Vergil stood. Blood continued to seep from the wound. To fight an opponent who could inflict wounds that could not heal, and who could heal the wounds inflicted upon him— what recourse was there? The blades gripped his attention— those were the key. If he could somehow utilize them, then perhaps…

He summoned swords around his body, their rapid rotation shredded ghost and paper alike. He clenched his fists and faced Dr. Kratos. Took a deep breath. The god-slayer had physical strength. But real strength, real power, was about so much more than brute force. It was the ability to think, to reason, to predict. To concentrate. That was how Vergil would defeat his foe:

Concentrate.

Reduce unnecessary movements. Wait for Kratos to fling his blade and grab it by any means necessary. Grit teeth as it punctures skin and breaks through bone. The hand is reduced to a bloody red mass, peppered by white chips. The strong are willing to pay whatever price is necessary for victory. Grip tightly to the blade with whatever muscles remain, wrap the chains around Beowulf’s jagged edges.

Reduce unnecessary movements. When Dr. Kratos pulls the blade back, it is at his own peril. Keep the grip on the blade. Make him regret bringing the fight up close. Lunar Phase— with a kick, become the wheel that grinds him into the ground, drive down his head beneath Beowulf’s heel, spin end over end in argent arcs. Vanish when he tries to strike. And do it all over again. Claw away that skin that regrows, spill more and more blood onto the ship’s deck, dodge whenever Kratos strikes. Do it only in response to Kratos’s aggression. Do only what is necessary.

Concentrate.

- Ragnarust Round 1