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Demont stands from his seat upon the edge of the Fountain, his dark gaze traveling slowly across the dirt path to Ezekiel. The crunch of sand and stone can be heard ad Demont's boots pad slowly over the dirt. The winged vampire starts to walk a circle about his foe, examining him head to toe, his gaze flickering from the man to Alexiaisis now and again, a deep wrenching feeling attack the pit of his gut each time he looks upon the woman's wingless form. The assassin turns his full attention back to the matter at hand, his hand snapping to his side to wrap slowly and firmly around the ebon hilt of an equally dark sword. As the blade is pulled loose from the prison in which it resides, the hiss of the metal resounds through the area. With the blade fully exposed he takes several paces backwards towards the fountain, tapping the tip of the metallic weapon to the stone side of the tub which holds the blood. A spark ignites within the Avian's eyes as the scent of the blood fills his nostrils, a sense of ecstasy enveloping him. A minute passes where Demont stands stock-still no movement, no blinking. Suddenly he pushes from the ground and runs towards the mage, Ezekiel. Quickly making his way closer and closer he lifts his blade up above his head, making ready for the attack when he comes within several feet of Ezekiel. Meeting his destination he changes the path of the blade and brings it out to the right, then swings it forcefully to the left towards his enemies abdominal region.

Ezekiel stands patiently awaiting his opponents first move with a joyous smile playing on his lips, and tenderness like that of a new mother sitting in his kind eyes. He begins to hum an ancient grecian poem seemingly not noticing his foes blade that seems a blurr from its speed threatening his soft and gentle skin. As the razor sharp blade attemptes to intrude into his skin, he suddenly vanishes. After a moment of being unseen by all, he again graces the crowd with his kindness, as he appears upon the hard stony edge of the fountain. A dot of blood come out from a tear in his new leather tunic, that quickly forms into a gyser of his crimson life force. He continues to smile as he dips his hand with grace into the fountain of blood, calling in an ancient tongue for the soulf of the dead to offer him power. When he again rises, He draws his right hand slowly behind his bony figure, as though he were some sort of dancer interpreting music that could not be heard. Without warning the lovely display is shattered by a massive fireball that singes the ground beneath it, and curdles the blood in the fountain in an instant, as it moves like a whirlwind towards his foe.

Demont 's gaze holds firmly to his opponent as he moves to the fountain, watching intently and as well as calmly as Ezekiel performs his magic. Demont proceeds to walks forward into the oncoming attack, the flame wrapping around his form and threatening to burn the flesh clean of him. A lowly growl passes the creatures pale lips as he leaps from out of the flames, burns and blisters covering the exposed flesh of his arms, as well as melted feathers upon his dark wings. Once the maximum height of hi jump is reached and he begins to descend back to the earth he unfurls his wings with a snap. Demont's body becoming parallel to the earth as he flaps his wings, nearing Ezekiel, his mind swimming with thoughts of what to do next. With Demont soaring towards the man he instantaneously flares his wings, sending a slight gust into Ezekiel's frail form. He leans to the left while simultaneously beating his right wing to send him in that direction. As he quickly come to the side of Ezekiel he turns to face him, his blade held tightly in his hand. Without so much as a second thought he thrusts the blade foreword towards the chest of the man who challenged him the previous night.

Ezekiel again waits patiently for his foes blade as he hum the same tune, this time is eeming almost enchanting to an unfocused mind, He cringes as he screams at the last moment "Stone skin". His entire body turns a grayish color and harder than the stone that makes up the fountain. The blade like a pillar of death strikes his chest hard and fast. A small chip launches off of his rock hard body as it slowly turns back to flesh. Once his pale pigmentation is returned to normal, another inscision can be seen where he was struck so ferociously with the morsel of steel. He now breaths heavy as though he had been without drink for three days on end as he kneels half out of pain yet remaining conscious due to determination. He retains his Amazingly unpained unsaddened look in his eyes, and a happy smile that no enterains blood that he slowly is coughing out. He reaches wearily into his pouch, and retreives some elements for which to cast his next spell. He raises his hands till the are stretched to their full length and calls to Dante to bring lightning to avenge his pain. As he does, a resiliant bolt of immensly powerful white blinds all who look onward, and the most intricate bolt of lightning to find this word careens towards his vaugly singed enemy.

Demont grumbles slightly and a silent curse passes his lips as he watches Ezekiel. The man presses his leather booted feet firmly to the top of the fountain, turning about to face his opponent. Instinctively he looks upward at the bolt appears from no where, advancing dangerously close and quick towards Demont, too quick for the winged being to react fully. He bends his knees and presses hard from the top of the fountain, sending him foreword just as the lightning connects with his back, sending him forcefully into the fountain below. The submerged Demont remains where he is for several minutes, poking his head to the surface slowly in take in life saving breaths, his body stunned from the lighting. Slowly he attempts to stand, the feeling returning to his shocked form, his dark eyes skimming quickly to Ezekiel, anger now brewing within the assassin. Two black wings hang heavily soaked upon his back as he paces towards the mage, the blood from the fountain running from his body and leaving dark stains upon the dirt. Slowly he takes up his blade in both hands, his blackened orbs and wings altering from their demonic hue to that of a majestic white as he begins to summon the single magic he has known since childhood, a vicious elemental attack. As he begins to lower his weapon, a strong breeze picks up, a small torrent of wing begins to flicker around the muscular form of Demont for several moments before erupting into a towering tornado of wind. He throws his arms foreword, sending the wind fiercely towards Ezekiel, the magic attack gaining speed with each and every moment. Deciding to use the wind as a cover, Demont follows quickly behind his attack, awaiting to use his blade in a physical strike once his elemental one meets his enemy.

Ezekiel is shocked and caught of guard by the very humbling size of the tornado. He falls backwards catching himself with his blood soaked hands as he gazes in awe at the tornado. Thinking quickly he attempts to meld his body with the cold damn earth below him, but cannot properly cast the spell with all the wounds and wind detering his motions. The tornado hits him full force as he tried to sheild himself as much as he can with the fountain itself. Shrapnels that were caughts up in the tornado cut and tear at his ever soft, and and bloodied skin. A torrent of blood can be seen spraying behind him, but through all of it, He finishes the spell he started from before. He summons shiva, Goddess of ice, to aid him in this mortal struggle. With a quick flash and a bon chilling winter breeze a light blasts up from the earth. At first the figure in the midst is but a sillouet, slowly forming into the shape of a most beautiful, and enchanting woman. In her hand she holds intensely cold shards of ice that from where she hovers ten feet up cause frost on the ground. She draws back and catapults the spears of icy death at Demont, whom is closing in with his blade. With the last bit of energy left in his maimed body, Ezekiel dives aside to avoid the blade that had bitten him twice before.

Demont allows a smug smirk to etch it's way upon his features as his snowy locks whip frantically about his head at the appearance of the conjured woman. Watching the woman for a moment as she pulls her arm back to send the icy projectiles towards him with other-worldly speed. The Avain dives to the side to avoid the spear. Miscalculating his evasive maneuver the spear drills through the ankle of his left leg and into the ground, pinning him there. He dares not move for fear of causing more pain to his leg. HE peers deeply at Ezekiel with his now angelic eyes, the duel over.

Donovan said, "It's a unanimous decision. Demont is the winner."

Ezekiel rests his head on the edge of the fountain, awaiting the blow of death, panting with what is left of his life already in question from the wounds

Demont turns to Ezekiel as he removes the ice from his leg, and stands to face his foe. "Death is only the next step..." He makes his way slowly over to the frail man, wrapping his digits about his throat. Demont lifts the small mage from the ground and makes his way to the fountain, pressing the man's body against the top of the fountain Demont takes his blade and presses it to Ezekiel's forehead, shoving it through with great force. He pulls the blade from the man's head and sets him on his knees. He swings the blade upward then down, severing his head from his body with a sickening crunch.