Loyal Servant (Crossmare) (Rewrite)

Arc Two, The Tournament

Cross locked his pinpricks onto his opponent, slowly stalking and following their every movement within the sandy clearing. He had his blade drawn, dragging its sharp tip across the ground alongside him. Wind tousled the fur of his hood which he had pulled up over his skull, the feathery edges obscuring his vision the slightest amount. He wasn't worried about any disadvantage however. He had studied his opponent well. He had already prepared a way to counter any known attack.

"You're looking pretty cocky there, top guard," None other than Dust spoke over the eager howls of their audience. He still had his hands tucked up inside his pockets, the shadow of his hood allowing Cross to see only his bright pinpricks and teasing smile. "We finally get to compete in a tournament together and you won't even give it your all?" He asked.

"I will if you prove it's necessary," Cross replied before he instinctively checked the stands. Nightmare watched with interest from upon his throne-like seat, beautifully outlined by the moon's glow. After what happened a year ago, Cross couldn't bear to go long without at least glancing his way quite often throughout the tournament. Every time he looked, he found the king was just fine, meeting his gaze with both pride and excitement. Time to give him the show he's craving.

Cross lifted his blade, spinning it a couple times before firmly pointing the tip Dust's way. "Your move, my friend," He told him, tightening his grip on the hilt.

Dust chuckled, dipping his head to completely shadow his features. Then his right eye flared, purple wisps of wild magic wafting off the enlarged pinprick. "I hope you're ready for one mad time," He said, slow and calm. Despite his lax demeanor, the very second after he finished speaking, Cross heard a disturbance in the air above him. He teleported back on instinct, which served him well seeing as a whole arsenal of bones stabbed into the sand where he had been a moment beforehand. Cross didn't scowl at the very real danger that attack had posed. Instead he smiled. Oh, this will be a good one.

He started to run at Dust, who remained still up until the last second. When Cross lashed out with his weapon, Dust slyly slid out of the way, only really half teleporting anywhere. Eventually Dust waved up a wall of bones which Cross cleaved through with only the slightest struggle. Dust was awaiting him on the other side, one more sharp bone darting up as soon as the wall had been torn down. That surprise attack actually struck Cross's coat while he attempted to recoil completely free of its sudden jab. He stepped back and watched a handful of his fluff drift to the sand below. "Not bad," Cross mused. "But we're just getting started."

Cross leapt, and this time he did so at full force. He was nothing more than a blur as he shot forward. Dust teleported, as expected, reappearing on the opposite side of the clearing. Cross twisted mid stride, and with a simple flick he sent his blade soaring across the arena. The bold play had Dust hesitating. His reaction ended up slow, as Cross's blade ripped right through the skeleton's coat, skilfully skidding between his ribs so no real damage was done. His weapon then lodged itself into one of the support beams behind Dust.

"Quite the move, Cross... But you've gone and thrown your only weapon away," Dust pointed out. It was his turn to make a move now, and he made it quick. He teleported high in the air, a gaster blaster summoning beneath his feet. He crouched upon it as the head tilted to lock onto Cross. When it fired, Cross had to sprint away from the incoming line of searing white heat. He could feel it on his heels, morphing the grains of sand into scattered shards of glass. I see we're going all out here.

Cross continued on, soon moving in a zig-zag pattern which he often used to off-balance those who chose to ride their own blasters. When the skull continuously rocked back and forth in an attempt to reach him, Dust wobbled awkwardly upon it. This was the strategy that won him Killer's nickname 'Criss-Cross' as he used it often during training.