This was the first time that Roun had been to the fabled Haima’sa Frontlines.  He’d been hearing about them since the fusion of the worlds, but this was the first time that he’d actually made his way to one of the locations at which the haima’sa occupied lands bordered with an Oyan clan’s territory. 

The experience was a harrowing one.  As he walked through the featureless landscape, the air was thick with magical fallout, ethereal residue of the countless weapons of war employed by the haima’sa and their aggressors in a perpetual bid to wipe each other from existence.  But beneath this thick soup of rancid primordial energies, Roun caught wafts of the very real stench of death.  On this battlefield, bodies piled up faster than they could be removed, and often times the war simply raged on above the backs of the dead, as they decomposed into the soil poisoned by heinous weapons.

This place was hell.  It painted a picture of Oya’s haima’sa scourge that sharply contrasted with the threat that he had known on Terra.  Where Terra’s haima’sa posed merely a persistent nuisance, Oya’s haimsa’sa were indeed synonymous with death.

That made it all the more confusing that anyone would choose to meet here, among the bodies of the dead and amidst the very real danger of being caught in a battle between two military super powers.  Yet, here he was—against better judgement—walking through the stinking, barren wasteland that bordered a haima’sa outpost and a mobile city called Titan’s Call.

“The legendary Roun Itami, I presume.”  Roun’s eyebrow tipped upwards with equal parts annoyance and curiosity as a strange silhouette emerged from the persistent fog that blanketed this desolate area.  “A son of Oya, turned Savior of Terra.  Quite the story.”

“I take it you’re the mystery man that dragged me to this hell hole.”  Roun replied with audible disdain, drawing a light chuckle from the yet unrevealed figure.

“Reign Titan, First King and Emperor Sovereign of the Titans.” Came the reply as the man faded into view.

“What is it with you Oyans and multiple simultaneous monarchs?”  Roun queried dismissively.  “It’s clearly a very messy way to run an autocracy.”

“Life is messy, Itami.”  Reign replied with marked amusement.  “Why denigrate a system that that has worked for centuries?”

Roun just scoffed at the response as the fog finally revealed the man that he was speaking to.  It was an odd sight.  His unkempt red hair contrasted sharply with the intricately designed face mask that covered his features and this contrast seemed to be replicated throughout his visage.  His clothing resembled a fine Italian suit, but the ensemble was tucked into massive, armoured gauntlets and greaves, while his jacket was draped over his shoulders and held in place by massive paldrons.

“So you wanna tell me what this is all about, Reign?”  Roun pressed, drawing a grin from beneath the ornate face mask worn by the Titan King.

“I’ve been following the brewing civil war between your father and his sister.  It’s poised to create quite the fracture between the Itami and Malaikin people.”  Reign started.  “My predecessors may have sought to capitalise on this moment of weakness, but all things considered, I’d rather throw my lot in with the winning side.”

“Why?”  Roun pressed further.

“My people are the black sheep of our Matriarch’s children—let’s say I’m interested in reuiniting our broken family.”  He explained.

Roun just scoffed.

“I guess you didn’t get the memo, but I’ve got no interest in Oyan politics… Itami or otherwise.”  He dismissed.

“That’s hardly patriotic, especially for the man realistically next in line for the throne.” Reign chuckled.  “Friendly suggestion, develop an interest in politics, ‘cause politics already has an interest in you.”

Roun’s eyebrow tipped upwards at this statement, because it brought with it an elevation of the man’s energy signature to combat levels.  His artificial eye shone brightly as it went about analysing Reign’s combat form.

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Boss-tier, from the look of it.  Level 40 at least and stronger than Roun by a significant margin.  Summoner given the configuration of his energy, perhaps a Psycher sub-class but it was hard to tell without Tyler’s insight into his specific abilities.  Not that it mattered, he was clearly looking for a fight and Roun could do with blowing off some steam himself.

“This is a weird way to forge an alliance.”  He stated as he allowed his own energy to build within him, causing his body to leak gold energy as he did.

“I did say that I wanted to side with the winners.  I need to see if the legends are true before I throw my lot in with Shin and his ilk.”  Reign replied, summoning a massive war-hammer into his right hand.  “Consider it a test.”

“Funny—that you think you’re even qualified to test me.”  Roun scoffed.

“I suppose we’ll see about that!”

With a wild grin Reign rushed towards him, drawing a light sigh from Roun as he drew the sword hanging from his hip.  Given his analysis, it was no surprise when Reign slid to a stop and an armoured figure emerged from his body with a powerful swing of the war hammer.  Roun’s gaze narrowed at the gambit before he raised his own left hand and shielded the attack with his armoured sleeve.  The reluctant Itami prince rotated his body with the force of the powerful hammer strike, rolling around the impact rather than absorbing it before launching a counter slash with his other hand.

“Watch out, Vabbian.”  Reign growled.

It was hard to make out facial expressions on the hulking summon, whose own face mask seemed like a more complete version of his master’s, but Roun could make out Vabbian’s eyes widening as he watched Roun’s slash come sailing towards him.  Luckily, a blast of red lightning deflected the sword strike at the last minute, causing it to miss entirely while Vabbian repositioned himself for a follow-up.  Roun glared at Reign as his shadow repositioned, taking this time to tense his body and cast off a shadow of his own.

To Reign’s surprise, this summon of Roun’s shone with golden flames, but before he could put two and two together, the woman’s energy paralysed Vabbian, stopping his attack in its tracks.

“Well, that’s not very sporting.”  Reign muttered as Roun turned his attention away from the summon and towards him.  “Well, shit.”

Reign had heard enough about the former Synchros host to know what was coming next, channelling all of his energy into a planar shield between him and his attacker.  The barrier was barely erected in time for Roun’s attack to crash against it, creating a golden corona as the flood of aesis rolled over Reign’s red plasma field.  Unfortunately, this was simply a gambit of his own.  Reign’s eyes narrowed as the golden glow dissipated to reveal a smug and almost bored look on Roun’s face, before his gaze followed his opponent’s downward to reveal Roun’s sword piercing his abdomen.

“You’re done.”  Roun whispered coldly as Reign’s body began to react to his attack, violently leaking the crimson electrical energy that was his dagon.

But much to his surprise, the look of shock on his opponent’s face slowly shifted as gaping mouth curled into an uneasy grin.

“No, not yet.”  He chuckled lightly.  “You just made this fun.”

What came next was a familiar feeling.  The invocation of a clan totem that saw Reign’s power skyrocket.  Roun’s gaze narrowed and the look on his face shifted boredom to annoyance.  His artificial eye could already track Reign’s growth in power.

Legendary-tier, then beyond, to a delineation of power for which there was not even a classification on his home world.  Once again Roun sighed, gripping his sword tightly before he was blasted away by the immense surge of energy being driven into Reign’s form.

The force off these energetic waves knocked him off his feet and hurled him through the air, across the desolate wasteland that was the haima’sa front lines.  But even with the chaotic streams of magic bombarding his sense, nothing could mask the presence of a revitalised Vabbian closing in on his location.

As Vabbian’s hammer descended upon him, Roun rotated his body and guarded the attack with his left hand once more.  Boredom and annoyance were both replaced as Roun was forced to muster the effort to actually guard the attack.  Gold flames leaked from his artificial eye and the magical prosthetics that had been installed in his neck; his own power peaking.  Vabbian found himself suspended in the air the second that Roun’s feet hit the earth, dissipating the force of the attack outwards into the environment as he shifted the grip on his sword and commenced his counterattack.

Once again Reign reared up to intervene, but this time his dagon strike was intercepted by golden flames as Roun’s own summon lent her support.  This forced Vabbian to curl into a ball, pressing his feet against the head of his massive hammer and springing off the weapon before Roun’s counterattack could land on him.  The Itami’s reverse slash cleaved the air but nothing else, leaving a vacuum in its wake as Roun grabbed the hilt of Vabbian’s falling hammer. 

It was heavy—too heavy to be practical in ordinary combat—but this was no such thing.  With a growl he continued his spinning motion, redirecting the massive hammer’s weight before he unleashed it at Vabbian’s location.  Once again, the summon’s eyes shot open with shock, the hammer hit him before the sonic boom even reverberated through the battlefield, dissipating the thick, soupy fog for a brief moment after Roun’s attack.