[Episode 101490] [Episode 101490]Ranma focused his indominable will upon his task, stareing into the burning aura of immolation just beyond the dubious frozen shield just in front of himself. I will not fail, he chanted within the depths of his mind, as the soul-forged ice began to sweat. He could feel the quivering of the ice as it was assaulted within the depths of his spirit.
Saffron hovered just beyond the bastion that he had created, his form nothing more than a shape made of burning light. "You WILL fall, MORTAL!" the pheonix-man cried out in a voice that split the heavens and made the earth rock in pain. From the winged man, drops of what once might have been perspiration fell to ignite the bare and scortched earth below him.
The pigtaled martial artist winced. He could feel the sheer power he was producing within himself begin to thin. In moments, the sole barrier that he had would evaporate, leaving all that he protected to vanish within the fury of his enemy's sun-fire.
The bonds within his mind snapped, taking the sole control against his own powers. Between his feet, the Gekkaja suddenly sang out in a scream of superchilled ice cracking free.
Ranma threw back his head and cried out in agony, as the barrier he built thickened and stabilised in a heartbeat. As his head fell forward, the pheonix dimmed slightly, waiting to see his foe once the damnible fog dissipated from within the dome.
There is, in Orental mythology, an exact opposite for the life-giving flame of the Pheonix. A spirit of chill and death.
Gaia, through the link formed when the Gekkaja was thrust into her, felt the spirit that was calling for the power to fight Saffron's insane attack and responded. Dumping all the mystical energy that this hero could handle into the nearly empty vessel of his soul.
"Death awaits, Mortal," he laughed.
A voice answered him, causing him to stiffen in shock. It was low, soft and without emotion in it's duclet tones. "Yes, Saffron," the unseen female replied. "Your's, in fact." In that moment, from beneath the hovering man, shot myriad, molicule-thin shafts of ultrafrozen oxygen, piercing and transfixing the avianoid embodiment of flame. Those same shafts chilled the fuel for his flame at the same time as they shattered his body as if it were glass, leaving a frost encrusted ruby of his spirit behind.
As the shredded wisps of his soul began to be adsorbed into his sprit-gem, it witnessed the destroyer of it's current incarnation.
Female she was, and pale skinned as the snows that touched the mountains that surrounded his home. Her hair and eyes were the blue of Sapphires, slightly darker than the lips that smirked the cold smile of a victorious foe. She held out a hand to catch the jewel that would one day reform his body, as his awareness was swallowed into is crimson depths, and the spirit quailled in fear.
For this was The Yuki-onna, Reborn.
In the moment of his shriek, he had felt the conduit between the weapon he had foucsed his soul of ice into and himself open wide, filling his already magic-saturated spirit with natural mystical energy of such magnitude that he thought that he would simply explode. With the influx of power was a sort of consiousness that asked if he were willing to be the Yang to Saffron's Ying. He communed with the entity, asking what it would require.
The being responded. For this power, he would:
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(Posted Sat, 08 May 2004 03:35)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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