The demons dash at the brothers, weapons ready.

"Can you handle the big one?" Grisha asks.

"Of course," Stabby responds. "Why do you ask?"

"The smaller guy seems more talkative, I'm going to try getting information from him."

"Gotcha." The brothers split, Stabby meeting the charge of the yellow demon.

The yellow mercenary's ax swings at Stabby, who rolls under the feline's legs, cutting at his calves. The daggers do almost nothing against the combination of muscle and thick fur.

The demon turns, his smile palpable through his mask.

"This may be harder than I thought," Stabby says.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As his brother clashes, Grisha blocks the blue assassin's path. "How about a duel?"

"I'd accept that," the demon responds. "I'm guessing you'd like to have a pleasant chat as we go?"

"Saw right through me." Grisha cracks his neck, staring his opponent down with a confident grin. "I never could resist a talk with a nice feline, like yourself."

"Oh? You'd love to meet the god of death if that's the case."

"Although that sounds charming, I may postpone that for now, since I still have living to do and all."

"I'll speed up the process for you." The demon leaps at him, his daggers slashing at intense speeds.

Grisha glances at his weapon. A pike may have been a bad first choice.

Grisha thrusts the pike forward, pausing the demon's approach. With a forceful pull, the edge of the weapon returns, just missing the figure's neck. Grisha twirls, summoning a blade tipped shield and slamming into the assassin, knocking him back.

The blue demon lands on his feet. "Such variety. I knew you'd be fun." He dashes in low, aiming for the prince's ankles.

Grisha leaps above the attack, throwing his shield. With a kick, the demon avoids the weapon's path, then jumps after Grisha.

The demon gleams. "You're wide open!"

Instead of avoiding the attack, Grisha falls straight towards the demon, forearms first. The act catches the demon by surprise, Grisha's arms slamming against his throat. The Bijokajo stabs Grisha's side, using Grisha's wince to twist him, attempting to slam him against the surface. Grisha melts into the ground on impact, resurfacing multiple feet away.

Damn. The demon forced him to shadow travel. It feels as if someone is draining his blood when he uses it.

Grisha tears the dagger out, tossing it to the ground. He pulls his shield from the muddy dirt, chuckling, "you're not giving me much time to speak."

"Oh, I apologize. I guess I'm just getting too into it. Go ahead, ask your questions." The demon closes the distance again, throwing his dagger at Grisha's forehead.

Grisha blocks the projectile. The demon grabs the dagger on the floor and swipes at the shade's wound. Grisha summons a second shield, blocking his side.

"You're a Bijokajo, right? Why are you working with a pro-light organization?" Grisha finishes the sentence with a grunt, swinging his first shield towards the feline. "I thought your kind were neutral."

The demon hops back. "We are. Our primary focus is serving the death god, whose name I dare not speak." He leaps above Grisha, landing on his shields. "But we have no mission from him currently, so for now we do what we like."

"And you two happen to enjoy murder," Grisha says, the spite in his words tangible.

The demon nods with an uncomfortable amount of pleasure. "It makes me feel so close to lord death."

A nasty scowl forces past Grisha's forced politeness as images of all his people the demons murdered appear in his mind. "You're despicable."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Stabby breathes heavily. The overwhelming strength and endurance of the demon reminds him of his battle with the orc-spiders. The crucial difference is that this time he has to fight alone, or at least last long enough for his brother to finish his own battle. Stabby is uncertain of how long that will take, though, so he can't rely on that possibility.

If he's able to clone himself, that would be a tremendous help. To do that, he needs to activate his clone at a time that won't leave him open to a follow-up attack.

The yellow demon breaks his line of thought, the ax soaring towards his chest.

Stabby jumps back, the softened ground almost tripping him in the attempt. The ax cuts through the midsection of his shirt, inches from his skin.

Damn, he keeps forgetting to keep the sludge-like nature of these plains into account. There's no solid ground close enough to retreat to, either. He has to use all of his attention to even stay alive.

The demon continues the assault, his swings gaining speed with each miss.

Stabby dodges the attacks by centimeters. He attempts counterattacks, but each time he's interrupted by another of the powerful feline's swipes.

He's having no luck finding opportunities to create his clone, nor finding time to make distance through shadow travel. His only hope is to endure long enough for the demon to tire himself out.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Grisha sees his brother battling from the corner of his eye.

He's in trouble. Grisha has to finish this fight fast.

The blue demon slices his shoulder. "Don't get distracted, now. I want to enjoy this fight for as long as possible."

Though he knows he has to finish quickly, beating a Bijokajo is easier said than done. Especially one who's gone through the rigorous training of a demon of sunlight.

"You've grown rather silent," the demon says, dashing through the unsteady plains with spectacular ease. "If it's due to lack of topic, I have many I can bring up. How about your troops' performance?"

Grisha's teeth grind. He flings one of his bladed shields recklessly at the demon's head.

The demon dodges, the shield sticking into dirt far behind him. "No need to be upset with them. They did rather well actually."

Grisha charges shield first, swinging it once he reaches his foe's proximity.

The demon sidesteps the attack. "I guess that's a sensitive topic for you." He kicks Grisha's wounded side, dropping him to one knee. "I don't understand where the myth that shades have no emotion comes from. Well, it came from the Holy commander, but how do people believe it? Every shade I've met has had such potent emotions. It must be people see how dramatic you shades are and take it for acting."

Grisha understands the demon is attempting to get under his skin, but that doesn't help the reality that it's working. Grisha can feel heat build inside him. He could normally handle the mocking, but the lack of care for the death of others weakened Grisha's patience to near non-existence.

The demon kicks at Grisha's side again.

The kick stops.

Grisha grips the demon's ankle, tiny blades emerging from his palm and piercing the feline's fur.

"Alright, fine. You want a good fight? I'll give you one." Grisha's head rises to meet the blue demon, raging flames flaring in his eyes.

The demon pays no mind to the blades stabbing through his skin, staring in awe at the rampaging fire of Grisha's pupils. "What? I... how did you..."

Grisha rams the shield into the demon's jaw, breaking off the corner of the mask.

The Bijokajo flies back, catching himself mid-air and landing on his feet.

The assassin bursts into laughter, the new hole in his mask revealing his pointed fangs. "A shade, one who worships Kasumi at that, knows how to use Fudo's battle rage! Your survival in the forest is the best thing that ever happened to me!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"How long are you going to keep running, small shade?" The yellow demon asks. "Use your shadow moves or something. Constantly being on the offensive is becoming a bore."

"You're not giving me many options," Stabby responds, the thick metal flying past his nose.

"Alright, here." The demon lengthens the swing of his ax.

The longer gaps between attacks give Stabby time to put his strategy in place. "Oh... Thank you." He ducks under the swing, grabbing the unused parts of the ax's shaft to throw himself in the air.

The demon's body may be hard, but his neck should be much softer.

Stabby builds momentum, using the demon's next swing to propel himself straight towards the demon's collarbone. He grips his dagger with both hands, stabbing with all his strength. The blade hits its target, breaching the vulnerable throat.

Well. The correct way to say that would be more vulnerable, as the blade may have pierced the skin, but is immediately stopped by the enormous mass of pure muscle dwelling in the demon's neck. The demon grabs Stabby by the back of his collar, slamming him to the ground.

"There we go. Now you're getting it. No need for caution." The yellow demon's ax swings high above his head. "Don't stop now, small shade."

The curve of the ax falls.

Stabby grins. The opportunity has finally presented itself.

The blade sticks into the ground, two shades flanking it.

"Oh. That's a new move," the demon says.

Stabby and his clone summon two blades each. He turns to his shade, "I'm relying on you to figure out what I'm doing on your own. No clue how to control you yet."

The clone nods, copying Stabby's grin.

The demon pulls his ax from the dirt. "You're getting me so pumped. You small people always have your surprises." His attacks quickly reach the level of ferocity they were at before, even surpassing it.

The Stabbys dodge each blow, jumping back and forth to keep their foe from discovering who's the original. One Stabby jumps out of the way, leaving the other alone in the rampage.

"Already giving up?" The demon laughs. His attention turns to the deserter, and he increases his speed further.

Stabby can now see his past plan to outperform him in endurance would have failed miserably. The demon shows no signs of weariness despite the persistence of his onslaught.

But that no longer matters, the demon has fallen into Stabby's trap.

As the demon attacks the clone, Stabby leaps onto his back. He climbs onto his left shoulder and stabs his two daggers a few inches into the demon's neck.

"That strategy won't work, small shade. Trying the same thing repeatedly won't help you." The yellow demon goes to grab Stabby, but the shade jumps to his right shoulder. "Stop scurrying around and fight."

The clone uses the opportunity to hop to the demon's left shoulder, tossing one of his daggers to Stabby. Stabby catches the blade, jamming it into the last corner of the demon's neck. Stabby and his clone grab the four blade's handles that protrude from the skin.

The demon drops his ax and claws at the shades, but the sudden pain of blades twisting through his muscled neck stops his attempt. The Stabbys strain their arms as the daggers complete their circle.

"Lord death... I'm coming," the demon whispers.

His head falls to the ground.

Stabby and his clone hop off the decapitated body, safely getting off before the corpse crashes to the ground.

Stabby runs to the clone, squeezing him with a hug.

The clone tries to pull away but fails in the attempt.

"That worked much better than I thought it would," Stabby says, freeing the clone from the lock hold. "Good job, other me."

The clone points behind Stabby to his brother's duel.

"Oh, he's not done fighting. We should help." Stabby rushes to support his brother.

They're much further than he remembered. The yellow demon's attacks must have forced Stabby away quite some distance. It doesn't seem to be much of a problem, though.

Grisha seems to be doing well...

Too well.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Grisha tears shield after shield from his chest, throwing the sharp-edged circles one after the other at the demon. The blue demon dashes side to side, joyfully avoiding his endangerment. "Dodging a possibly unlimited amount of shields is new to me. You thrill me, prince."

Grisha blocked out the silver-tongued feline's voice long ago, his mind now only sees the unceasing flames of rage.

A shield hits its target, skimming the demon's ribs. The demon is about to make another remark but is cut short by Grisha leaping from a dark hole in the ground and punching him in the face. The demon's sliced ribs slam into the ground, blood gushing from the opening.

The demon rises despite his wounds and tries to laugh, choking in the attempt. Cracks riddle his mask, the face gear barely holding itself together. He fumbles around, trying to reenter his stance.

Grisha appears behind him. He plunges his hand into his chest and pulls out a cruel war hammer. He raises the weapon, no longer caring to learn from the demon. The chunk of hardened metal lands on the feline's skull, a distinct crack resonating in Grisha's ears.

The crack felt so satisfying.

The demon lies broken on the floor, breathing? Somehow he lives.

"Now... is the time... to ask the rest of your... questions," the demon says, his words intermixed with wheezes coated in agony.

Grisha raises his hammer once again.

"Heh... I guess you're too far... in your rage now. Very well... send me to… master."

The hammer falls.