Both players were taking this game seriously; with one point left for the win, it had become all the more serious in a single instant. Still, Cyran was determined to start off a little easier, not willing to escalate the battle right away…

Until Yasei tore dispelled his shadows with seemingly no effort on his part.

Cyran grimaced, hardly surprised his trap had been taken care of so effectively but now at a loss for what to do. Yasei had seen what he was capable of, and he was playing it smart - refusing to be budged from his spot at the center of the court, where he had ample range to hit the ball no matter where Cyran sent it. There would be no sending him every which way, hoping Cyran’s own speed might eventually come out on top. That polearm of his was a deadly thing. As he whacked it over to Cyran’s side of the net, the assassin could feel the throes of dark magic emanating from the ball.

A valiant effort. But Cyran would not be touched by his own domain so easily.

He clasped his hands together, whispering hushed prayers in elvish as the arcane warped around him.^[1,2] His gaze sharpened and he dove for the ball, arms stinging where he hit it, barely reeling it into the air. He’d exhausted most of his tricks earlier, and Yasei was a formidable opponent. He needed firepower. Grabbing his improvised fighting sticks, Cyran dug his heel into the sand and leapt at a spin, striking the ball with as much force as he could muster. ONE-TWO, THREE; different from hitting a person, but with precision that would hopefully strike Yasei with enough force to daze him.^[3]

---

1. Quicken
2. Resist the Elements - Dark Damage
3. Cyran’s Haunting Blade

Heh. Yasei could have guess Cyran would have some impressive defenses against dark damage, but it still looked like he took quite the hit from the light and fire energy Yasei had wrapped the ball in, not to mention the physical impact that was sure to be powerful thanks to Yasei's strength. It was impressive Cyran didn't have any broken bones, or at least, he wasn't showing it if he did.

Yasei laughed with excitement as he watched Cyran deliver three blows to the ball before it launched directly at him with an impressive amount of force. Now this was some good, old-fashioned power! No tricks or sneaky business.

Yasei stayed firmly planted in his spot, his feet digging into the sand slightly more as he braced himself. The white flames on his hands and feet extinguished themselves and they instead looked oddly metallic, the harsh sunlight reflecting off his arms and legs like they were real weapons forged from iron with a slight glow of black and white to them.

He planted his staff in the sand beside him and held both of his now empty hands in front of him. He lunged at the ball, palms forward and fingers curled inward like a claw. The ball impacted his palms with a metallic thud and then bounced straight back toward the still airborne Cyran, now with its own metallic sheen and a slight glow of white and black.

---

Art of the Iron Fist
Deflecting Palm
Hands Are Weapons
Angelic Light
Tranquility- Dark

Even though he’d absorbed the dark magic, Cyran still felt every bit of the physical pain from the blow. He wouldn’t last much longer at this rate. Either he had to get the ball past Yasei, or keep fighting back until he couldn’t anymore. He sent the ball back with all his strength -

And Yasei volleyed it back with the palm of his hand like it was nothing.

Oh. Cyran was a bit fucked.

He couldn’t hit it head on this time. The ball hurtled towards him with the speed of a projectile and the weight of a ship’s cannonball. Cyran had no hope of hitting it.

But he did know how to catch it.

Battle instinct kicked in, his gut implicitly knowing that if he tanked this head on he’d probably be thrown to his feet and die. His melee fighting style didn’t revolve around taking hits, but redirecting blows from stronger enemies. Instead of pressing his hands together, he held out his palm, taking the blow head on - but instead of bracing himself, he yielded, allowing the ball to spin him in place…^[1,2]

And to perform a complete turn, and unleash the might of Yasei’s own blow against him.^[3]

His entire arm went numb and limp as the ball shot through the air, piercing the net and soaring in a straight line right through Yasei. He clutched at it, feeling mottled bruises and burns blossoming underneath the skin, felt the delicate fracture of his arm and knew, this was it. Either this succeeded or failed, but he was running on empty.

---

1. Steel Catch
2. Cat’s Grace
3. Gerhart’s Final Strike

Yasei was surprised to see Cyran actually return his volley, but definitely not disappointed. Far from it. He had an almost crazed-looking smile on his face as the ball was sent back toward him with a fearsome amount of force. He could tall immediately that it would hurt like hell if it hit him, but there was no way he was going to dodge it and let Cyran win. He'd rather break a limb than give up!

He harnessed as much of his ki as he could and put it all into one punch, the fur of his hand gleaming with the same metallic sheen as it had before and a white, holy-feeling aura of light around it. He put his whole weight into the punch, planting his feet in the sand and turning his body into it.

"HYAH!" He roared out as his fist the ball at an angle, sending it mercifully not toward Cyran, but instead straight toward the sand on Cyran's side of the net. He'd seen enough from his opponent and could tell he was in rough shape. If he launched the ball straight back at him, it might even kill him, and he didn't want that.

As he hit the ball, he was pretty sure he felt something in his arm fracture, but the adrenaline and excitement was enough for him to ignore it. It would heal.

---

Hands Are Weapons
Art of the Iron Fist
Deflecting Palm

Well… at least Yasei seemed excited about the battle - erm, game. Excited enough that he curled his hand into a fist, and quite literally punched Cyran’s projectile back in his own direction. At this point, with each consecutive blow, the ball was gaining momentum as more force was added to it, redirected and redirected… at this point if it hit an innocent bystander it might kill them. Cyran couldn’t keep up. And if he let this ball hit the ground, the crater might even be liable to cause a small earthquake.

Ye gods.

Cyran raised his arms - actually, arm, because the other one had definitely been too injured for use - as if to block it, but there was a snowball’s chance in hell that he’d be able to hit it back. That left only one option.

He had to destroy the beast they’d created.

He raised his hand and pointed a single finger at the ball hurtling right towards the sand in the center of the net - right for him - and fired off a darkened blast of pure, dark, chaotic energy that impacted with the front of ball like the tip of a crossbow bolt.^[1]

POP!

And like an explosive bubble, the force was released.

---

1. Chaos Bolt

Yasei felt victorious until he saw the bolt of energy fly toward the ball. His eyes went wide and his big smile was wiped from his face.

"Oy!" He called out as he grabbed his staff to swing it and try to stop the collision of the two projectiles in the air, but it was too late. The ball and bolt collided and with a loud pop, the ball was reduced to nothing. Not even shreds of it were left to hit the sand and decide who the winner was.

"You popped it..." Yasei said in a mixture of disbelief and disappointment. He'd expected and witnessed some sneaky tricks from his opponent, but destroying the ball to force a tie? This didn't put a smile on his face. It actually made him more than a little upset. Even losing would've been better than this outcome. He was angry. All the fun had been taken out of this match for him, and he wasn't going to let it end like this.

Yasei stood with an unhappy grimace on his face, looking down at where the ball had been before its destruction. He let out a low growl and then spoke. "Hmph. A forced tie... How unsatisfying..." He said grumpily before looking up at Cyran. "So, how are we going to break this tie?" Yasei asked in a slightly threatening tone, heavily implying that the warrior wasn't satisfied with this, and wouldn't be settling for a draw.

Oh… oh, Cyran certainly hadn’t expected that reaction. His eyes widened as the komainu suddenly grew angry, realizing exactly what Cyran had done to force a tie. To be honest he’d hoped that this would make them both come to the conclusion they were evenly matched and leave it at that. Wishful thinking, it seemed. Now Yasei was demanding, uh, something to break the tie?

“Oh, oh gosh, I didn’t mean for that to be boring. My apologies.” Cyran muttered, unsure what to do. He was hardly a competitive man… this was the most he’d engaged in a sport in a long time. Perhaps ever, as when he still lived in Eclipse City he was hardly lining up to compete in sports and afterwards he was too busy to engage in some lighthearted fun. On the other hand, Yasei was the honorable sort, who preferred to test his mettle against people in a fair way. How the hell was Cyran meant to compete with that? If they arm wrestled, his bones would be reduced to paste. And they could hardly go find another ball to keep playing. Hmm.

“How about a race, then?” The idea came to him slowly, but as it occurred to him, the more he realized it was probably a smart idea. Both of them were fast, and a single sprint might be the perfect thing to bring an end to this. Not to mention he thought he might simply keel over and perish if he had to put any more weight on his arm.

"A race?" Yasei repeated with a tilt of his head and a smirk before laughing.

"Ha! You think you're faster than me just because of this!?" He asked jokingly as he slapped the front of his stomach. He had a big smile on his face, but the same competitive, and slightly dangerous feeling glimmer in his eyes as when they'd first started their game of volleyball.

Yasei was big and his heavy, frankly a bit rotund, build certainly didn't suggest he'd be very light on his feet, but Cyran had already seen he was a lot faster than he looked. If Cyran really thought he could beat him in a race so easily, he'd show him just how wrong he was!

Yasei looked out over the beach and spotted something in the distance. A large rock that jutted up out of the beach and had some lanterns draped on strings hanging between it and some wooden poles on the beach. That's be a perfect halfway point. He grabbed the makeshift volleyball net and yanked it off of the poles before throwing it onto the sand behind him.

"From here to that big rock and back." He told Cyran as he moved between the poles that would serve as their new finish line, not even giving him a moment to argue before getting into a runner's starting position.

“On the contrary, I selected it because I thought it would be what we were the most evenly matched in, given my own observation of your skills.” Cyran murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck. His face was flushed at the prospect of being accused of picking something easy for a cheap win in front of his students. He wanted it to be fair… not to mention his arm was still mangled and any contest of strength would leave him even more injured.

Still, Yasei seemed keen about the suggestion, and while Cyran tried to bring some sensation back into his shoulder, the Komainu scanned the area for a place to sprint. Eventually, he must have found one, because the challenge in his tone brokered no room for argument. The quick reply caused Cyran paused - the assassin followed his gaze towards the lantern-covered rock, the way a moth might be drawn to a flame.

To the rock and back. One last challenge. He could do that.

“Very well.” The assassin did not assume a runner’s beginning stance, partially because he didn’t want to put weight on his arm. He braced himself in the sand, waiting all of a second to prepare himself before calling out, “Now!” And kicking off the sprint proper.

He was not quite used to unstable ground, but Cyran’s own natural grace kept him aloft on the shifting sands.^[1] He tapped his shoes together, concealed blades giving him a little extra advantage to glide along the surface - he wasn’t using magic to propel himself forward, not just yet.^[2] But the rock was already in sight, the halfway point, and if Yasei was going to try anything like they had in the volleyball game’s escalation, Cyran wanted to keep himself ready.

---

1. Cat’s Grace
2. Ice Skates

Running on sand might have been a pretty significant disadvantage to most, but it hardly bothered Yasei as he more leapt than ran. Like a lion pouncing from one foothold to another, Yasei launched himself off of boulders embedded in the sand, umbrella tips, and tables and chairs scattered around the beach with explosive force. When he had nothing to leap off of, he used his own staff to vault himself forward to the next.

Yasei kept an eye on his opponent as he launched himself toward the rock. Whatever Cyran might try, Yasei was going to be ready for it. That guy had used all sorts of sneaky tricks during their volleyball game, so Yasei fully expected something to come at him at any moment. A shadow to try and grab his ankle or a field of shadowy thorns to sprout in front of him. Whatever, he'd power through it and get to the rock first and then be back to the finish line before Cyran knew it!

Yasei had taken a sizable lead to start and was a little suspicious. He looked back at Cyran and stuck his tongue out mockingly, hoping to provoke him to play one of whatever cards he was keeping close to his chest right now.

---

Long Stride

Cyran expected Yasei to keep pace; his expectations were blown out of the water as Yasei made the trek to the rock like it was nothing. He’d not been planning to interfere with this race, but if they were still using all the skills and abilities at their disposal to win, then he supposed there was no point in holding back.

He liked to consider himself a nice person. No one ever said anything about being fair.

If that was Yasei’s intention by provoking him, he supposed it did the trick. It was the final stretch now, and if there was any time to cut loose, it was this moment. He turned his attention to Yasei, clenching his free hand into a fist and pulling the magic the komainu was using to bound over the sand to a halt.^[1] At the same time, in one swift motion, he grabbed a handful of small sea urchins he’d collected earlier from his fanny pack, tossing them onto the sand between himself and Yasei - with any luck, the halt in his momentum would force him to plummet straight into the obstacle.^[2]

And if that wasn’t enough to halt him, then Cyran would just have to summon forth his wings once more, and hope that flight would carry him all the way to the rock.^[3] His fingertips brushed the cool stone, and like a swimmer underneath the waves, Cyran flipped and kicked off, making the last leg back to the court. He could see Oriole and Andromeda - or, scratch that - Oriole, cheering at the end. Unfortunately, if Yasei hadn’t caught up to him, Cyran would be flying right in Yasei’s path, giving his opponent ample opportunity to retaliate.

---

1. Counterspell
2. Sea Urchin Caltrops
3. Bat Wings

As Yasei went to jump again, he suddenly felt the strength in his legs falter as the ki he was putting into them was stolen away by something and dispelled. He let out a sound of confusion and surprise as he leapt, still quite far for his size, but far less than he'd been expecting. Only about a third of the distance he was trying to jump, he fell toward the sand. He smiled at Cyran's back.

Did he think that'd be enough to win him the race? Messing up one of his jumps? Hah! He'd make that distance back up in no time, no pro-

"AHHHH!" Yasei let out a shout of pain as he felt the caltrops stab into the bottom of his foot. "Ow ow ow! AHH! Owowowow!" Several onlookers looked over in alarm at the shouting giant leaping from one foot to another until he finally reached an area clear of the spiky little balls of pain. Yasei sat down on a bench and quickly pulled all of the sea urchins out of the pads on the bottoms of his feet.

Yasei let out a slight sigh of relief as the last urchin was removed, but his feet still stung and felt numb. Were these things poisoned or something? He let out a low growl. His playful demeanor vanished as he turned and looked at Cyran with a fiery determination in his eyes and the most dangerous smile on his face yet.

Oh, it was on.

Yasei's bright pink hair turned white and started to glow, the wounds on his feet healing rapidly. His muscles swelled slightly as he took a runner's stance again and launched himself, straight on a collision course with Cyran who had just reached the rock and started heading back toward the finish line.

With a trail of white flame behind him, Yasei flew at Cyran like a meteor, belly first with his arms and legs outstretched.

---

Heavenly Infusion
Inspiring Presence
Long Stride
Juggernaut's Fury
Sworn Enemy

The yowls of startled pain told Cyran that the trap had worked. He wasn’t really the kind of person to smile in the heat of the moment, but it did give him some measure of satisfaction to put some distance between them.

And then he turned around.

The provocation had been the last straw; and now Yasei was determined to turn up the heat. The air simmered with pressure, competition turning murderous. In a flash of light Yasei transformed, fur turning a brilliant white, and - oh, was he getting closer?

Cyran braced himself. Not fast enough. The cannonball that was Yasei was on a collision course and he’d used up all his defenses earlier. He only had a split second to cover his face with his arms, a door’s defense against a battering ram.

BOOM!

Yasei hit Cyran, who hit the rock with force enough to rattle his skull. That was the last thing Cyran remembered before the world faded to black. The last of his energy expended from the battle, and the damage from Yasei’s final blow, Cyran was now out cold, stranded at the halfway point by the rock, while Yasei had free reign to reach the finish line.

Yasei laughed cheerfully as he dropped to his feet, until he noticed just how limp and unmoving Cyran was. He peeled the unconscious man off of his stomach and held him up to take a good look at him.

"Eh, uhhh...." Yasei hummed to himself, raising an eyebrow. He was a warrior, not a medic. What was he supposed to be doing here? He held Cyran's chest up to his ear like a floppy conch shell and listened. Yeah, he's still breathing! Probably. That's what breathing sounds like, right?

"Woops." He whispered with an embarrassed smile. Looks like he went a bit overboard there. Knocking his opponent unconscious wasn't his intention. It was hardly sportsmanlike behavior. Well, it was too late now. He'd just have to take good care of him now.

Yasei threw Cyran over his shoulder, onto his tail, and made his way back to the volleyball court. He was sure to pass through the finish line first, and then place Cyran on the sand as gently as he could.

"Haha, my bad." Yasei said to Andromeda and Oriole. "Do either of you know how to heal someone?"

The problem with neither Yasei nor Cyran being a healer was that neither of them kept cleaning or first aid supplies on hand. Unfortunately, neither did Cyran’s apprentices. They watched curiously as the large komainu carried their master back over his shoulder like a hefty sack of potatoes… or not even a hefty one. He looked really light. Almost painfully so. The two winced while Yasei gently set Cyran down on the sand.

“I don’t have anything on me…” Oriole bit his lip while Andromeda reached into her skirt and pulled out one of her blades.

“I could always stab him. Shock ought to wake him up.”

“Andromeda, no! That would just make him bleed out faster.”

Andromeda shrugged. “I offered.”

Andromeda tapped his finger against his chin before something came to mind, memories of watching his master in battle. “Oh, Master Cyran usually keeps a necklace on him! One that’s got a potion on him. It’s strong enough to heal scars, it should knock him conscious… oh.” He frowned when he saw the bottle was empty, having already been consumed by Cyran to combat the fatigue he’d been dealing with earlier.

Well.

That option was off the table.

“We may as well just get him to Miss Del. He never stays down for long, but he’s pretty fragile.” Andromeda muttered. Her face was normally so frigid that it was difficult to tell if she was disappointed Cyran hadn’t won or not. Instead of voicing it she just unceremoniously grabbed his legs, hooking his ankles under her armpits, and started half-heartedly dragging him through the sand. She wasn’t especially strong so it was more an awkward hobble.

She turned back to Yasei, a spark of interest in her eyes; she offered the man a not-quite-smile. “It was a really cool game, Mr. Yasei. Really damn entertaining. I don’t think I’ve seen Master Cyran have that much fun in a while.”