The two faced off against one another in the clearing, with the rest of the crew not too far behind. Intently staring they were from their positions, ready to analyze the full extent of Cyrus' abilities and all that he had learned combat wise over his short life. At one end stood Gabriel, clad in what could only be considered armor that turned him into a steel giant.
From head to toe he was covered, with only a horizontal slit about 4 inches wide that ran along the length of his helmet as well as several small holes around the mouth to allow for easy breathing and ventilation. On his left pauldron was the Imperial Leo, a proud massive beast with its large mane and outstretched claws, crossed with the symbol for the Legionaries, two swords crossed behind a skull. On his right was a series of chains, each engraved with the imperial motto.
Cyrus noticed this and a piece of important information came to mind,
"Each chain signifies a level of proficiency for Legionaries. It is meant as a way to display their might, honor, as well as to easily decide the chain of command in the event of a fallen commander. He has… 4 of them. Hmm, for each grade of Legionnaire has a different color of chain. White, red, purple and then black.. his is purple.." then realization dawned upon Cyrus as he understood that the 4 chains meant he was dealing with someone who was many times stronger than he was.
"Before a member of the order becomes fully fledged they use white, then red to signify they are sufficiently 'blooded', and then purple as an honor for its expensive color as well. Each of that tier is 10 of the previous... If I were to calculate my strength in terms of how they do I would probably be equal to 5 white/red chains at best." Cyrus sucked in a breath of cold air, or at least the air around him now suddenly seemed quite frigid after his newfound realization.
Redundant as he now knew it was, Cyrus asked anyways "Are you sure we should be using our full gear, real swords included?" He then beckoned towards himself, with his gifted sword to one side and his mask to the other, unlike his opponent he was wearing a light tunic and travelling pants he had found in his sack.
"Indeed, this is necessary to see your full potential as well as to allow you to go all out without fear of hurting me. Like I am now, there is no way for you to harm me no matter what you try" said Gabriel, with full confidence.
From this confidence, along with his sheer weight of presence, even the now battle-hardened Cyrus found it difficult to not be slightly intimidated. He could only imagine what Gabriel would be like when he was on the battlefield… Steeling himself, Cyrus put on his familiar black half-mask and drew his now beloved sword. He took a new stance, with the sword across his shoulder instead of the familiar two handed defensive one he had learned and used for so long and signaled that he was ready.
Gabriel, who was watching Cyrus go through his pre battle ritual, noticed that the moment the black mask and sword were equipped and drawn, his small opponent went from a serene and ambivalent man to an unsheathed blade. Cold, collected and ever ready to shed the blood of his enemies was what Cyrus emanated from himself. Even his heartbeat, which had sped up when Cyrus was initially pressured, had calmed to a steady beat.
Gabriel responded in kind with his own stance, hefting himself a longsword from its long sheath before taking hold of it with two hands. He brought the blade in front of himself and downwards, facing towards Cyrus' feet. With his odd stance taken, the fight was ready to begin.