Garden Of The Abyss

After freeing himself from the grasps of flames, Sirius tensed up--fighting against his own body as he retracted the malicious armor from his body, restricting it to only one arm.

"This should be enough."

With a frivolous smile, he let out a sigh of relief as he managed to keep the armor under his control. In the short time the full armor was brought out, for just a moment, it was enough time to completely heal the wounds he suffered. However, through his exhaustion--this did not come without a price of stamina.

"You really brought it out. Are you crazy or what?"

"I don't think you get to ask me that when you just tried to shatter my ribs in the name of a game."

"It doesn't matter--you're still going to lose, here and now. Fenrir, Go!"

Making a unique gesture with his hands, grasped together as he interlocked his fingers, a puddle of darkness formed in front of Fai before a colossal wolf covered with silver fur rose from the dark liquid. The oversized canine charged towards him, digging up the soil from beneath its massive paws alongside the bloodlusted hydra.

--Great magic isn't an option. No time nor do I have it in me to use another blast of it. Whether I like to admit it or not, Fai's familiars are strong as hell.

Using his arm covered with the armored scales, bulked up as if he were wearing the limb of a giant--Sirius put his hand forward to halt the giant wolf's rush, pushing its snout down into the dirt.

He only had time to leap back before, once again, he heard the incantation.

"Zhurong: Ten Divine Mirrors."

Befitting the name of the spell, ten flames sparked around Sirius, spinning around him before forming into luminescent mirrors. Five of these mirrors hovered at his level, while the other five stayed just above the others, effectively acting as a prison for him.

In all of his time knowing Fai and fighting alongside him, he had never seen the ponytailed man use this spell.

Battles between mages brought about tense situations like this. When confronted with an enigmatic spell, brashly attempting to counter it can result in a quick defeat. In the reflection of these mysterious mirrors formed of flame, his appearance was obscured into a bright, burning orange.

--Fire magic usually lends itself to being the magical affinity with the highest inclination to destruction. With that, you'd assume a hot-headed brawler like Fai who eats nothing but hot peppers would fit right into this category, but it couldn't be farther from the truth. "Zhurong'' specializes in unorthodox fire spells--it's a force to be reckoned with in its own right.

Sirius watched carefully as the reflective flames spun circles around him slowly, keeping track of the temperature he experienced, making sure it wasn't a spell akin to Sora's Sun Prison.

"I'm getting really tired of being kept in small spaces tonight."

"Don't worry, this'll be the last time."

In the presence of the growling flames, air became harder to find as he inhaled the heated winds that filled his lungs with an unwelcome warmth.

"--Stage one, set."

Fai raised his index and middle finger together, the mirrors suddenly coming to an abrupt stop around Sirius.

The obscured reflection of himself was no longer alone as he noticed the existence of a large, foreboding figure maneuvering within the realm of mirrors near his flame-built reflection. A feeling of helplessness washed over him as he watched the giant gorilla clad in raging flames lift its hammer of a hand into the air just behind his reflection--turning around to see nothing behind him.

"It's not there--?"

Answering his confusion, a harsh impact drove against the bridge of his nose, remembering that sensation of flames pelting against his skin as he could vaguely make out the form of a fist from the intangible force.

While his reinforcement cushioned the blow, it still felt as if a mallet had been sent down against his nose--not given anytime to wince over the pain as another powerful force was sent into his unguarded stomach.

"Don't get cocky-- Blitz: Discharge!"

In response to the unseen hands attacking him, a surge of wild lightning hissed as it released from his body, putting a stop to the relentless offense as he regained his lost breath. While he did away with the resistance in front of him, the mirrors themselves were left unscathed by the discharge.

Meanwhile, bullets coated in magical ardor pierced the air--colliding against a newly formed wall of thick ice.

"--Let's make this interesting. Want to place some stakes on this?"

Tristan asked as he spun the obsidian magnum around his fingers, refilling the missing ammo as he poured magical energy into it.

"That depends on what's on the line."

"Let's say if I win...you have to cook me a high-dragon stew. And don't skip on the spices. Actually, make that a blue-winged high-dragon, I want a bit more crunch in my bite."

"And if I win?"

Flicking away his wall of ice, Donatien inquired on the details of their bet. As a result of their battle, it looked as if the scourge of winter waged war on the forest, frost baking the helpless trees as they lost their green splendor to the icy white.

"Name your price."

"Hmm. A tough decision. I'm quite sour that you forced this fight onto me, so I want something that is going to hurt you more than benefit me."

"Petty bastard."

Tristan let out a deep laugh as he scratched the stubble on his chin, waiting for his opponent's terms as his amethyst gaze watched over him carefully.

"I want the next Phantasm quest offered to you."

An unlikely wicked smile formed on Donatien's lips as he found the perfect condition to set. In response to hearing the glasses-bearing man's terms, Tristan's eyebrow twitched a few times before he begrudgingly accepted, "Alright, alright. Not like you're going to win anyways."

"I'm assuming the win condition for either of us is to force our opponent to concede or render them unconscious?"

"Bingo."

The moment the bet was solidified, the two combatants resumed their battle as a volley of shots were released from Tristan's Purgatory Arm.

"Purgatory Arm makes Tristan a nightmarish opponent for mages," Donatien thought to himself as he maneuvered his way out of the range of the magical bullets, "as it is his own innate ability, no incantations are needed, with every shot matching or even surpassing the firepower of high-level magic."

Even the assumed shortcoming of using a gun-based magical ability was non-existence, as he was able to reload without needing to halt his attacks--constantly converting his reserves of mana into ammunition.

"Icy bastard. I don't know what he's playing at, but he's not using his ability yet. Is he trying to conserve his strength? I don't see the point when he's wasting mana defending against my shots." Tristan pulled the trigger once more, the chamber of his mystical gun roaring as the bullet released, shattering the shield of ice conjured by his opponent.

"Skadi: Opulent Pillars."

Incantations served as words of powers meant to bring the image of a spell into reality, usually requiring the caster to shout the words, carrying them out with power backing their voice.

In the case of Donatien, and other masters of the mystic arts, through a deep understanding of magic, one is able to release but a whisper of their incantation--making it much harder for their opponent to react to their next move.

Rising from the territory of frost that surrounded Donatien's immediate space, rectangular pillars of solid ice protruded from the ground, rocketing towards the gun-slinging mage with high speed backing their force.

Releasing a powerful shot at the pull of a trigger, to his surprise, it only managed to leave a crack over the javelin of frost.

"Increasing the toughness of your ice, huh? Not bad," Tristan flicked his magnum, letting the chamber slide out as residue of his mana emanating from the heated chambers.

In place of the standard ammunition he used, this time he filled the magnum with volatile crimson mana, which released an echoing bang as he slid the chamber back into the gun. One of the multiple pillars of ice slammed down from above him, narrowly missing as he dashed to the left--taking aim towards the triple set of ice blocks heading his way.

This time when he pulled the trigger, a deafening blast filled the surrounding area as a bright flash emanated.

It was hard to tell what had just happened, only that the sturdy arms of ice had been completely shattered into nothing but miniscule shards, sprinkling over the frostbitten battlefield.

"Explosive rounds. As overwhelming as they may seem, I should be happy--rounds those powerful come at no low cost," Donatien took his glasses off from his face for a moment as he wiped the cold mist that had fogged them, sliding them back on as he prepared for his next move.

With the existence of Tristan's explosive rounds in play, there were very few options available to him--as a single pull of his trigger was capable of mass destruction.

"I'll use something he can't just destroy with a single bullet. Something broader," Holding his hands together, Donatien inhaled and exhaled a frosty breath before releasing the incantation.

"Skadi: Ice Age."

His body was the source of the absolute cold that manifested itself, releasing an unrelenting torrent of icy winds, coating the ground below into a sheet of frost, the trees becoming statues of ice--before snow itself began to fall upon the area.

"Trying to win by giving me hypothermia or something?"

Tristan let out a cold huff, the tip of his pale ears and nose turning red from the biting cold as he pulled the collar of his coat over his mouth.

"Using a spell like this to manifest true winter into a limited territory uses up more mana than I'd like--but it has its advantages. In an environment of frost, my magic is amplified and further ice spells come at a lower cost, as they have a catalyst for manifestation into reality. However--the true benefit I'm looking for is as he said, the cold will wear him down, if I can just slow down his movements and his reactions by a moment--I can win," As a natural ice mage, Donatien experienced no demerits sitting in the raging winter of his creation, feeling livelier than ever.

In response to the environmental shift, Tristan knocked his firearm back as he replaced the current ammunition with vibrant, fiery orange mana. Caught off guard by the lack of an incantation from his opponent, just as he raised the gun to the air--he was struck by a blade of hardened ice, slashing against his side of his body before he retaliated with a shot of his own.

A burst of flames released from the barrel of the magnum, shooting out a bullet coated with spiralling flames that roared through the cold winds--stopped short by a thick wall of ice, spanning at least an entire meter in width.

"I see...you don't have to use incantations within the territory of your "Ice Age", do you?"

"Indeed. I suppose that evens the playing field, no?"

With a simple movement of his arm, Donatien summoned a spiky sheet of ice that tunneled towards his opponent like a rising wave of water, rising higher and higher before casting a shadow over the battlefield.

"What a pain."

His attempt to sprint forward came with hindrances, as the soles of his boots slid across the smooth, slippery surface of ice that covered the ground below, releasing a flurry of fire-amplified shots towards the wave of ice.

The collision of overwhelming heat and bitter frost exploded into a cascade of steam, sending hail flying through the frozen fields.

"Is he planning on turning this into a battle of attrition? With all of the spells he's been throwing around, I doubt he has much left in his reserve. I'd say he's at thirty-percent, max," Tristan shut one eye as he focused his aim, waiting for the obscuring steam to dissipate.

As he kept his sights honed, waiting for even the subtlest hint of his opponent's location--the mist began to hiss before hardening into shards of razor sharp ice.

"Crap-- Erebus: Devour!"

The incoming volley of hundreds of tiny blades of first left him no time to shoot them out with his gun, unleashing a mass of darkness from his palm in the form of an ever shifting mouth, snapping its jaws of shadows as it swallowed the incoming daggers.

"I get it now. So he does want to play at a battle of attrition by forcing me to use high-cost magic in response to his surprise attacks. Sneaky, but I've got more up my sleeve," Tristan took a prolonged breath, inhaling the chilling air as the darkness he summoned dissolved into particles of black.

The magical firearm he wielded took on a glow as its shape began to alter, the barrel extending in length as the tint of its steel became a divine mix of white and gold.

"I have to choose this shot carefully. One shot with the Rail form drains ten-fold the amount of mana as normal."