Five Impossible Requests.


Random phantom.
As he opened his eyes, the world opened around him.

He could see the vast crystal expanse around him, light making the walls and pillars around him shine in many colors. His body remained untouched by the colored lights, however, as the light ultimately remained just the same as what people could see, and no more than that. His scarves flapped behind him, despite the lack of actual wind to push them, and he felt the chill in his exposed arms and legs from the cave's temperature. His body remained untouched by the colors projected by the crystals, as the light managed to be uniform despite the intense alterations it went through. Fitting, considering where he was.

Slowly, the sound of footsteps filled the area, as well as what at first seemed to be formless shadows taking their place around him. The closer they were, the stronger their forms looked, but it was hard to tell just what each one was. Still, he did not look worried. In fact, as he tiptappered the solid, stone-like floor with the tip of his left boot, he looked almost relaxed, his gray eyes focused on the form ahead of him, some of his gray hair having brushed past just enough to hide them briefly.

— Hn.

His tongue clicked in his mouth, as he took on a stance more suitable for battle. The pearl chain hanging from his neck, barely visible, was starting to glow with the five colors its stones were colored in, as he considered his options. This many foes would take a significant amount of resources to defeat, that was true, and the most important part was taking the first step. The air around him started to glow faint as he focused his own power, aware that once he made the first move, it would immediately start a mess nastier than his hairstyle.

Just as he wanted. It wasn't fun if it was going to be easy, now was it?

— Hyhyhy…! Ya guys're all ready to take me down, aren't ya?

As always, some humor, along with that particularly annoying laugh of his. It wasn't easy to simultaneously talk down his opponents and yet, encourage them so they'd do even better, but there he was. His hands were twitching within their gloves, as he prepared to call in his own weapon. Whatever came after that was completely out of his control, as he knew he would be taxed to his very limits.

And that was the best part of it all, as his fingers tightened. In here, he could only hold back as much as he wanted. And if he wanted to show off…

— Well, I hope ya all brought all yor luck, cuz I'm gonna make my own!

…then the only way to stop him would be by stopping him!


Well-Known Member
Interesting, but too short to really comment one way or another. Care to share the basic plot?


Random phantom.
First Impossible Request – Part I –

My first impossible request: Stop me. Or make me stop. Either option is possible, as you say, but for that, you need to match me. Can you do so?

The yellow light shone bright.

He started by dashing forward, daggers in hand. The first ones to come were normal soldiers, the most average of grunts in a sense. Their swings matched in a parry, as he used the daggers first to block before he could advance on them. It was funny how easy it was, after so much practice; although he didn't use much strength, the soldiers' swings were kept at bay. It was good; he needed to keep his strength and stamina up for the long run, and as long as he could get rid of them in the least amount of effort the best.

His next swing came under the soldiers' blows, cutting their wrists and forcing the swords to be dropped. A simple motion, helped by their current simple minds. A simple kick right after, sending some sprawling onto the others, was enough to let him pass to the next group.

Within three groups, the speed increased, though his momentum did not. Three, four, five soldiers per assault, requiring more focus in his attempt to break through. He was starting to spin in his attacks, moving in and out of their range, dodging what he could and parrying what he could not. Soon the cut wrists had to give way to nastier blows, as he pushed forward, their armor being a bigger obstacle as time passed.

A lucky soldier thought about hitting him from behind. He barely managed to notice him before he had come too close, his movements limited briefly by the enemies swarming him. The best he could do was throw the dagger right on his head, bringing the soldier down. A nasty trade, as he now was limited to a single dagger in this situation.

But it was enough to at least give himself some time; while the enemy fell, he used more strength on his swing, sending the ones in front reeling. That was what he needed; a quick dash and he was climbing on one of them, jumping off to start running on the enemies' heads. His boots pushed hard on the helmets, but they were tough and well-made, and the pressure was quite stable; he could stand on the very tip of their helmets, if only for that little second.

Their blades came up right after, as they tried to cut his feet off. Fun.

This was turning into a minefield of sorts, as every misstep now meant a chance of falling or worse. He could only guess where and when each blade came, forced to jump up sometimes as he made his way past the soldiers and towards the tougher-looking enemies. By now some of them were jumping up as well, but he was not as concerned about them; the biggest worry in their case was figuring out which point he should jump at, lest their smash the rest of their allies and leave bigger craters in the ground.

Eventually the entire legion of soldiers ended, with a sufficiently good amount of space between them and the next group. So fun. He reformed his second dagger on his hand, right before leaping off the last walking footstool, making some good distance. However, even he knew that a leap like this would only get him skewered by the spears they wielded, no matter how lucky he was.

Which was why the rune circle formed both under his feet and in front of him, as he changed into an attacking position. His body was immediately launched forward, glowing yellow for a second, before he sped up in a burst, slamming onto the leader of the spear-wielders and stabbing him right in the arms. The added speed led to him trapping his blades in the arms, and with a stronger pull they were both cut out, sparks flying out from the impact.

A part of him wondered why someone had decided to make all these formless beings robots. Another part didn't care, because this meant the violence he could inflict upon them was equally relentless and devoid of criticism. Either way, he could laugh at it, as he did.

— Hyhyhyhyhy! — the sound echoed, as he grabbed onto the spear the robot was holding with his feet and forcing himself to flip his entire body upside-down, latching onto the spear with his legs and feet the best he could. It was hard to swing and in most situations the spears would have made shorter work, but that was why he had stolen one; the user's skill with them was less important than their actual power, and by his own personal account, he had slain their leader, therefore he had taken the best spear. Or maybe he had simply gotten a lucky spear and was coming up with a reason for why he was managing to deal with the robots like this.

Honestly? He didn't really think it mattered which explanation he was using. He just thought it up because he found them fun.

Swinging like this didn't require much focus; his feet had latched onto the spear quite easily. Rather, he had to watch his surroundings, as he was forced to spin his entire body rapidly in order to make his new weapon reach its maximum effect, and while he could use his daggers as makeshift feet, even his sight couldn't reach even half of his full range. So while he swung, he also continued on advancing, practicing this unusual spearsmanship style as he went on.

Once the spearmen around him were shut down, he spun again to throw the spear at the soldiers that he had left behind, letting go of one of the daggers just to grab another spear and playfully toss it onto his own feet, grasping it properly again only to throw himself forward, slamming the spear's tip into the ground and using the inertia to throw himself forward. With a controlled spinning motion, he cut through the foes ahead of him while he was on the air, finishing with a roll out of that group.

Surrounded again, some of his assailants tried to get the jump on him in the most literal way. Amusing, he thought, as he spun out of the roll, forcing his body to twist itself while he tried to remain on the ground. As the leapers fell, he compared his own trajectory to that of a turtle spinning on its back over greased flooring, laughing at the silly idea. There was no such a thing now, but he didn't care enough as he used his hands and feet in combination to continue advancing.

He insisted in throwing himself forward, using his hands for a front flip, barely avoiding the incoming blades. His scarves spun through the air as he finally came to his normal, standing stance in movement, forming one of the rune circles in front of himself to send him forward at full speed.

— Catch me if you can! — he mocked them, leaving behind that group of soldiers as he ran, body glowing yellow. Right ahead of him were ninjas - ones with glowing swords and scarves just as long as his own, but ninjas nonetheless. He focused on the leading one, preparing himself for the incoming attack.