Seeing Imuru finally draw his sword, Arg's lips curved into a small, entertained smile. "Decisions," He said, the word hanging between them like a blade. "How long have you been a leader, Imuru? Have you made any hard 'decisions' yet?"
"Honestly, I wouldn't exactly say I have," Imuru replied, his tone disarmingly frank.
"Tch. Aren't you the most honest person I've met," Arg said, a faint, derisive chuckle in his voice. "But in a territory so unstable... It won't get you anywhere."
Arg dropped low, then burst forward at Imuru with explosive speed. To Imuru, however, reacting to Arg's charge was no big issue. He blitzed from Arg's sight reappearing several paces away and leaving Arg momentarily stunned in the empty space his target had been.
Imuru was hesitant to strike with his blade, not wanting to hurt Arg unnecessarily. Arg spun around, tossing a long-bladed dagger he'd drawn from the fold of his clothes straight at Imuru's chest. It was parried with a sharp ring of metal, and as Arg closed the distance in the opening, Imuru simply him once again.
Arg was taken aback just a tad bit, his expression tightening with something sharper than frustration—offense. That Imuru wouldn't even strike back felt like its own form of disdain.
"Do you think you can win, like this?" Arg exclaimed, rushing in on Imuru again. He sent a heavy fist, followed by a low kick, then a backhanded swing—each effort falling in vain, Imuru just slipping by with fluid grace at every strike.
Arg narrowed his eyes, his irritation reaching a boiling point. He needed Imuru to take him seriously. "I should inform you... Since you're deciding not to treat this with the seriousness I'd expect. The lives of your 'people' are on the line."
"Wait. You're the one that took Arken and the others?" He inquired, the anger rising in his voice.
Arg smirked, his expression cold and satisfied. "Now you see. Not only that. Back at your little settlement my Under-hands should have the others under their thumb by now... I hate to say, but they're kill-happy."
"If you're as strong as they claimed, make this exciting and worth my time!!!"
[[>Baseline Skill<]]
[[-Berserker-]]
Upon the use of his skill, a violent orange shockwave of energy burst from his body, kicking up dust and debris as he received a rapid boost to his stats. His companions looked on in awe as the initial flash died down, leaving a fluid aura of energy clinging to his form. Then, he charged, the ground cracking under his new, devastating power and speed.
Striking at Imuru with his increased strength, Arg drove his fist straight into Imuru's chest, Knocking him backward. Imuru hit the ground hard, rolling once before flipping up to his feet, eyes snapping forward—but Arg was already gone.
In the next instant, Arg was behind him.
Imuru twisted to counter, but the moment he moved, his weapon was struck clean from his hand, skittering across the ground.
Arg's hand shot out, straight for the throat, his grip closing like a vice, lifting Imuru right off his feet.
"Ack—!"
"Pitiful. To think you surprised me initially," Arg mocked, grinning from ear to ear, his aura pulsing with triumph.
"W-What... What happened to Arken and the others?" Imuru managed to muffle out, his voice strained.
"How admirable," Arg said, pulling back his fist, "but you're in no position to ask!" He said, throwing a fist into Imuru's sternum, sending crashing right out of the clearing.
laying flat on his back, Imuru let out a long exasperated breath before forcing himself upright and then to his feet.
"Linira is his right hand," He muttered thoughtfully. "Hmm. it would be a bad idea to kill both of them... She even looks like she'd be open up for conversation." Imuru tilted his head a faintly sinister grin forming to follow his dark line of thoughts. "Then I'll just get rid of him."
With a confident stride, Imuru rolled out of the forest, back into the clearing. The first thing he attended to was the retrieval of his sword, ignoring Arg's looming presence, picked it up then sheathed it—highly certain he wouldn't be needing it for what came next.
Arg smirked a little, the expression curling with arrogant amusement. He lifted his hand and pointed a finger toward the sheath sword. "Isn't this a switch? Are you positive you won't be needing that?"
"To be honest with you, again... you're not really a threat in the traditional sense," Imuru replied, his tone smug and light, his eyes resting on Arg with an air of complete nonchalance, as if he were assessing a mildly interesting bug.
"Traditional?" Arg mumbled. "Care to elaborate? I'm a threat enough on my own. You careful lack the strength and sp—"
"Ahh!" Imuru interjected, cutting Arg off along with a dismissive wave. "You're not a threat. Simple as it sounds. It was very foolish for you to come here without even holding someone hostage. I would've lost pretty easily then."
"What the hell do you think I am?" Arg snapped back, his aura flaring. "I'm a Dark Devider, not some pathetic creature. Insulting."
"We could compromise if you're willing to. Let's say you won," Imuru said, spreading his arms in a last, earnest attempt to end this without violence. "You let my people go and leave this forest, we go our separate ways. If not…"
"You'll kill me? Then what an honour to die in battle," Arg said, his aura flaring violently as he lunges right in.
"Then so be it." This was Imuru's final thought, meeting Arg at equal distance.
There was no grand clash, only Arg's aura vanishing in a pop—like a bubble, and the sharp, decisive thud. He fell to the ground, face-first, unlikely to have been able to process what had happened in his final moments consciousness.
A moment of dead silence hung in the air as Linira and the Enchin stared, their mind slowly catching up to the reality before them.
Linira and the Enchin moved to rush toward Arg's fallen form, seeing the dark blood slowly pooling beneath his motionless body.
"Don't," Imuru said, his voice low and final, halting them in place.
The Enchin snarled, muscles coiling to charge, but Linira's hand shot out to stop it with a firm grip.
Imuru glanced at the body, blinking away the discomfort. "If you want to help him... you can." He paused, letting the implication settle. "No need for this to continue."
"I wish to send him off," Linira said, her voice stripped of all emotion..
Imuru blinked, perplexed. "... Shouldn't you help him?"
"That would be dishonour to him," Linira replied flatly.
Imuru nodded slowly to her request. Linira approached Arg's motionless form and knelt at his head. She rolled his body onto his back with gentle reverence, closed her eyes, and rested a hand on his chest, the other on his forehead. Imuru watched closely, the forest holding its breath around them.
After a long, silent moment, she stood to her feet. "Great Demon Lord Imuru, was it not? With the defeat of Lord Arg, I am now the Head-hand of Shadow of the Moon." Her voice was calm, formal and devoid of resentment. "Please forgive... the late Head Head-hand. I formally disagreed with how this should've gone. An underestimation, even with your title."
"You don't want to fight?" Imuru inquired, unable to quite believe a Dark Devider like her would so readily step down.
"I assure you, I do not want to. It is clear there is no possible way to overcome you. Not all Dark Deviders hold linear thought that violence is the only solution," Linira replied, her gaze steady and pragmatic.
"Oh. Yeah... nice to hear that," Imuru said, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Let's hurry back to the village. I'll need you for this to go peacefully."
Linira nodded once in firm agreement.
Hiding amongst the darkness in a nearby house, one of Shadow of the Moon assassins peered carefully out the window, over the Dark Deviders they've captured.
He heard a small stumble behind him, and twisted his head over, only to see his partner laid out on the ground, breathing heavily.
Taking one last glance, he quietly attended to his ally on the ground. He raised two fingers, doing a swiping motion. The man on the ground shrugged his shoulders, before activating his skill.
Alert, they both watched as the motionless body of Yosho slowly raised from the shadow. They glanced at each other, seeing everything was fine. In that split second, Yosho sprung up from her feigned stillness, landing a solid blow to the face of the kneeling shinobi. He crumpled and slammed into the wall, knocked out cold.
The assassins on the ground looked up at her in utter astonishment and fear. Yosho grabbed him by the throat, putting him on his feet, proceeding right after to knock him head first to the floor with a kick to the side of his head.