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Leeo arched a brow as the arena took on a new appearance. What once was marble flooring exploded away with jagged rocky spikes pillaring out of the ground. "This should be interesting." the warrior thought peering into the shadowy jungle of chaos that was so thick he couldn't see the other side of the ring.

He knew somewhere on the other side was his opponent "A Holy Unknown," he laughed a bit "That name can't be serious...I wonder if thats his last name, or his last name isn't known...Whatever happened to names like Scot, John, Will, Mike, are those just not 'multerverse' enough?" The Ken'tan shrugged. Despite his opponents lame name Leeo knew he made it to the third round for a reason, and wouldn't let that slip his mind.

With that Tandory moved fully into the the alien torrian stepping around a large spike. "Come out! Come out! Wherever you are!" he shouted.

Match 3: The Nightmare Arena

It was dim within the cage. Thin fingers of light were scattered about the battleground, revealing massive shards of destroyed arena and protruding steel. The razor wire was lit in gold, the deadly thorns upon the vines that created the nightmare arena glistened, and geysers of bubbling oil shed their black rain. So this was what caused the disturbance? The birth of this new level of difficulty.

Vapor rose from his cowl and shoulders as the soldier gazed beyond an oil pillar at his wandering foe. Come out; come out, wherever you are. Holy didn’t say a word as he stood there openly, the only barrier between them being the three meter wide oil spout. So this was him—Leeo Tandory. He continued to silently watch this man with eyes softly glowing—a natural reaction they had to the stimulation of the rods in his optics. For a unique celestial—if that was what Holy was—the earthen priest robes bathed him in darkness except for the small trace of illumination about his face.

Unlike his other fights, this one required judgment. The soldier didn’t budge nor blink an eye; instead he was in mild meditation while keeping a dose of situational awareness—waiting. A holy man, huh? thought Holy. Something just felt wrong.

Leeo stepped from behind a large spike. His golden stare wondered the arena gone hell. He turned suddenly as an oil spout spat upward hissing. Just beyond the small geyser was his opponent, who's glowing glaring gaze was on him. "Flashlight-Eyes-Man, lighting the way for those lost in the dark!" he thought holding back a laugh. Yes, he normally laughed at his own jokes.

Smirk.

Tandory spun to face the foe. "You must be Holy! Leeo Tandory, as you may already know!" the Ken'tan shouted over to him taking a small bow, grin still grinning, eyes still locked. "Let's just cut to the chase! No point in wasting words! Right?!" After all he had done enough talking in his last two matches to last the rest of the tournament.

Without letting the soldier respond the shirtless ginger broke into a dash surged by his inner alley. Both arms were abruptly taken from the elbow down to the hand by ghostly white flames as he continued forward. At the uncanny speed he was moving at he would close the distance between him and Holy in little time.

Fifteen feet.

The warrior let his right arm draw back where the fire at that limb shriveled down to the clinched hand erupting and taking the shape of a fiery sword. Leeo didn't slow in his advance but kept forward straight ahead on course to run right into the gushing geyser. Just when he would have the spouting oil dropped and Leeo stepped over the hole in perfect stride. Nothing but empty space now between the warrior and the soldier.

Ten feet.

With his right arm already cocked back ready to attack he swung the energy sword around horizontally. The blazing blade lost its erection rushing out at a blur stretching for its target. It slashed across for Holy's abdomen and was so hot it could have easily burnt him in half.

As far as first impressions went, it was revealed that this Leeo Tandory character was a talker—“Let’s just cut to the chase! No point wasting words! Right!?” He also was skilled in preparatory. The enemy came quick and careless, racing confidently toward the oil spout that separated them. Holy watched closely beyond the oil column an unusual flame engulf the forearms and hands of his foe. The blond used some depth perception before lunging into a controlled run, his left gloved hand reached across his chest to grasp the collar of his priest robes. The geyser collapsed and Leeo emerged, storming the battlefront.

The sword was a surprise, the burning blade unfurled and Holy refused hesitation. The priest robes were twisted and removed, twirling before him into a bloom. Leeo’s sword slashed into the material and smacked against Holy’s body, dispersing into smoke rings. The crosses about the collar of Holy’s jacket were aglow as rips, tears, and shreds split along his apparel (-1 defense 2/3) and scattered into the air. Black and white pieces of cloth tumbled like ash about the soldier’s shoulders as tense, shrunk oculars reflected the face of the warrior before him.

The motion came like a switchblade. The priest robes passed by Holy severed in two, unclothing a terrifying weapon. The five-foot object sliced the air, rising like an anchor between his adversary’s legs and upwards for a vertical dissection. There was a very inviting opening in his opponent’s defense. The strength gathered within Holy’s right arm carried the cross blade in its intended direction as his left hand swung out from his hip [Holy’s], acting as an aid in defense and balance.

There was a dramatic close of distance after the oil spout had lowered [synopsis], and as his opponent sacrificed his defense for a chance to attack and as the soldier took a hit to deliver a blow of his own, the vulnerable opening was gratefully taken.

That boyish smirk of his held true as Holy budged. Leeo let up on his advance when the soldier broke stance, and by the time the redhead crossed the geyser he was greeted by his challengers removed airborne open robe. The blade made quick work of the cloak burning right through it on its way for its target where it seemed to do nothing. The energy sword instantly snapped back leaving behind a trail of flickering flames.

Leeo expected an attack on Holy's part, so when the two pieces of robe floated out of view revealing a five foot blade slicing its way upward, it was no surprise. Honed instincts and reflexes combined with the aid of his inner ally acted as one as he went not only to elude the attack, but parry and counter it.

Tandory continued forward while turning backwards left shoulder first going into a spin fueled by his ancestral heritage , which removed him from the path of the rising blade. Simultaneously the warrior swung the energy sword wielding arm clockwise downward letting the scorching blade slam into the flat side of Holys'. The flames were hot enough to melt through most metals, which could have been the case for the soldier's weapon, and if not that then at least hold it at bay or bat it away as Leeo flanked him.

In mid spin his other arm's fire rushed down to the hand where it too erupted into the shape of a sword. The freshly summoned energy blade lead the rotation as Leeo came whirling around at an unnatural speed. As the Ken'tan came out of his spin he did so almost completing a four-hundred and fifty degree turn. The turn wasn't the pressing matter, but what came blazing out. The flames of the second sword came raging across ready to make another pass at burning Holy in two.

The energy sword cracked against his cross blade, and that moment of contact was all he needed. His wrist turned and the sword went flat-side up, emitting the heavy sound of a great iron lock. Like a key, his sword locked the ability before retracting back into his body. The crowd winced, unaccustomed to the way the soldier utilized his brand—the weapon retracted so instantaneously that it looked as though the fighter was being stabbed through.

While the crowd watched on in awe, his left hand ascended, crossing to his right to block Leeo’s burning arm. Splitting from his middle finger extended the cross blade, vertically, with the left and right hand of God pointing to Heaven and Hell. His adversary’s disabled ability may have come off as a surprise. The arm that he had complete faith in to wield his sword had the chance of being amputated so briskly that at first there would be no pain and the bewildered brain would be slow to acknowledge it. With his opponent’s arm ever growing closer and the cross blade’s abrupt extension closing the space, amputation was evident for his enemy’s forearm.

The fingers of Holy’s right hand curled into his palm the second his sword retracted, naturally flexing beneath the tense material of his gloves, readying to do its duty once again.

A loud 'clunk' sounded like a gear shifting just a moment after Leeo's first energy blade struck his foe's sword. Suddenly the redhead felt two things; first, his opponent's sword give as it was seemingly sucked into him, second, a small tug on his inner alley as if it was waving goodbye. His fiery swords flickered, their glory fading a bit giving the impression they were about to go out...

Meanwhile Holy reached over with his left arm across his body. That small action sparked and quickly turned to a wildfire within the Ken'tan's battle tested mind. He could almost see it before it happened, so when the cross blade came protruding out of the soldier's finger like a spear aimed for his attacking arm--well, that's not exactly what he had saw coming, but was ready for it nonetheless.

...The thing about faith was one didn't lose it unless they stopped believing. Leeo never lost faith in his power, not even when he felt it slipping. He believed. Abruptly as if he had floored the gas in a car his energy roared to life. The fire forming his weapons returned to their white eerie beauty.

Tandory held true to his attack while continuing his spin only lowering his arm and tucking it in a bit to attempt to avoid his opponent's sword. The edge of the blade nicked over top his forearm, but you wouldn't have known it if you had been looking at that faint smirk of his.

The blade extended out rapidly missing its target barley, due to his own arm adjustment he had made to elude the full affect of his attack. At the moment of failure the warrior let the sword go, and it's hilt rushed towards the point at a blurring speed. Leeo remained fluid in is spin, his inner energy still fueling his movement, until he had completed a five-hundred degree turn. There he let his forward motion from his dash prior rotation to carry him in reverse as he picked back up his pace now back paddling away.

The hilt of the energy sword didn't stop at normal length but collided into the point exploding. Heat backed by a destructive concentrated force boomed from the sword turned bomb. The explosion happened near point blank at Holy. The blast radius stretched about five feet and was wide enough to send Leeo stumbling backwards.

The ability was disabled immediately. The sword’s capabilities were a power not to be rivaled. The argent brand moved with an instantaneous grace. Once clasped within his right, the sword was abruptly in his left, shifting upon whim. It was a magnificent weapon—a creation like no other with its branching arms. From his wrist, through his hand, and exiting his center finger, the blade emerged. Holy’s digits flexed and his sharp eyes widened, irises dilating as the collage of ambient objects that filled them increased in size—one of those objects being the arm of his opponent as it gradually tucked in “a bit.” How grateful was this soldier to have been blessed with sight beyond sight and an ocular accuracy? He found it entirely beneficial for creatures that thought they moved faster than time.

The sword continued its reach, simultaneously turning as his enemy made his adjustment. Holy had snapped his wrist to the left, the angle of the blade altering as the arm of his sword would clothesline his opponent’s rotation. The primary blade “nicked” his foe’s forearm as it passed and the cross blade’s appendage would make up for the minuscule damage. With his opponent caught within the L of his sword, Holy’s left hand turned the brand like a wrench against Leeo’s corkscrew maneuver and the razor edges would cut like a cake the warrior’s waist—his fate inevitable.

The blond’s right hand waved at his right, swinging while maintaining a pendulum for balance. Like the limb of a doll, it slapped against his right hip [Holy's] and Holy pressed it there as it began to slide free against the tough material of his black trousers, peeling back his glove.

The cut was clean and with the precision of his blade, it took no effort. He jerked the sword forward as the arm of the cross blade traced affectionately around Leeo’s waist, sinking into his side as hot blood descended down his front like a skirt. Red glistening beads leapt from his brand, catching the air like stars as he whisked it forward, the weight of his weapon swinging to his right.

The soldier’s teeth had been clinched as he barred back an excruciating scream. His stance adjusted and he stood straight and tall, the sword dropping to his feet like a hammer, clanging as it met the rock and shrapnel covered floor. The weapon retracted back into his body as he closed his eyes, basking in his disgust. He abhorred killing, but he had sensed death and taint on this man the moment they crossed paths. This “holy warrior” was more of a murderer and indulger, and such sins stood out like a stain on beings of their class. Bowing his head, Holy spoke quietly, “You’ve already been through my court room. Your true judgment awaits.” Opening his eyes, he raised his head with no regret and strode back the way he came. He scooped up the torn priest robes, staring at them longingly. He missed his friends and he knew the tournament was near over. He would return to them either way.

Honoria was waiting anxiously in the lounge. She had been watching the fight on the LCDs that everyone who wasn’t in the stands observed. The cameras could only peer so far into the tangled arena and she had twisted so many napkins that the fighter sitting with her would glance to the ever-growing pile upon the table. The arena audience suddenly began cheering. Fans leapt to their feet, waving their arms wildly and Honoria’s breath was held as she waited for the fighter to emerge.

With a lazy gait, Holy ambled onto the grass, blooming from the beast that made up the Nightmare Arena [so he had dubbed]. He waved to the audience that showered him with praise, but it didn’t remain in that fashion as the warning alarm sounded:

Kyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Holy’s fingers fled back against his palm in fright. “Not this again,” he panicked and sprinted for the closest tunnel out of there.

Honoria had the fighter in a headlock of excitement as she bounced up and down upon her toes. “Yes! Yes! He won!” she cheered. The man was blue in the face and desperately trying to pull her arms from around him. It was when he noticed the also bouncing breasts inches from his face that he stopped and attempted to sneak a grope if he was to pass out soon. Crack! Honoria snapped the fighter’s neck and glared at his form as it tumbled out of his chair to the floor. The fighters nearby gawked in shock and when Honoria shot them a look they abruptly turned the other cheek. Smiling brightly, she pranced over to the stairwell in a fit of giggles, “I must prepare for my date!”