Arachnis Versus Mourne: Epilogue

The battle was coming to a close, mana drying up, and with the fall of the Infernus and his comrade, there were only two standing...
The Koar was wounded to a grandiose degree, but so was Arachnis leaving them in similar condition.

"As I stated before, I have no intentions of dying to Yokai!"
He made his charge, tentacles tailing behind him, sharpening at their ends. Upon his visage was a hardened snarl, returning whatever expression he was returned to by the Koar.
He knelt, feeling the ground tremor as it closed in, it's shadow crawling up for his body, and finally his own kicking off from the soil for the skies to dive straight into it's abdomen. The cosmic energies that constantly proved at flow glistened at his figure, taking hold of his figure and propelling him with the aid of gravity magic into a human bullet.

A battle-cry left his form, incrementing in volume, complementing the bass drop that rattled at ears far and wide. The earth below uprooted, sent in an uproar to scatter into the air and roll over for the magus in a constant blitz. The generated dust bowl reached to match the might of the Koar!
The rise of it's blade was met by the curl of the Harukean's tentacles! Their eyes locked, in a final confrontation!

The massive blade lunged forward, meeting several tentacles crossed over one another to block it effectively. They hardened on impact, resembling steel against the blade's edge. They sparked at the friction, sending embers to scatter the collision. Slowly the slid up against one another, the intense pressure resulted in a synthful exclamation of sound! The Harukean slide off to the side, the clash causing an explosion of yellow rain.

The two parted, only to dash for one another again. The blade of the Koar slashed for him, sending a spray of blood. The massive blade carved it's way into his shoulder and through it with minimal resistance, parting his arm from the rest of his body. It fell, plopping upon the earth below. He cuffed the sight of dismemberment, attempting to hold off the bleeding in the short amount of time granted. Crimson static tickled the wounded area, and one of the eight tentacles had receded entirely. At the cost of one of the tentacles, a black symbiotic fluid surface at the wound, oozing from within and tending to the static like the answer to a call.

"This ends... Now!"

Small shards danced through the air, resembling glass and diamond, slowly building up from seemingly, nothing, compounding upon his figure to eventually leave a sturdy aurelian glow. The blade was coming for him again, this time in a horizontal fashion-
Cosmic energy was building in a sudden recharge, the prelude to his next attack.

He leaned forward, still in an aerial pose-
He accelerated suddenly for his chest, right fist drawn and riled back. However, it was too late, the blade was already u-
A flash of sparks swallowed his form, the remaining seven tendrils curled over in a protected hand figure to shield off the blade, allowing him to slide up to and past the Koar's arm.

In time... He was before Mourn, and the moment gave in to pause...
Their eyes locked for a final time, and the scenery seemed to fade away, giving room to light and consciousness.

"I don't know if you Yokai can understand a work I say... But if so, you'd be best to remember me... Arachnis, of the Harukean Bloodline!"

The scene resumed back to reality, allowing the Harukean to drive his cosmic-driven fist into the Koar's chest, squeezing into the tough flesh with raw impact. The golden glow darkened, tainted with the amplication of occultism into the mix, and finally, a hybrid technique utilizing the gravity arcane, allowing the super-punch to propel the massive beast meters away...

It's descent, left the land to quake... And finally, the occultist fell to his knees to observe from the new distance. He panted, far too tired to carry out anymore. "Now, look what you've done... I've... Got to fix myself up now." He fell to his left palm, awaiting for the regeneration process to kick in, clearly forgetting about the degeneration he was facing prior.

This battle, was over..
(Arachnis)

Mourne attempted to overwhelm his foe, but did retreat into strategy, relying upon the enchanted cloak of magma quivering about his flesh to dampen the blows of the Harukean's tendrils. He suddenly had no room for bold overcompensation, his once glorious and slow swings full of vanity forced to become compact, and precise, meeting flurries of cosmic magic and seeking openings in the currents of Occult barriers about his foe.

The King was learning.

He was surprised. Every time he lacked in knowledge, he received it not from his own kind... even Eva, his master and matriarch for a time, had only poor morsels of knowledge to throw at his feet. She spoke of tolerance and mankind's usefulness to her aims... but really, he thought she was just a freak and that the entire notion was unnatural, until Eurytion spoke to him. "I know my purpose, but do you know yours?" A phantom voice spoke, as Mourne literally wrestled with the Lyperion Utovex in a flurry of slashes and seizures.

He swung -hard-. He wanted to win; more accurately, he believed he would win. Tentacles were severed, dust blew about in an uproar of debris and power, and blows were traded in an unpredictable exchange that would constitute a bloodied fate. He aimed to chop away the tentacles, struggling and clashing - then, all at once, shards flung through the air. The Harukean was enwreathed in a potent glow.

And a fist, plunged into his chest; beside his beating, ambitious heart, a powerful shockwave of power billowed into his frame and forced him back with the entirety of the potent Occultist's magic, leaving his back and feathery wings to smash painfully against the cliff in a minute splatter of feathers and blood. The man had gone so swiftly under the swing of his blade the Kaor failed to interrupt, failed to even perceive the eloquent defeat he'd been dealt.

He coughed a sanguine splash from his beak and looked down; a brutal wound lay in his chest, inflicted by a gouging punch that left him wondering if he was actually alive. His heart shook, whispered even; but it thudded, slowly, an aching pulse for his battered body. He was left to pant and cough on blood. But the man's words reached him... perhaps a curse of his survival, he knew the taste of defeat and would indeed, remember this 'Arachnis'.

His fiery sword was just a cluster of dying embers now. The quake of the land left his eardums ringing, his body exhausted as he remained hanging in loose consciousness against the cliff face.
(Mourn)