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10.06.2015
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10.08.2015
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And in a rare moment, Gil would smile seeing his formation. It was a forbidden style. One that he had yet to master, but would in time. He would master them all. This was a worthy opponent, something swimming above the dregs that he seemed to be smashed next to during the tour. Blinded by gaudy distractions and food. This was a warrior.
Gil would toss his cloak to the side, letting it fly off to the side of the pool. This man deserved his focus.
He'd almost seem to blink out of existence to an eye not trained well enough to follow his movements. To the cameras, it might seem like he was appearing behind Oren with an elbow to the back of his skull.
Gil moved fast, almost fast enough that Oren wasn't able to block. He turns around, raising his left arm high as the elbow crashed down on it, causing him to buckle if just for a moment.
Oren returns with a right punch, fist encased in fire!
His eyes watched the movements signaling the punch as the counter came. His hand that wasn't used in the elbow shifted quickly to grab the flaming fist, thick leather gloves offering some protection for the moment against the heat.
"I'm familiar with your forbidden art."
He'd attempt to spin and throw Oren into the pool by his flaming fist.
Oren looks surprised as he's thrown, heading towards the water before he punches down into it, sending a flame that sends him backward and back towards the middle of the arena.
"Impressive..." he rubs his knuckles, regarding Gil.
"There aren't many that are familiar with it. Your hands are that of iron. I fought a man like that once."
As Oren jumped to avoid the blow Gilgamesh would press down with his hands and push his body to the side, like a corkscrew through the air toward the middle of the arena as Oren slammed down where he had been before.
He'd land lightly and change his stance noting the glow on the hands. His own hands would shift to a clawed formation and his legs widened their stance.
He slid back as his arms came up in a cross to shield his face from the blast. But he was still in this. And hearing Oren's words he'd offer nothing more than a smirk. Let him think what he wishes for the moment.
He'd rush forward once again, zipping across the arena before leaping into the air with a forward flip, his right foot moving to slam right at the base of his skull where it would meet the neck.
He wouldn't hesitate to take the opening while he had it. Moving in behind him he'd attempt to get his head and neck into a hold to cut off his blood flow and knock him out.
There was little point in drawing the fight out if he could avoid it.
He sinks in the choke and Oren goes to defend it. After realizing it's tightness he hands instead reach for Gil's head, where he shoots flames from his palm like a flamethrower.
His jaw sets and clenches as he feels his flesh smolder under the flames, but he'd only tighten his grip to end this faster. The pain was a weakness, and he'd not let weakness make him falter.
He weighs the situation and the fight was not worth the permanent damage to his body. So with his arms still around his neck he'd spin and try to toss the hopefully dazed and disoriented man out of the ring!
He was Tekken's disciple after all. He would be a poor one if he couldn't withstand it. And yet the man was still clinging on. Impressive in its own right, but from what he'd seen it was all the man could do to stay in the fight. He didn't anticipate this being a real threat.
Once more Gilgamesh would rush in, ever on the offensive. This time his hand shifting back to a clawed formation as he ducked down and shot the hand upward for Oren's ribs, looking to grip them and squeeze down on them as his Master had done to him not so long ago.