Ron closed the distance, his fist cocked back for a heavy strike, but Edward was already moving. Anticipating the trajectory, Edward drove a counter-left toward Ron's jaw. Before the blow landed, Ron vanished—a flicker in reality—only to reappear directly behind Edward, mid-swing.
Edward didn't panic; he smirked. Rotating his body with predatory grace, he ducked the hit and whipped a kick toward Ron's head. At the absolute last microsecond, Ron teleported away, reappearing several feet back.
Edward let out a dry, mocking laugh.
"What's so funny?" Ron asked, resetting his stance.
"I work for the Seventh Head of Foster," Edward said, his smile widening into something unsettling.
"So?"
"On my way here, I encountered the Fourth Head. Strangely enough, he knew quite a bit about you. He told me to be sure to say 'hello.'"
Ron's expression shifted into a confident smirk. "Carter, Locki, DA, and me... we're quite famous within Foster. It's because they fear us."
Edward's laughter turned booming. "Hahahaha! You certainly have a high opinion of yourselves. But you haven't even witnessed the full power of an Elder."
"I've already defeated one of your Elders," Ron countered. "I don't recall his name, but he went down just the same."
Edward stopped laughing, his eyes narrowing. "So, Anthony lost to you?"
Ron merely grinned.
"That is quite an achievement—defeating the Ninth Head's 'True Form,'" Edward conceded, his tone darkening.
True Form? Ron thought.
Ron's eyes sharpened. "Alright, enough talk. Come at me."
Edward's smile vanished, replaced by a focused, primal intensity. He shifted into a strange, low-slung fighting stance. A surge of cerulean energy erupted from his pores, and his muscles began to swell, bulging beneath his skin.
Ron watched, his pulse quickening.
Edward's nails elongated, turning into jagged, blue-tinted blades. His canines sharpened into predatory fangs, and a crimson mark bled into existence on his forehead. When he looked up, his eyes were no longer human—they were twin orbs of flickering blue flame.
A dense, sapphire aura swirled around him like a localized storm. Edward raised a hand, manifesting a glowing blue circle in his palm, and hurled it. To Ron, the attack seemed surprisingly sluggish.
What kind of attack is this? Ron thought, tracking the glowing disc. It's so slow I can see every rotation. There has to be a catch.
Ron stood his ground. He took a deep breath and exhaled, forcing his mind into the cold, analytical calm that his friend Carter often used.
As the blue circle came within inches of Ron's face, it suddenly reacted. Before a thought could even form, the disc materialized into a massive, razor-sharp Hira-shuriken. It sliced through the air—and right through Ron's chest.
Edward's eyes widened in surprise.
Ron grinned, the image of his body flickering like a mirage. I never thought this ability would come in handy, he thought.
"A phasing ability?" Edward's voice had dropped an octave, sounding more like a beast's growl than a man's. "How did you pull that off?"
"I just imagined myself doing it like Axzeroth," Ron said.
"Axzeroth? Wulkranoth's dog?" Edward spat, laughing mockingly.
"That's right," Ron shot back. "Mr. Seventh Elder's dog."
Edward's laughter died instantly. His gaze became as sharp as a needle. "You're far too comfortable with those people."
In a blur of blue light, Edward was suddenly in Ron's face. He threw a lightning-fast punch; Ron barely managed to tilt his head to the right. As the fist passed his ear, a Bo-shuriken suddenly erupted from Edward's knuckle, grazing Ron's cheek.
What?! Ron recoiled, but Ron didn't stop. He drove a right hook into Edward's chin—only for another Bo-shuriken to extend from Edward's jaw, skewering Ron's fist.
"Hahahaha! You're finished!" Edward crowed.
So that's his trick in this form. Any part of his body can become a blade, Ron realized. He teleported back, creating distance.
"Running away now?" Edward taunted.
Ron looked down at his bloodied hand, then wiped the crimson trail from his cheek, ignoring the pain. He looked back up and grinned.
Edward hesitated. This guy's endurance is insane, he thought. Of everyone I've fought—save for the Seventh Head, he' has the best endurance. He clearly has a trick left.
Ron raised his palm, and the Blade of Vengeance materialized in a flash of light. As he gripped the hilt, a red glint flickered in his pupils.
"Things are about to get really scary," Ron said. A malevolent purple aura surged from his hand, coating the sword in a jagged edge of energy.
Edward lunged.
I wonder how Finian and Carter are holding up? Ron wondered for a brief second before dismissing the thought. He lunged back, his pupils flashing red once more.
Elsewhere...
A body went flying through the air, crashing through a building and the entire building collapses on him. Finian stood up from the debris. Finian stood up slowly, running a hand through his blonde hair. Blood leaked from a gash on his forehead and the corner of his mouth. A big red wound was present on his chest.
"Damn... that actually hurt," Finian muttered.
He looked up as a shadow fell over him, cast by the pale moonlight. A figure stood atop the ruins, long hair whipping in the wind, a mask obscuring his face.
Finian sighed, his playful demeanor finally vanishing. "Looks like I have no other choice."