Colors of Remnant

On the surface, Aster appeared to be nothing but eager. A broad, beaming, smile was spread across his face, and his eyes glinted at the prospect of a pitched bout against someone that wasn't Grimm or aggressive wildlife. However, beneath that veneer, a hint of nervousness lurked. He'd already lost a match, after all. True, it was to Vlithra, and it had been a close call. But a loss was a loss, and a prideful man like Aster couldn't stand to stomach another. So, when he stood on stage with his axe gripped tight, he hoped nobody noticed how white his knuckles had turned.

The deafening roar of the crowd washed over him, the force of it feeling like a tidal wave as those cheers crashed against him. The weight of their expectations... it almost felt like he couldn't bear it. But, like with many of his doubts, Aster pushed it to the back of his mind. There was a fight ahead - someone to pit his strength and skills against. He couldn't afford to let his focus slip. There'd be time enough in the showers to have an existential crisis, and break down into an exhausted heap.

With a steely glare, he looked forward, waiting with bated breath for his opponent to appear.

After the last few days on nonstop crazy crap Castor was well due for a good nap, so after some searching around school ground finally found some decent shade away from the all the usual crowd and noise of the other students. Somewhere where he could finally close his eyes, get some sleep and not worry about anything else. At least until a sudden ringing cracked and broke his peace and quiet, Castor at first tried to ignore it at first. He was sure it was another teacher telling him about another missed class or something equally unimportant. Whatever they thought was so important to bug him now could wait until later…or at least that’s what he thought as another series of somehow even more persistent and annoying rings came through waking him from his slumber again.

Against his better judgement he decided to see it who was calling him, when he realized it was One of the few people that willing hangs out with him Castor begrudgingly decided to check the messages his friend sent him. After a few moments of reading through the various colorful ways Vee called him an idiot Castor finally got the main point of his friend’s messages regarding the tournament match…. his match to be exact.

And a sense of imminent dread and sudden realization of how badly he goofed set in, rushing towards the amphitheater Castor. He expected a large among of students to be there already most likely impatiently waiting for him to lose or at the least for his ass to get kicked. He was after all something of a delinquent to most of the student body within Beacon, though that never really bothered him. What annoyed him though was the sea’s worth of people between him and the actual amphitheater itself. Once people realized who he was a small portion soon started to jeer his name making their dislike of him clear and evident but none of them would do more than talk trash or even lay their hands on him. After all he was far from a good student but not even the staff would tolerate a fight in this situation, secondly Castor was confident he could take any of them on and make his way to his match with time to spare…but decided he didn’t need to spend an other month in detention…again So, Castor marched on through the crowd doing his best to feed off their negativity with the intention of winning just to spite them all.

Once he finally reached the arena with his opponent waiting for him, the crowd would get even louder than before in anticipation of the match. He shrugged at the crowd reaction with little care before turning to his opponent “Sorry bout the wait, but I’m finally here.” Castor would fetch his weapons from his pocked and quickly put them on, His Weapon is lot older and simpler compared to most weapon huntsman used nowadays but its strength was nothing to scoff as the weapon sparked to life with electricity “let get this show stared!” He yelled out to both his foe and audience alike,

At first, Aster's focus was solely on his opponent, his eyes honing in on them with a brutish, yet somehow analytical, gaze. But, as the jeering grew, he glanced up at the crowd, eyeing them with no small degree of suspicion. He didn't know quite who Castor was, nor what kind of a reputation they'd garnered - but, if he was to be frank, he didn't really care. He was only there for one thing, and that was to fight until one of them dropped. Unless Castor did something untoward during their bout, Aster didn't think it any of his business what happened outside of the ring.

"Thought you'd never ask."
He didn't have much to say - not that there was much to say in the first place. Just from looking at Castor, Aster had the feeling that their weapons would be doing most of the talking for them. White-knuckled and with his jaw clenched in anticipation, Aster kept his hand on his axe's haft, waiting for that klaxon to ring out. The seconds seemed to take hours as they ticked down, the counter above them slowly nearing that fateful moment. His breath rattled in his lungs and was ragged as it left his throat. The waiting, perhaps, was the most painful part.

But, with the blaring call of the klaxon, the waiting ended - and the fight began.

Aster drew his axe with blinding speed, and with speed, he intended to blind Castor. He pulled the trigger, with the barrel aimed squarely at Castor. A great burst of flame leapt from his weapon - Fire Dust, packed into a shell to unleash a great flash and flame when triggered. As brilliant as it was hot, he hoped Castor would be caught in it while he surged forward, brandishing his axe as he bore down upon his opponent. With a mighty roar, Aster swung down, his axe falling like a guillotine.

If nothing else it was clear his opponent seemed to have been waiting for a while, but Castor did appreciate how they were willing to go straight the point. Even with a glance of their size, Castor already knew they would have the advantage in strength and reach. As they both waited for the bell to finally ring everyone in the arena could feel the tension in the air as every second felt slower than the last. In the back of head Castor wanted to jump the gun and unleash his summon for a strong dust attack like his previous match…but knew using something that aura intensive in the beginning of the match was a large reason why he loses said match. Castor would have to play this fight smarter than he would usually prefer.

The moment the match officially started Castor made a mad dash towards his foe, who seemed to have responded the same way brandishing their axe and unleashing of flash of light towards Castor momentarily blinding. The bright light took Castor by surprise, his foe’s speed also took him by surprise as well, but Castor felt confident he could outpace his larger opponent. His vision slowly returning but still greatly blurred Castor could barely make out the shape of his foe racing towards with a swing of their ace. Already having messed up this early in the fight Castor figured gambling with a risky play was the best way to get out of this mess. Instead of trying to regain space between the two he instead chooses to pick up his pace and closed the gap between them doing his best to intercept the incoming weapon, Castor has both of Cetus gloves collide with one another, hoping to catch the axe between his hands. The idea wasn’t to keep the axe in place, but to provide a momentary distraction for Castor to land his true attack…

As the axe of his foe rain down upon him, Castor throws his hands in a pincer like motion Crashing against the side of the axe head forcing both his hands and his foe’s weapon to bounce back for a moment halting their exchange if only for the briefest of moments. Enough time for Castor to ignore the brief numb sensation of his hands and throw his entire body weight into the air attempting to firmly plant both of his feet into his would-be foe’s chest with a improvised dropkick.

Aster swung his axe down with force enough to split stone, but even with the light blinding Castor, he wasn’t fast enough. The axe’s blade was caught before it had a chance to cleave into his foe, and repulsed before he had a chance to wrench the thing free. Silently, he cursed, and clenched his teeth. He needed to charge his Semblance, and fast - he couldn't let something like that happen again. Such thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind in short order, however, knocked out of him by a dropkick to the torso.

He grunted, only barely managing to block the brunt of it. Even then, the full force of Castor's strike sent him backwards - but not enough to provide more than a split second's opening. His feet planted again, Aster barrelled forward, once more closing the distance, and swung again.

Castor had proven too quick for strength alone to hack it, and too agile for wide, arcing, blows to be used to their fullest, so Aster elected to use another tool in the berserker's arsenal. This time, he threw out shorter, sharper, strikes, aiming to overwhelm through relentless ferocity, rather than sheer brute force. Over and over, he cut at Castor, probing for a weakness while he tried to chip away at his Aura.

Either by luck, timing or a combination of the two Castor was able to intercept the oncoming swing of his foe’s blade and landed his counterattack as a bonus. Firmly planting his feet against his opponent’s chest should create some space and allow for Castor to come up with a proper plan of attack…or at least is what he though would be the case. As Castor felt the resistance against his attack as his feet made contact that it would take to bring Aster down. But enough about that as his foe quickly sprung into action almost immediately changing the attack patterns with his weapon Castor quickly found himself back on his feet doing his best to avoid the axe’s steel bite with barely an inch between Aster’s weapon hitting air or digging into his flesh. It was not the first time Castor found himself in this kind of situation, many times people wanted to finish the fight as soon as possible but he was different. Castor preferred to make a show of the fights if he could entertain himself and awe the audience around him either with his own moves and style of fighting or with the use of his semblance. So, despite the still linger effects done to his eyes Castor would avoid most of the of Aster’s flurry of blows with several of them at most grazing against his shoulders and in particularly close to giving him a “shave.”

More importantly while the strikes Aster was throwing weren’t always landing and doing significant damage Castor felt in a battle of attrition his foe would have the upper hand, not only that but we are so much unanswered pressure from his attacks Castor could easily be backed into a corner and sent out of bounds if he wasn’t careful. But simple brute force would not suffice he would have to be more precise in his strikes…

Castor Would throw himself backwards instantly making a small bit of space between him and Aster, not much but just large enough that Aster may have to resort to wider swings in hopes of catching his elusive pray. If his foe would fall for his trap and rush in Castor instead of falling back to defensive would instead go on the offensive once more this time he would get a portion of his weapon, specifically the band the goes around his knuckles and with a quick twist and flick sent it flying towards its intended target. What was he aiming for? was it the eyes to impair vision? No was it the weapon again? No Instead Castor slung his old knuckles duster for the one place any person would value more than anywhere else.

The family jewels, even with aura coating he figured a sudden jolt to their of all places would be enough to stun Aster, long enough for Castor to rush in low like a blur, catch the falling weapon and rocket upwards with a fierce right uppercut aimed square for Aster’s jawline added with the extra kick the electric dust buried within his weapon the impact was sure to leave a mark and impression.