dev 4 - requiem's end

Elyon comes together with Keitaro today with intention to see both Requim and spirit summoning through to the very end. They were after a location and place. Where on Agartha were they headed?
[Narrate]

Knowing just what can await ahead of them, the Shenlong was ever cautious. If anything, precisely trying to anticipate what sort of challenges Synmael might present before the two; yet, it's not something they could just leave aside, considering that after they were done with the location of the spirit, they had to leave.

As soon as possible.

With so many other things to be done, there was only one question to Elyon that Keitaro had - and it is precisely the purpose of them being here. Would it be to remove the 'curse' upon this blade, or perhaps there's more to it?

"Before we go in.."

"Do you want to seal this spirit, or get rid of it entirely? What are we here for, exactly?"
(Keitaro)

The contact with Synmael had been brief, and although his questions weren't particularly answered; the spirit did leave with a single location on hand. The expedition unit in itself was anything but large-- pretty much Keitaro and himself, however the entire endeavor was more personal than anything, to say the least.

Amidst what little contacts he had with the spirit, and the constant buzzing in the head; it was more than apparent that Requiem's occupant, alongside while being sealed, was more than weakened enough, unable to escape in the form he once donned, unable to reach its former strength even if those shackles are removed, even if he's let out.

He needed a husk. A host to take-over, to control for its survival afterward, and it was more than evident as to... who was supposed to fill this role. And so as they drift further into woods that become more and more peculiar with each passing second, the reasoning behind Synmael's incentive to get here become more and more apparent. Grounds already shimmering in bluish hue, much like the glimmers which shift about the trees nearby ever so often.

An area where spiritual presence remains heightened, much like the deeper parts of Dreadwoods, or so, except to a far greater degree, and it only jumps further the deeper they dwell. A spot where the corrupted spirit would likely be able to manifest itself, with the aid of a summoner, despite still being weakened and crippled from its previous encounter.

It's only once before a larger cavern would he finally come to a halt, gaze switching back and forth between the brightened entrance before him, and the Shenlong over to his left-- though when the question is asked?

"To make a deal."

Somewhat murmured outward, but firm enough nonetheless. A single hand is allowed to brush against Requiem's hilt.

"It's already sealed as it is-- even if such is beyond painful to anyone who... wields this thing. Killing it won't do either of us any good, it... wants a host, right? Perhaps we can work something out that might help both of us-- as proud and arrogant as he seems to be. Perhaps I'd be able to prove myself-- my worth, somehow."

A slower pause, then.

"...if things don't go well, after all, well... we'll see, I suppose."
(Elyon Hirai)

When Elyon had first come into contact with the spirit that made the blacksmith kill himself, the beast itself had been locked inside of Requiem. Completely unable to escape. As they come forth today, they find themselves in that same kind of predicament. Synmael was only a titan when he was inside of the heart of the Dreadwoods. A walking deviant of mischief and agony. They broke him to seal him inside.

Truth be told, he'd likely have been feeding off of Elyon this entire time. They stand now in this blue-tinted forest, standing just before a cave that howled and dripped with water. Synmael's whispers, his echoes and taunts - They are louder now. Elyon can hear them as the hilt of Requiem starts to heat up.

Like it's playing games on him, like it knows it's being brought forth to once more cause havoc. A low laughing can be heard.
[Narrate]

If there's anything that Keitaro knows at all, it's the fact that this place is spiritually charged.

Much like the Dreadwood forests which were covered in the fog of whispers and the darkest secrets that lingered, mixed with the traces of violence and the essences that were roaming about, he could tell that this place is most likely just that as well; he may not be hearing the whispers that Elyon receives in his mind, but he can definitely sense this presence.

To be spiritually sensitive is to know such things.

Even now, the spirit shards embedded in Keitaro's chest begin to hum and glow. It's much like the recipient to the spiritual presence.. a part of spiritual energy he carried around in the process of eventually becoming half-spirit. His eyes dart around, eyes steadily narrowing.

"It feels like we're in the right place."

"Beware of the traps or anything that looks too unusual. For all we know, this could be illusion as well."

"Make sure you do not make a mistake of granting it a powerful host too easily..."
(Keitaro)

"Can you hear this shit?"

It's whispered, but his voice remains somewhat strained throughout, despite the way those lips curl into a weaker grin all the while-- he knew that the Shenlong likely couldn't however.. It was hard to tell, at this point-- Synmael's whispers were something he was more than used to, and yet right here, in the moment? They were agonizingly loud, echoing, taunting him.

Regardless, at Keitaro's words there, a bit of slow nod is offered, eyes drifting to a close and allowing just the faintest, audible breath to escape outward.

"We totally are... it's louder than ever before."

With that, a single step is taken.

"Yeah, I know; don't worry... I have my own terms-- my own conditions. If he wants to survive, then he'd have to make compromises, as well."

The grimace to follow is poorly hidden, that buzzing more than just uncomfortable within his head, though he tried to not focus too much onto it. No words escape afterward, and he'd merely make his way into those caverns, only ever waiting for Keitaro to join him so.
(Elyon Hirai)



The duo stroll into the cavern for ten, twenty minutes. The path inwards leads them through several dark and purple crystals that line the walls. As they pass each one, the crystals light up as the sword on Elyon's back starts to burn. It starts to quite literally grow hot.

The wind coming out of the cave? They can hear words from it. Requiem starts to shake and rattle and now even Keitaro can hear Synmael's voice.

'So good is it to be brought back to the place of my inception. My death. I love a good tragedy..'

If the duo looked to the right and left of them, they were now walking on a very narrow stone bridge that extended over a massive ravine below them.

'Spirits.. What do you know of them? Their creation? Are either of you aware the line you walk? Bahahaha... No. Maybe not.'

Crystals continue to light up as they walk. They find themselves at the end of the cave very promptly. A small alignment of crystals have been left on the ground for one reason or another. It's a large enough chamber of stone to draw ritual lines, to conduct a summoning.

The noises in Elyon's head have gotten loud to the point it's senseless static and hollow screams.
[Narrate]

The voice caused the Shaman to be alarmed.

He dealt with plentiful of corrupt, twisted spirits in his life, and he believed this to be one of them- although normally the Shaman would make a bold statement in which he would seek to actually remove the spirit from its corruption, perhaps by forcing the catharsis upon it, for the time being he remains silent.

Doing otherwise could ruin Elyon's plans.

Instead, as they walk, his eyes drift to the narrow stone bridge beneath them, and a massive ravine below. It's unclear just how this was made, or for what purpose, but he can only presume it's to ensure effective sealing of Synmael - even if it were to escape, all one would have to do is to destroy the bridge.

Yet, they're here, so it means that didn't work.

In the end.. he doesn't think of it too much, opting out to turn his gaze to Elyon briefly.

"...This isn't good."

In particular, he speaks about the end of the cave, with the alignment of crystals laid all around. This looks like a summoning circle.. perhaps, intended for the spiritmancers too.

"Do you want me to try and summon it? Seems like the place."
(Keitaro)

The trek continues, perhaps slower than it should've been as his steps are small, careful all the while. He didn't really know how many minutes went by, and the Warchief remained silent for most part, merely glancing along those walls, observing their surroundings.

--until that relic upon his back starts to practically sear, that is.

There's a hiss of pain, and his hand swiftly reaches out to unstrap that blade-- yet, it's just as agonizing, allowing the hilt to be exchanged between his left grasp and right, if only to divide the burning sensation, but no relief follows suit-- not with the voices which soon take over.

"Inception? You were born here...?"

It's mere whisper amidst everything else, though things only get worse when those noises drift even louder-- actual screams accompanied by incoherent static shrouding his consciousness, causing the Hirai to squeeze those eyes shut.

He didn't knowmuch of the crystal alignment before them, and when the Shenlong turn to ask the question, he could notice the way a single hand is pressed to Elyon's own temple, features certainly twisted, strained in discomfort.

"Just what we are here for. Do it-- fuck. It's loud."

Another, slower pause, and then the Requiem is finally pulled out of its sheath, allowing the tip of its blade to settle against grounds underneath, and the hilt still tightly gripped upon.
(Elyon Hirai)

Carefully, the Shenlong reaches out to Elyon's blade, Requirem. He should know that it's absolutely necessary for the spiritmancer to conduct the ritual- now, as to whether Warchief hands the blade itself, or in its sheathe, its a different story. Still...

When he takes it, he approaches to the alignment of crystals. It doesn't take long for the drakanite to begin drawing particular inscription for the ritual, all to prompt the summoning.

Mannaz - the Purpose of Journey.
Iunct - the Purpose of Connection.
Verr - the Purpose of Pull.

Three inscriptions. The journey, to provide necessary means for manifestation; the connection, to draw upon the blade's spiritual essence and belonging; and pull, to ensure that it goes through here.

Even if forcibly.

Upon such ritual being performed, the Shenlong finally channels his mana- the spirit shards in his chest begin to hum andglow, tapping into spiritual prowess to make the necessary means for summoning. His lips part, and finally he speaks.

"Synmael, I ask that you appear."

"Show yourself, so that the bargain may be seen through."
(Keitaro)

As Keitaro takes the blade closer to the collection of crystals, his hands start to burn with pain and pressure as Requiem wouldn't stop vibrating and trembling of its own accord. When he approaches them and begins to draw, the crystals all around start to illuminate and almost line up with the ritual circles he was putting to the ground. The mana that Keitaro provides - It starts to drain at him heavily.

The shards in his chest start to pulsate and throb as he is robbed of mana in this moment. The cave begins to tremble, the crystals start to shake.

Keitaro. /powerdown vitality 20. You may remove it at the end of the event!

It almost shook as if it were a heart, or some kind of throat. It's then when the cave roars and shakes with words. Synmael's words.

"Give. Me. BLOOD." The walls start to morph and crack. For a moment, the shadows all around cast by the illuminated crystals seem to dance. One could see teeth. Hundreds and hundreds of sharp teeth forming in the shadows of the spiritual ritual.

The entire cave was rumbling and shaking as if caught in an earthquake while the ritual was undergoing its natural processes.
[Narrate]

A single hand still pressed to his temple, although the agony in itself was lowered compared to before, the Hirai could only watch Keitaro commence the ritual in itself. Quiet, still, even as the mana drains-- until the entire cavern trembles, that is.

He'd stumble ever so slightly, not particularly prepared and still in the same discomfort which shrouds along. Though amidst the shakes and everything which follow, those words to echo are loud. Those words to echo are clear.

It craves blood.

"I'll do it."

Words are almost rushed outward, and quickly did he step forward, even if he scrambles ever so slightly. Allowing a grip to find Requiem's sheath in an attempt to take it from the aspiring spiritmancer, before it's lifted into the air. Drifting closer to the shadows which embrace their ritual.

Finally, a palm is allowed to press itself against that blade's edges which dig in effortlessly, piercing past the skin-- and surely enough; droplets of scarlet follow suit, soon converted into a narrow stream.

"I-- don't know how much is... sufficient. I know it empowers them, just... let me know when to stop. Let me know when it's more than enough."

The entire process remained risky, however... he didn't particularly expect it to be easier.
(Elyon Hirai)

It's a risky endeavour, but the Shaman learned to tame the corrupt spirits like this, or else they will simply spiral out of control. Where Elyon offers to sacrifice blood of his own, Keitaro's brows slightly knit closer, frowning at what he hears- even as the mana is hungrily drained from him at high rate, so much that it causes him to feel a little woozy.

"Do not be hasty to offer a lot."

"Be careful. Offer only drops at first, and a small drip, nothing more. Do not offer it a lot - or else it will simply steal lifeforce from you and leave you an empty husk."

Yet, the booming voice does not intimidate Keitaro. He knew just how powerful certain spirits can be.. and he already dealt with similarly powerful entities back on Spire Island, when the sixteen-feet-tall magma elementals appeared. There's no doubt in his mind that Synmael was even more fearsome, but..

Unless you assert yourself over spirit, you should not expect any respect in return.

"Synmael! Show restrain!"

"We've come to work with you! Cooperate, or else all connection will cease! You will never be whole again for another several centuries!"

"Do not dare forcibly drain like this or you will experience shutdown like no other!"

It is spoken in a firm voice. While it may sound like a threat, the spiritual entity should recognize that Shaman demands proper work in return. After all..

While spiritmancers can grant catharsis..
They can make spirits suffer too.
(Keitaro)

Do you think you are the first, fool!? DO YOU THINK I ENJOY MY LIFE TRAPPED TO A METER OF METAL?!

The voice screams out throughout the caves as a small vortex is made in Elyon's palm. Like Synmael was desperate to drink and drain the mana from his blood. The mana of life. The drops are succulent, but the stream is what finally appeases the shadows on the wall. The cave stops trembling for only a moment as the circle started to bloom and blossom. It began to radiated with a glow and intensity that Keitaro likely might not have seen before in his lifetime.

He was dealing with a spirit that cannibalized and tortured Archons for sport. A twisted, ugly, malevolent beast that had been starved for so long of any kind of mana. Feeding. Anything. How can you pass to the next life when every last person you haven't murdered on Eternia is a regret?

Elyon. /powerdown vitality 60. You may remove it at the end of the event.

It is only now when a small portal begins to open up in the center of the room. Dark claws reach up and pry at the edges of the portal, tearing it open further and further if the two of them continued to let it suckle blood and mana. It was taking all of it. All of it so that it could finally be free.

I will show restraint when I am dead. I cannot kill my host, ohoho.. No. No no no. Finally.. Finally I see it.. Freedom..
[Narrate]

There was no way to make this spirit submit.

No way to make it ever forget what it was hunting for and what it intended to do, because carnage and violence is all that it knew in its life. When the glow radiates all around him in intensity that he could never anticipate before, it is something that Shaman reflexively shields his eyes against.

The light almost burns his eyes.

Steadily, he comes to a rise, only to see the malevolent energy crawl through the portal, the dark claws that grasp at its edges. Inevitably, those spirit shards begin to slow in his chest once more, and his eyebrows knit together upon what he sees. That would only mean they have a single option left - to fight against this corrupt energy.

But all of this would be an experience for the time he becomes half-spirit.

And to make it worse.. Keitaro actually wants part of this essence. Why? Because gathering the essences of the most powerful spirits out there might make him the way he wanted; while Elyon's pursuit is with Requiem, the Shaman's own lies somewhere else. Still..

"We have to restrain it, Elyon."

"Only after it's unable to resist I can ensure that it will not harm others. I will push it through catharsis, and it will be forced to move on once it can no longer fight."

He had no doubt that the spirit would resist the attempts to force it to move on, but.. that's the plan, to make sure it has no such option. If they manage to defeat this dark beast?

Then it would become something else in a different realm.
(Keitaro)

Teeth press together, and those eyes squeeze shut when the vortex would appear about his palm. Blood flows in droplets, and then a narrow drip for the spirit so closely connected to himself-- he didn't really know how much time passed, how many seconds went by before the trembling comes to a halt.

Gaze allowed to drift about yet once again, those ocean hues focus themselves upon a certain portal to rip open along the center of that chamber, and Keitaro's words weren't particularly needed for him to retreat that hand, to cease the flowing scarlet, for now.

Although when the Shaman finally speaks up? There's a frown which tugs along.

"Catharsis? No-- it stays. It's here. It's mine."

Words are hushed, somewhat shaky, but the Hirai composes himself soon after-- still quite weakened from the blood loss. Even if they managed to restrain it-- even if no catharsis was performed. Even if they managed to seal him again, completely... this wasn't what he was after.

It was bigger than this.

To defeat a spirit-- to force servitude. To force those shackles which bound him until recently yet once again. That isn't what he's after. And so when his gaze turns towards the portal, and the source of that booming voice, those lips curl ever so slightly. Words to find their way out are louder now.

"You want to live? You want to be free-- to be away from those restraints. To be out of this godforsaken blade? You'll have to compromise-"

Another, slower pause, and then a single step forward follows suit. Everything spoken is laced with confidence, almost challenging.

"You want my body? I'll let you embody it my way-- through my own methods, but I'm no husk, Synmael, I'm not a host controlled by you. I'll be at the command here, even it's something shared. We've been through quite a bit together, haven't we? Fought many battles-- with this blade embraced within crimson more times than I can count. There's something you should know better than anyone else.

I'm strong."

When his palm finds those egdes yet once again, small droplets do ooze out.

"...and we're both twisted in our own ways, aren't we? If I have to prove my worth to you, then so be it, but remember one thing-- you are mine, Synmael, and you'll agree to my conditions should you want to exist here without being locked up.

And mark my words; it'll be an existence you'd enjoy thoroughly... but you should know that, already. This sword has witnessed enough, hasn't it?"
(Elyon Hirai)

Synmael continues to claw and rip himself to the surface. His head shows and for the first time, they're able to see him clearly. Synmael had the chest and arms of a normal human. Though the skin was black, it looked normal in a way. That ends when one looked at his head and realized he wore a demonic, almost lizardlike face and head. Two horns on the sides of his head rise up, Synmael sinks his claws into the stone and continues to tear himself free. Spikes jut from his back and across his arms, but his legs and lower torso were but a wisp.

"Compromise? I'd sooner slaughter you, Elyon! There is no price to pay for freedom! You've brought me here - So I will shatter you, I will shatter the blade, I will be free! You ripped me from my Dreadwood paradise! I'm going to chew on your corpses!!!"

Synmael readies himself for battle but it's clear he's weakened. He hadn't the mana he did when they fight fought in the Dreadwoods. That's fine, however. Synmael had Elyon's blood. He only had to fight two of them.

"You will not command me! We will rule together, or I will rule! You are strong, but you are not immortal Elyon. I am."

Towering twelve feet tall, claws charge with blood magic as they're torn down towards the duo.

"There is nothing to be proved! Free me! Release me! Do not torment me LONGER!!" As per usual, Synmael did not have any control on his emotions. Perhaps there's a few kinks to work out, still.

Oh shit! He's attacking!
[Narrate]

While it's clear why Elyon exactly wanted to preserve Synmael for himself, all to make sure that he actually ends up empowered.. there's something that Keitaro wanted out of this too, but that does come with the restraint and capture of the spirit before them.

Even as it booms against them, he had a clear idea that he wouldn't cease this predisposition to them both until he's finally reduced from the state of constant aggression. Weakened or not, this one was still fairly dangerous.. and they had to tread carefully if they wanted to survive.

"Elyon!"

"We will decide later what we do with it. I had something of my own too, but that should only come after we're through with this battle."

"Fight in tandem with me! We'll get him."

Or so he hopes. In the end, all that was offered is the staff being brought out for this fight - Devotion, one charged with lightning. The spirit shards began tohum louder and glow brighter, almost with a hungering energy that stretched all the way to Synmael.. there was one thing true.

It's conquer or be conquered.

A charge of lightning, a fading glow imbued with spiritual energy. The time for talk was over, and now?

It was the time for fighting.
(Keitaro)

"So this is what we look like, huh?"

Strained, still, but it was almost as if he enjoyed himself-- enjoyed the arrogance tossed about, and every single threat to follow. The figure to stand before him was much more humanoid than before, barring the blackened skin, and those features which soon reveal themselves. The Warchief's lips remain curled into a larger grin by the time Synmael assumes a hostile stance.

"You'll not slaughter me. But we will rule together, whether you like it or not. Much like this blade which managed to stay by my side for so long."

At the end of the day; he knew what he was getting himself into... it was a deal with the devil itself-- even if the terms were agreed to, even if things went the way he wanted them to in the moment, he'd certainly pay the price for it one day. Whether in life, or after death.

Yet, he was content with as much.

"There'snothing to decide, Kei, this thing's mine!"

Exclaimed outward amidst that smile upon his features, although when Keitaro prepared for battle, the Hirai assumes a proper stance, as well, allowing those winds to explode outward and marble sparks to embrace along.

Just like that; the world around fades into black and white.
(Elyon Hirai)

Far from easy.

To be caught in the blast would mean certain heavy injury or even death- at times, it was his own footwork and evasion that saved him, while at the others it was his own toughness as drakanite that ensured he would not fall victim to the powerful strikes. Sometimes, being just a hair away from the actual fall was all that stirred him to continue on without fear..

Whenever he rapidly approached death,
he never felt more alive.

To some extent, perhaps Keitaro had come to love this sort of danger, to admire just what results can come out - and what he would be capable of once he tests himself. Yet, with each shake of the cavern, with each droplet of blood that stains his clothes and skin alike, it only pushes Keitaro to do more. To alleviate himself to the state like no other..

One in which he'd shine as bright as he can.

Azure lightning, mixed with golden clad - that was his weapon. And when he called to the storms, they answered, raiding parade of lightning and thunder upon already tormented cavern. Calculated, precise strikes; nearing the end, all that was needed of him would be to deliver the final blow. The hum of spirit shards suggested it was time for exactly that.

A brief shimmer, a fade of his hands from this world.

Transparent oddity, one that sought to attack the spirit in tandem with Elyon; where another struck with lightning of crimson and grey alike, Keitaro struck with golden and azure, the embodiment of holy magics and the pure spiritual thunder that comes with it.

A strike like no other, made to reduce Synmael's fighting spirit.

"I told you what would happen."

Spoken with harsh words to the spirit, only after it was finally brought down. But.. something was telling him that this would be far from the spirit's 'absolute'.

That it would remain. Not here, but with the new bearer.
(Keitaro)

To call it weakened would be an understatement-- the creature was nowhere near the strength which it once possessed; the beast which slaughtered Archon, the spirit which nearly killed a squadron of three, elite mages, and likely would've done so if it wasn't for the blade's sealing.

Yet, here? The two of them managed to match the corrupted being-- no, they managed to dominate him in every manner possible, working in perfect synergy despite wielding magic completely opposite of one another.

Scarlet sparks flow about, joining those of golden hue as they shower the spirit before them, with the Hirai narrowly managing to dodge some of the blasts presence, even when Synmael charged him down, aiming to destroy that blade once and for all.

"Didn't you hear me?"

It's strained amidst the clashes, and he'd continue only after dodging yet another blow, and countering it with a larger explosion of pure, manifested energy.

"This is not where you'll reside, Synmael! You wound be locked into a weapon for eternity. We can exist as one, so quit the lashings and think for a goddamned moment!"

Coming to a halt, finally, before one of his hands grip upon the wrist of other, and crimson lightning follows suit soon after, embracing him palms, flaring ever so wildly. The Warchief would wait just long enough for Keitaro to charge up his attack, as well, and then move in for a final strike-- one meant to crumble the monster's hostile spirit. To forcibly calm him down-- put him down, unable to continue fighting, for now.

His breaths are ragged, heavy by the time those feet touch the ground, and he takes just a moment longer to compose himself yet once again. Then, Requiem returns to its sheath.

"You know I'm strong, Synmael... you know you can trust me. You've seen every side-- every part. Been with me through every battle; so calm the fuck down."

Ah.

"My offer remains."
(Elyon Hirai)

Synmael tried his hardest with the blood, the mana, the offerings they'd given him to form outside of the blade - And while he thrashed and went to try and snap Elyon's blade with his own hands, it didn't work. The Hirai would leap back and slam him with lightning. And so he'd switch to Keitaro, finding masses and masses of lightning dropped on his head as he went to reel back in the corner of the cavern. Synmael brings his clawed hands up to grip his head.

"This isn't- Meant to happen- Why?! Why can't I just- Go back?" He starts to laugh, bringing his claws to rake on the walls as he started to tear chunks of stone out. It's clear it isn't working when progression is halted once more and two streaks of perfect lightning pierce into his back.

Synmael falls to the floor and breathes in bated breaths, almost completely physical with being so close to the spot he died. Cornered just like this, killed by allies. It's like fate is reliving itself. ".. I died here.. They killed me.. The miners. Profited from my death. Betrayed for wealth, growth. You plan on doing the same!"

Synmael lurches upwards and goes to swing at Elyon once more after his defeat, missing completely as he toppled to the floor once more. "..Thinking.. Calm.. These are not things I do.." Bated breaths follow, he groans.

".. How do I know, Elyon? How do I know you won't control me? Break me? Use me and never let me see my own pursuits to fruition? Revenge.. Occult mana.. Blood.. You cannot possibly provide." Crimson eyes narrow in on the Hirai, Synmael's form starting to break into motes of smoke.
[Narrate]

At times, there would be sympathy. But..

The tragic villain is still a villain, and unless they were willing to see themselves become something more rather than a force of terror upon Agartha or anywhere else they can reach. So long as it would persist this way.. there's no telling just what they can become.

"...Elyon."

"Before you decide its fate.. I wanted to have a sample of its essence."

The Shaman speaks out. It would seem the spirit shards in his chest were still glowing, their light carefully drawn towards Synmael, almost as if looking to borrow the way its structured - to latch onto its mana, take some in return for what was lost..

"It should remain this way, and it will remain yours."

"For me? It's to push myself closer to becoming half-spirit. I collect essences from powerful spirits, all to merge myself into what they can do."

He wouldn't think that the Warchief is going to decline anyway. For his efforts here, the Shaman was certain he deserves that much - at least a sample of Synmael's essence as part of 'reward.'

And thus, he steps closer.
(Keitaro)

His feature is blank following the spirit's defeat, and when it'd lurch towards him, no attempts are made to defend, or avoid the blow-- not that it ever connected. Then, the question drifts his way, and all the Warchief could do was crouch ever so slightly, if only to allow Synmael a proper gaze into his own, ocean hues.

"...well, barring the entire carnage shtick, and the... part about not thinking, we're quite alike, aren't we? Betrayed by ones we cared for... even when we thought such would never happen. Though it's to a far greater degree for you than myself. I found my own sense of belonging, and running about, devouring crap, being hunted by any and all squadrons to dwell deeper into Dreadwoods wouldn't do you any good. Experience the world with me-- experience it to its fullest. That's how you rule."

It's spoken almost casually, and just like that the Requiem is brought out of its sheath, and placed before the demonic creature as his own lips curl into a grin ever so familiar, ever so nonchalant.

"Revenge; those who stabbed you in the back are long gone, Synmael. Occultism... even if it remains controlled, you're speaking to the strongest user of such art among entirety of Gehenna, and maybe all the factions upon Agartha combined. Though as for as blood is concerned... this blade has witnessed enough-- and so have you to be able to tell it'd be different. You'll see plenty of it, and you'll be sated... I promise you as much."

A slower, softer pause.

"I'm not going to control you. I'm not going to break you, use you, and you wouldn't do so, either... if my intentions weren't any different, we wouldn't be having this conversation right here. Besides, it's a deal with the devil, we know that I'm no immortal, but you, my body may get consumed-- withered as decades pass, same goes for the magic which burns ever so brightly now, but... I might just end up suffering damnation by your own hand when the time comes. You're still in control, that way. Been through enough already, so trust me, and accompany me further... would you?"

With that, he'd finally come to a stop, awaiting an answer, though when Keitaro's request drifts his way, he finally allows the ocean gaze to turn in the Shenlong's direction.

"As long as it doesn't take much from him, and-- as long as he doesn't mind, I guess."
(Elyon Hirai)

Synmael raises his head one last time. Smoke was easy to see and take from the being itself. As Keitaro approached, gaining some of the essence was child's play. It listens for the longest time, and suddenly Synmael reached a hand out and placed a powerful palm onto Elyon's chest. Little by little, force begins to drain into him. It floods forward and continues to spread through muscles, veins, his circuits.

".. Keep your word." Synmael commands once now, starting to flood into the host and offering itself to become.. One. Elyon would therin begin his symbiotic relationship with Synmael. No longer quite contained to that blade, the two of them have made their deal. Their pact.

As such, a dark and spiked ring would appear on Elyon's finger. An agreement. A deal.

… An agreement.
[Narrate]

To feel the beat of its essence.

No doubt dark and corrupt.. but in order to understand the spirit world as a whole, in order to know how to actually represent it, he would need to acknowledge every single bit of the spiritualism as a whole. There's no room to be 'biased' for that - as Shaman, it was his duty to acknowledge spirit world as a whole.

And to take necessary steps to becoming a half-spirit.

When Keitaro collects the essence from the spirit, the spirit shards seemingly glow, humming quietly; it all begins to intensify with each passing moment, at last the final drops of essence that Synmael could spare stored within him. There's no telling just how it would end, but for now?

For now, it resides within spirit shards, more or less dormant.

Only when it would be time for the final ritual, the pent up essences that he collected all across would be needed to forge Keitaro into something entirely different. A blessing, which he would no doubt need a patron for - or instead, a powerful source of energy.

Though, that's another thing for another time.

"..I'm done."

There were no other words spoken. The Shaman was satisfied with the outcome, and it was about time the two would return.
(Keitaro)