The tightness of muscles. The weight of the Keyblade in his hand. The satisfying feeling of a weapon crashing against an opponent. Behind his mask Vanitas’s mouth curved into a grin as wicked as a scythe. There was a thrill to the sensation of an impact through a weapon and up his own arms into his shoulders. Emlen’s own voice betrayed his pain, all the more encouraging for Vanitas.
But his feeble target then simply vanished behind one of the cards. Nice little trick. More cards appeared, and the fight became a pathetic little cup game. ...One of the easiest ways to tell which cup held the prize was to see which cup was the hardest to crush. And so Vanitas commenced ravaging the cards with a flurry of slashes.
But not even this technique was fast enough for the sheer number of cards. He grunted in pain as something began slicing through his side. Out of sheer instinct he lashed out in the direction of his assailant before simply vanishing.
A keen eye would find him about thirty feet away at the top of some stairs leading to a building. His Keyblade was lowered as he looked down upon the area.
Had Vanitas known what the cloaked man tried to do to the lone Unversed he’d sent, he’d have cackled. The Buckle Bruiser, just like any Unversed, was a fledgling emotion, fresh and impulsive, and also locked into that single feeling. Sheer rancor was not one to shrink or bend to fear. In fact, the Unversed couldn’t even comprehend another emotion. It was a simple word that was spoken to the creature. But the threat behind the undertones did nothing more than make it loathe its opponent even more. Though not the fastest of Unversed, that didn’t mean some attacks couldn’t come swiftly. With its thick arms it flung a buckler from its fist towards the cloaked man.
/fail
But his feeble target then simply vanished behind one of the cards. Nice little trick. More cards appeared, and the fight became a pathetic little cup game. ...One of the easiest ways to tell which cup held the prize was to see which cup was the hardest to crush. And so Vanitas commenced ravaging the cards with a flurry of slashes.
But not even this technique was fast enough for the sheer number of cards. He grunted in pain as something began slicing through his side. Out of sheer instinct he lashed out in the direction of his assailant before simply vanishing.
A keen eye would find him about thirty feet away at the top of some stairs leading to a building. His Keyblade was lowered as he looked down upon the area.
Had Vanitas known what the cloaked man tried to do to the lone Unversed he’d sent, he’d have cackled. The Buckle Bruiser, just like any Unversed, was a fledgling emotion, fresh and impulsive, and also locked into that single feeling. Sheer rancor was not one to shrink or bend to fear. In fact, the Unversed couldn’t even comprehend another emotion. It was a simple word that was spoken to the creature. But the threat behind the undertones did nothing more than make it loathe its opponent even more. Though not the fastest of Unversed, that didn’t mean some attacks couldn’t come swiftly. With its thick arms it flung a buckler from its fist towards the cloaked man.