Reincarnation I

[Larfleeze]

Cirrus Neon

Stratus reached up to their neck, and winced as they felt the wound there. This... wasn't good. They had let the charming samurai into their head, and he had ruined them even more. He had known that the Ronin had more power to spare- but it took effort to drag out that strength.

The man was weakened by his apparent recent death, that much was obvious. If he wasn't, that powerful slash might have been the end of Cirrus. Stratus could feel the weakness in the man's blood. The sluggishness. It was foolish for them to have been taken for a fool like that.

But this insult?

"You think your demon is hungry?" Stratus asked, in disbelief, "My demon is Hunger!"

They had the swordsman's blood. They knew his Chi. Their own combined state was running out of Chi, slowly, and they didn't have much time. Luckily, with their speed, time was something they always had plenty of.

Takezo stood at ready, katana held before him, when Stratus shot forward, building up speed as they approached, the white Nexus-integrated katana at the ready.

Stratus swung, and Takezo found it was all he could do to block. The Vampire rang out, a flurry of blows. They were slowing down as the fight raged, the wisps of their combined state drifting away as they slowly lost the Chi needed to support it, but for now, they had the instinct of someone who had been using a sword for millions of years, the stolen skill of their opponent, and a burning resentment for the insult he paid them.

Takezo’s eyes widened as he furiously attempted to avoid the incoming bright white slashes and the massive reaching violet fingers. A giant skeletal finger, moving almost faster than he could see, slipped past his guard, knocking into his chest and lifting him into the air. Bloodying his gut in the process. Stratus grinned, and the other fingers closed around him. Takezo, struggling, attempted to cut off the finger holding him, but as his blood soaked into the violet energy, the bone seemed to get tougher and tougher.

Stratus raised the white katana, lifting Takezo into the air above them. The ronin pushed against the fingers finding their way into his flesh, blood began to drip like rain, droplets landing on Stratus and on the pure-white ground.

“It’s really… such a shame. Insult or not...” Stratus purred, their voice a bit more feminine than before, “Your bloodlust is something I haven’t seen in a long time. Tell me, would you like to be a Neon?”

“...A what?” the man coughed.

“A partner. Of ours. You’re hardy enough, even half-dead. You definitely have an attitude we like, and you’re strong. If you weren’t half-dead, we’d say you’d be a lot stronger than us. We’d like it, quite a bit. Who knows, it could even blossom into something more.”

“...Absolutely not. For starters, I only like women.”

“Boring.”

“I’m more concerned with you.” Takezo grunted out a single laugh, still in quite a bit of pain, but blood loss and people asking him bizarre questions did strange things. Amused, he asked “Do you proposition all your lovers by impaling them?”

Stratus simply grinned, “My last interest still has a great big ‘x’ etched in his chest.”

The skeletal fingers shifted, and Takezo realized that they were smaller than before. Whatever had changed in his opponent, it was wearing off. Unfortunately, Stratus was aware of that as well. The skeletal claws pulled inwards, piercing the ronin in several other areas, as Stratus extended the katata upwards.

Stratus dropped the ronin to the ground, red staining the white floors of the Nexus.

Stratus became undone, the claws shrinking and vanishing into Cirrus’ body, the color of his skin changing from an alien purple back to a healthy brown. His neck still bled, his chest still carried a huge gash, but he was standing, while Takezo was not.

Cirrus walked closer, before squatting down next to the ronin and grabbing his hair with one hand, and running the Fist of the Vampire down the man’s wounds with the other. Takezo felt the wetness on his skin simply lift away as the skeleton greedily drunk more and more, but leaving his wounds as they were. Cirrus lifted the man’s head up to make eye contact, “Are you sure you wouldn’t join me? Hell- I’ll even let you chop up King Kong if you want, so long as I get to do the finishing blow. Everybody with even a few drops of human blood have reason enough to want to kill the bastard, after what he tried to do to Planet Earth.”

“Not even if you kill me. I don’t break my promises. If you kill me, I’ll simply come back again. And I will find you. I don’t know or care what he presumably did- we simply have unfinished business.”

Cirrus frowned, “...Come back again?”

“It’s the curse of this place. You heard Omni, didn’t you? Anyone brought to this place doesn’t fear death.”

“...So if you kill Kong, he’ll just come back? And if I kill Kong-”

“I’ll kill you before you can.”

“-he’d just come back anyway?”

“Yes.”

“Well shit.” Cirrus smirked, “Fine then. But only ‘cuz I like you.”

“Fine what?”

Cirrus created two violet Palace Hands, lifting the assassin up to his feet. “If you can kill Wu Kong in your current state, you’re welcome to it. I can tell he’s weaker- half dead like you, and wounded by me throwing his own attack back at him. And you’re even stronger than he is. Who knows, there’s a chance you might even win.”

“...”

Cirrus idly put a hand to his neck, feeling his own flesh with a wince, the violet skeletal hand wreathing his real one glowing slightly as he absorbed his own blood.  “And besides… I think I’ve more-or-less gotten you back. If you don’t think fair’s fair, come find me again, when you’re at full strength. We’ll see who’d win then.”

Takezo smiled viciously, “I might just take you up on that.”

Cirrus looked to Chakravartin, still glowing with rainbow light. “...I know he’s not charging a Taihou, but I’m not sure what he could be doing that would require gathering so much Chi and putting out so much focus.” Cirrus shuddered, “So… I’m going to get out of the blast radius. How long will it be before… one of you come back?”

“...I’m not sure, truly.”

“Hm.” Cirrus held out a Palace Hand, and inside it began forming a Taihou. Takezo tensed, inching away, but he couldn’t detect any bloodlust directed at him in particular any more- or rather, he could detect literal lust for the fresh blood beginning to bubble from his wounds, but no malice.

When over half a minute passed, Cirrus dropped the ball of violet energy to the floor. “...When Kong inevitably betrays you, use your sword to throw this at him. It’s not a real bomb- it won’t get set off by touching steel unless you’re hitting it as if you wished to crack it. It will only explode once it touches something alive, or is broken.”

Leaving behind the present, the Vampire sent one last look at Chakravartin, before walking away.

Chakravartin wu Kong

So far, so good. The Omnilium was reaching into his veins, changing him. He didn’t waste time trying to heal, or regain his strength. In the end, those were temporary. Even should he die, it wasn’t a big deal. He was a Prime! He was immortal, truly, he knew. And in truth- the Death Shroud felt like home. It felt like he was back in the mindscape he had spent the majority of his millions of years living in.

But this was important. He wasn’t himself, if he couldn’t fly. He briefly thought of Aang and his bison- and the fleeting thought that the Airbender would be happy to see him in the air made Kong smile himself.

Those thoughts of flying happily were added to the overall concept of ‘Flight’ he was trying to make real within himself.

No one on the island could fly. In Camelot, only those who rode beasts could fly. Ozo Mat had not been able to fly.

If Chakravartin could fly, it would finally put him on a level above those mere mortals. What would that swordsman possibly do to harm him once he had taken to the sky! Throw his sword? Hah!

His only fear was that Cirrus would prevail- interrupt his concentration and send him back to the veil, wandering without memories another… how long had he been like that, anyway? Whatever, it didn’t matter. All that mattered is that he would fly again. His silk-covered feet would not have to walk the same ground as everyone else. He would be a step closer to being a god.