A Blade Set to Whetstone[Atlas]

What was the Vastimian way?

It was choosing the path of more resistance, to openly accept the burdens which where required to see your goals and ambitions brought to fruition. So it had been ordained by forces higher than Atlas d'al Decter he would find himself in a precarious situation. The outside observers saw it, as he did, that he had walked right into his enemy trap. Some muttered that the general had made a foolish ploy, that he had gone mad. But among an isolated crowd of soldiers, among those who truly knew the mind of the warhound they simply saw what had made him a modern military legend.

The unwavering courage to step into the lions mouth, throwing caution to the wind in pursuit of something greater. That by giving his blood and flesh he would secure a victory, one which may not be seen initially. But it was what was needed, a blood sacrifice. Thus five blades seeking to embed themselves in his skin would plummet downwards with breakneck speeds, two would completely go wild from two gunshots earlier. But the three which seemed intent on making his face their sheath would find their mark.

In a grizzly show of stalwart resolve he would finish the strike, before a spray of crimson blood would fly into the air. The three blades grinding against stone, cracking such material, before their razor sharp points would slicing- no that wouldn't be accurate. As the world witnessed the blades grind against skin, tearing the flesh in a grotesque way. Such was an example of the durability the man had, that he could see still might've been a miracle. But the kunai would fall limp onto the ground now that his face had stopped them.

A gasp would be heard through the crowd as the warhound seemed to stare with a focused look towards his opponent. His head tilting forward as three thin jagged lines ran across his natural eye. Mere droplets of blood dripping from the unclean cut, which no doubt should be deeper for the average human. But that did not take it's grizzly nature way, nor did it stop the force which was the man.

His emperor eye had gained all the information he needed in that moment, he had sacrificed his skin to gain some insight into his ability. As he processed what the ability ways he could finally decipher this was not merely disturbing the kinetic force objects, but completely slowing or accelerating the objects. As if in some type of animated suspension; meaning that he was dealing with an entirely new caliber of a powers. A man who could turn time into his weapon, a man which seemed to be imploring it decisively well.

The mind of the general would be able to calculate his next course of actions with this. He could maneuver, he could position, and he could create a dilemma.

But for now he needed to act.

A single step to the left was taken, before his entire body would follow as he completely a sideways roll using the kicked up dust as the means to cover him. From the force of their strikes, and his own earth quake earlier, a small dust storm had finally formed. It was enough to at the very least obscure some movements as Decter would flex his fingers feeling the stone begin to rip away from his body. Instead they would begin to gather along his hand as he moved creating a rotating circular shield.

He had a gambit, one which would require for him to perhaps do the impossible. A technique he had never truly performed to it's fullest. One which should be impossible due to his current bodily failure. He lacked an arm, and with one preoccupied with the alternating stone defense his options where limited.

Unless he was willing to place all his belief in the simple idea of the Vastimian way. To accept the most direct, the most difficult path, to see your ambitions realized. A broken general would never be able to serve Vastime, one who operated at less than peak capacity. In this moment, Atlas felt something other than pride- he felt something other than fatalism. He felt the encroaching weight of his mortality, that unless he succeeded in this technique he would never be able to serve his purpose.

Thus it had been decided.

A sequence of events would transpire, as the world would witness something bold. In one hand was a circular shield of stone as Atlas stepped out of the smoke, appearing as if he was about to perform another sprint with the shield acting as his defense. He expected some form of Kunai to strike him, but was pleasantly surprised to see that Tora had expected to hit him where he once was. Instead, there was a clear path in front of him allowing him to begin to move at supernatural speeds his shield raised to meet any Kunai in his path.

But he would not strike Tora, instead he would pivot with such force and speed that he felt a muscle tear beginning to happen in his legs. Such was the price of the gate of carnage, instead he would dart to the right as Tora would catch a glimpse of his eyes. In his simple hazel eye there would be the brief flickers of a flame, before Atlas would completely disappear to the human eye. For Tora, he would see that Atlas was performing a technique not to different from his shunpo instead but instead of simply high speed movement he would see a trailing flame- as Atlas himself became one with fire. Before beelining straight towards Tora, this being of flame incarnate.

However, as he became physical once more he still held the stone shield. Surely he meant to crash into Tora?

But instead what would transpire would be something that would shock the onlookers, as the warhound held a look of the utmost conviction on his face. As from behind the shield a arm would reveal it's self, fingers curled tight into a fist. But this was no ordinary arm, instead it was completely engulfed in flames- no that would be wrong. The arm it's self was made of flame and stone, swirling with power as Atlas gritted his teeth as the appendage would seek to slam against Tora's head and smash him towards the ground.

A single phrase would be uttered.

"Gate of Gravity, release."

In the moments before impact, Atlas would skip straight to his final gate. As all at once he felt his senses heighten, the steam from his skin growing thicker, and his skin gaining an almost leathery look. But what was most keenly felt by the world was the ten times increase to his weight. The ground cratering from the mere force of his steps and weight, as he felt his muscles begin to tear and scream in raw agony at the strain he had inflicted. But as the fist was being brought down the world would witness Atlas seldomn used techniques.

At the apex of the swing, the ethereally augmented arm would release in one cacophonous roar the gathered powers of Atlas. As a swirling vortex of fire, stone, and kinetic force would erupt seeking to floor the shinigami.

Alternating Stone Defense:

Blinding Travel:

4th Gate:

Burning Gravity Smash: