The forthcoming era of profound prosperity; what truly lies within the title of the so-called Dragon King? Spanning the horizon, several warriors —each carrying a distinct interpretation of the legend— harboring the talents of dragons are soon to clash —be it by fate, or simply by treason. With such vigorous bloodshed, they will invoke but a new Dragon Festival, that much is for certain. However, what is yet to be seen is whether or not either one of these participants is capable of ascending to the throne.
Within the blanket of a large grizzled biome, a single spirit of essence may be seen traversing the terrain; plunders of snow swarming his knees, he treads with caution, wary of his surroundings. Still yet, even despite the makeups of the flustered Winterland —of which is accompanied by the howling of a longing wind— he appears relaxed, almost unfazed by the constraints of the pressure. Adorned within an onyx stock positioned tightly against his pale flesh, the only portion that would seem advisable, at the very least, is the fur collar eloping his neck. This is because the blue-haired man, abhorred as Jiretto Ekuseru, is at ease, for he is within his home, within his element.
Coming upon a rectangular complex, he exhales a frosty breath, watching with lackadaisical pupils as it stains the air before him. As he enters through the front door, a flurry of wind, evidently upset with his departure, whimpers in detest. What he sees sprawled out in front of his eyes is to any ordinary person a garden tainted by the weather. With an open ceiling allowing the steady fall of snow pellets, many of the trees have been encased by several layers of the very same blessings, the waters somehow shown mercy in that they still function as a liquid. Were there to be any greens about the area, it has all been masked by ice, be it in the form of grass, leaves or even trees. Non-sequential constructs, such as rocks, boulders and the sorts, have retained some of their previous structure.
However, to Jiretto, whose heart and blood are both as frigid as can be, this is but one large festivity. What he sees before him is not some garden, nor is it to be the battlefield of his coming war; it is a time of celebration, for the suppliers of the Royale, have presented him a grand feast! What one views as the aftermath of an avalanche, he sees as a ball of ice-cream. What one would foresee as an ordinary icicle, he sees instead as a popsicle. What they see as a frozen tundra, he sees as dessert.
With his opponent nowhere to be seen, even so, Jiretto works with haste, for him truly cannot control his inner motives. Like a shovel, his mouth devours the snow by the dozen, revealing for a few seconds the slain brown grass before it is once more covered by the falling flakes. He proceeds from there onwards to the stream, filling his lungs with utter joy. In the wake of his celebration, he awaits the arrival of his opponent, feeling empowered by the effects of his own element.
The ground quivers in a quake of a shift as lava working its way out the ground like a pillar from the depths of hell rush outwards from the snow to release an area within the arctic snow to melt forming a trail of lava and bedrock stones covering the ground nearby the exposed cracks from within the ground to reveal a divide between both the arctic wasteland and the pools of burning hot lava.
Coming from this land of anguish and pain is a man with crimson red eyes of the blood of those he killed stained onto his soul carrying only but two swords at his sides and a crimson red armor matching the eye color. Takashi Suzugamori is a well-built male with long flowing hair to reach as far as his behind. His expression was a calm yet he also shown to have an extremely focused look on his face as he stood there, looking across at the other man as he gives him a simple nod of respect.
"Greetings, you must be Jiretto of Fable Guild.... was it?" He said with a rather cool expression gauging his enemy through a speech while he stood there in a calm stance with his arms resting on the edges of his blades while watching for moments to let him make the first move. As the fury of the winter embrace mixes with the embers in the moonlit sky overhead as the two stood across from each other for the first time.
Stuffing a handful of snow into his face, Jiretto stood to his feet, prepared to welcome his guest. He swallowed whole, and rose an eyebrow. "So, I take it you've heard of me?" His fingers scraped the stubbled texture of his chin, as if he were lost in thought momentarily. "My apologies, it seems I'm unable to return the favor; I haven't even the slightest idea as to who you are." It was unfortunate, really, especially with his being a secret Council Intelligence Officer. Had anyone amounted to so much as a decent reputation, he would have known of them.
"I'll make it up to you with some advice; I'm not one to repeat myself either, so see that you heed to it." Jiretto's demeanor grew fierce, his brow narrowing. "Don't hold back. Release your full power from the beginning, otherwise you won't receive the opportunity to do so later on. I'll tell you now that the last thing you want to do is underestimate your opponent —especially if that opponent is me."
A flimsy olive green aura came through next, swelling from Jiretto's feet upward. It illuminated the rest of his being, as he took to a casual stance. "Make of that what you will," he paused, allowing Takashi to complete the statement with his own name.
The air thickens as a crimson red aura comes through from underneath Takashi's feet upwards as he stood there with a casual stance. "My name is Takashi Suzugamori.... and Make no mistake... I'm here to kill you in order to claim the title of Dragon King at ANY cost." he stated with a glare through his glowing crimson eyes as he stood there prepared for conflict as he opens by forming magic to generate flames within his mouth.
The mouth of Takashi glows with a hot winds of flames as it then ignites into a large sphere of flames from his mouth as it was launched forward towards the path of Jiretto as it's heat burns with a glowing red heat and a orange outline. "Fire Dragon's Great Roar!" He said with a sharp glare as the magic seal formed as he used his right hand to generate the seal as he spoken.
Jiretto calmly stood his ground as the massive torrent of flames rushed towards him. It was an incredible display —to say the least— much finer than any fire orientated roar he had seen in a good while. It inched closer and closer by the second, and for a moment, it looked as though the large blast would devour Jiretto whole, leaving nothing but a decimated carcass behind —that was, until the spell vanished into thin air.
Just like that, without Jiretto having moved so much as an inch, the fire disappeared, as if it had never even existed in the first place. "You appear somewhat confused," said he, as another chilled breath of his own plagued the cold air. "Yet, you heard it, didn't you? The howl of wind beside your ear; such a phenomenon could never escape the ears of a Dragon Slayer. That was what just defeated your technique.
Allow me to explain. You see, my magic allows me to take command over the very atmosphere itself; oxygen, of course, is but a small fragment of that same concept, which I can quite literally manipulate to my liking. Are you beginning to understand, now?
"Fire needs oxygen in order to survive; your flames are futile against me," he openly declared, allowing for the harsh reality to sink in for just a second before proceeding, "what's worse? I've already had plenty to eat here. I gave you a chance; the opportunity to show me what you were truly capable of, but you allowed your arrogance to get the best of you. Unfortunately, I'm not so kind as to reward fools of your caliber a second time."
With the conclusion of his prior statement, Jiretto's entire being flickered out of view. The vast snow and ice he had treated himself to earlier was placed into great effect, deeming his movements virtually incomprehensible, even for the naturally refined senses of a fellow Dragon Slayer. It was simply too much; his already boisterous levels of speed had ascended to another level, and within an instant, he had reappeared behind Takashi, his hand curled into a powerful frozen fist that was already half way through toward Takashi's skull.
What's more was the fact that he had used his own dominance over the air to propel himself at an even greater rate, as if the staggering burst he had already displayed wasn't sufficient enough. He was coming at Takashi with great force, with great speed; direct impact from such a blow would surely carry severe consequences.
Takashi looking a bit shocked but he tries to keep his cool as he then uses his two swords as he draws them as he focuses his ener-d through his blades to augment there cutting power as he then uses a bit of Wind Magic to boost his remarkable speed even more farther to attempt to match pace with him. He then moves at the balls of his feet to spin around as he turns to face high-speed assault of the target.
As he then generates flames along his swords in almost a bladed flaming dance, his high-speed swordplay begins to parry using his right blade in order to shield himself from the first strike incoming frozen fist while striking out using the other sword to sweep across towards his legs. However his speed wasn't fast enough even with his augmented speed through Wind Magic to catch up as he was strike down from behind sent flying into the ground below from the impact as he grunts in pain from the impact upon the ground below.
Jiretto could only begin to imagine the tremendous wallops of pain Takashi was now experiencing —that is, if he was still able to feel pain. Looks could be deceiving as the external surface of Takashi's face appeared to have survived the collision, for the true damage had been dealt internally. As the greatest assassin within the possession of the entirety of the Magic Council, he had been taught to strike down his prey by aiming for their vitals; indeed, with a shot to the head, Jiretto's frozen talon had struck the most important organ of them all, the brain.
Due to the horrendous temperatures exhibited by Jiretto's hand at the moment of contact with Takashi's skull, it would have dealt fourth degree burns to the nerves, slaughtering the nervous system en route to depriving the man of his once autonomous bodily functions; with these messengers destroyed, Takashi would have been incapable of any physical movement, experiencing complete paralyzation from his head to his toes. With his prey unmoving, Jiretto remembered Takashi's final words, his pledge to claim his life.
"Though you may no longer be able to hear me, I will do you no injustice. It would be a sin for me leave you like this. No, I shall honor your efforts now, by finishing you off myself." His cold glare fixated upon his enemy, Jiretto extended his arm outward, forcing the oxygen around his body to vanish, yet again vanquishing the flames that had been burning across his blades.
This time, however, it had been done on a much grander scale, with greater obligations. It aimed to tarnish the flames held within Takashi himself, otherwise known as his life force. He would die a noble death, one of utter suffocation. Poised to see through with this frozen murder, Jiretto patiently awaited the death of his opponent, or for a voice of reason to sound in his conscience that would halt his movements, and instead motivate him to save the very life he was currently fixated on stealing.
Robbed of its own free will, the animated corpse of what was Takashi searched endlessly for a way out of this hell, though with each maneuver, it realized that there was simply no escaping death. It was unable to draw breath, so the entire procedure Jiretto had placed forth was essentially of no use; the moment Takashi's brain was frozen, he had already died.
"It's a shame. After we pass, we are remembered most by our actions. Yet, it was your own arrogance that led to your downfall. I've never enjoyed taking lives, no matter how many times I've been forced into doing it. Even so, I will do what I must for Cuda-san; for the betterment of this world; to win this tournament."
Jiretto lowered himself into a squatted position beside the carcass. Plunging his hand straight through its chest, he caught ahold of the heart, before rupturing it with tightened fist, causing the spoils of his victory to rain over the rest of his frame. Blood splattered all around him, staining his clothes and marking the snow beneath. A euphoric sensation filled his own mind next, and he suddenly felt a strange sense of empowerment. Indeed, by completing the sacred ritual of the Dragon King, Jiretto had grown even more powerful. By bathing in the blood of the Dragon he had conquered, Jiretto had already seized another advantage heading into the next round.
Claiming the corpse, he lugged it over his shoulder and made off into the direction of the Fable Guild, where Cuda patiently awaited his report.