Raphael shot towards the old man, and in just an instant the old man found himself on the ground. BOOM the shockwaves spat through the air. To say the old man didn't react, is like comparing apples and oranges. It's not that the old man didn't react, it's that he couldn't react.
"Fight me." Screamed Raphael
Magic up rooted the ground, blue flames shot Raphael off the old man's chest. Fast magic zig zags, chasing everywhere Raphael dodged. Raphael lunged in every direction, he masterfully treated the ground like flying through the air and moved through the air as though he was on the ground. The old man, wise as he is, could sense no magic power coming from Raphael, but for some reason, he could tell that his technique was meant to be used with magic.
The torrent of magic slammed against the world, carving ditches in its wake. Raphael jumped through the air dodging the magic by the skin of his teeth. The old man kept up his rampage, shrinking his laser into five smaller lasers, all of them darted into five different directions each closing in on Raphael. Raphael plunged himself into the air, as if he was letting go of life and slipping off a cliff. This gravity defying stunt sent Raphael flying high into the sky. The lasers never stopped to hesitate, slipping through the air as if to devour him from toe to head.
"Ten seconds." whispered Raphael.
With an outrages movement Raphael whizzed through the air slamming into the old man.
"Die!" Shouted Raphael with his usual deadpan expression.
Raphael lifted his fist. The old man's mind boggled, his very life flashed before his eyes.
BOOM. Raphael is sent flying.
A crimson land stained deep in blood, the man wiped his eyes, but still the crimson remains.
The massive body of a being not from there dimension, its body so vastly big filled with so many holes, each were wounds of different weapons, but the most crucial is the demon's missing head. The man tilted his hat, it's crimson, oh how the man couldn't hate the color red anymore even if he tried. All his comrades, the men he drank with the night before, the men who lived there lives by his. Thinking this the man was happy to see something but crimson, his cold salty tears turned his world blue. The body's blurred, the blood turns less than a shade of red, yet even when he blinks, even when he closes his eyes he can see it, fields of dead comrades. The worst thing, the thing that haunts him, is how beautiful the scene is, the amazingly crimson blood. Perhaps he thought he went mad, perhaps he just loves the color red.
The old man sat up, Raphael lays face first on the ground.
_________________________________________________________