Pitiful.


This is what happens when he decided to venture away from the gruesome, shady underbelly of Space Vegas' fight clubs. The Frost Demon Lieutenant desired combat, and a test of his newfound skills, a proper conduit for him to channel his demonic energy into. His original plan was to return to the criminal laden fight clubs of Space Vegas, where he normally went for his cage fights. However, he had heard of the growing popularity of "noble combat" on Ferusalem, an...interesting planet seemingly stuck in a pre space age time frame. Regardless, the planet was known for its' flashy tournaments exhibiting champions of great strength and skill. So, why not? Plotting a course for the independent planet in the East Quadrant, the Dread Spectre raced towards the planet.


It didn't take long to discover that "noble combat" truly meant a fuckton of rules that existed for no fucking logical reason, but somehow made sense to the general populace. Perhaps it was just the conflict of culture, for Kamui was much more accustomed to the "no holds barred" brutal gladiator style combat that usually ended in someone's head being ripped off. This was....different. First, he required a weapon. Kamui couldn't remember the last time he used a weapon in combat, probably when he fought Vile in the Badlands, all those months ago. Luckily, he always kept a few within....reach.



Summoning a collection of five short swords, Kamui selected the one that looked the least....complicated looking (the top sword), a brilliant short sword with a complete onyx black color scheme, the sword was perfectly balanced to fit Kamui's build and strength level, and was crafted of a metal specified for Ki Users, in which the weapon's hardness was determined by the user's power, in which Ki can freely flow into the blade to enhance it's natural properties. Hefting the weapon over his right shoulder, Kamui soon found himself entering the competition under the alias "The Dread Spectre", a completely unoriginal name that he essentially stole from his own ship and tacked as his own super cool battle name for this competition.


However, none of this was the pitiful part.


The pitiful part was all the challengers he went up again.

Kamui was used to fighting people well below his strength in pure fighting power. At his level of strength, it was to be expected. However, there were many fighters who proved that mere power level meant little when it came to what you did with the strength you had. However, each challenger he faced so far seemed more interested in the theatrics of battle then the actual act of fighting and outplaying his opponent. They certainly talked a good game, and made a show out of each attack they executed, the flashy lights of their aura making for a wonderful firework show. However, when it came to actual talent, that was where these warriors fell short, and where the Frost Demon truly reigned supreme.


One match after another, his enemies fell before him, often in a single blow, or in a series of blows. He would allow for a good show, however, to drum up the reaction of the crowds. However, they paid for a show, not a bloodbath. He would allow his foes to gain a sense of accomplishment as they made the Frost Demon prance about the battlefield, with Kamui pretending as if his chosen opponent actually was doing something of worth. Then finally, after several minutes of dodging and allowing blows to come into contact with select parts of his Bio Armor, Kamui would shoot forward with the speed of a rocket, impaling his opponent in the gut.


And then he rinsed and repeated, all his way to the Semi-Finals. When he was paired with a surprisingly aloof Konatsian Mage, a trait which was much in demand among the eccentric, yet talent-less brutes who made up the masses of the tournament's contestants. Yet, apparently this Mage was the reigning champion for this village's Colosseum. So perhaps...he would be an interesting one after all.


Not even close. He was a better opponent, for the Mage wielded a plethora of magic performance enhancing spells along with his seven swords (one in hand, six levitating in air, attacking independently), but he was not an impressive opponen. For once more Kamui toyed with his opponent, weaving through his foe's assaults as if it were child play before striking his foe with a series of blows, spreading his foe's blood across the sands just as he did the rest. He never killed an opponent, but made sure they had a nice series of wounds to show for their failure.

Lastly, came the final battle. Kamui, having taken the entire tournament by storm as the midnight black five foot four Frost Demon who singlehandedly took out every combatant that had the balls to face him in single combat, was now supposed to face the final opponent of this noble tournament.


Nickel Gallius, King of Ferusalem, and most possibly the strongest native on this planet.


Allowing himself a small smile, Kamui spread his arms out in front of him, his bloodstained onyx sword held in his right hand as his aura exploded out in front of him, a magenta colored light flaring around him.

"Let us begin..."

Post Count: 1 | Andrew C. Creed

BATTLE TRACKER