As the ceremony went, Bronx's body began to melt away. He could feel his fingers slipping away, growing numb before breaking off and dipping themselves alongside the leaves. He could feel the once steel-cladded weapon rust away, breaking apart and scattering into metallic shrapnel. He could feel his eyes drift from his face, his ears heightened to hear the brisk, yet soft winds and the chirps of many birds flying by. He could feel his sins, and to an extent his stress, quickly leaving him as much as his own body did. In a way, he feels a sense of self unthought of, unrecognizable by who he was beforehand. He could see his own past reflected in the waters that were boiling him, how he drafted himself early at a young age, how he practiced archery, and to an extent shooting, with experts across the world during his time in the war. He could see the many people he had to take, all for a noble cause of protecting his own home, before being taken by surprise and captured, held for ransom against the very people he was with.
He can feel the tears come down from his arms and legs, the sounds of grief and sadness as they don't have enough. In an effort to prevent them from getting what they wanted, he chose to make himself worthless, unable to be bartered with anymore, where only death is an option. As Volvo kept his song flowing, following the ceremony provided by such traditions, Bronx would start to dissolve down, only his upper body remained, one of his eyes dunking into the scalding water. Rather than pain, he feels free. A weight that removed itself from his shoulders, a chance to breathe and take in the fresh air he abandoned when he locked and starved himself away to death. In the time he spent outside of the world, he never had the chance to greet the world again and be relieved from such duties. He was able to understand what this Final Gambit was, his mind being more clear and enlightened the longer it went on.
Sen No Rikyu is a Final Gambit that relieves the stress and pain the target has. The more stress and grief, the stronger the melting point, to where the concept of 'pain' never existed in his body.
It was like a living spa, where he wouldn't have any regrets should he die, as if he never had any at all. He watched the paintings splay around the area, basking it all in, allowing himself to succumb. As he does, another thought came: The Devil would intervene, wouldn't he? If he was willing to embrace such peace, He would come. He would ruin this ceremony as much as he wanted to take it. That thought, too, melted almost instantly, his brain leaking away. Right as he was about to let his life pass, a small glint was visible from the outside. Beams of light that tried to take advantage of his weakened state. Beams of light that intruded in the ceremony.
They were being greedy.
SPLASH!!
He launched the shrapnel up above, allowing the lights to refract, angled where he would not be touched by them. As they bounced and went towards Volvo, he, too, would dodge them, his body being automatic. He was no longer a person, rather a living cog to make the Final Gambit function, a weakness within this sure-hit kill. He would be unable to act as himself when doing the ceremony, as if the soul of Tradition itself piloted his hands and heart. Much like the concept of pain and discomfort were removed, so too was control and will. Eventually, such lights would bounce off against the metal from the outside, both forced to move away as much as possible. Because Bronx was melted, however, he would suffer no damage. Volvo, however...
His cores were exposed, visible to the naked eye. It only took one good shot from the light to break everything.
PEW!!
Directly onto his stomach, the Greed from the Medjed's that remained in the walls gave Bronx his chance of survival, the serene area beginning to leave as it came. The two locked eyes at one another, almost as if they never wanted the ceremony to end. Alas, it will eventually. The rusted metal from what was once his gun began to reform, with Bronx properly regaining feeling and watching it come to finality. Only one shot can be taken here, and the Sniper raised his arm, the tea flushing down and dribbling like a waterfall, ready to shoot it. He gave his silent apology in the very tear he was unable to shed before, pulling the trigger, aiming for Volvo's head.
Regrets came and went as soon as he pulled it, his mind racing back once more. The vivid images left behind finished what he remembered, how a figure was hiding in the dark, a snicker escaping from its mouth. "My, my. What a horrible state your in. Would you like some help with that?" It sneered, as it reached its hand. It wasn't aiming for his own, but for his heart. His Soul. Even though he wanted to deny it, the inner voice, nay, the inner heart that demanded to be free like the rest forced the contract to be signed. A new set of bullets were made, a new gun strapped to his arm, one that had enough force to blow away the shackles and the steel cage he was set in. "There we go. I don't expect much in return, but I do want to make sure you keep your word. You're silent, anyway... you'll abide by its demands once it comes."
The Gentle Giant opened his eyes, watching the bullet come close. Even if he wanted to defend himself, he has already committed all of his cores to act as the tea leaves to make the ceremony happen. In a brisk light, a mouth was visible, a face only hidden by the very shine that descended to Bronx.
"Thank you... for everything," it spoke.
BANG!!
Direct hit.