Muscles tensing, the two combatants launched themselves forward, teeth bared and fists clenched. Preston cocked back three of his arms and once his opponent was in range, he swung them at Ciel's head. Ducking down low, the bluenette was able to evade and prepared an attack of his own.

With all of his might, he swung his fist into the Omid's abdomen. The force of the great demon's blow cracked Preston's armour easily, forcing the air out of his lungs. Without giving the six-armed beast the chance to recover, Ciel followed through and gave the man an uppercut with his other fist. Preston bit down as to not bite his tongue, but then tried to throw his own punch.

Bringing his arms up, he swung them all down on top of the bluenette. While Ciel was able to block two of them, he couldn't defend against them all. Thus, he was struck down with his face on the floor. Swiftly, the Omid grabbed the back of his cloak and lifted the Phantomhive off of the ground. He then spun around, creating greater momentum for when he let go of the bluenette and sent him flying. Having Ciel in a vulnerable state in the air, he ran at him as fast as he could. When he caught up, he leaped into the air and cocked back his arms on his right side in preparation to strike.

Lifting his leg, Ciel was able to block one of the arms whilst catching the other two. His other foot slammed into the side of Preston's face and he pushed against it while pulling on the arms. Leaning back, he was able to spin them around so that when they began to descend, Ciel landed firmly on top of the Omid while the beast harshly hit the ground.

The impact dented the metal floor considerably and Preston's head was spinning. Ciel released one of the arms and took hold of the other with both hands, now before giving it a rough pull. The armour around the Omid's wrist began to crack from the force of Ciel's grasp, and the arm started to weaken where it was connected to Preston's back.

"GAH!" Preston roared, and in one movement, he swung both of his remaining right arms at the bluenette, causing the man to surrender his place standing on top of the Omid, but as he did, he used the movement to spin and swing the man by the arm. Preston as forced to utter another guttural sound of pain as he struck the ground again. This time, however, his arm was twisted and could no longer be used until it was repaired.

Slamming his foot into the metal floor, Preston lifted himself and grabbed hold of the bluenette with four of his remaining limbs and swinging at him with the fifth. His fist struck the side of the Phantomhive's face, causing a loud booming sound to ring out. Once again, he cocked his arm back to strike the other man a second time, only for Ciel to catch his fist before impact could be made. With his own free hand, Ciel struck Preston right in the nose. He could feel the bone break as the action caused the leader of the Scarlet Order to release him.

Reeling back, Preston clutched at his face with his main arms. He had to inspect the damage as well as quell the pain. Once he took his hands away, however, he glared directly into the demon's mismatched eyes with a snarl. His teeth were bared, and black liquid dripped from his nose and down his face. Witnessing this, the Phantomhive's eyebrows raised before his face adopted a more somber look.

"So… even your blood has been blackened by Black Annis..." Ciel observed. "Is there anything left of you?"

"I am still here." Preston answered. "If I'm still here, that's all that matters! I will fight you, no matter what! Even if it costs me my body… Even if it costs me my soul!"

"So says someone who does not understand the weight of a soul..." the Phantomhive said. He looked at the other man coldly. "Such a valuable thing shouldn't be wasted on a pursuit so petty and meaningless."

"It isn't meaningless! I will bring H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. to it's knees! And when I do, I will create a place where supernaturals can live without fear of humans!"

"Listen to yourself… 'I will do this', 'I will do that', but the question is how? You have no army. You have no support. You have nothing. You threw it all away. Even your wretched self… All of this suffering… All of this anguish… It is completely self-inflicted. You are responsible for your own actions, Preston. You had a new lease on life, but you threw it away so that you could wallow in self-pity."

"Be quiet..." Presten growled. "You did this! You and the others! I could have lived a normal, happy, life, but then you came along! You and him! With your monsters and nightmares… You did this!"

Scoffing, the demon stared right through the beast as he straightened his back, staring him down. "Oh?" Ciel asked. "So it was supernaturals who caused you such misery? If it weren't for supernaturals, you would have lived happily? But you're trying to save them, are you not?"

"Shut up!"

"Why? So you won't have to acknowledge your own contradictions? You've been so caught up in this bizarre revenge story that you haven't even figured out a plot! You just want to throw a tantrum on a massive scale."

"I said shut up!"

"Never." the Phantomhive retorted. "I won't ask you why you did all of this, however. I already know. You're afraid and feel powerless, so you sought out as much power as possible so that you can lash out. You got greedy and became arrogant. That led you here when you didn't have the means to defeat us. This was a last hurrah for you and you knew it."

Furrowing his brow, the Omid growled at the man before him, clenching his fists. Indeed, he did know, and knew that it was futile. All of this was. Preston simply went in too deep in his darkest hour, and was suffering the consequences, even now. He felt hopless, powerless, like everything was for naught. His time at H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. was time in hell. He was not a fighter. He became one! Preston wanted nothing more but to lash out at the organization for shoving him around through bureaucratic systems that didn't perceive him as a person with thoughts, hopes, dreams, and feelings. Thus, he started the Order, and everything grew out of hand rapidly until it was no longer sustainable. Really, the Omid should have quit while he was ahead.

It all fell apart before he knew the weight of what he had done. Quickly, he had to flee, and he did, growing angrier by the mile sailed away from England. That anger was misdirected, however. It was focused on H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. and the Phantomhives. He placed the blame on those two families when in reality, the blame belonged to no one but himself. His rage was to distract him from his own fault. So was this army. So was everything! It was a diversion so that he could forget fear and sorrow. Thus, he became the source of it! Then, yet another unexpected element came into play.

Before long, Preston realised that he liked the power of being the ruler of these people. He learned the pleasure of claiming land and gaining followers who would help him in supporting his ego. Truly, it was a delight that most are not sick enough to partake of. It was the monsters' drug. Preston was transforming into something truly heinous; a monster of greed and anger!

So! It was Preston who had become what he claimed to despise most! He is a monster, and the sweet whisper of Black Annis helped him along the way. The power of being able to crush bones with a single blow was intoxicating. Most men would either crumble from the burden, or give in to the temptation to use it for evil. That is exactly what Preston did.

He sacrificed everything to pursue his ego. His friends, his family, his homeland, his body, his mind, his soul, and the lives of over a hundred beings were all sacrificed to advance his growing lust for power. Now he is back again before his old friend, who was bringing reality crashing down around him.

No! He would not be persuaded! Preston knew that he was in the right! He was just! He was fair! He was above the likes of Phantomhive, and he would show him that this truth is indeed real!

"If that's what it takes to destroy you," he began," so be it!"

Once again, the Omid lunged with all of his might, swinging his fists wildly. This time, however, it was different. Ciel was ready for him. With ungodly speed, Ciel met every single one of the Omid's punches, blocking them with his fists. The Phantomhive swung his fists wildly, causing his knuckles to bleed, but still he persisted. This monster would be vanquished before the sun sets!

With every blow, Ciel chipped away at the Black Annis arms, causing cracks to form and small pieces to fall off. With one last punch, one of them shattered completely, sparking a chain reaction. Preston reeled back, but recovered and tried once more, only to have two more taken from him.

"GRAH!" the beast cried out as he took a step back.

In that moment, Ciel drew his sword from black flame and swung upward. The soiled blood of Preston Omid painted the ground black as well as one of his arms of flesh was severed from him. With his free hand, he grabbed hold of Preston's last arm of Annis, placed just below his true right arm. Raising his leg, he kicked the man in the stomach, shattering his armour as well as he pulled with all of his might. Eventually, the Phantomhive conceeded that he did not have the momentum to sever the arm with brute force, so he slammed the metal handle of his blade, guard and all, down on a particularly large crack. Thus, he ridded the arm of its owner and tossed it to the side. With another swing, he slammed the guard of the sword into the side of Preston's face, sending him falling helplessly to the ground with only one arm to reach out and catch himself with.

Emitting a loud grunt on impact, Preston laid there for a moment longer before hearing the bluenette's footsteps growing closer. His blood continued to seep onto the deck as he was unable to regenerate just yet. He was too tired and in too much pain. Still, he propped himself up on what he had left and looked up, only to find the end of a sword in his face.

As he looked up, he could see Ciel's face. It was stern, but not cold. In fact, hints of melancholy showed through, giving the Omid a bit of insight into what the man was thinking. He was an enemy, and yet, a former friend; that is why there was hesitation before the bluenette dealt the final blow.

"I won't ask you why." Ciel said again, his voice softer now. "Nor will I forgive you. You made your choice. You decided to commit all of those crimes and to harm the man I love. That fact cannot be changed." Pausing, he waited so that the other would have the chance to say something back. When no words came, however, Ciel simply carried on.

"What I will ask of you is that you hold your head high." he said. "You fought long and hard, but you will still fall. Fall with dignity, at the very least."

There was no way that Preston could conceal the terror on his face as he looked up at his former friend. It had dawned on him for the first time in ages that this was checkmate. He could no longer run. He could no longer hide. He could no longer fight.

In fact, Preston knew that Ciel had gone easy on him. And he was ashamed. There was no way that he could have won. He isn't quick or clever enough. He lacked power, too, even after spending so long gathering it up. It wasn't enough. It never would be.

What for was the Phantomhive asking this of him? All he needed to do was thrust the blade forward. But, despite all of this and despite everything that had happened; deep down, Ciel still felt a smidgen of familiarity with the Omid. It was for this reason that the man did not end things right then and there. Ciel, being the old, noble soul that he is, was not giving Preston the chance to live, but the chance to die with some degree of grace.

The tip of the blade lingered over the scar on Preston's chest where a diabolic signature once was, as it was the only place on his torso where the Black Annis refused to grow. Still, Preston thought and he thought hard. He didn't know how to do what was asked of him. He didn't know what it meant. Still, he had to act, and act quickly.

He moved so that he was sitting on his legs and raised his remaining arm. With it, he wrapped his fingers around the Phantomhive's blade, gripping it tightly, even as it embedded the shards of cracked armour into his skin further. He held the weapon steady in place and looked up, meeting the bluenettes' gaze.

"If you're going to kill me, look at me when you do it..." Preston said. "Show me that you won't hesitate. Show me that you aren't afraid. We aren't friends. There is no reason for you to back down. There is no reason for you to give me your pity! Spare me that honour crap and just do it!"

Once those words reached the bluenette's ears, a somber smile graced his face. That was it. That was everything that Ciel needed to hear. With that, the grip on the handle of his sword tightened and he moved forward. The blade slipped through Preston's hand and pierced his chest. It stuck out the other side, dripping blackness onto the ground as the leader of the Scarlet Order's eyes widened and he choked on air.

Golden eyes stared into crimson as they began to lose focus. The hand that was on the blade now clasped at the Phantomhive's arm, digging its fingers into the fabric of his coat. Then, Ciel retrieved his sword, pulling it out quickly and causing more blood to spurt. Preston's eyes then slowly traveled to the ground, where he observed the black, inky substance mixing with small pools of red.

"Ha..." Preston began. He interrupted himself as he coughed violently, but he managed to calm himself down. His eyes lost their glow and his pupils grew round, but still, he spoke with a weak smile.

"Looks like there was some scarlet left in me after all."

He held onto the Phantomhive until he no longer had the strength, causing him to fall backward. Preston landed on his back with a hollow thud. There, he laid motionless. Glassy eyes stared unblinking up at the sky, but they were unable to admire the blend of colour that the setting sun brought, as they could see nothing but black.