Alastor struck first, thrusting the microphone staff forward like a spear. Brown swung his obsidian staff around in a wide arc, meeting the blow with a loud, metallic CLANG. The fiery edge of Brown's sword cut through the air, forcing Alastor to leap backward, his sharp red bow tie shifting as he landed gracefully. Alastor laughed—a sound like an old radio broadcast spinning out of control—and brought his staff down toward the ground, sending a wave of red energy rippling across the floor. Brown planted his boots, holding the obsidian block out in front of him. The dark block absorbed the brunt of the energy wave, scattering purple particles into the air. Taking advantage of the smoke, Brown surged forward, bringing his heated sword down in a powerful overhead strike. Alastor crossed his arms, blocking the blade with the shaft of his microphone just in time, sparks flying as the red and orange energies clashed in a brilliant display of pixels and static. The impact sent a shockwave across the grid, forcing both fighters back. Alastor skidded across the floor, his boots leaving faint trails of red light as he effortlessly regained his balance. His grin widened, his glowing eyes fixed on Brown as he tapped his microphone staff against the ground, the static around him growing louder and more erratic. Brown swung his pixelated sword out to the side, letting the heat from the blade burn off the remaining static clinging to his frame. He adjusted his crown, his posture shifting into a defensive stance as the obsidian block on his staff began to glow with a deep, pulsing purple light. With a sharp crackle of audio interference, Alastor vanished into a cloud of red mist, reappearing directly above Brown. He dropped down, driving the base of his staff toward the crown. While locking staves with his left hand, Brown brought his glowing greatsword around in a swift, horizontal arc aimed at Alastor's midsection. Alastor contorted his stick-figure frame, leaning back at an impossible angle to let the pixelated blade slice harmlessly through the air just inches from his bow tie. Pushing off Brown's staff, Alastor flipped backward and landed a few paces away. He spun his microphone with one hand, a low, melodic hum vibrating from the speaker, while Brown raised both weapons, ready for the next exchange.
Continued: The low hum of the microphone staff grew to a deafening roar of radio static as Alastor decided to bring the match to a swift conclusion. Before Brown could mount another heavy assault with his pixelated greatsword, Alastor slammed the base of his microphone into the ground. A sudden shockwave of distorted audio rippled outward, seizing the air around Brown. The intense vibration locked Brown's joints in place, completely immobilizing him as he stood with his sword half-raised, unable to swing. With his opponent temporarily paralyzed, Alastor snapped his fingers. From the digital floor beneath Brown's feet, heavy links of glowing green energy materialized, crackling with otherworldly power. Alastor strolled forward, resting his microphone staff casually over his shoulder. He tilted his head down toward the restrained warrior, his jagged, yellow-toothed smile glowing brightly in the green light of the chains as the static finally faded into a calm, triumphant silence.
