Have a bloodily grand ol'time.

Hi-ho-hee-ho-ho.

Now, why did he end up in the Desert? Oh right, there was some scum in Xing he had to kill. Joy. And now he was on his way, trekking back all the way to god-damn Drachma. Sometimes, he just hated how he got tasked to kill things. True, killing was a wonderful art that he had mastered, and he had an immense penchant for creating mayhem. But, being sent across the desert for a round-trip odyssey to slaughter informants gone rogue?

It was a good thing he hated Xing and he hated deserts (really, he just hated sand . . .), since both fueled his anger to the maximum as he found the targets and smashed in their faces and their rib cages, before ripping their arms and legs off and then immolating whatever was left.

. . . But the joy of killing fools who sought to betray RIOTE was not enough to keep his dwindling sanity intact as he continued the journey back home. Yes, he was appropriately covered to avoid constant exposure to the sun; yes, he was carrying adequate supplies of water so as to avoid being dehydrated; yes, he had opted to dress in a lighter (in color as well as weight) outfit to reduce the overall effects of the heat on his clothes and therefore himself. But . . . he ... STILL ... HATED ... THIS. GOD. DAMNED. DESERT.

The only god in this world was the supposed 'Truth' of the world. If it were a god, why in the name of all that is logical and sensible did it have to make god-damned deserts? The abomination of all things living ... or well, all things that make up 'Hei.'

So, onward he grumbled, supremely irritated while lugging his claymore and the newly-acquired automatic assault shotgun of his. Useful things, now he wished he brought something lighter.

"Tch." Eyes started to flicker over the men that stood around him; watching them with a care that one would normally not show. He was being cautious right now--a normal stroll through the desert just outside of Xing had turned into this. He wasn't completely sure if these men knew who he was - if they did, then it was likely that they were after something specific. As far as he could count, there were five. At the moment, that was. Without any specific notions as to what else could occur, Saeji could only assume, not think. "Goddamnit." Reaching slowly up to his face, the youthful assassin emperor of Xing smiled, sliding the glasses off with a smirk. His eyes opened, changing the color of the irises as the Alkahestry within them activated; Saeji now seeing things in a different perspective. Stepping forwards without a warning, he grinned, ducking slightly and pulling the switchblade out from his pocket. His fist went straight into a certain set of pressure points on his target's chest, knocking him back. Biting his lip, Saeji planted a foot sharply onto a solid part of the ground, pulling the knife backwards and shouting out. The knife slid quickly, severing the flesh of the bandit's throat. The jugular cut, blood squirted out into the air, and the man quickly bled out. "Far more interesting than I remember." He wasn't sure exactly why he was speaking in Amestrian as opposed to Xingese. However, he felt that it would reveal its purpose and reasoning soon enough.

A slight grin crossed the lips of the Xingese emperor, and his next motions took his blue-clad form in a full semi-circle. Turning his body to face the next bandit, Saeji's knife sung while it flew through the air. His hand moved as if it were possessed by something inhuman; fluttering seventeen times, creating seventeen cuts; ten of them in lethal places. Blood splashed out into sand and onto Saeji, the youthful man coated in the blood of another. If he were how he once was, this would've bothered him. However, a lot of his personality had been replaced by Nanaya's, though Saeji was the one truly in control. A smirk lined his lips, the man sharply drawing the next man's throat a line with the knife, dropping him down as well. "Tch. Weaklings." And then, it became obvious. More men. About ten more, possibly twenty. "Shit." There was little-to-no escaping this, even for the Assassin of Xing. A little assistance would be quite necessary. Very soon, in fact...

Twenty ... two ... No, twenty-three. Twenty-three individuals in the desert, as he paced down from the dune he had traveled atop of. Well, there could possibly be more, but for now, it seemed like an unfair fight. Twenty two men against one? Honestly, for bandits they were a cowardly lot.

'Heh, then again. They're thugs to begin with, so what would courage and honor mean to them?'

The Xingese-Drachman, despite hating all things of the desert and all things pertaining to Xing was still a (somewhat) honorable fellow at heart: Seeing a lone fighter get mobbed by a whole pack was also enough to make his blood boil. But! . . . He had to get back home to Drachma, back to the Northern lands of ice and snow.

But . . . this was possibly a chance to get a free slaughter, seeing how much blood had been spilled already. Ohhhh, decisions, decisions. What should he do? What would God do? Wait ... why would an invisible madman in the sky want to bother with terrestrial affairs? THAT WAS PREPOSTEROUS!!! Ah, fuck it. He was going to possibly enjoy himself, depends on the reactions of those down below.

-

Less than twenty seconds after all the thugs had appeared before the Assassin Emperor, a man clad in white . . . well, okay, he had black body armor on, but apparently had on a white cloak and was carrying a large pack on his back, came flying from the side. His booted foot slammed into a thug, who was sent flying along with the fool standing directly beside them and they collided with four other men while soaring above the sands, and all six of them went down for a bit on account of sore bodies.

"FOREIGNER PASSING THROUGH, 'SCUSE ME, 'SCUSE ME, 'SCUSE ME" he had shouted aloud at the time he was soaring down the dune to land that kick into the poor thug, meaning the fool had turned to see him. Also, it meant all the other thugs snapped their heads in his directions to see him kicking the fools as well as loudly yelling in Amestrian with a heavy Drachman accent despite appearing to be a fully Han Xingman . . . with a white cloak atop black gear. Not that he cared, and he started walking on forward as the thugs were a bit in shock that he had just come right the fuck outta nowhere.

Twenty-three. That was how many of these damned Tǔfěi were surrounding him. It looked grim, that was for sure. Breathing quietly, Saeji focused his inner energy, his inner Ki, preparing himself for the next barrage of attacks. Even if his Alkahestry wasn't as active as most, he would use it to his top advantage. Slowly opening his eyes, the targets slowly moved around him. No matter how easy it was to read their movements, reacting to any of them would cause a real problem. "Hah, it seems we've caught ourselves ol' Emperor Aeries in the desert!" He bit his lip. That was not good. They knew who he was. Now, if he had to think back, he remembered that people of power tended to be captured for ransom, right? "What do you people want? Money? Land? Women? I can get those for you." A few of them looked at each other and scoffed loudly. "You get us all wrong; we're not here for a ransom, O Glorious Emperor." Eh? Ace's body suddenly stiffened up. That was bad. Badbadbad. Gritting his teeth, he watched as the now-gloating bandit continued. "See, our benefactor paid us to kill you, plain and simple. All we are to do is bring him your knife and glasses. He'll report to his benefactor, and it'll all go swimmingly from there~" Grinning, the man stepped forwards, raising his axe into the air. "You want my knife?"

Shink. Within a half-second, Saeji's knife was planted into the man's skull. He gave a couple of choking breaths, and fell forwards onto the ground. Reaching down, the knife was slowly drawn from the man's skull, and Saeji smirked. "Well there, you got it." He had to notice; they were all Ar-Xingese. Strange. Why would the Northern Clans be trying to kill him, or at least why would there be men from the Northern Clans trying to get to him? He bit his lip, turning to face the next bandit... who was too close for... "FOREIGNER PASSING THROUGH, 'SCUSE ME, 'SCUSE ME, 'SCUSE ME" Whoosh. Right past his face, came a man clad in white, planting his feet into the face of the bandit that aws standing right in front of him. It took him a few seconds to watch what was going on, but he had to note that this man was most certainly physically imposing. Quickly snapping his own body around, the knife sung tales of blood as it sliced through the throat of another one of the men. "Tch." The other, despite being Xingese, spoke Amestrian with a Drachman accent. Strange. Sliding down, he suddenly kicked up into the air, flipping his body up above the next bandit and curling his legs around his throat.

Muffled attempts at breathing escaped from the throat of the other, Saeji attempting to maintain his balance as the knife as brought down into the bandit's chest. The heart was penetrated and Saeji twisted his hips, making satisfying cracking noises as the man's neck was broken. Falling listless to the ground, Saeji rolled off and started to walk towards the Han. "Haaah... Mind... helping out... please? S'hot... and I ain't... much for one-on-many combat..." He chuckled softly, kneeling down on one knee to catch his breath. He may have been a finely-tuned assassin mentally, but he still had a long way to go physically. All of those years of learning, but Saeji was still not physically powerful, nor was he totally fit either. "Haaah... haaaah..." Intelligence was nothing in the desert, it seemed. He knew where to find water and the like, but he'd never actually get it unless he had the physical strength to continue. He'd have to make a mental note: Get some damn physical training when I get back.

Now Hei wasn't much one to get into trouble, but he really did appreciate a good slaughter. So, his marching on was halted when he noted that the lone combatant, using a switchblade it seems . . . , tore a bandit a new one, what with stabbing him in the heart and then breaking his neck.

And then the fellow, a young fellow really, approached him a bit out of breath. . . . H'okay, so even though he was a masterful killer, he apparently wasn't physically fit to carry out such strenuous tasks?

"Haaah... Mind... helping out... please? S'hot... and I ain't... much for one-on-many combat ... Haaah... haaaah..."

'. . . As much as I'd like to help, I'm thinking it might be a pain in the ass and . . . wow, he looks a little more than thirsty, did he not bring any water with him?'

The Xingese-Drachman relented to aid the poor young man, by removing one of the canteens he kept by his side and just dropping on the ground in front of the switchblade wielding killer.

"You seem to be doing a fantastic job by yourself, so here's some water and I'll be on my way, thank you very much!" Hei cheerily spoke, pretty much saying "NO WAY" to the request for help in killing (he didn't want the poor fellow dying of thirst rather than on his own blood). And then Hei continued on his way, just as the thugs suddenly tripled in number.

"Eh . . . there weren't that many of you here before, now were there?" Hei mused, quietly to himself, as he cocked his head slightly to the side, looking at the bandits now numbering sixty maybe seventy. Where did they all come from? Not that it mattered, but this seemed to be all of them.

"You foreign trash! How dare you interfere with our business and attack our men!! WE'LL GUT YOU ALIVE!!!"

Hei was amused by these bandits. They clearly weren't afraid of dying, that was a given. So, to humor them, Hei decided that he was going to kill them one by one and slowly too. In other words, what he decided to be a pain in the ass earlier seemed rather gratifying now.

"H'okay. Never mind, kiddo. These fellas pissed me off, so I guess I'll be happy to help you out. Drink up, take a break, and join the fun when you're feeling a bit better" the contradictory fellow cleared up any concerns that the Assassin Emperor had, now throwing off the cloak to reveal a shotgun strapped by his side ... and a claymore sword upon his back. Oh, and apparently, his outfit was sleeveless as well, which exposed his chimeric arm (currently locked in human form and having a slightly grayer tone than his left's).

"What? You gonna fight us too?" the bandits, now all in front of both he and their target (as opposed to surrounding them), were hollering in their ridiculous native tongue, sounding like little flies buzzing noisily. The Xingese-(one could clearly see that he was DEFINITELY Xingese, Han-descent)-Drachman was just merrily popping his knuckles while marching forward.

"Oh pardon me. I don't mean to be rude, or anything, but . . ." began the native foreigner, who spoke the common tongue of this land flawlessly, no accent from other countries at all . . . oddly, "I didn't realize that those were people I stepped on, they looked like oversized insects to me."

"You ... you! ... ATTACK!" and thus charged the bandits into the valley of death. . . .

And forward rushed the Xing-Drachman. More accurately, one moment he was there, the next there was a plume of sand that he had kicked up while rushing forward, about five or six meters ahead of him, to the closest bandit straight ahead. Poor fella didn't know what hit him, as his left fist met the idiot's face with enough force to essentially punch through it. For the unfortunate men standing behind him, they had a first class show to seeing their friend's brains be splattered all over their faces alone with fragments of his skull ... and the blood.

"One down, more trash to go." Hei cheerily stared aloud, coupled with a smile of serrated teeth. Never ask how he got his teeth like that, or he'll bite you with them. As noted when he drew his sword. Well, more accurately, he pulled the sword out of its restraining material keeping it in place on his back, and slammed the almost-two meter long blade straight down another bandit in one swift motion. All this, and more due to his strength . . . which, wisely caused the bandits to back up and throw insults at him, while trying their best to not get killed by this man who was clearly overpowered and would not mind killing them as he was chewing what appeared to be a piece of his first kill's brains.

"C'mon. Make my day. I haven't eaten for a while, so poorly cooked appetizers like you will have to suffice . . ." the currently blood-not-of-his-own-stained Xingman eerily spoke aloud, with peculiar choice of vocabulary, before emitting a low chuckle that could be misheard as devilish laughter. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy himself.

A canteen dropped onto the ground before him, and the man in white above him spoke words that Saeji really didn't need to hear right now. "You seem to be doing a fantastic job by yourself, so here's some water and I'll be on my way, thank you very much!" Gah... He reached out, gripping the canteen and turning around, opening it and bringing it up to his lips. Tilting his head back slightly, the man let water drip down his throat, rehydrating every part of him as it did so, if only slowly. He slowly stood up, watching as more and more of the bastards appeared. "D-damnit..." His head was starting to pulsate in pain now, the effects of having his Alkahestry active for too long. Reaching into his pocket, the man slowly drew out the glasses, slipping them onto his face and sighing softly. Sixty, maybe seventy men stood before him and this mysterious Xingman. Another sigh, and Saeji prepared himself for the possibility of fighting. "You foreign trash! How dare you interfere with our business and attack our men!! WE'LL GUT YOU ALIVE!!!" He chuckled softly. "H'okay. Never mind, kiddo. These fellas pissed me off, so I guess I'll be happy to help you out. Drink up, take a break, and join the fun when you're feeling a bit better"

"What? You gonna fight us too?" They seemed to be cocky, and waaaay too confident in their own skill. Time to take them down a few notches. "Oh pardon me. I don't mean to be rude, or anything, but I didn't realize that those were people I stepped on, they looked like oversized insects to me." "Kuhu." A cloud of dust, and Saeji watched the man's fist crack through a skull of another. "One down, more trash to go." Interesting. This man... interested that side of him. "C'mon. Make my day. I haven't eaten for a while, so poorly cooked appetizers like you will have to suffice . . ." Yes. That side of Saeji was now piqued. Stepping forwards, he cast his arm out to the side, an almost sinister aura coming from the man. Not caring about the identity or affiliation of the man that was now apparently assisting him, he spoke words that would send chills down the spine of the bravest of the bandits. "Today was a bad day for you bandits. As the Emperor of Xing and your worst nightmare, Ｉ　ｓｅｎｔｅｎｃｅ　ｙｏｕ　ａｌｌ　ｔｏ　ＤＥＡＴＨ." A wild grin suddenly crossed Saeji's face, and without a second to spare, he'd basically disappeared.

Above the nearest Bandit, came the gleam of a sharp blade. The knife (which could shear through solid concrete) made short work of the man's head, splitting open his skull and slicing through his brain-matter. Saeji finished his flip, landing on the ground; the man's head wallowing in blood as he fell to the ground. Turning around quickly, Saeji brought the knife up and sliced it through another man's neck, grinning like an idiot on speed. He put a foot up onto the man's chest and pushed him down, ducking underneath an axe and planting his elbow into the guy's abdomen. Fluidly moving around his body, Saeji then proceeded to stab the blade of the Nanatsuya into his neck, breaking through his spine and paralyzing him from the shoulders down. Stepping back from the falling man, Saeji turned around to study the rest of the bandits. Time to keep going.

Killcount: 3

OOC: Bandits remaining: 70 - 2(Hei) - 3(Ace) = 65.

IC:

"Today was a bad day for you bandits. As the Emperor of Xing and your worst nightmare, Ｉ　ｓｅｎｔｅｎｃｅ　ｙｏｕ　ａｌｌ　ｔｏ　ＤＥＡＴＨ."

Oh? That was interesting. He hadn't known he was in the company of the Emperor! . . . He'd have to see, in the midst of all this fighting, if he could slice off the boy's head too.

"Hooo? You're the Emperor? Ha ha ha. You should have let me know from the start, I would have helped you sooner! At which point, a thug with knife tried taking him on. Hei could only merely smile, lashing out with his left hand to grab the knife and crush it into fragments (cutting himself a little, but it'll heal) and flick those bits into the fool's eyes. And then down came the greatsword of death, as the idiot was screaming in pain over a few bits in his eyes, bifurcating him cleanly.

"My name is Hei Jin, native of Drachma. Tell me, Emperor of Xing, what's your name?" he inquires again, just as another fool tries to attack. Hei responds by flinging his sword like a javelin and watch it punch a hole through the fool's heart. At which point, his hand shuffled inside his clothes, and emerged with knives that were immediately flung with force. One struck a target with it's blunt side, one impaled a target in the eye (who Hei then rushed to and grabbed by the throat with his right hand) and the last stabbed a poor man in the groin. And this fella in his grip met the end of his right hand's claws piercing through the flesh and pretty much crushing his neck (and spine and brainstem) into a bloody, ripped pulp.

Still, despite the fighting, he was hoping for an answer from the Emperor. Always good to know the name of the sovereign.

OOC: Killcount: 2 + 3 = 5
62 bandits left

Sparks. That was one of the things that Ace watched fly through the air as his body swept around in a curving motion, knife glittering beneath the high sunlight. Despite his terrain disadvantage upon the sand, Ace was moving as fluidly as ever--each footstep was placed as carefully into the soft surface as if it were being placed upon cement or grass. He waved his blade before his face, sliding under attacks that missed his head by mere centimetres. "Hooo? You're the Emperor? Ha ha ha. You should have let me know from the start, I would have helped you sooner!" Oh, did he say that out loud? Whoops. Suddenly flicking his wrist, a blade was parried, slid down and knocked from the source; the wielder screaming from the feeling of his wrist being severed by an infinitely-sharp blade. He grinned as blood sprayed before his face, spreading over the flesh with a red mist. Unabated by such acts, Saeji pushed forwards and planted the blade of the knife into the face of the screaming man; silencing him forever. As he slipped the weapon out of the skin, he turned his body rapidly and gripped the sword that was in his hands; wielding it simply. It was flipped upside down and pulled back, Saeji holding it by the blade as he threw it forwards with astounding accuracy. It spun in the air for a second or two before cleanly cutting through the skull of a wayfaring bandit.

Turning on his heel, the voice of the other man cut into his mind without a second's hesitation. "My name is Hei Jin, native of Drachma. Tell me, Emperor of Xing, what's your name?" He grunted as a blade bore down onto him, moving rapidly around his cutting radius and kicking him in the stomach, pushing him backwards and stumbling a little himself. "Saeji Aeries, if you must know. Native of Xing, by all rights." Jumping backwards now, Saeji found himself surrounded by three men who all appeared especially pissed off. Kneeling down, he placed his hands onto the ground. "I surrender... you have me." He waited for one second, two... they approached closer... THREE! Gripping into the sand tightly, Saeji threw up into the air; the wind was blowing from behind him and blew it into the faces of the bandits. Grinning, Saeji's feet pushed him up and he sprinted forwards quickly, making three succinct slashes and cutting three throats without fail. Blood splashed out the fronts of their throats as they fell towards the ground, a soft smirk across the face of the Assassin Emperor of Xing.

Killcount: 3+5 = 8
Bandits Remaining: 54

"Saeji Aeries, if you must know. Native of Xing, by all rights."

He had reverted back to speaking Xingese. Pity, Amestrian was something he had hoped he could keep practicing. Though, this was interesting! Where had he heard that name before? Saeji? Aeries? Saeji Aeries . . . ?

. . .

"The Emperor of Xing . . . Saeji ... Aeries? ...?" mutters Hei, his smile is lost, his eyes stared blankly at the Assassin Emperor who cleanly killed a good number of these thugs. Where had he heard that name before? No. Even more pertinent: WHY did he recognize that name? He had never been to Xing! He had never met with the leader of Xing! He ... he ...

What was this?

What ridiculous logic was his mind using, now? To cover up all the holes in his mind? Mending and knitting the shattered bits and fragments? He laughs, a hoarse ... almost weary laughter. Dark in tone, but pointless in meaning. Why was he laughing? Why? So many whys, so little time. Confusion rising, madness surging, and by Truth, he had no comprehension of what was happening. He just ... was laughing, quivering a little as though he were trying to stifle it, hold it back in. And then something just snapped.

His eyes were orbs of sheer malevolence, his teeth gnashed together in a twisted and malicious grin, killing intent poured off of him in droves. Why, his right arm, which he had tried to keep restrained, transformed fully into its draconian form. Hatred. Yes. Hatred was what was driving him to do this. All-consuming hate that turned his mind BLANK, so that he would slaughter everything. And what was it inside his mind that drove him to fury?

The resounding echoes of a familiar voice ... one that commands respect and obediance. A voice that sternly speaks to him, issuing both statements and commands.

'You are 'Hei,' loyal servent to the Emperor of Xing, until the end of your time. Serve our future Emperor, the child of Aeries, well, no matter what his name is. Obey. Obey. Obey.'

His master was the Emperor of Xing. His master was not Father, not Chaos, not Vanity. Thrice has his reality been thrown into disarray, forcing him to pick up the pieces. But now, he understood and despised the new reality. He was driven mad by memories long forgotten, but still bound to obey. Yes, he was still bound by duty and obligation, no matter what he thought. His mind behaved much like a dog's thanks to the first Master's meddling, and the second and third making no effort to change that.

"HIIYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAH~!!!"

The burst of maniacal laughter, which sounds like a shriek of fury and agony in addition to an expression of mirth, unnerved the fools who had tried to get the drop on him. Their loss.

The first, to his right, to die met a clawed hand's embrace, stabbing claws into his skull and crushing inward to carve out a bloody remains for a head. This bit of refuse he got his hands on was then thrown into the eyes of the second one, to his left, who then got a direct kick to his chest . . . and more than one audible noise could be heard from his groaning and collapsed chest. This disposed of the fools in front of him, letting him rush forward to the corpse that had his greatsword buried in it. It wasn't much trouble for Hei to rip that blade out of the body, and turn around to go back into the slaughter. In fact, he looked much a like a black demon, stained in blood and rushing about the sand as a black blur.

Unfortunately, the fellow who took the knife to the groin was still bent over in pain as the Xing-Drachman walked up behind him, another knife drawn, and shoved the other bladed implement into the base of his skull.

Well, this horror show WOULD have continued, if not at that moment, still letting out another burst of maniacal and gleeful laughter, Hei remembered (despite being clearly mad ... in more ways than one) that he had a shotgun. An automatic shotgun.

An automatic shotgun with a drum magazine.

The two immediate idiots who had been chasing after him were promptly gunned down by plenty of fire from his triggerhappy left hand, peppering their bodies with blasts from the black mouth of death, spewing away joyously. Still, considering he had limited ammo, after wasting half the magazine on two corpses, the Xingman just let the shotgun rest about his side, opting instead to cleave whoever was left and foolish enough to challenge him with their measly weapons. And he was STILL LAUGHING, even as he plunged the blade down once more against a rather fleet-footed fool who had misjudged Hei's strength and the length of the blade and had the two meter long stick of doom go through his head before he could get close enough to shank Hei.

In between bouts of laughter and killing, everyone on the battlefield could clearly hear the madman speak. And boy, did he have a lot to say.


Killcount: 5 + 6 = 11
Bandits Remaining: 48

"The Emperor of Xing . . . Saeji ... Aeries? ...?" Without turning around, Saeji could feel it. The blank stare of the armored man that stood behind him. It was almost burning a hole in his chest, that stare. The stare of a man who recognized someone yet didn't know why, or how. Biting his bottom lip, the teenage emperor raised the knife up before his face; sunlight reflected off of the blade, giving a shimmer across Ace's face that showed. Laughter came, though he didn't move. He didn't react, though the thugs didn't either. Strange, that. Closing his eyes, Saeji stepped backwards and flicked the blade down beside him, listening to Hei laugh at all of this. Why was he laughing, what was so strange about this? He was the Emperor of Xing, Saeji Aeries. The name was pretty well-known, that was for sure. Turning around slowly, Saeji watched the appearance of the man change in his arm, turning more and more draconic. A Chimeric arm? Closing his eyes briefly, Saeji suddenly whipped his gaze around suddenly to meet that of Hei, who had suddenly burst into maniacal laughter. Ace could only watch this man with slightly awestruck eyes, not noticing the man that approached from behind him until it was too late. An arm reached around and Saeji was pulled into a hold, a blade held up to his neck. He felt the pressure of the arm clogging his windpipe--any longer and he'd be choked unconscious. He felt his breathing being blocked, though he didn't know what to do. His mind was panicking, though within all of this, he heard something he had dreaded hearing for a long time.


Eyes widening, a foot was pushed backwards, slamming into the shin of the bandit. He reacted quickly, recoiling only for a half-second before rushing at Ace with the blade. The Xingese Assassin darted forwards and brought the blade up, just in time for it to be struck with the sword. He grit his teeth tightly and pushed up, watching the blade suddenly slide down the knife and slice into his arm. He shouted out in pain, pulling himself away and staring for a second down at the gashed arm, incredulous. "Y-you cut me." For a second, that anger and killing intent was completely replaced by a sudden shock to the system. He'd been cut. He was bleeding; royal blood had been split. Slowly raising his gaze to meet that of the other, Saeji was off like a shot. Pushing off of the ground once more, a foot was raised up and slammed into the chin of the bandit with amazing force. He didn't even have the chance to resist as his neck was snapped back and broken. Shouts came from the mad Xingman behind him, though Saeji paid no heed. Pain was his guide, he would follow that like a fool until it left his body. Ducking down quickly, two blades were procured, though they left Ace's hands quickly afterwards, flying towards one new target. The first missed him by an inch, the man pointing and laughing--just in time for the second to lodge itself deeply into his face. Chuckling quietly, Saeji turned quickly and drew the knife across the throat of another; the man fell to the ground beside him, spraying blood into the sand. He shook his head and sighed softly. "Why do you people simply ｔｈｒｏｗ　ａｗａｙ　ｙｏｕｒ　ｌｉｖｅｓ？　would　ｉｔ　ｎｏｔ　ｂｅ　ｅａｓｉｅｒ　ｆｏｒ　ｙｏｕ　ｔｏ　ｒｕｎ　ａｗａｙ　ｎｏｗ？ＲＵＮ ＡＷＡＹ ＴＯ Ａ ＰＬＡＣＥ ＴＨＡＴ ＹＯＵ ＫＮＯＷ ＴＨＡＴ ＹＯＵ ＷＩＬＬ ＳＵＲＶＩＶＥ. Ａ ＰＬＡＣＥ ＴＨＡＴ ＷＩＬＬ ＫＥＥＰ ＹＯＵ ＡＬＩＶＥ ＬＯＮＧ ＥＮＯＵＧＨ ＴＯ ＲＥＡＬＩＺＥ ＴＨＡＴ， ＴＨＲＯＵＧＨＯＵＴ ＴＨＯＳＥ ＭＩＳＥＲＡＢＬＥ ＴＨＩＮＧＳ ＴＨＡＴ ＹＯＵ ＣＡＬＬ ＬＩＶＥＳ， ＹＯＵ’ＲＥ ＪＵＳＴ ＢＥＩＮＧ ＰＬＡＹＥＤ ＢＹ ＷＨＯＥＶＥＲ ＴＯＯＫ ＹＯＵ ＡＬＬ ＯＮ． ＴＨＩＳ ＩＳ ＷＨＹ ＷＥ ＷＩＬＬ ＫＩＬＬ ＹＯＵ．．．"

Grinning like a true madman now, Saeji raised his knife into the air and shouted out loudly, again ignoring the sounds of the automated shotgun fire coming from behind him. His body moved fluidly and carefully, sliding throughout the soldiers and cutting after cut after cut after cut until every one of them was on the ground. One, two, three. Three throats were cut in quick succession. Four, five, six. Three more throats, just as quickly as the last. Standing in a stopping position, Saeji turned around, just as the six that he had felled dropped to the earth and landed in a heap; sand blew up and around their bodies. Shaking his head, Saeji sighed and finally looked over at Hei, who was most certainly enjoying himself. He had to wonder, though--what was the revelation that had come so suddenly to the other man of Xing?

Killcount: 3 + 5 + 9 = 17
Bandits Remaining: 39

And in the moment of utmost glee, slaughtering and butchering as he went: He took the moment to still, as was his duty long ago, to check up on his master. With crimson orbs that essentially screamed and howled out how badly he want to just throw aside his weapons and tear these guys apart limb from limb with his bare hands, or something similar.

There, at that moment, he spied his Master, the Emperor of Xing, finally have his own blood drawn in all the fighting. Luscious imperial blood, now splattering the earth, staining the light sand. Such an act, though the man later died[paid dearly for it] boiled his blood some more. Why? Because his Master, the FUCKING EMPEROR OF XING, was foolish enough to get himself wounded? Even more aggravating was that this had occurred while he was out slaughtering other guys. If Hei weren't (somewhat) restrained by whatever parameters that had somehow been miraculously programmed into his mind to obey and protect, he would have gone over there, grabbed Ace by the collar, and slap him silly for dropping his guard.

But, since such a thing is clearly not a option for him: He did the next best thing.

The dead man was already at the ground, the Emperor was now swiftly dispatching more of the brigands, and Hei just hurled his blade, yet again! For said blade to neatly impale the dead one, and spread about his innards and blood. And following said blade was Hei, practically throwing himself towards this designated object of his fury.

The end results are not pretty, to put simply. Let's just say that there would be no burial of any kind necessary for the fellow who got a lucky hit in, as his arms were promptly removed with force and chewed up with more to be spat at in the ground . . . and his ribs pulled apart which are promptly used to impale whatever left of a brain the fool had. With the chest cavity now pulled open, the clearly-lacking-any-sanity-at-the-present-moment Xingman helped himself to all the fleshy innards. By promptly smashing them into pulp-like bits with his fists, laughing maniacally, as he even opted to clutch at the guts and rip out pieces to fling out behind him.

But alas, such fun could not last, especially since it was done to an already dead target. So, upon hearing these words, the Xingman rose to assist his master.

"Good ... god. Both of them . . . they're monsters!" were the words, that temporarily snapped Hei out of his sheer overwhelming bout of insanity and feral being . . . and drew an internal chuckle as he found his teeth clamped about the torn neck of the dead fool.

These words had come after Ace had given his ominous speech, so Hei was unaware that the Emperor had said anything, really. So, up stood the black-clad Xingman, still holding the corpse that lacked arms and one leg, had all it's guts strewn all over the sad and three ribs stabbed into its head, by the neck. WIth his teeth. Hei exchanges the hold with his left hand, as his right's a little preoccupied hefting the sword that had earlier impaled said corpse.

"I'm quite offended you'd call me a monster! I am no such thing. Nothing of the sort!" he calls out, cheerfully, in the general direction from where he had heard the shout, a wicked smile upon his face . . . stained crimson as the rest of his body and clothes were.

"I am just a zealous PREDATOR, and you are the most unlucky sniveling, pathetic PREY.

Half-wit appetizers like you won't satisfy me."

He loved vanishing tricks, they were so much fun. How did they work? Distract the enemy with a very large ruse, such as throwing this heavily mutilated corpse at them at high speeds then rush at them as quickly as possible, while they're momentarily distracted by the corpse about to smash into them.

'I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts! They're lovely!
They there are all standing in a row. One, two, three, four!
Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head! And BIGGER!'

This tune was what went through his head, as he complacently hummed it as well. While lopping off heads with the large sword, or putting knives into someone's chest ... or his claws. Honestly, it was like a beautiful dance, for him, a dance of carnage and death. Beatific death sprayed about everywhere, as the heads, or limbs, or hearts, or ribs piled up on each other in the floor.


Killcount: 5 + 6 + 15 = 26
Bandits Remaining: 24