Judgement Blood: A Celestial's Vendetta

Much like everything about the scout, his Imitation was a cruel one.

It had something to do with shifting momentum without resistance.

In simple terms, if he swung that heavy thing full force at them and missed, a normal person would struggle to readjust for the next swing because of the massive momentum of the axe, but the scout...

The scout could bring the axe to an absolute halt and swing it in the opposite direction in a split second without straining himself. 

With the size and mass of that horrible thing, that indeed was a tremendous feat. 

The scout roared as he raised his arms and brought down the axe in a diagonal downslash at Ilyas, but once again, Ilyas lurched back.

That's all he was doing lately, unable to find an opening, and not proficient enough with the Twinblade to deftly engage.

Cenric, meanwhile, took advantage of these moments and attempted to strike the scout from behind with his rapier, but he was instantly swatted away like a fly.

'Goddamit, you beast, I'm not what you think I am!'

The scout clearly intended to get rid of Ilyas first, seeing him as the true threat, not knowing that the poor Dweller knew shitall about combat.

'Didn't anyone... tell... you, looks can be deceiving?!'

Cenirc, the more proficient fighter, was treated as a distraction. 

Ilyas was scrambling for his advantages, but he hadn't any. In his case, all he had and could do was serve as the bigger distraction for Alexander, their ace. But with the savageness of this Salivitian-

"Argh! Shit!" 

-He didn't know if he could last much longer. Ilyas was on the floor, the menacing axe stared at him from above, yearning to kill him horribly.

He rolled away, wounds wheezing at his horrible life choices.

The blade of the axe chomped the earth, flinging dirt and pines on his mask.

The Imitation played again, and the Axe was in the air. Ilyas was crying inside.

'Come on, Alexander! He's distracted enough!'

Cenric lunged behind the scout, brandishing his rapier as he did. 

Slick.

It was a soft sound, but a most welcome one. Cenric finally landed a strike. The poor GentlePug immediately scurried out of range from their cruel adversary. 

The boar briefly regarded Cenric with surprised displeasure, and in that moment-

Shlluck!

Ilyas grinned mischievously behind the mask and fed his dear blade blood. It was an upward diagonal swing, mildly wounding the scout's shoulder. 

The scout jerked his head to him and growled through saliva and rage, "You cowards!"

Ilyas backed away before he was hacked with steel, and once again steadied his footing, Twinblade pointing at his enemy. Cenric stood on the opposite side, steady and still, also pointing his rapier. The scout was between them, just as Rum was before.

'Cowards? Well, of course we are you dumb brute! Have you seen what you look like?!'

They were in a good position now, good enough to be the jackals they were. Oh, how much this must be hurting Cenric and Alexander!

But Ilyas, for the most part, struggled to find it within him to care. Truly. All he needed now was to end up alive, with his opponent dead. Yes. Yes, that'd do it.

That'd be nice.

Cenric and Ilyas started treading a revolution around him as if in orbit, ever so slowly closing in. The scout started swinging his axe with calculating movements at thin air, keeping them in range.

Their plan relied on a surprise attack from Alexander; therefore, Alexander's attack must be swift and singular, ending it all. 

If, and to reiterate, if, Alexander failed, and he was out in the open alongside Ilyas and Cenric, they determined that there was simply no chance for success. The scout was just too monstrous and domineering. 

This meant one thing: Ilyas and Cenric had to create a distraction strong enough so that even with the Scout's Imitation, he would not be able to defend against Alexander in time. And not just a shallow wound as those from Cenric and Ilyas, no, a singular, lethal wound. One that would require Alexander to come up close and personal.

'Alright. I'll have to do it.'

Ilyas knew there was one way for that opportunity to be granted, and it would not be a silly bluff as the one he performed with Rum, but one where he'd...

He exhaled a trembling breath. 

'Come on, let me hear it. Let me feel it.'

Let him immerse himself in that dance he witnessed. Let his body sway and flow with his blade through empty air, bounding and beautiful.

Let him be imminent just for one second. Just enough to grant a chance.

He let one hand go of the shaft and struggled with the other, tilting the Twinblade slightly to the ground. 

He sweated heavily around the oak, but his grip ignored it. He meticulously adjusted his feet to a befitting stance, still treading a revolution with Cenric, still anchoring his gaze on his adversary.

Was this what combat was?

Was it this demanding? This possessive and pronounced?

It was strange?

He waited.

Then waited some more.

Just for that moment where one swing ended and another began.

And when it finally-

Ilyas warned his wounds, clenched his jaw and stepped forward, breaking the trance.

It was a singular wide step. One which allowed him to swing the Twinblade ever so slightly, grasp it with the other hand, then, with his whole body, he bent with the blade as it whistled down, intending to hack the scout's collarbone.

The scout jolted back to immense focus and twisted his body, avoiding the blade. Then, raising his axe once again, he swung sideways at Ilyas's ribs.

But this time, Ilyas didn't lurch back. He didn't panic and waver.

Because this was what was needed, a life-on-the-line attack. Ilyas twirled with his Twinblade along the axe's long haft like a proficient dancer, away from the blade, close to the boar. Then, just before he left the range, his blade ripped a gash across the scout's chest.

The damn bastard roared in pain. 

But before Ilyas could feel his cheeks crease with a smile, he felt something blue, cold and excruciatingly hard pound his ribs, taking his breath away.

He slumped to the ground, desperate for a gasp.

The scout had punched him full force across the ribs in his rage, it seemed. And now-

And now he was coming to finally finish the job.

The menacing axe glinted, and Ilyas finished his smile.