A Dark room.
A Ticking clock.
A Chess board on a Mahogany table.
A still air.
Arthur would sit in this very room, calculating each and every spot. He looked down at the board, the pieces glimmering in the faint light the windows seep out. He looked up to his opponent, a figure with nothing but two white lights to serve as eyes, as well as long, spindly fingers that grabbed the first piece.
pb5.
"To think I need to be in my small space. My mental landscape. To rely on this against an opponent with nothing but snake venom and carbon..." Arthur thinks to himself as he'd match the opposing piece with his own, feeling his body being stung by such punches from outside, his mind being contained and precise as he tries to figure out how to attack Adel directly.
pd3.
pd5.
pe4.
Ba6.
As they took turns moving their pieces, each of them moving one after another, slowly whittling down their forces, Arthur would visualize his thoughts in the form of such pieces, watching each and every event he can anticipate over his next action. "His movements were course. It was raw. It was as if his mind turned off and went off of pure instinct. His body can sustain as much damage as literal steel thanks to his anatomy, and supposedly even more so with his carbon-based hide resting underneath his skin. His venom can very easily wear down my energy if he gets close enough. In order for maximum efficiency, I must-"
Bxf3.
"Tch.." Arthur would see his knight he was setting up earlier be taken away, his skewed focus seeing he was left with only a few pawns and a rook, alongside his usual king. His opponent is left with a queen, a Bishop, which very close to his king, as well as two pawns that are on opposite sides, ones that haven't been moved since. By seeing the board, however, he had a perfect visualization of his plans against Adel, the two pawns representing his arms, the queen acting as his body, the bishop as the serpent. It started to click for him exactly what must be done.
Rxa7.
Qd2, Check.
Kf1.
ph5.
Rh7.
A clean sweep against the pawns, alongside a quick set of moves to turn his own into Queens, pinning down her two pieces. The Hunter gained a smirk on his face as he understood this direction. "Yes....that's the intended path." He'd mumble to himself, where the light from outside begin to leak out more and more, returning him back into reality, his inner sanctum now put away, his mind at ease. He'd look to his left to see the next hook, snapping his fingers to have the salt invade into his wounds and scrape against the carbon. Adel, noticing this, would try to retreat, but because of the large mass of salt scattered in the area, it was only for a moment of relief to evade such capture. He'd take aim of both arms, letting it invade and rip across his muscles and tendons, feeding the salt directly into the blood stream, as well as break apart the pieces of carbon that acts as his newly developed skeleton. Arthur, to his shock, found the latter to be nearly impossible, taking the assumption that such carbon is deep into his own body, it acts as a second layer of bone for the body's anatomy, more than likely able to sustain any injuries, including vitals, due to where the carbon's invaded. As such, he improvised, his focus fully onto the veins and tissue of his skin, watching it begin to crumble into flakey dust.
"The hell!?" Adel would question, trying scrape it off, yet doing so results in more and more skin being peeled off. He would try to shed such excess, but even shedding would still leave it to linger fully.
"Oh, is this your first exposure to Eczema, Serpent?" Arthur would ponder, making the Snake Charmer wide-eyed in what he's done. "Well, if I can't take a crack at your skeleton and other parts infused with your little carbon, I'll take aim for your skin and tissues over it. The more my salt invades, the more it weakens that skin. That is inflammation. That is Eczema. That...is Checkmate." He'd set up more salt within the area to become another set of blades, closing them in and chopping the Serpent's body to near ribbons, opening his mouth to allow the remaining salt on his tongue to take the shape of an arrow, firing it straight across his head.
SHIKK!!!
Headshot. The Serpent fell back, unable to continue the fight any further, his body even worse than before, the wounds being too great, his eyes now basked in his blood. Despite such pain, he still smiled, satisfied with such a fight. Arthur would walk up towards Adel and knelt down, his fingers on the man's wrists, quickly sending such salts out of his skin to remove the inflammation, as well as purifying the wounds so he wouldn't die to any excess illnesses. "I will give you this, Serpent. You are an expert in such craft as a brawler. Had you hone your skills just a smidgen more instead of focusing on raw power, perhaps you would've been an excellent bounty hunter such as I. If you die, may the Lord forgive you, for I already have..." He would let the salt heal his wounds properly as he turned his direction, staring down at the now healed demon. "Now....to PROPERLY....Kill the one responsible for everything. Took a lot longer than I thought..."
"You let him live? I thought that you hate the guy." Zazel asked, raising an eyebrow at Felks.
"Well obviously, and I still do. I despise him, even, seeing him ally with the forces of darkness instead of basking under his radiance. However, he's proven to me that he can still come back. His honor is as valiant as his tactics, even when he's the most suicidal I've seen. You demons deserve no such redemption, however. No such forgiveness. No such sympathy. You are nothing more than spineless wraiths that would rather poison humanity's head with your sin than take account for your own actions. Had I hear you speak such lies, I would cut your tongue off with my bare hands."
"Okay, You're a good person."
"Cheeky, aren't we? Remind me again how many seconds it took for you to go down?"
"Oh I'm aware that I'm at a disadvantage. I'm just not gonna cower like what you think I'm doing."
"Hmph. You'll die braver than most, then..." Arthur would grab back his cloak in mid-air and don it once more, pulling back the salt and letting it enter back into the massive bag it serves. "...I do hope you last a bit longer, though. I want to relish my time drinking your immoral sanguine and spit it back at your face."