash. -e- 

The Turk was able to see the coalescing shift of mana--regardless from whence it came--emanate from the aberration’s spear. Now not only had the thing chosen to pull energy from the planet to fuel his strength, so too did he choose to cast magic with his spear. This annoyed the Turk, though perhaps there was some credence to the old adage “Never judge a book by its cover” after all. The form of the thrusters from its back were spawned of magic as well, which was called upon again--all to the Turk’s disappointment. 

He was only ten meters away from the aberration when it decided to make its approach, and given its choice in method to maneuver, the whole scene was just a mess. Pulling even more energy from the planet and blasting himself forward to cover the distance rather than use his own strength, and then pushing forth more in order to alter his path and stop just shy of his outstretched palm. Really, it was all just so excessive and uninspired. 

Solus shifted his aura to that of his Phoenix’s Fury, the silver aura remaining perfectly unchanged in all manners of appearance except that it doubled in range to two meters. The fury was a skill born of the great Silver Phoenix, which was worshipped as a War Deity from eons prior to humankind ever existing. Where this aberration called upon a gross overuse of this planet’s energies, the Silver Phoenix was possessed of an unquenchable thirst for power in all its forms, guided by an unknown philosophy. In the here and now, all that would matter was that Solus’ fury was able to destroy any and all ether, regardless of its source. Anything what approached the Turk bearing magic/ether/energy of any kind, found that power destroyed the instant it was within range. The only thing it could not do was kill a living being, as there were other far darker skills for those tasks. This meant that even the thermal energy his opponent called forth would not be spared. 

It was likely that the sudden erasure of that which fueled its seemingly every move would stun or otherwise surprise the aberration, though Solus wasn’t going to stand around waiting for it. After all, the thing had still thrust its spear for his midsection with considerable power behind it. He had altered his movement to remove the potential aid of momentum transference into his strike and instead tried to use magic to assist his strike, which was now certainly his folly. Even then, his movement had not exceeded the realm of Solus’ perceptions, to include the window of his reaction speed. Ahriman was capable of speeds extending well beyond the hypersonic range that Solus could achieve with his whole body, and yet Solus could still react to that. In fact, there was an enormous difference between moving one’s entire body great distances, and moving small, confined distances. Moving one’s body parts was another matter entirely and virtually incomparable. With factors such as those, the Turk was left unimpressed and ready to enjoy his time out of the office. 

As he had released his silver aura as a first layer of defense, the Turk would have been able to sense any movement within and likely react in time to defend. Coupled with the release of the Phoenix’s Fury to erase any mystically assisted processes (within a limited range, of course), Solus moved in for the kill with full confidence of his success. His right arm seemingly vanished from the realm of sight due to the sheer speed with which it moved, the red and black glove colliding with the spear to deflect it further left. This was executed in time with Solus stepping forward with his right foot and rotating out of its path entirely, where his already extended left arm would simply move over to reach for aberration’s head. With his hand facing inward, it was a simple process to attempt to grab the aberration’s helmet and twist. 

Through to that point, his opponent had displayed speed that was well below the Turk’s normal comfort level, well below his ability to react to, and well below what would be needed to avoid his counter. Moving his body within the space of two meters at one full step above the speed he’d used to out-pace the aberration just seconds prior, it was several orders of magnitude out of its league. Again, this was based on all of the Turk’s observations up through that point in time. Without the aid of magic both offensively and defensively—perhaps that armor was magicked—he was expecting to hear and see the creature’s head popped off liken to a champagne bottle full of blood. If his hand connected, the Turk exercised considerably more strength than he had in their brief skirmish, more than enough to break hardened steel like glass. Of course, there was always the possibility that he would somehow miss...but given that he moved to the outboard side of his opponent’s attack and already had his attacking arm fully extended, it was entirely unlikely. 

The Turk only moved his body what was absolutely necessary and would remain as close as possible to the heathen in attempt of ridding himself this nuisance to what was supposed to be a good day. 

The exiled emperor had not been taken aback so much by the Turk's course of action as he was it's execution. Ignis didn't need to rely solely on his magic, an thus far only used to further augment his already obscene strength and speed. What struck him as odd was the use of an energy-nullifying field. Though initially acknowledging the sudden change in scenery, he retained the peerless focus that he had kept throughout their bout, maintaining his composure. The two-meter field destroyed or nullified any incoming energy, meaning light from the sun could not penetrate the aura plunging the two-meter radius into an absolute darkness. No air could be breathed, no sounds could be heard; and if Ignis could not even use thermal energy, it meant that it was incredibly cold within the space as well. Thus, the Turk could not see, hear, or breathe, and was likely freezing to death. Pulling energy to sustain himself from an outside source was impractical due to the nature of his aura. 

Fortunately, the runes on Ignis's armor contained the magical incantations he weaved like a hermetic seal, meaning instead of being destoyed or nullified, they were sealed internally for a later use. He'd use this to sustain his body's homeostasis, and due to his physiology, it would take much longer for him to catch hypothermia than his foe. That, coupled with three powerful lungs, meant he could likely hold in air for a much longer period of time as well. 

-c- 

The Turk maintained a slight advantage, still somehow using a second aura even though the overlapping one destroyed all mystical processes. Ignis could see and hear nothing, nor could he rely on his keen sense of smell due to there being no air to breathe. However, his innate 'Battle instinct' allowed him to fight opponents on impulse alone in a similar fashion to shadow boxing. Yet, even then, his spear had connected with the Turk's arm even if only a graze, and his sense of touch still remained. As mentioned before, the whistling scream of his spear had stopped as he charged forward; this was due to the micriscopic air-holes located along the blade had taken in all the pressurized air that they could from the two sound barrier-shattering hurdles he had made. As the red and black glove made contact with his spear, he twisted it in a precise an calculated manner which in the fraction of a secod released that pocket of highly pressurized air into a small shockwave just as the two connected. It didn't need t break the gauntlet, but the point-blank sonic burst would have certainly sent vibrations shooting up his arm; breaking bones, tearing muscles and bursting blood vessels. As a result, would render the arm unusable conventionally. -c- 

Further, Ignis came slightly forward, catching the forearm within the center rivet of his blade and twisting slightly to lock his arm in place. In the same motion, he brought his right elbow forward. As explained prior, Ignis' secondary brain didn't simply increase his reflexes, but his fast-twitch muscle movements as well. Ignis would be just as peerless at sudden movements, if not superior to his opponent. The martial artist had walked directly into one of the most simple and fundamental techniques taught in Ignis's discipline. Countering a counterattack via his spear using the adjacent, bladed end with a side strike of blinding speed. The turk may have had his aura, but there was a difference between seeing an attack and being able to dodge it. This, included with blindness, deafness, and the foe quite literally motioning into the attack would require a miracle to dodge. If it landed, the force of his polearm pushing forward woul have snapped his extended arm like a twig, and the blade slitting his throat. -c- 

Finally, Ignis drove forward with his body weight, swiping downward with his spear which still had his opponent's arm locked, sending the turk hurling down to the ground with a force that would have easily divided his spinal chord and ruptured internal organs. He would have then violently retracted the blade, likely taking the man's hand with it, and sent it screaming downward to skewer his head at the bridge of his nose. -e- 

For some inexplicable reason it seemed as if Solus had been betrayed by the very God he had been chosen to become the next disciple to. Normally, Disciples of the Silver Phoenix saw extraordinary blessing, being incapable of suffering from disease, maladies of any sort, to include the laundry list of status ailments that could be inflicted via magic. They also were possessed of extraordinary combat experience, as they inherited the skills, abilities, traits, and experience of all those prior. The lineage of the Silver Phoenix had been catalogued by Solus’ family, which depicted in great detail the timeline of how long the Silver Phoenix had been choosing Disciples to promote its overarching agenda. And yet, all of that experience was apparently thrown out the window by the ungrateful Turk, choosing death over breakfast, and pissing away all the wondrous abilities and knowledge he had been granted as his very own. Who wanted to be the chosen one of an Omniversal Primal seen as a War Deity (God for laymen) anyway, that was so 1999. 

Except that isn’t how this worked at all. Perhaps the aberration was capable of magically not using magic to create thrusters, and then suddenly rewrite immediate history and actually using magic to create the effects of thrusters (but not actually thrusters), but Solus was not. Then there was the matter of the spear flourishing, which had not been casting magic (or made any mention of it doing so)--but in fact it had been rewritten as having doing so the ”whole time”. What were those spells and what effects did they grant? Who knew, but it’d probably shift from one thing to another anyway. Don’t forget about the manipulation of geo-thermal energies, primordial fires from within the planet and liquid metal. Those somehow weren’t born of some mystic process, despite the aberration not appearing to harness some kind of device, really big drill or otherwise to do it naturally (except that the aberration had been using magic the entire time, now, for everything). 

Last but certainly not least, was the newfound ability of the aberration to determine how the Silver Phoenix’ blessings worked and its impact on its disciple. Now the aberration had found a way to designate the target of its Phoenix’ Fury skill, and redefine what qualified as “Ether” and what didn’t. 

This was just too much for the Turk to handle, so the aberration would falsely believe. Only small problem was that, for having supposedly two brains, the aberration was as stupid as they came. A real amateur barely keeping up with Solus’ lowest level of combat. For all his obscene strength and speed that wasn’t obscene at all thus far (but more on that later), Solus was barely lifting a finger as they say. He hadn’t even called upon the active use of his nine chakras, utilized any formidable technique within the eighth fist, more than a gauging strike in his futae no kiwami-kai; he had played by the agreed upon rules and refrained from using his Tou-Ate which probably could have ended the skirmish in a single, well aimed strike. Fact of the matter was, the only skill Solus had used with any real significance to it was the Quaking Fist limit break, and that was the first time the aberration had run away when it really wasn’t required. It was his level one limit break and entirely useless if dodged or say, intercepted with meaningless objects like a chair for crying out loud. Now there was the Phoenix’ Fury, which had been twisted to fit some sort of alternative definition not true of actuality whatsoever. 

For starters, even if some how the aberration’s suspected reality of how it worked came to pass, Solus was immune to status ailments of all kinds—as previously mentioned. This was due to being the Silver Phoenix disciple, and the practice and employ of the Way of the Nine Chakras. A minor benefit and not what made the risk of blowing one’s self to kingdom come worth it. Considering the aberration’s alternate reality would not come to be, Solus hadn’t done anything of what it had thought. The Phoenix Fury targeted first and foremost Ether. Now, it had no use whatsoever for weak ether, which is about all that would be found in the air the warrior’s were breathing. Quantum energy within atoms were not on the Silver Phoenix’s radar; just the same, neither was the electromagnetic spectrum which visible light fell into. Whether light was defined as mere radiation (EM) or photon energy—unless Solus had reason to explicitly go target the fucking Sun, or someone had used photon-emitting weaponry on him, there was no point in negating it. Even further, the same could be said for the ambient temperature of the fighters’ surroundings—all extremely inconsequential, insignificant, and not on Solus or the Silver Phoenix’s radar. 

The “large volume” of geo-thermal energy, primordial fire which the aberration had literally just surrounded himself with in the form of a vermillion aura was the target. As were the “ionic-winds” generated by the self-same magic, and the alleged undefined magic being suddenly released from the spear the whole time now. The miniscule amount of quantum energy and electromagnetic radiation found in his two meter aura? Why in hell would he ever bother with that? To commit suicide via erasure? Not likely. 

The reason the two auras emanating from the Turk didn’t clash was simple: Solus wasn’t stupid, nor was he suicidal. Normally the Phoenix’s Fury was imperceptible, but Solus was operating under supernatural restrictions (it being a URM fight), and as such had restricted the normal 50-meter radius to just slightly beyond his natural aura. There was no reason why he couldn’t utilize both simultaneously, as his natural aura was one that he used to gain an unadulterated read on his immediate surrounding. This was often referred to as a Sphere of Influence. The Fury was an aura which targeted energies that qualified as being “Ether”, which was a broad-spectrum term which generally covered the use of: magic, chi, ki, mana, aether, astral, extra-dimensional, creation and even technologically generated sources. The skills displayed by the aberration thus far fell into the school of Geomancy, manipulating the energy of the environment to yield magical effects. Just because it was thermal energy did not make it unique or special whatsoever, and in fact it was exceptionally common-place althroughout the Omniverse. It was a prime target for the Silver Phoenix to feast upon via the “Fury Aura”, or whatever anyone wanted to really call it. As such, the Turk had done exactly that. He didn’t blow apart the fundamental energies within atoms, light or sound waves—there was no goddamned reason to. No interest, and that’s not how the Fury worked in the first place 

(as was mentioned: Solus’ fury was able to destroy any and all ether, regardless of its source. Anything what approached the Turk bearing magic/ether/energy of any kind, found that power destroyed the instant it was within range. The only thing it could not do was kill a living being, as there were other far darker skills for those tasks. This meant that even the thermal energy his opponent called forth would not be spared. Within that statement, it is made quite clear, even ignoring the definition of ether, that Solus was not targeting himself in any way, shape, or form). 

Taking all of this into account, were the aberration mysteriously subjected to some self-inflicted stew of maladies in the way of blindness, deafness and extreme cold—it was through no fault of the Turk. As for his attempt at fending off his deflection with sheer force through the release of stored sonic force, that was a far stretch. The Turk’s protected hand was [protected] only in contact with the spear for a split second, just long enough to aid the spear in its natural path away from his body as he moved his body. Solus was well aware of the bladed end of the spear—he had fucking eyes afterall—and hadn’t put himself in a position to run himself through quite like the blind, deaf and dumb aberration somehow believed. However, that was another thing which needed to be addressed. 

Throughout the fight, the aberration had made mention of some obscene strength and speed, talking itself up to being some kind of dark god of a steaming pile. When it finally came down to showing its hand, it traveled at super-sonic speed which Solus had explicitly made clear was nothing to him. Supersonic speeds were no faster than Mach 5, and Solus himself was capable of acting at the next tier above that, which extended up to Mach 10. His shadow, Ahriman, General of SOLDIER, could routinely move at the tier above even that. Solus’ reaction speed, senses and all, were no stranger to extremely fast paced movements. Supersonic speed was the quintessential stuff of child’s play. The movement of the aberration at what it, and it alone considered obscenely fast, was a goddamned joke—but it had the benefit of being the literal only quantified measure of this alleged obscenity. Its strength had been thoroughly unproven save for failed attempts at dictating reality however false and non-existent. Whereas again, the Turk had exhibited strength capable of outright shattering hardened steel, meaning that he could pack a hell of a punch even at this mundane level of combat that he had been fighting at. Again, there was no exhibition of strength apart from the off-and-on-again, magic-but-it-isn’t-magic-but-it-was-magic-the-whole-time Geomancy. Oh, and the magic spear that suddenly woke up, don’t forget about that. 

So it would be, all Solus did to deal with the aberration was simply grab hold of the spear and keep holding with his proven strength—increasing as much as might be necessary. The Ehrgeiz, again being indestructible, did not break and did not allow the transference of “shockwaves” or vibrations through its material. Given that said shockwaves/vibrations were merely stored and focused exertions of that generated by supersonic blasts, it simply wasn’t enough to damage the Turk in any meaningful way. Referencing back to Enki, now known as the Emerald KNIGHT known for his use of the Howling Steel materia that could generate hundreds of decibels of sonic pressure—done so in Solus’ god damned immediate vicinity, attacking him with sound waves of anything less was about as effective as trying to teardown a house with a bag of popcorn. Following this, Solus would continue to reach up and attempt to snap the aberration’s neck, and get on with his damned day.