Extradition [Alex, Metatron]

Hell yeah. Taking his opponent off balance for even a split second meant Alex wasn't impossibly out of his league here, and that was all he needed to know. He wasn't the fastest combatant, nor the sharpest, but he was never one to accept he'd lost until there was no other possibility. Every cero that struck him acclimated his body to the sensation more acutely, and his own familiarity with hollow energy meant he was pretty good at keeping it at bay.

That didn't mean the impact itself was anything to sneeze at though. Earth shot away as the impact left a veritable crater below the combatants, but Alex simply remained, seemingly unfazed even as blood now leaked down his face and he felt several of his bones get close to cracking from the force. If anything, his expression seemed almost amused, a cocksure grin cutting its way across his features in spite of the horrible position he was in.

Metatron had committed a lot to that blow, enough that Alex knew he had an opening. He'd have to make it count, too, no more of this testing. He had to kill this guy, or he had to at least make enough of an opening that he could force a draw. Winning wasn't quite seeming like it was in the cards for him. His left fist grew white hot, scorching even his own body, and shot forward like a bullet to Metatron's graciously exposed midsection.

Alex didn't know of anyone alive that he thought could take a blow like that lying down. He sure as fuck couldn't have, and he was just about the toughest guy he knew when it came to taking hits.

As expected with it, striking this human brought with it much resistance; but Metatron wasn't disappointed after his fists came crashing down upon his foe's head, for progress had been made in the execution. Yet even this bone-crunching attack didn't wipe that damnable smile off the human's face, filling Metatron with holy wrath.

Heaven's fury was quickly interrupted as a heavy, powerful, hot blow met Metatron's abdomen, shattering his defenses and causing black cracks to form in every direction with Alex's fist at their epicenter. Such pain had never been felt by the Zealot who by now had been sent staggering back, his mind momentarily overcome with shock at the punch his enemy had delivered upon him. It was as if Hell itself had struck him. He couldn't even form words.

But the initial shock would not last forever. Though still reeling from the damage dealt to his body, Metatron was able to refocus his mind. He raised his head and stared down Alex, though his masked face was as inscrutable as ever. Without a word his right hand lifted and in his palm a swirling black sphere of Reishi formed, blanketing the area under a tremendous weight. Then, without any fanfare, the Cero Oscuras was released close-range in a horrific wave of darkness not Heavenly in any way shape or form.

Fuck.

Alex had held in there well. He'd pushed himself hard here. Hell, he'd even had some hope that maybe he'd be able to win this. But it was the same thing that always seemed to happen when he got into fights, the same thing he knew even Nel could do, not that he'd ever be mad at her about it. When these fights started up, everyone he ever faced had way more to pull from than he did. He never had some second secret method, never had the ability to pull from whatever was deep down there.

Well. Not without losing control, anyway. But he didn't like to do that. The cero that cascaded over him was enough to make a normal man turn to dust, and even Alex knew he couldn't handle another of these hitting him point blank. He needed to think fast, think smart, and put those survival instincts to use like he hadn't in a while now. Hollow, at least he knew plenty about this.

Clenching his fist, prepping for pain way worse than the cero, Alex willingly reached up and cut his chest wide open, moving with the direction of the cero as hollow energy cascaded into the wound. The ever-present spark of hollow corruption in his own soul answered in kind, a gift from his wife that all too quickly grew in intensity. Before long, the bone-like fragments of a forming mask coalesced, piercing out from Alex's body and washing away his usual spiritual signature.

Walking back home was gonna be a bitch in this sorry state, but for now he'd just have to lay low. Besides, that cero hadn't been a joke. With how far he'd flown, it hopefully seemed like he got turned to dust.