Having placed his free hand to his stomach, Guy could feel the blood from the new wound pooling into his palm. If anything, this cut was deeper than the first, and he could already tell that he had to make this quick if he was going to have any hope of surviving. If he took even one more hit due to Claude's hesitation, he knew that there was little chance of him living through this.
While he could have been angry at his friend, Guy knew better than that. It was Landel and his sick mind that had come up with this coliseum, and he was the one who was to blame for this. Guy could have yelled himself hoarse trying to damn the man who was only a matter of feet away, but he knew it was pointless. There was just no way to get through to a person like Martin Landel; he'd learned the same sort of thing from Van.
Guy really had destroyed part of Sync's mask, and while he did take some pleasure from the sight, he'd only added to his opponent's anger.
Guy did his best to pull back from the uppercut, making it so that Sync's fist only grazed his jaw, but then he was assaulted by a whole different kind of pain. It flared through his chest with a familiarity that made his arm throb. He knew what this was, and he felt his fighting spirit switch into a sort of panic as he flinched back and fell into a crouch.
The curse slot. He glanced down just as the purple light was fading, and felt his stomach twist with nausea. He'd thought he'd been long rid of that thing, and here Sync had just given it back to him. Guy took all of that fear and converted it into a controlled rage as he jumped to his feet, ignoring the way his movements were becoming sluggish from the blood loss.
"What did you just do?!" he snapped, though not loud enough to grab the attention of the other participants. He ran back toward Sync, not caring how his attacks might pull at his wounds. "Sword Rain Alpha!" he yelled, and his sword flung out at the God-General with a series of jabs that was certain to tear into Sync's chest and torso just as Guy's had been. It was about time he evened things up. Sync deserved so much more than that for what he'd just pulled.
Re: Coliseum Floor - North
While he could have been angry at his friend, Guy knew better than that. It was Landel and his sick mind that had come up with this coliseum, and he was the one who was to blame for this. Guy could have yelled himself hoarse trying to damn the man who was only a matter of feet away, but he knew it was pointless. There was just no way to get through to a person like Martin Landel; he'd learned the same sort of thing from Van.
Guy really had destroyed part of Sync's mask, and while he did take some pleasure from the sight, he'd only added to his opponent's anger.
Guy did his best to pull back from the uppercut, making it so that Sync's fist only grazed his jaw, but then he was assaulted by a whole different kind of pain. It flared through his chest with a familiarity that made his arm throb. He knew what this was, and he felt his fighting spirit switch into a sort of panic as he flinched back and fell into a crouch.
The curse slot. He glanced down just as the purple light was fading, and felt his stomach twist with nausea. He'd thought he'd been long rid of that thing, and here Sync had just given it back to him. Guy took all of that fear and converted it into a controlled rage as he jumped to his feet, ignoring the way his movements were becoming sluggish from the blood loss.
"What did you just do?!" he snapped, though not loud enough to grab the attention of the other participants. He ran back toward Sync, not caring how his attacks might pull at his wounds. "Sword Rain Alpha!" he yelled, and his sword flung out at the God-General with a series of jabs that was certain to tear into Sync's chest and torso just as Guy's had been. It was about time he evened things up. Sync deserved so much more than that for what he'd just pulled.