Delilah was sitting on a park bench in the heart of New York City when she heard a voice.
Delilah, you've been called to the Celestial Tournament.
It was her battle spirit that called out to her. "Fine, let's go!" She began to glow as she shot into the sky and faded away.
She arrived to find herself in a grand place, one filled with stars, constellations, nebulas, and black holes. The ring was made of a mineral called Celestial Stone, harder and stronger than any substance in the universe. That's when two others also appeared. Delilah wore a pair of black leggings, a pink skirt and a v-neck shirt with a jacket.
A celestial tournament. Events like these always stressed Jason out, causing him to instinctively reach in his pockets for his lighter and pack of cigarettes. The fickle flicker of the small flame as the lighter ignited, the smell of smoke entering the nose as he lit the cigarette, the faint, yet brilliant light of the dancing flame at the butt of the cigarette as it slowly faded and revealed burning ash. The combination of these three things instilled a calmness in Jason that he found impossible to find anywhere else. Some would call it a routine. Some would call it an addiction. Jason simply called it having a smoke, and left it at that.
Eyes half-shut, he exhaled, smoke leaving his mouth in a smooth stream that ran down his body, dancing across his long, purple jacket that covered as much of his church attire as he could. His gaze locked on the test before him. The test of his redemption. A test to become a better thinker. To become a better fighter. A better person. The choices that lay in front of him were the very causes for his anxiety. He shuddered, running a hand across his already ruffled hair. He knew he looked like a mess before he even left the house this morning, when he had his coffee and was calm. Now he knew he had to look like death itself.
If he looked as bad as he thought he did, maybe he wouldn't have to take this test today. Was that pity in their eyes he saw? Perhaps. A look of disbelief? Possible. What would come next would be empty words of false concern and a longing gaze in his direction to give guilty charity if they were those kind of strangers. Or maybe they were the kind of strangers to not give a fuck. That was fine. He'd prefer that. He didn't give a fuck, so why should they? It'd make it easier for him to stop playing the game of moral high ground out of guilt and for a chance of redemption.
He put away his lighter, his cigarette being held by his teeth. Skip the bullshit formalities. Fuck chivalry. The corners of his lips moved up to bring a rather psychotic smile to his face, a mask to hide his true intentions. He started a slow walk towards the woman in front of him, drawing one of the hook swords from his back. He didn't say a single word. Wasn't even looking at her. The smoke from his cigarette drifted into the wind that fluttered his jacket as the gap between the Mystics became shorter and shorter.
As the new man walked forward towards Delilah, she flinched a little. "Eh!" He walked slowly towards her, but he wasn't the only one there. "Alright, let's do this!" She placed her hand out as a bright white light emerged next to her as she summoned her spirit partner. "Come to me, Ganymede!" A figure appeared, a beautiful woman with long flowing blue hair and blue eyes, a belly shirt that was skin tight and a white skirt that hung to her knees.
"You called?" she asked.
Delilah pointed frantically to the man walking towards her. "Him, it's him."
"Seriously," she said, "you can be a coward sometimes."
Delilah's mouth was ajar at this comment, she felt sad as she hung her head low. "I know..."
"Well," Ganymede said, "let's do this." Delilah nodded her head with enthusiasm as she held her hands out as Ganymede placed her arms together. On her back was a large gourd filled with heavy water. The water in the air began to form before them as it then shot out towards the man with the intent to do damage. They flew at him from the sides, like tendrils.
A flank, but one he could see coming. He kept walking as the tendrils came closer and closer. He wouldn't let them stop his advance. They weren't even in his way, after all. He held the palm of his hand out behind him and waited until the water was just about to touch him. The roar of a bursting flame erupted from his hand, and he was sent flying towards the woman and her spirit partner, the water tendrils crashing into each other behind him.
His feet dragged across the ground, bringing him to a stop in front of the spirit partner. With his free hand, he grabbed the back of his jacket, and then threw his sword in the air. With a fierce pull of his jacket, Jason removed it from his person and tossed it at the spirit partner's face, blocking line of sight. Hand directed toward the ground, he let loose another blast of fire, sending him into the sky, where he caught his sword in midair. He swung a free hand downwards.
"Avaritia," Jason muttered as a group of oily frogs came raining down towards the Mystic in the wake of a brilliant flash of light. Paying attention. That's what it was all about. It one paid attention, one would see that the frogs weren't even aimed at the Mystic at all. Had no intention of hitting her. She was surrounded by their landings, and if one paid attention, one would see that they weren't just covered with any oil. The oil was black, thick, spreading in the form of a splash from each landing. This oil surrounded her in droplets, puddles and may have even managed to touch her, should she not practice the necessary caution. If one paid attention, they'd understand that it was obvious that the oil would combust, given the push of a single flame.
With the next swing of his hand, Jason summoned a ball of fire that moved towards the oily ground. That ball of fire split itself into several smaller balls of fire, raining down as if they were bullets fired from a sawed off shotgun. Suffice it to say, they came in contact with the oil on the ground, and explosions went off like popping popcorn. There was, however, one more thing one needed to pay attention to. In front of the spirit partner sat a glowing sphere of light. It sat right in the position of where Jason had launched himself into the air. Before the flames had even hit the oil, that sphere of light exploded into a wave of flames that aimed to envelop the spirit partner in a fiery sensation of death.
Jason watched the explosion from the air, freefalling. The sound of the explosions, the show of dazzling lights, the rush of heat, and the aftermath that left everything in flames... words couldn't describe the sensation he felt. Through his feelings of awe, he lost sight of his intent. Although being in the air was the perfect way to watch what was happening before him, seeing if his opponents made it out was his number one priority. It'd tell him how he should get down. Dead and not moving? He could keep falling at this pace rather peacefully. Alive and breathing? More fire never hurt anyone.