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Description: Though Midus knew there was a storm approaching, instead of closing the ceilings of the fighting arenas, he has instead decided to keep them open to add an interesting aspect to the next round. Instead of a nice, warm sunny day, the fighters would instead be fighting in the harsh condition of ten mile per hour winds that will sometimes gust to thirty mph, heavy rain drops (though not disturbing enough to cause total distraction to sight; maybe 20% reduction), and the occasional thunderbolt lighting up the skies. To help make the arena more comfortable for the fighters, the floor has been turned into low cut grass to help keep traction. However, if the ground is dug up too much, mud and dirt will be added to the terrain.

Despite the weather, the crowd of people have come to watch the fight, wielding umbrellas over their heads.

Special Conditions: Fire is a bit weaker here since it'll be harder to start up one without the rain putting it out. And electricity will get a bigger boost in strength, though it will also short out much faster than if wielded normally by the fighters who possess it.

Field Measurements:
Ring: 70 yard diameter

Ten Count Boundary: As soon as a fighter enters the bleachers, the count begins. The flying rule remains, as well.

A single spotlight shone itself down onto the other side of the ring, the entrance of the one who was suppose to be Omi's next opponent. The ??? label upon his opponent had clearly confused the spectators who came to this fight, trying to wonder what it meant. People were talking of mystery fighters and Midus actually fighting himself, a rumor that people would not mind enjoying. Even in the midst of all this rain and chaotic weather, this one light gave hope to what could be a bright, warm day for the awaiting fighter.

And then a single voice flowed from within the dark cascade as a songful voice followed:

"Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
But thank God cause' it's just
Hidin' the tears from my face"

A man stepped into appearance, holding a microphone in his right hand as his left gripped its stand firmly, leaning it forward in tune with his body as he placed all his weight onto his right foot, his mouth open toward the globe-end of the mic.


An ocean blue colored jacket that covered down to the knees was worn on this person, a hood covered over the man's head, hiding all but his nose and mouth that was visible to all to see as the man let his voice carry softly, silencing the crowd about him.

"Lord, give me a sign
Show me the light
Cause this love I have to fight
Shes on my mind
All the time
To stay afloat I'll TRRRRRYYYYYYY."

Somehow, the song had suddenly turned into something with more energy. The man threw off his hood, revealing blond hair sticking itself up in a style closer to the fade top, though a few bangs fell over his forehead. His cerulean blue eyes were as bright as they could be, and his white teeth shone greatly through the dark visage of the terrible day of rain.





His jacket tore open, the buttons flying off as it fluttered in the wind like a majestic cape. Although very cheesy in theater terms, he was able to somehow pull it off, having the crowd become more happy in spirit as they watched the high-spirits of this new person uplift what was becoming a sad, rainy day.

His voice echoed through the stadium as he continued to speak: "My name is Dex, and I will be your host for this lovely, rainy day. No matter if the sun's shining or if the wind is trying to blow you away, as long as you smile, everyday can be a joyful day."

His left arm extended itself as he pointed directly at the sitting Omi. This time, he spoke with his voice at normal volume, more so that only he and Omi could engage in a more personal conversation.

"Omi Barsait, right? This is your lucky day, too. I was sent here by Midus himself in order to keep you occupied during the sole round. Instead of a bye, he decided that to keep you fresh and the audience coming for more, that I fight you in a temporary bout. It's nothing difficult. As long as you last long enough against me, you get to go on to the next round. It's as easy as...singing a song!"

He let the mic fall to the ground, only for it to suddenly melt into a watery mess. Bubbles and some streams of water collected themselves in a light blue visual in front Dex before another instrument took its place: a large blue lute. Dex took up the musical device into his hands and held it against his body. His left hand holding it by the neck, his right hand flowed itself onto the strings as he held the thing like a guitar, a few loud notes flowing in melody.

"In fact, we don't even have to fight at all," he said as the notes piled themselves into a more rapid tempo, his fingers moving expertly fast along the firm strings. "We can just stand here and enjoy ourselves in a little concert until the time is up. So, how about it? Why don't we have a sing-a-long, shall we?"

He stopped for a brief moment as he counted: "And a one, and a two, and a...."

The playing returned, though it held a more rhythmic flow to it than the random notes he was just creating. It was odd that this instrument was able to create a volume of sound that filled the entire stadium, like it was hooked wirelessly to some speakers placed throughout the arena. Yet, any person with even a small sense of the supernatural would be able to catch the odd feeling of some magical presence bursting forth from Dex's music like a river rushing itself off a cliff into a tumbling waterfall.

"A SIREN IS NOWHERE IN THE SAME LEAGUE AS A LEVIATHAN; I SHALL DEMONSTRATE!"

"Hey, that doesn't rhyme! Come on, you can do better than that!"

Dex shook his head at the response of Barsait, clearly seeing the red brewing light reflecting off the fingertips of his foe. Unlike Omi, Dex had clear knowledge of what Omi was capable of, having researched his fights from the previous years in order to accumulate his general strategies that he was going to take in this type of fight. After all, you didn't go against a former second place fighter unless you were certain you knew what they can throw at you. He even knew that Omi was capable of using water as a means of making use of his pyromantic skills, demonstrated in last year's match of him versus an orge named Korag. It was one of the most shocking displays of power that this tournament had ever seen thus far, and was the reason why Dex felt that he was going to have to play this fight differently in order to cut down on this weakness, and instead make his opponent think twice about using water as a source of fuel ever again. Remembering that sight of such a spectacle still left shivers through Dex's spine.

But alas, the joyful smile on the singer's face completely hid his devious intentions and floating worries. You couldn't help but call him the innocent type as he used his bright personality to overthrow the crowd with his spirits. He knew, however, that Barsait wasn't going to fall for that. The man was too cynical, too clever to let faces put him off. It was the very reason why he made sure to start prepping his own tactics now before it was too late; there was going to be a much worse storm down here than what was above them now.


Thunder erupted after the single white flash of lightning in the clouds, the rain continuing to drop upon the field; yet, Dex was left uninterrupted, his fingers continuing to play the tunes upon his instrument. You would think the weather would make it harder to have his fingers delicately keeping their movements, but little did Barsait know that the water was actually keeping itself a few inches away off his figure. Only a few drops touched this boisterous fellow, but he was still relatively dry. Surely, even Barsait couldn't point this out, not with so much distance between them. He was going to make certain that his control over water be the dominant.

As the music played, the levels of magical power escalated on Dex's side of the field. Thus far, the crowd just sat there, wondering if this was going to turn into a concert or a fight. Some were skeptical, and others were anxious to see how this all plays out between the two completely different fighters.

"If you can't think of something, then I'll start."

His legs bent as he leaned forward, resting his large sitar onto his lap in a balancing way that was deemed perfect. Changing the stance of how he played into that which is formed when playing the Chinese version of a string instrument, the Guqin, both fingers were suddenly used to play the notes. With one hand, the notes were already various and fast. But with two, it was as if two people were playing at the same time, different in speeds and different in pitches. Both a high and low pitch were being mixed together by both of his hands, creating a musical piece that was a serene experience to the ears of the crowd.

But to Barsait, the notes would seem to echo in a mysterious ambiance as the sound from his instrument was acting as a channel for the conjuring energy that he was building up. To say the least, it would feel as if the music was slowly creeping itself into a perfect stereo effect around his body, as if he had numerous speakers placed in a circular formation to give him a three-dimensional auditory experience. In truth, it was just the music and magic reacting together within Barsait's ears; with the ears being one of the best senses to use in sending exterior signals to the brain, this illusion would certainly reach Barsait's senses before he could realize it. It may come as a surprise as to why suddenly he sounded closer than before, or maybe Barsait wouldn't be put off by the fact of this changing atmosphere. Even the sound of the rain was dimming as the music was gaining overwhelming power on the volume level. But this would only be to Barsait.

Meanwhile, Dex began the lines for his song, his voice once more being greater in volume, and even greater to Barsait:

Oh, and this fight will end July 19th at 2 PM Central.

"If you can't think of something, then I'll start."

"Ku~! Think of something..? The gull; I've seen through the basics of your next action!!" Licking his lips, Omi began to feel the audio levels around him dim. Not by the rain foremost, than by the howling winds. It was a common tactic of his to listen for swishes of air when watching for an opponent's movements in close-range, and to hear that constant white noise recede coupled with his opponent's utilization of and seemingly forte in sound utilization. While the specifics were left to the imagination, the near-champion and survivor, not winner of his round one bout here felt no surprise about circumstances.

"I can tell you're strong, or you wouldn't settle on just testing me with a 'stay-alive' scenario; however. However however, you're SORELY mistaken if you think you'll have me on the defensive." His hands twitched just a picometer - and like that, those six points of crimson light flourished into beautiful crimson snakes, three to the far right and three to the far left; outstretched perfectly 3' each from the fingertip, before an inch in each, the serpent heads curved to face their to-be-aggressor at 90 degree angles. Ring finger pushing down, index finger pushing up - two of the serpents changed height slightly to match the fingertip movements, so as to not have them lined up flawlessly. A solid 2" between each.

The sitting warrior grinned with glee, waiting, waiting-

-and his wait was greeted with light.

"What the ******** is wrong with you? Did you loose a screw or two?"

".. Wh.."
Stunned.

Today's match had to be a new one. The apocalyptic weather, dozing off in the "ring," the grassy floor, the eerie dream, the eccentric singer, his audio levels fluctuating - then returning instantly as the very same man apparently employed by none other than Midus Sonners, disappears in a flash of light and is replaced by an equally bewildered, blond man whom immediately decided to question Omi's sanity.

The fact he could even hear this new opponent was proof enough those ears of his were working: but what he heard.. he couldn't help but be momentarily flat-out baffled about, his left shoulder twitching just noticeably as his grin fell when the man's lips slowly shut 'til just enough to speak. "Yeah, sorry about that. I fell asleep in wet grass with a storm firing above my head, and listened to some guy sing to me and dance around playing a flute for a while before you came here in a beam of light. I probably am a little crazy; chalk it up to sleep issues or calcium deficiency."

Lips curling right back into that amused grin, something ominous flooded into his smile. "The name, might I add, is Omi Barsait, the pleasure.." The word faded into action, namely: Barsait's left eye looking to rip itself apart, the white crushing into dark, dark red as the pupil festered from amber-brown to a sickening, yet beaming green.

A singular serpent, namely the one tied to his left-ring finger, found its head cracking open with the jaw lodging open wide; a crimson "eyeball" forming in the mouth, pupil fluttering into proper shape. ".. is mine. Please don't allow the poor weather to extinguish the assured enjoyment we'll derive from combat. You privy?"

The left ring-finger serpent was whipped upward by Omi's right hand, in a scooping motion; stretching.. stretching.. until a good 30 feet in the air, it orbited calmly above the battle field, before moving more towards dead-center of the ring. The purpose? To have an aerial view. This way, Barsait would be capable of watching his opponent without flickers of light and constant rain obscuring his vision so readily. The left eye would give him an entirely different perspective than the right, and while this may create a depth perception drop to a minor degree - the trade-off was far worth it.

However, as the snake was being set into place with no resistance as of yet, Omi calmly mused mentally: "Heh. Enough time idly wasted; let us see if you fancy close or long range, good sir. This way, I can pick your poison for you." Left-middle and index fingers curving in to point towards Barsait's right, those two serpents idly looped on past the fellow's head in those 3' straight portions; meanwhile, the right stopped twiddling that sentry up above in place.. and instead clawed through the air like a bear. Straight towards dear Benjamin.

The three serpents on the right side would suddenly scream forward. Omi twisted that right hand a bit to the left side, so the three serpents would as they stretched forward to greet their prey, fan out; horizontally aligned 4' off the ground, 3 feet of distance between each as his thumb & pinky fingers stretched out to make the same gap in distance. The middle serpent would be directly aligned with the blond youth; the other two 3 feet to the left and right respectively, all shooting forward majestically.

Omi's right pinky & thumb would be shaking; their intention? Close into a "high-five" posturing of the hand as they converge on the "prince," striking him in a three-pronged attack right as Barsait would snap the left hand's fingers and ignite them, thus bypassing the rather wet circumstances. Furthermore, given they were 4' up, merely hopping over them would be most difficult - but meanwhile, ducking would be nearly impossible because thanks to the sky-born "eye," Omi was keeping tabs on any sudden motions to escape and would compensate accordingly with that right hand of his.

As the mouth-agape serpents went for what looked like a feeding frenzy.. what would Omi's opponent do?

Surprise was Barsait's best ploy, true enough; however, he never failed in taking the standard and twisting it. Many foes had presumed since his gradual rise to fame, that they knew how he would attack and what with for that matter; many foes would later be in critical condition in an infirmary hoping the good doctors could keep them stitched properly as a result. Just as Omi forced himself to second-guess everything his foes did, he felt they should do the same with he; unfortunately, they rarely, rarely did until it was too late.

"Hah! Close-range?!! How terribly naive." The wild man mused out-loud as his opponent began the rapid charge ahead. However, while the little light show and rise into the air was mildly surprising, his three serpents whimpering and flickering like a bad circuit-board into a haze of non-existence whilst Omi calmly flopped his right hand idly - .. something made the still-sitting fighter seem at ease.

Flicking that left ring finger to his far-left, one of the two remaining serpents bound back over to the same side; a serpent to the left, and a serpent to the right. Three crimson red lights forming on the same three right fingertips from earlier, though he'd take a moment to dispense them. Taking advantage of the man's airborne status and the fact he had a whomping 80 feet or so to cover - Omi had a little time on his hands to pass.

(Snap!)

Clicking his right hand like the fellow was listening to particularly joyful music, the two serpents fluttered around like chaotic whips - gobs of rain passing through them suddenly disappearing with a rather loud 'pop!' sound. An instant prior, Barsait took a rather deep breath before clenching it with a broad, toothy smile - left hand returning calmly to his lap as the right hand palm-thrusted upward. His left-middle finger extended much as though Omi were giving a rude gesture, it flicked back in a "come hither" motion - and so too did the serpent high above begin its descend. Right back towards the point of origin, and where Benjamin would inevitably end up being.

The air around Omi was.. off. Both in coloring and in the fact it looked like waves of heat were rising upward slowly despite no rise in temperature. As Benjamin would near the sitting opponent, those shining fingertips would rise upward - like the dark-clad fighter was giving the boy a counting lesson with a roman numerical "III."

What had Omi Barsait of the GTB's Round II so calm, he would sit idly by in the face of a man who struck the ground with such immense force? His voice roared to meet the blond youth, seemingly welcoming their momentary impact with a clear tone of humored intrigue:

"

EXECUTION!"