Later on that evening, Vinge, Avory, Avelyn, Kyle, Korban and Buniq all gathered outside the Unity Falls multiplex, which had already closed for the day. They still refused to make their move, however, until the parking lot was completely empty, and Avory had done a thorough scan of the entire building to ensure that no one remained within.

The multiplex was home to more than just an ice rink; there were various concessions, a curling rink, and an upper floor gym that was typically open late, but a few system errors brought down their computer systems meaning they had to close early. It was well into the night before Avory returned and guaranteed that their nightly antics - as he put it, would not have an audience. Just in case though, he took the precaution of placing Sentinel devices near each of the entrances, which would warn them the moment anyone - especially Sash, attempted to enter the building.

They were as ready as they could be… Or at least, Vinge's plan was. Korban, however, was not sure how ready he was to open himself to his demonic half…

Jimmying the side door open, they headed up to the bleachers, where Buniq and Korban moved aside to put their side of the plan into action. Kyle was on standby with the disruptor cannon, and even if that failed, the two Lightnings' armour had their own disruptor to act as a backup.

Buniq had chosen to wear the most disposable clothes she could find, as surely what she wore would be destroyed if she transformed and had an extra set of clothes to change into when it was done, which she set down on the bleachers before turning to Korban.

“Alright," began the cougar female, regarding the husky. “Are you ready to begin?" she asked, her tone absolute in its seriousness.

Korban sighed and loosened himself up a bit. “As ready as I can be, I guess." He added, rolling his head along his shoulders and feeling a few pops as he did.

“Alright. Now, remember what I said before," she began. “With this new demonic side of you, new instincts will have awakened within you, leaning more toward the tendencies of your demonic side. Seek them out."

“...Except… I don't remember the instincts I felt when I first awakened," Korban pointed out. “I didn't come outta unconsciousness until after the fight…"

“I know," she said, “but you said it yourself, you have felt something that was not there before. You will need to open yourself to them, in order to bring your alternate self forth." At that, her eyes turned yellow, and Korban was treated to the - admittedly stomach-clenching, sound of Buniq's body undergoing transformation.

He took an instinctive step back as she grew, her body expanding to shred the clothes she had worn, starting at her broadening shoulders before moving down to the cuffs of her trousers, all of them falling apart as her size quadrupled in a matter of seconds, and she stood over Korban in her fully transformed werecat form.

“To be able to merge my consciousness and sense of reason, with the primal instincts of this body, is how I am able to control it, and call upon it at will," she explained, her voice taking the feral undertone of her new, beastly appearance – barely recognizable compared to the voice of her anthropian form. “The instincts are not gone, of course; even now, a part of me desires to hunt… To kill and feed… But I am in control."

“This is what we seek for you now, but right now, you are holding those instincts back - even if you aren't doing it consciously, it is the result of your mind understanding that those instincts are not yours, but belong to something else - another part of you. Think of it as the brain's way of the body fighting an infection or an invading force, but now, you are going to open yourself to it, and let it come forth."

“Okay…" Korban answered, rubbing his hands together and sighing. “So… I just gotta relax and lower my internal defenses… That how you do it? Let the beast out, but keep it on a leash?"

“That's one way to put it, yes," she replied. “Remember, you're going to feel them rise very suddenly. This other side of you will be wild and untamed, not unlike this form I wear now… It wants out. It will try to overwhelm your sense of reason and fight you for control."

A short distance from the pair, Kyle, Avory and Vinge were watching, overhearing some of what was being said between them - enough to get an idea of what was going on.

 Kyle then voiced a question. “Wouldn't this have been easier if we had Ms. Kimoyama or Mr. Nevarol here too, to psionically assist Korban?" he suggested.

Vinge shook his head. “Korban needs to learn to control this demonic side on his own," he said, “if he relies on telepathic assistance, a time will come when one of them will not be there to help him, and he won't know how to keep it in check on his own. This must be done by him; his willpower, against his demonic heritage."

The Lightnings appeared still, keeping their eyes focused on the pair in the middle of the rink as they watched like statues guarding the group.

“You're concerned, brother," Avelyn remarked, alone on the other side of the ice rink, communicating through the armour's shared channel so that only the two of them would hear one another. “What about?"

“He could bring this place down… He could go rampant…" Avory replied.

“But he didn't before; he was on our side." his sister replied.

“He had an enemy to fight before; he doesn't here. At least… not yet," he stated.

“You don't think his brother will come?" Avelyn asked curiously.

“If he lets out what's inside him he will come," the Red Lightning replied, “just a question of how long… if he was following Volcan's trail before… that was weeks… Vinge's plan pivots on him turning up immediately, which I'm not convinced about."

“You are right… But maybe their bond will be greater; a greater urgency to be here, and use that speed of his he seems to possess" the blue one replied. “Besides, he could have been far away before. Even superspeed would only let him cross vast distances so quickly."

“Regardless… if he doesn't turn up in time; we've got a hellhound to deal with."

Korban sighed as he let himself relax as much as he could, trying to lower his mental defenses and allow his demonic blood to act up. However, try as he might, he felt almost next to no change in his demeanour or his appearance. He wasn't feeling that same feeling he had described to Buniq earlier, and after a few minutes, he started to feel agitated and even stomped his foot against the ground in irritation.

“Fucking… Nothing's working!" He growled, looking down at his own hands. “I don't get it. I'm relaxing as much as I can, trying to open up the cage so to speak, but I'm not getting anywhere! The fuck am I doing wrong?" He demanded.

“Perhaps it truly does only react to stress, or if you're in danger," said Buniq, narrowing her yellow eyes as she considered.

“So, what're we supposed to do then, have you maul me almost half to death and hope it comes out?" He demanded, glaring back at Buniq and waiting for an answer, all while his eyes began to change colour to crimson red the more his temper grew.

Buniq did not fail to notice this though, her eyes widening as she leaned closer, studying his face. “... Your eyes," she said. “They changed colour just now…"

Alas, he wasn't paying attention. He began pacing in a circle while going on a tangent. “This was a fucking waste of time! This stupid plan of Vinge's had almost no chance of succeeding, let alone with my help!" He went on, unaware that he was starting to emit heat and small bits of smoke the angrier he got. “What part of none of us stand a chance against him isn't fucking clicking?? Is he really in that much of a hurry to die??"

Then he froze, a loud, resounding boom of a heartbeat echoing within the ice rink as he finally registered that feeling, just like when he was at death's door. He then wretched and doubled over, his hands grasping at his head while letting out guttural growls as he instinctively fought back against the rising demonic pressure within him.

“Korban!" Buniq said sharply. “Your anger has drawn it out; do not let it take control!"

The husky kept growling as he struggled to fight for control. His fangs began to grow and his eyes kept flashing from just his irises being red, to fully becoming red and pupilless as he and his demonic instincts fought for control. Eventually, a burst of hellfire suddenly erupted around him, and he let out a distorted roar as wings suddenly shot out of his shoulder blades, all but completing the transformation. Hellfire still burned around him as he hunched over, hands still gripping his head tightly as he twitched violently, still fighting for control of his instincts.

Behind the pair, Kyle had angled the disruptor cannon toward Korban, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. But at Vinge's insistence, he waited. The Lightnings, though, were immediately on alert, shock blasters already angled to blast Korban the moment they deemed it necessary.

Buniq, for her part, remained where she was, standing before Korban even despite the sweltering heat emanating from him. She spoke in a softer tone - at least as soft as her new anatomy would allow her.

“Hear my voice, Korban," she said. “You must find your anchor… Cling to it and use it to keep yourself in control. Do not abandon your sense of reason." Discreetly, she had angled one of her paws back for a strike, ready to defend herself if Korban lost control.

He heard her, but he found it difficult to focus on anything that could anchor him. The constant battle for control took every ounce of his sense of reason he could muster, and it felt like a losing battle. Subconsciously, his thoughts did drift toward the more positive experiences in his life, such as partnering up with Kieran, his encounters with the phoenixes and ultimately befriending them, until a silhouette of a husky similar to himself, but older and female entered his mind, reaching out to him as if she were offering him a helping hand.

Eventually, he let out a sharp gasp and fell to his knees, the Hellfire burning around him suddenly vanishing, his wings retracting back into his shoulders and his fangs returning to their normal length. He panted heavily as he returned to his normal self, eyes wide open as he struggled to catch his breath, his hands trembling as he released his head from their grasp.

Buniq slowly relaxed, her extended claws retracting as she lowered her arms, remaining silent as Korban relaxed, returning to his natural form. “You managed to pull it back," she said, nodding. “Well done."

Slowly he lifted his gaze to look at Buniq, his eyes having changed back to normal as well before he managed a scoff and turned his gaze away. “Tch… I couldn't find that niche though," he remarked, clenching his hands to try and stop them from trembling before he pushed himself back to his feet again. “You'd think that because I'm half demon, this kinda thing would come naturally to me…"

“While I do not understand what it means to be a demon… I do understand the struggles of having a second half," she said, lifting one of her paws to look at it. “I was born a werecat… To this day, I do not know which of my parents it came from. But my affliction has been part of me since my birth, and I was still a little girl when I transformed for the first time… Chased down, and slaughtered an entire herd of elk."

“When my adoptive father found me, it was he who became my anchor, allowing me to pull myself back," she went on. “It is terrifying, for a while, to have to battle with another side of you… But, if your will is strong, you will maintain control, and you will learn to command your power, and not let it command you."

“And," Vinge added, coming over, “you succeeded in accomplishing what we needed. The spike of demonic energy you released is certain to draw Sash here… The first phase of the plan is complete. Now, we need only wait for him."

Korban sighed. “I guess I did, huh?" He remarked, running a hand through his hair before turning and pointing at Vinge. “Your plan better work, man… Even without his magic and shit, Sash isn't a cakewalk. You don't take him down fast enough, he will adapt to the situation…"

Vinge's response, however, was accompanied by an air of certainty. “I'm not going to 'take him down' at all, Korban," he stated. “I do not possess the means to kill him, nor do I know what those means are. My intention is something else… Defeating your enemy does not always require killing them; there is always another option to quell a threat."

Korban stared at him in silence after that, blinking a few times before he shook his head and shrugged. “Whatever you say, Mr. Wayne…" He responded.

Then, as silence fell over the group, Avory shifted in his armour before speaking up, his armour's speaker adding an electrical undertone to his voice. “Hey guys. If you're done recapping the plan again for the umpteenth time, we've got company coming from the west side."

Vinge looked over. “Is it him?"

“Affirmative," replied Avory.

“Then it's time to begin," stated the ice phoenix. “Korban, there's one last thing I need you to do."

~~~~~

The door to one of the emergency exits received a few nigh instant slashes before it fell apart, revealing Sash in the opening of the doorway. He clicked his blade back into its scabbard before slowly stepping inside, glancing to his left and right as he continued into the arena. He followed the halls toward where he felt the source of demonic power he sensed earlier, no doubt coming from his brother… It was the same sensation he felt when they last fought, which gave him all the more incentive to pursue this surge of power.

That said, he wasn't a fool. Knowing his younger brother, he most likely was lying in wait in a position where he would be most vulnerable to a surprise attack. He kept his hand near his hilt, ready to draw his sword at any moment's notice… He paused however, when he saw out in the center of a large ice rink stood Korban's blade, embedded point first into the ice as if it were Excalibur lodged into a large stone waiting for someone to pull it out.

'...Don't tell me you've given up already…' He thought inwardly to himself as he walked toward the rink, leaping over the plexiglass barrier and landing in a crouch so that he didn't slip, then slowly crept toward the sword.

But as soon as he reached it, almost within arm's reach of it, the blade suddenly shifted and flew off, disappearing into the blackness of the bleachers above. The rink was brightly lit, but the seats surrounding it were unlit, the contrast of light making it hard for Sash to see where the blade went, or if indeed anyone was waiting to catch it, as his eyes remained in the standard spectrum.

What he did see, though, was the figure emerging from the shadows to land on the ice. It took him only a second to recognize the white-feathered avian as he glided over the plexiglass and metal walls, dropping easily upon the ice before standing and facing Sash.

“I'm afraid it is not your brother who you will face today, Sash," the ice phoenix stated, in a tone as cold as the ice beneath Sash's feet, walking slowly across the ice toward him as he drew the schiavona at his belt, flourishing the blade before angling it in a swordsman's salute, a glow appearing in his eyes as he peered around the edges of the blade, his left hand tucked behind his back..

“...You again?" Sash remarked, relaxing slightly as he started to pace slowly to the left. “I see our first encounter wasn't enough to burn into your psyche the difference in power between us… None of you could even so much as touch me when grouped together. What makes you think you alone stand a chance against the true heir to the throne…?"

“Explaining it in words would not convey it as well as actions," Vinge stated plainly as he shifted his stance, partially standing to the side and angling his blade in preparation to meet an attack. “Accept my challenge, Son of Kleetra." It was not a question, but voiced more of a command, to emphasize that it was not a request.

Sash knew little about this avian, but he did have the sense that he was not dealing with a fool - his present actions notwithstanding… He surely knew that in terms of power, Sash far outclassed him. Yet, at that moment at least, he did not seem concerned by that fact…

Sash quickly brushed the thought aside. If the ice phoenix was so eager to die, he would be more than willing to oblige. He clicked his sword free of its scabbard with his thumb as he prepared for battle, halting his pacing as he stared directly at Vinge.

“The last time we crossed blades, I let you all live on a whim…" He said in a threatening tone. “This time… I will not show you such leniency… By the time I am done with you, you will bow before this devil's power. And then you will die… slowly, and painfully…"

“Do you intend to bore me to death with your prattle, or do you intend to fight?" Vinge asked, tilting his head back slightly as he regarded Sash with an unconcerned expression.

Sash smirked slightly, using his thumb to extract his sword from its scabbard before he dashed toward Vinge. On his part, Vinge watched Sash's legs, seeing them tensing before he rushed at the ice phoenix. Calculating Sash's approach in his mind, he angled his sword to block the sergal's blade, correctly deducing that Sash was aiming for an immediate deathblow with an Iaijutsu draw-cut. Sash was right-handed, and Vinge's angled sword blocked the blade's trajectory, digging his talons into the ice to stop himself from being pushed back, and retaliating with a kick to Sash's chest that disrupted his momentum.

Sash pulled back as Vinge flourished with his left hand, remembering the main gauche from their first encounter and suspecting the ice phoenix was about to stab him. But Vinge's hand was empty, and Sash glowered at the deception. He began to call upon his magic, making a motion with his left hand as he began to channel his power; Vinge's eyes followed his hand, and he made a motion with his left, his thumb out and his index and middle finger outstretched.

Suddenly, Sash was overcome with a wave of nausea, and barely managed to stay on his feet as his vision swam. His magic had begun to form, but vanished immediately as the nausea struck; he attempted to cast it again, but it failed to heed his call. Suddenly, a blur of motion filled his vision, and he was forced to raise his sword to block the incoming ice phoenix's blade, his eyes finding the cold, violent stare of the avian before him.

“Your magic will not help you now," the ice phoenix stated, as their blades remained locked together. “It is just you, me, and cold steel. Let us see how you fight when reduced to nothing more than a man!"

With that, Vinge pushed Sash away, breaking their deadlock, and lunged again, their blades clashing twice before the ice phoenix pulled back again. Sash scoffed and sheathed his sword again, lowering his stance and getting ready to dash. The second Vinge touched down, Sash took off, dashing at Vinge to repeat his earlier draw-cut; rather than try to block him this time, Vinge dashed aside, skating over the ice without losing his balance, and Sash's blade found only open air.

And then… He did not stop!

Sash struggled to keep his balance as he raced across the ice, his momentum carrying him over the frictionless surface until he slammed into the wall with all of the force he had accumulated, the metal and plexiglass barrier easily rebounding from the impact. He shook his head to clear it, and looked down at the ice as if seeing it for the first time, then lifted his gaze back to Vinge. In contrast to Sash, Vinge moved easily over the ice; no slipping, no sliding, like the ice was just ordinary ground to him…

“...So that's how it is, then," he said, standing tall again and brushing his shoulder a few times before adjusting the collar of his coat. “No magic… restricted speed… a true battle of skill and blades then."

The two rushed at each other once more, and their blades met in an audible clash of metal. Vinge's face remained an expressionless mask, betraying none of his intent as he and Sash traded blows, while Sash's expression remained calm and composed, despite being locked from his spells and speed, he remained stoically confident in his skills as a swordsman. Oftentimes he did have to rely on his scabbard as a means of parrying some of Vinge's attacks, treating it as a second weapon, but for the most part, he was able to keep up with the Ice Phoenix's onslaught despite his current handicaps.

Slowly, overtime, Vinge's strikes stopped, resorting only to parries and blocks, but never striking back. Yet, the entire time, he had tilted his head back, looking down the length of his beak at Sash… Looking down on him, as though he saw the sergal as a minor inconvenience…

Sash's eye twitched as he started to notice Vinge's composure, pushing back from him and skidding slowly to a halt before he straightened up, flicking his blade to the side and narrowing his eyes once more at Vinge.

“...You think that by robbing me of my advantages puts you in a position above me…?" He queried rhetorically, then scoffed. “You're letting the situation get to your head, phoenix scum. This won't change the outcome of our duel. One way or another, you will fall to my blade."

“And still all you can do is talk," Vinge returned, his tone snide. “When we fought before, through magic and speed you overcame all of my friends - including Korban… Yet here, deprived of both, limited only to swordsmanship, you have only managed to disappoint me. If this is the extent of the heir to the King of Hell - so easily backed into a corner, I can only imagine his disappointment if he saw you now."

The barb did its job; between Vinge's expression, the tone of his voice, and that air of supremacy that the ice phoenix conveyed, Sash could feel his ire rising… especially after making light of his heritage.

“...You will regret making light of your position in the pecking order…" He growled, then rushed forward as fast as he could, his blade held at the side as he closed the distance between them.

However, as he closed in, he suddenly dropped low and spun as he slid along the ice, taking a swing at his legs, yet as before Vinge - predicting the attack accurately, was already in motion - not dodging or attempting to outpace him, but jumping, and arcing over Sash's attack, well out of reach even when the sergal adjusted his swing to go high, but he failed to reach him.

Once again, Sash's momentum carried him to the wall of the rink, striking it with even greater force than before. But he barely had time to recover, as Vinge was suddenly upon him again, skating across the ice with speed that caught even Sash off guard, barely managing to block the swing of his sword.

The two went into another exchange of blows, and Sash began to notice that Vinge - despite several instances where he was open just long enough that Sash could strike back, never suffered a blow… And all to a detail so minute, it hadn't even occurred to the sergal. On even ground, where their swords clashed, Sash could go under his guard, try to strike at his legs or belly… But he couldn't reach him.

Despite the curvature of the sergal's katana, his sword and Vinge's were approximately the same length… Their reach would have been about the same, if not for one detail; Vinge was taller than him - only by a few inches, but as a result his arm was longer… He could stab at Sash easily, while remaining well out of reach of his blade, and with his apparent reaction speed and ability to read Sash's movements, the ice phoenix parried or avoided his blows easily, never suffering so much as a scratch, all while Sash began to feel his breath coming in ragged gasps as he strained his body.

His magic… Gone.

His speed… Nullified.

His swordsmanship… Outclassed…

He was losing…

Up in the bleachers, Korban could barely believe what he saw taking place below… Against any other opponent, Sash would have ended the fight in seconds. Yet not only had the fight gone on for longer than it had any right to, but Vinge had also managed to put Sash on the defensive…

He had taken away Sash's magic, thanks to the disruptor cannon Kyle had angled at Sash, which Vinge was unfazed by thanks to the spherum harness he wore beneath his shirt, hidden from Sash's view… He had only limited use of his powers, but that was enough – given that Vinge already didn't rely on his powers as more than a compliment to his skills, as he showed in this very battle.

On the ice, Sash couldn't use his speed without consequence, as it would send him crashing into walls that were built to take hits from much bigger, heavier people than himself, ensuring that any attempt Sash made to use his speed would result in him getting the wind knocked out of him.

And now Vinge, with his keen eyesight and duelist-honed reflexes, was easily reading Sash's movements, predicting and parrying his attacks with relative ease - something Korban had thought impossible…

As much as Korban could not believe it… by all appearances, Vinge was winning.

“Holy shit… His plan's actually working…" He breathed softly, blinking a few times and pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. “That crazy bastard's playin' Sash like a fiddle!"

“Vinge's whole plan was to get in Sash's head," Kyle pointed out, without taking his eyes off his target. “He knows that he can't beat him in a straight-up fight, so he's doing like old Sun Tzu did against his enemies over two thousand years ago… He's not winning through brawn, he's winning through brains, by aiming for every weakness - however small, Sash has. What starts out as a small splash builds up into one big ripple."

“Damn…" Korban muttered. “Kitty was always spoutin' off on those passages he had been reading in that damn book of his… Maybe I should give it a gander when I get the chance."

“It's a damn good book… If you've got the aptitude to understand it," said Kyle, “and we're seeing that firsthand right now."

By now, even Vinge had lost track of how many times his sword and Sash's swords had clashed. His schiavona, despite its remarkable craftsmanship, had suffered multiple new notches in the blade from the many times he had parried the sergal's katana, but he did not notice. Sash, for his part, spurred on by Vinge's arrogant expression, poisonous words and ability to parry his strikes, kept the sergal coming at him again and again, yet never once did he strike back.

Until now, when he saw Sash's attacks finally beginning to slow. Vinge knew then that his time had come.

“It is time to end this!" he said sharply, parrying Sash's blade again, and following it up with a kick to his knee, causing the sergal to stumble. “I shall now educate you on the art of war." His last three words came with a violent promise, indicative that he really did mean to end the fight here…

As Vinge said this, he angled his sword into a salute again, and a blizzard began to form around him, a whirling vortex of snow appearing above the rink and obscuring him from view as Vinge unleashed his powers at last… Sash was so winded, he did not even notice the nauseous feeling that he had suffered when he'd tried to use his magic before had passed…

Vinge's voice seemed to come from all around him as Sash stood in the blizzard, unable to see where he was. “When your enemy is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him, so that he may grow reckless."

Almost immediately upon hearing that, Sash felt white-hot pain shoot up his back as something sharp struck him below the shoulder blade. He grunted from the impact, instinctively turning and swinging his blade at where he was struck from, but made contact with nothing. He looked around quickly, now holding his blade in both hands in front of himself as he tried to predict when the next attack would happen.

“Appear weak when you are strong," the voice suddenly chimed in again, and this time Sash saw Vinge, coming at him directly this time.

Sparks flew as their blades met again, but Sash felt something thud against his side - a heavy, blunt force, slamming into his kidney, causing his guard to falter, and suffer a cut to his cheek as Vinge drew his sword back.

“Pretend inferiority, to encourage his arrogance," Vinge went on, coming in with another strike that was once again followed up by another hit, this time to Sash's face, by a spherical object he barely caught a glimpse of.

Sash jerked his head to the side to avoid a second sphere, but it grazed his face and caused him to spin as he skidded back, instinctively holding the side of his face and glaring back at Vinge, now visibly angry at the ice phoenix. He then grit his teeth and instinctively readied to attack again, but stopped himself at the last second as he wore a look of realization crossed his features.

Vinge's words… He was practically instructing Sash on how to beat him by quoting those passages… He hadn't been looking down on Sash; he'd been targeting his pride… And he had resorted to defensive swordplay to make Sash believe he was close to victory, when that was far from the truth…

Most of all, the terrain… The rink. The cold air, and the element of Vinge's power, all around them. Sash had been led into a situation where his opponent did not just hold one advantage… But every advantage.

Vinge seemed to see on Sash's face that he had begun to understand what Vinge was saying, adding another quote as stepped out of view again. “Victorious warriors win first before going to battle," he said, “defeated warriors go to battle first, and then seek to win…"

Sash had been played… Vinge had planned out this entire battle from start to finish. From the moment Sash had set foot on that rink, stepping onto the ice baited by his brother's sword… He had walked right into the ice phoenix's waiting hands.

Suddenly, he heard a cracking sound, like the shattering of glass. Then, the sound repeated, over and over again, but through the swirling snow, he could not see what was causing it. He turned in a circle, seeking the source, but he found nothing; just the blinding snow of the condensed blizzard he was trapped in.

Then, from his left, he saw something rushing at him; a humanoid shape, arm raised with a weapon in hand, gliding across the ice at full speed! Instinctively he turned and sliced at the figure as it approached him, cutting it in two and prompting a slight smirk as his blade hit its mark.

Only to then strike the icy floor with a dull, hollow thud in its two halves as it slid past. He turned sharply to look at what he had just cut, only to realize that what he had struck had been nothing more than a hollow, ice statue, made in only the vaguest likeness of Vinge - enough that in his hasty reaction Sash hadn't noticed the lack of key details… Such as the wings.

Then came the bone-chilling voice behind him. “And last," they said, “All warfare is based on deception."

The blizzard stopped, the swirling snow disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, and revealing to Sash a sight that had his breath catching in his throat. Floating above the rink - pulled from the rink itself, were hundreds of solid, ice spikes, narrowed and pointed until they were little more than needles, their tips glinting dangerously under the lights from the ceiling… In the seconds that he had been blinded by the blizzard, the entire ice rink had suddenly become Vinge's weapon.

“Fall," was the last word spoken by Vinge, before the ice spikes shot at the sergal, one after the other, like the entire magazine of a machine gun.

“Damnit!" Sash exclaimed, instinctively trying to conjure a spell to protect him, but he felt the nauseous feeling again. The spikes all converged on him, obscuring him from view as dust exploded from the impact of all the spikes, with Sash crying out as he was struck repeatedly. Most of the spikes only grazed him, but several found their mark when he failed to block them, feeling them spearing his flesh repeatedly - his legs, his arms, his body - it seemed not an inch of him was spared from the onslaught.

For the five in the bleachers, it was difficult to watch. But most especially for Korban, seeing his half-brother so thoroughly ravaged by Vinge's startling display of power - a level even Korban had not known the ice phoenix to be capable of, as he was so reliant on his swordsmanship and strategic mind, and not on his powers.

Korban's mouth was agape as the battle seemingly concluded, once again pinching himself to check if he was dreaming, but the pain in his arm reminded him that he was awake.

“He… did it," he muttered, starting to chuckle a little. “The crazy mother fucker actually beat him…!"

“Indeed, this fight is over," said Buniq.

“It appears that way," Avelyn spoke over the external speakers of her suit, “but he needs to hurry up… he's not got long left."

Korban looked at Avelyn briefly, catching the hint of concern in her tone, even through the suit's speakers. Avory, for his part, remained quiet in his suit, studying it all, viewing the battle from all corners with multiple cameras.

Vinge stood over the wounded, battered form of Sash, bloodied and torn by the attack he had endured at the hands of the ice phoenix. Their eyes met for a time, and Sash found - to his disgust, he flinched as Vinge flourished his sword, brought it around, and slid it back into its scabbard.

“This fight is over," he stated with finality.

Sash growled as he glared back at Vinge, his wounds healing thanks to his healing factor and allowing him to slowly get back to his feet. Despite his wounds healing, his stamina hadn't replenished, and he still was locked away from his spells. He hated admitting it, but this battle was lost to him.

“...This isn't over…" He growled as he sheathed his blade back into its scabbard. “You will rue this day, phoenix. I was going to spare you all, but after today… I will not rest until you all are wiped out…" He said before he turned away and began to slowly step away from Vinge. “Enjoy your remaining days while you can. For when we cross blades again, I will show you all no quarter…"

Vinge scoffed. “You can speak all the bluster you want, Sash… Ever since you entered this rink, you looked upon me like a gnat, easily stomped underfoot. Yet, despite our gaps in power, still, you failed, proving irrefutably that power alone is not the measure of a man."

He fixed Sash with a freezing glare that made Sash's fur stand on end, bearing a gaze as cold as death itself as he looked upon his opponent. “Let this fight linger in your memory, 'dark knight'. Remember my face… Remember the man who beat you, and who proved that even an immortal can be crushed."

Sash only scoffed, jumping over the wall and landing back on solid ground. The second he was on solid concrete, he was gone like the wind, leaving no trace he was even there…

As soon as Sash was gone… The ruse failed at last. Vinge suddenly fell to his knees, catching himself on his hands as he gasped for breath, only barely hearing the voices of his friends calling out his name as they came down from the bleachers, the Blue Lightning reaching him first.

“Vinge! I don't know how you did it, but you did," She remarked, reaching for him. He and Korban began to feel a warmth come over them, the power of an uninverted spherum powering them back up; filling the gaps that Kyle previously took with the disruptor cannon. “His aqurum and galrum levels are low… this should help stabilize and bring them back up. Still, if the fight had gone any longer…" She trailed off, knowing that she didn't need to say more.

“He's been holding himself up even when he was out of gas?" Kyle asked, surprised.

“Damn… Despite being all calm and collected, he was running himself ragged just tryin' to keep up with Sash," Korban muttered, looking over to where Sash had departed from. “Here I thought he was winning by a landslide, but even with all that planning, it was still a helluva close call…"

“...'Appear strong, even when you are weak'," Kyle recited another passage, shaking his head. “I can't say it enough; this guy operates on a whole other level."

Suddenly, Buniq - kneeling beside Vinge to help him, tensed, her head snapping up in alarm as she looked in the direction Sash had gone. At the same time, Avelyn also lifted her head, following her gaze, and Avory too had turned to look in that direction.

“Hey, what's wrong, you guys?" Kyle asked, sensing the tension between the pair. “Is Sash coming back?"

“No… Someone else just left the building behind him," Buniq replied.

“Someone else was here?!" Kyle demanded, alarmed. “But we cleared the whole multiplex; who was it?"

Avory chimed in then. “I've been watching another… I couldn't quite see him on my Sentinels; his reading looked like Sash's, but they were also like Volcan's. I thought the Sentinel I placed over the doors must have been damaged, until now; this reading came from one that was intact."

Korban's fur bristled, that feeling of dread once more running up his spine and making him shiver heavily. “...Mother fucker!!!" Korban hollered. “He's already here!"

“What're you guys talking about; who was it?" Kyle demanded, still not understanding.

The Blue Lightning turned her gaze to the human and spoke softly but still in shock, “…It was Volcan's doppelganger."

~~~~~

Sash's steps were slow as he left the multiplex behind, wandering into the night. His head and tail hung lower than usual, the aftermath of the recent fight weighing heavily upon him. The memory of his defeat played over and over in his mind, a constant, nagging presence... Bested by an opponent he had once considered beneath him.

And yet, he had lost.

Vinge's final words echoed in his ears, like a haunting melody he couldn't escape. “Remember the one who beat you," Vinge had said, “and who proved that even an immortal can be crushed."

The thought ignited a flare of anger in Sash's chest, causing him to snap. He roared and turned, slashing his sword through the nearest tree with all his frustration, the blade slicing clean through the trunk. The tree crashed to the ground with a thunderous thud before he sheathed his weapon again, his body trembling with fury.

He was seething now, unable to accept the humiliation of his defeat. He had half a mind to return and kill that phoenix, but his body was still drained, the fight leaving him weaker than he was willing to admit. He needed time to recover, to regain the strength that had failed him in the rink.

Yet, a lingering feeling in the pit of his stomach stopped him. Some primal instinct told him rushing back now would be a mistake. His magic had failed him during the fight—he still couldn't understand how. That wave of nausea, and the sudden loss of his powers—it made no sense. He doubted Vinge had done it alone.

As Sash stood there, lost in thought, he failed to notice the figure approaching from behind until the voice cut through the silence—a voice familiar, yet laced with an undertone of danger that made his demonic blood stir.

“Well... Vinge certainly did a number on your psyche, didn't he?"

Sash whipped around, hand instinctively reaching for his blade as his eyes locked on the speaker. In the dim light of the street, the figure's outline was barely visible. It was an avian form, but something about it unsettled Sash, the familiar shape pulling him into a deeper confusion.

The avian's face resembled the red-feathered phoenix Sash had fought. But the color of his feathers was all wrong—black and purple, not red. His eyes glowed faintly with a purple hue, and he held a staff topped with an Egyptian ankh. Golden armor encased his torso, resembling a musculata cuirass but smoother, and etched with a hieroglyphic symbol on the front; ancient Egyptian, he guessed.

Sash narrowed his eyes studiously; he knew the face, but this wasn't the fire phoenix he had fought. It was something... else. Something that even to him, seemed wrong…

“State your business," Sash growled, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

“Relax," the avian said coolly, tapping his staff on the sidewalk. “I'm not here for a fight. That's the furthest thing from my mind right now."

“Then be gone from my sight," Sash spat, stepping forward, his posture aggressive as he began to walk away. “I have no business with a lesser demon like you."

“Lesser demon?" The avian's tone was amused. “It didn't seem to stop you from being drawn to me before, did it? At least... when I was in another body."

Sash stopped mid-step, the words hitting him with the weight of realization. He turned back toward the avian, narrowing his eyes as suspicion grew.

“So, you are the demon who infested that phoenix's body," Sash surmised, his gaze sharpening. “A failed exorcism, perhaps? You've taken on the form of the one you possessed after being expelled."

The avian grimaced, an expression of discomfort crossing his face. “It's... difficult to explain. I'm not sure how it happened myself," he admitted. “But more on that later. Right now, I believe there's something two half-demons like us should discuss," he said, his grimace slowly transforming into a grin.

Sash scoffed, raising a challenging eyebrow. “As I said, I have no interest in talking with a lesser demon. Or should I remind you of your place in the hierarchy?" He flashed the avian a cold glare, expecting a response, a confrontation.

But to his surprise, the avian didn't rise to the challenge. Instead, he simply moved the conversation forward, unfazed.

“You just saw for yourself that you're not as invincible as you think. Least of all against enemies who know how to work together. Did you not notice that Vinge wasn't alone in that rink?"

Sash's ear twitched, his attention piqued despite himself. He turned fully toward the avian. “What are you getting at?" he asked, wary.

“Vinge's victory wasn't his alone," the demon explained, his tone informative. “You wouldn't know this, but there's a device called a Disruptor. It was created by a renegade sect of mortals. It's designed specifically to fight beings like us. Inside its field, magic doesn't work. Phoenixes like me—like my counterpart—can't call upon our elemental powers. It turns everything around it into a dead zone, where nothing metaphysical can manifest."

He pointed back toward the rink with his staff. “A human named Kyle had one trained on you throughout your whole fight. That's why your magic failed. And there were also two avians in exo-suits, each with their own Disruptors. If Vinge had failed, those two would've been his backup. Exhausted from your fight, you would've faced two armoured opponents with unhindered mobility and air superiority. Add to that Korban, Kyle, and some cat woman I didn't recognize... You were outnumbered."

The avian tapped his staff against the ground, his voice flat. “Vinge had you beat the moment you stepped into that rink. Even if he failed, he still had a contingency plan to deal with you. You were not going to taste victory tonight no matter what."

Sash's grip tightened at his side. “So even at the end, he needed outside help to defeat me," he murmured, eyes now fixed on the rink in the distance, his jaw clenched. “Next time, I'll make sure he has no such advantage. I'll isolate him and run him through until he's no more than a memory."

“Or…" the avian interrupted, his tone turning more deliberate, “rather than fall into another trap where your enemy already knows how to beat you—where he might learn how to kill you—you could listen to my proposal."

“And what could you possibly offer me?" Sash retorted, incredulous.

“An advantage," the avian said, stepping closer. “Someone who knows your enemies. An ally in the fight against them."

Sash scoffed again, but this time with less venom. He paused, considering the offer. The stranger before him was undeniably powerful, his demonic energy palpable. And if an opponent like Vinge had such tactical foresight, even Sash would need help to overcome him.

With a heavy sigh, Sash slowly turned back to the avian. “...This is a temporary alliance," he said, his voice cold but resolute. “Once your phoenixes are dealt with and I have what I need, we part ways. Pray we never meet again. If we do, I'll either run you through or make you serve my will when I become the Underworld's true king."

The avian chuckled darkly. “The Underworld? You're thinking small, my friend," he said, his smile widening. “After all... what's a world of the dead and the corrupted, compared to ruling a world of the living—and the corruptible?"

“Mortals are weak," Sash replied, a note of pride in his voice. “My father was the most powerful among demonkind when he ruled. The weak give way to the strong. That's how it should be."

“In that, we're agreed," the avian said with a nod. “But why settle for ruling just one world, when you could have two?"

Sash's gaze sharpened, the last of his guard dropping away. He couldn't deny it—he was intrigued. “...You have my attention."

The avian's grin grew even wider, his dark eyes gleaming with malevolent joy. “Good. But first, let's do the introductions, shall we?"

He held out his left hand, his right still gripping the staff. “Partner?"

Sash hesitated for a moment, then, without a word, took the avian's hand in his own, the grip firm and decisive.

“I am the true heir to the Demon Throne. The first son of Kleetra. The Immortal Dark Knight, Sash," he said, introducing himself.

The avian nodded, considering Sash's words. “I know little of my origins, except that my essence was born from a formless entity that a demigod called the 'Chaos Bringer'," he said, his smile returning. “But for now, you can call me… Calhoun."