Lance only saw the Devil for a moment. But it was there before it was ripped apart in that final blow. As Ronin began his Iaido and the earth began to crack, there was an immediate crack of flame; a response so reactive that no other man in Lance's life could've held such a reaction speed. The blade sheared through something horribly demonic. The being still shared Lucien's coat and mask, but it was ripped, torn and cut through in some places. Not from anything from the outside, but on the inside: growths of keratin and other bone tissue jutted from beneath and broke free from the reinforced leather, making Lucien's body look like some kind of torturer from Dante Alighieri's reimagining of Hell. His wings were more of a demonized reptile's than avian, still bearing some feathers but now resembling a tormented wyrm of some kind. Barbed tendrils tipped with bioluminescent blades, fangs and jaws ripped free from his back between the two wings. The Angel-Arms were replaced with thick skeletal limbs held together by burning ligaments of flesh, two on each side of Lucien. Each ended in a crescent blade like Charon's scythes, the infamous Ferryman's paddles of Greek mythology. And his sword... His sword was corrupted by polyps and fleshy growths that seemed to have mouths of their own. Near the tip erupted a large serpentine creature that twirled itself around the blade and milled around Lucien, splitting into more flesh serpents like a deformed hydra. Of course, this was all before Lance cut it in half with a single strike. The demonized version of Lucien was obliterated before anything else could form on its body, cut in half by his blow. Just as it began its death screech and turned to the same rotting corpse as the other did, Lucien seemed to unwrap from the miasma a few meters to the right of Lance's warpath. A massive hunk of flesh was taken out of his lower left torso, nearly bisecting him if not for the empty Angel-Arm holding him together while his flesh weakly knit itself enough to at least stand without falling apart. His left wing was slashed neatly in half, bone broken away from flesh as it continued to burn. The left Angel-Arm was also cut off a bit before the elbow, creating a fountain of viscera and fire in its wake. He was in a stance similar to Lance's: an Iaido ready to release a storm of death. Lucien didn't perform his nearly as fast as Lance did - he would kill himself in his current condition - but it was quick nonetheless. The sword draw was only close enough to perform a draw cut upon releasing the Iaido, which would only cause a grazing slash that wouldn't cut deep at all. But his aim was not for the depth of the wound. The Angel-Arm fused with Lucien's as he released the sword from its mechanical scabbard, slashing so quick through the air that it rends the very hydrogen in the air and creates a wave of devouring cobalt flame from the slash right towards Ronin. He doesn't stop there either: as if by routine, he draws his revolver and fires a trail mix point blank at Ronin. The first 2 shots were dragon's breath shells aimed towards both his forearms where his seals were, the remaining 4 a trail mix of shotgun shells and colt bullets fired towards his upper chest in the off hand. With every shot came another slash. With every slash came another shot. And the world burned around them. The inferno ensured that an attempt at illusions would result in any other copies of Lance being burnt by the flames unless he fled the battle in a matter of fractals. And neither of them had the energy to do that. Had Ronin's final attack delivered a blow that would hinder his strain's regeneration, he would not be able to continue his storm of attacks.

[i] Lance blinked once..lucky for him eye seals didn't take much effort to release. His left eye swirled in a pooling mass of Purples and blacks, shadowy energy falling from his eye and down his cheek. A vortex erupted in the air, a swirling mass that swallowed flame and bullets alike. There was another part to that seal, but Lance didn't feel it necessary. Not after what was happening to Lucien's body. From the lower half of his torso, markings had begun to crawl over his skin. Almost like the markings were alive, they flowed across his body unnaturally.. Kanji, one symbol. The same one painted onto Lance's hilt. He pointed the blade at Lucien, his voice reduced to a raspy growl, like stone on stone. [/i] "This, is the Muramasa. My [i]Youtou.[/i] A blade that has taken so many lives, it is only sated by more blood. The Kanji on your skin is a death curse, one that is older than both you and me, and most other beings. A curse that gets stronger after each life it has taken, and is triggered once it has wounded a person. Once activated..it can't be broken." [i] The way Lance fought, the almost visible weight of the countless deaths on his shoulders..it wasn't hard to guess how strong that curse was. What Lance didn't tell him was the flip side of the coin, but that wasn't necessary right now. Nor did he feel like talking any more than he had to.[/i] "We can end this right now Lucien. One ending, we both walk out of here alive. The second, neither of us does." [i] Even though Lance liked to think he had Lucien caught, there was no doubt in his mind Lucien could kill him if he chose, even if it meant dying.[/i] "I'll even buy you a drink for your troubles." [i] Lance says with a half-hearted grin.[/i]

Lucien's wings and Angel-Arms begin to burn away into the air, heralding the departing scents of burning flesh and brimstone. He drops to a knee and stabs his flaming sword in the ground as he lets go of his revolver and its spent casings. He struggles with one hand to weakly remove his gas mask, breathing in fresh air and gasping as if he had been breathing something else in that entire time. "If this were more than a duel of admittance and a duel for the sakes of our loved ones... You know which route I would take. However, that is not the case." When he mentioned "for the sakes of our loved ones," he seemed to be meaning something rather odd. As if he referred to the harm of their well-being in relation to the fact of people like Lance and himself walking around... But it mattered not. "I hope that we may resolve this one day, Lance May. The Tribals had a tradition back in my home: two warriors who each bore great skill would both be spared, regardless of who is the victor. Death would only prove as a waste of prowess."

[i] Lance nodded. If they were actually fighting for their loved ones, he would've pulled out all the stops..even though he'd come a lot closer to that point in this fight than he had..well, ever. Lance bows to Lucien, before throwing the Muramasa into the air, it disappearing mid-flight. The Kanji on Lucien's body receded with its absence.[/i] "I agree. I feel like we would both serve as a great loss to the world. If not better Martyrs." [i] He says with a half smile.whatever the hell that meant. [/i]

"On the contrary, our deaths would only prove as great losses to each other. Our deaths would not be Martyring - they would be great reliefs for the world. We are demons you and I, existing as a self-appropriated 'necessary evil' to kill other demons. In fact, I never believed that we truly kill demons. We devour them, nourishing ourselves with their sins." Lucien's face was comforted in a wince, not in physical pain but in a recalled sense of grief that was hinted at. It seemed that his views contrasted greatly with Lance's. "We are monsters, damned to roam these lands with bloodthirsty eyes. Call it what you will, but it is all the same in the end. What did it show you, Ronin? What did that... Demented angel show you?" He was obviously referring to Jon and Ashley being held in Lucien's Angel-Arms earlier. But he talked as if he did not know of their existence - much less captivity in his hands.

"Call it what you will, despite whether the world would benefit or not, I don't plan on marking my calendar anytime soon." [i] Lance said a smirk, and then flinched as he was asked Lucien's question.[/i] "Two of perhaps only a handful of reasons I still have the will to live." [i] He says quietly, and it was true. His kids were one of the few reasons that he tired to be Lance May, and the Ronin. [/i]

"That is what this demon, this Youtou, does. It doesn't create illusions for the sake of unnerving one's opponent. Its snarl sees if you too are a monster fit for satiating itself." One thing of note was that Lucien constantly referred to his other form and blade as 'it,' a word underlined by his tone of distaste for even mentioning it. "Once it brings you down to its pit, you either reveal yourself as a monster as well or stay true to humanity as you would before. Never have I seen one who performs the latter - after all if you or anyone else were any different, I wouldn't be forced to use the Angel at all. Rarely do men send monsters into blood rages after wounding them, for that is the job for demons and beasts fighting each other."

"Sometimes the world needs a demon." [i] Lance said quietly, almost like he was quoting someone from long ago.[/i] "If there were no monsters willing to do their job, we'd have a shortage of men and plenty of demons. The world's lucky they have half-decent ones like me." [i] It was clear Lance owned up to his true nature, being a demon. But he obviously didn't concern Lucien as such.[/i] "Or maybe not."

"There is no good demon, Ronin. We make up ur excuses and justify ourselves for whatever reason with our own strength. We deny our beastly nature - demons and monsters are one and the same, after all. The greatest trick the Devil played on mankind was tricking them into thinking he didn't exist." Lucien said that last last sentence quietly with a slight smile, as if only understanding a joke he himself made. "Because I know that if there weren't any others demons for you to feed on yourself, you'd be driven mad and devour the ones you love the most," he says with not more than a solemn whisper heard by both of them, "the only thing keeping you from that being the fine line of ideals. But when everything you value is wiped away and destroyed, those ideals mean nothing. Think about another demon you think you have vanquished in the past, Ronin. Another monster devoured for your hungry blades. Were they always such a monster? Perhaps they were like you in another life, convinced their inner demons could be used for good."

"Even God thought Lucifer beautiful before he cast him out heaven." [i] Lance says with a smile, like that was a joke only he was privy too.[/i] "I suppose I am a demon Lucien. But the ones that I've vanquished never had a sliver of good in them. I believe our monsters are born within us from the day we come into existence, that they are innate."

"Yet if they are innate, then that is to imply that people like us have been consumed by them. You are as much a demon as your children are still innocent parts of mankind. And I beg of you, Ronin, never let your kin turn into a monster. If there's one thing we can agree on, it's that our bloody fate is ours to carry alone."

"You got that right.." [i] Lance muttered, but then looked back up at Lucien, an intensity to his eyes.[/i] "Tell me Lucien, what do you believe makes someone a man, and not a monster?"

Lucien met Lance's look with a look of slight pain hidden beneath his fiery hazel irises. "If you give a man a blade he asks himself, 'How can I defend myself with it?' If you give a monster a blade he asks, "How can I kill people more efficiently with such a tool?" Those who are monsters are men who have submitted to demons - their own, Youtou and so on - and obtained a power because of such. We make deals with our own Devils, Ronin. I don't mean demons literally either, if anything I speak mostly figuratively. I once knew a man from my home from a group who sought to call themselves the 'high class' of society by teaching themselves and following the ideals of Old-Earth existentialism. But much like his brethren he was corrupted, perverted by his own desires. I know him very well - he tried to kill me, after all. A man's own love runs so deep within him that, when it is twisted into hatred, it becomes all that he knows." That last part seemed pained for him to say; a man reflecting on the long winter of his past.