[ shadow has known from the start the sort of situation he was in, because in the face of a copy, he can kill them. he's done it many times, so this wouldn't be an issue to him at all. that's why he doesn't hesitate, it's why he's able to plan what he wants to do next, and why there are some hits he needs to take if he wants to win. the fact of the matter, he's unable to die, now whether this copy has that same luxury or not isn't something he knows, but there's no way he does.
the copy is an unknown variable, something he hasn't accounted for to live this long, and with the abilities he has and his body transitioning into new ones. what is shadow to think with those assaults against him as the other doesn't let up at all.
he isn't quick enough to avoid the hit from behind that sends him up, directly into the center of the arena where the crowd oohs and aahs! at the sight!
NICE NICE
YOU CAN DO IT FINISH HIM
KILL HIM
shadow curls into a ball, spinning in thin air to recalibrate himself before unfurling and his air shoes kick into overdrive to keep him floating in the air. the back of his head, sensitive enough, isn't spared from one hand touching there and it's the wet substance that stains white gloves which gives him an idea of what damage he's suffered.
he groans in annoyance, shaking his head as blood drips down onto the ground underneath. ]
Where...
[ unfortunately for him, he's unable to stop, not because they control him and force him to fight. no, he fights on his own terms, and survival benefits him the most, desperation to keep going, and what can he expose himself to if he's dead. shadow has always traversed within the darkness, doing what he can to make it to the next day, and no matter the means; he'll do what he has to.
sometimes, it means moving through the darkness again as well as his intentions. ]
Keep fighting.
[ it's like a command, another set of chaos spears to manifest around where the other. how they're placed is to fly forward to pierce his copy into the shield, but if he manages to get out of the way...
no subject
the copy is an unknown variable, something he hasn't accounted for to live this long, and with the abilities he has and his body transitioning into new ones. what is shadow to think with those assaults against him as the other doesn't let up at all.
he isn't quick enough to avoid the hit from behind that sends him up, directly into the center of the arena where the crowd oohs and aahs! at the sight!
NICE NICE
YOU CAN DO IT FINISH HIM
KILL HIM
shadow curls into a ball, spinning in thin air to recalibrate himself before unfurling and his air shoes kick into overdrive to keep him floating in the air. the back of his head, sensitive enough, isn't spared from one hand touching there and it's the wet substance that stains white gloves which gives him an idea of what damage he's suffered.
he groans in annoyance, shaking his head as blood drips down onto the ground underneath. ]
Where...
[ unfortunately for him, he's unable to stop, not because they control him and force him to fight. no, he fights on his own terms, and survival benefits him the most, desperation to keep going, and what can he expose himself to if he's dead. shadow has always traversed within the darkness, doing what he can to make it to the next day, and no matter the means; he'll do what he has to.
sometimes, it means moving through the darkness again as well as his intentions. ]
Keep fighting.
[ it's like a command, another set of chaos spears to manifest around where the other. how they're placed is to fly forward to pierce his copy into the shield, but if he manages to get out of the way...
I WANT THE SMALLER ONE AS A PET ]