The wrath of gold pierced through all defences, ones natural resistances meant nothing before it, not only did gold go right through, it would also rip apart the defences as it passed, mimicking the greatest weakness of the target, in Loimos's case, the golden mana imitated Thanatok's devouring life, not perfect it may be, but it made for it thanks to its other aspects, which was to disrupt and destroy energies.
Milo's infused punches made the undead's body fail to respond properly, shaking the death within, Loimos was quick to adapt, controlling his movements by taking into account that they would lag behind his intent, pushing Milo's fist away, the undead moving the side of the diverted limb, backhanding the living in the face, gold snapped back like a zap of lightning.
The undead ignored it, striking again, another strike of gold reaching him, this time an uppercut, without a lower jaw, it almost took his skull right off Loimos's neck, cracks running through the bones, gold within, quickly pushed out by the champion's will, snapping one of his fangs right off, stabbing down onto Milo's wrist, the living recoiled, the teeth lodged at the junction of the bones linking the forearm and hand.
Tensing his muscles, crushing it to dust without even bothering to think about taking it out, Milo lashed out again, his strike taking off all of the other fangs remaining, followed by another to the center of the skull, caving it in, launching the undead through another wall, collapsing upon him.
Milo grabbed his right wrist, the pain of having the fang stabbed right into it was finally settling in, especially after using his right fist to attack right afterward, even as he overflowing with gold, as his injuries were being healed, the heavy damage he had suffered prior still remained, but he had no clue how long his current state would last, truthfully, he was barely thinking at all right now.
The gold was enforcing its will upon him, not the opposite, raising one foot, preparing to stomp down on the pile of shattered stone where the undead had been buried, crushing no bones as Loimos bursted out right before, flinging dust and shards with both arms, ducking underneath a left hook and slamming the top of his skull against Milo's wide chest, grabbing the living's sides, fingers digging into the grievous wound on the right.
It had closed, but the flesh there was still feeble, Loimos plunged his fingers in, hooking a nearby ribs, allowing his damaged gauntlet to fall apart when inside, leaving the shards of rot turned iron within as he lifted the farm boy well above his head, throwing him down onto the ground.
Coughing up foamy blood, Milo's eyes locked onto the oncoming attack, grabbing the undead's foot with both hands, the right screaming in pain, feeling something bleeding inside as shards of fang exploded outwardly, he knew it, they had lodged where they shouldn't have, his hand was soon to go slack.
"Curse you Loimos!" twisting without any regard to his own injuries, Milo snapped Loimos's foot right off, the undead was thrown out of balance, but was quick to control his fall, rolling forward and away from the living, assuming a new stance, saying a single word in death tongue, chills ran down Milo's spine, looking straight at the disembodied foot instead of the undead himself.
Milo had ever-so kindly helped the undead separate himself from his foot, retaining some of the death force within, this foot was now considered its own separate portion of the undead chosen as champion, and this mere little foot enacted its own battle art, sacrificing itself to turn into corrosive black blood, Milo was quick to act trying to throw the ripped off limb.
But it shifted into acidic sludge before it could leave his hand, rolling in between his fingers and down his arms, burning through flesh and muscles alike, the entirety of his right arm was out of use for good, such damage was not something Milo knew how to heal, even as gold was empowered, it would remain as such for a while.
Quickly flinging as much as he could away, he stood back up, his forehead struck as Loimos charged into him, knocking Milo's back onto the acidic blood, forcing him down onto it, both of the undead's arm were pushing down on the living's left arm, his legs pressing down on his thighs.
Screaming in pain through his teeth, Milo and Loimos were about on par in the struggle, which meant that the acidic blood was seriously bearing into his flesh right now, the golden mana circulated rapidly, he forced it out in a blast, lifting the skeleton, but also Milo himself as it spread out in all directions, not to mention that Loimos did not let go of him either, sending the two of them spinning through the air like a most awful discus.
And high were they sent, Milo caught sight of the roof of a small little church, well, he supposed it was a church because this was, or used to be, Millipolo and that a small steel cross decorated it, he had to bent himself mid-air to prevent himself from being skewered upon it, their flight through the air was suddenly halted and they were sent straight through the roof, and into the unlit interior, here little light from the vigorous growth outside could make it short of a few cracks in the walls.
The undead finally let go of Milo, letting the living bounce against the ground and onto the altar of this church, a small icon of the Elven Light fell right on top of him, the light held within soothed his injuries ever so slightly.
'Shit…!' Milo's body was tired, and he was seriously starting to feel sluggish, his legs trapped under some rubble from his passage through the roof, whilst his opponent, even with a foot missing and his skull covered in cracks, pieces of it falling off with his every movements, Loimos had grabbed onto the cross, snapping it off and now wielding like a spear, as he propped himself up the ground, soaring through the air like a most filthy gymnast, his entire weight pulling him down, sharp point first.
Overflowing with gold, Milo panicked grabbing his right arm, he used it alongside his left to shield himself against the oncoming attack, preparing to erupt with a glow of gold once more, not knowing if he would be capable of pulling it off in time, the straight point of the cross stabbed through both palms, the two vertical point slamming a moment later, pinning his hands against his chest.
Right above his heart, aimed squarely at its very center, the undead's skull bearing holes into Milo's very soul, his aim was true, utterly perfect, crushing the bones, piercing into the chest, the point pushed up against the heart, but failing to.
A pulse of gold, everything left within Milo, came out, Loimos crashed against the ceiling and onto the ground, pieces of rubble falling upon him, gold lingering upon his undead body.
Trying to move back up, he did not, fluctuations of gold remaining even as he tried to get rid of it.
Milo tried to get back up, to no avail, his consciousness slipped away, and before long, something broke, him, and all of his allies, dead or alive, were transported.
Loimos was unmoving on the ground, but he had won.
Death had trumped over life.