Ronald pushed his hood downwards as he exited the back of the inconspicuous vehicle. His eyes ,shielded from the rain by glasses, traced the large worn-down building.

"So let's get ready." The older man said turning to the two behind him, a man dressed in a suit, a woman wearing a large overcoat. No further words were spoken among the trio. Twenty minutes wasn't long, and preparations for a successful plan need to be completed quickly.

In his hand, a sewing needle appeared, allowing the masked man to begin his work. In the long forgotten train station, he made numerous stitches throughout the corridors and rooms. As a means of transportation between floors, they were immediate and efficient.

In the meantime, Ronald began preparing for the event. His eyes were drawn to the newly purchased military grade support gear; super heated knives, armor-piercing bullets and bulletproof vestments. The most striking items, however, were a blue knife and a long-sword with a blood red blade.

In order to find the right weapons, no expense was spared. The reason was because the organization was clearly in turmoil. Any idiot and their blind dog could see that.

Trying to tighten the straps on his arm guards, he cursed, "These dumbass kids,always focused on money, fame and killing."

Like many others before him, Ronald resigned himself to his fate after that coup d'etat attempt. The competitors had little tolerance for insubordination now that the war for the throne of ‘monarch’ had truly begun since the old one died. From what the veteran psyker could understand about the situation, none of the competitors wanted to fight,preferring more of a war of attrition that would take decades.

A small cost in order to avoid the ‘Titan’ agents or the legion commander’s of the empire’s army,however the youth were far too ignorant. 

He knew that even if he returned with his opponent's head, he would die. Although for some reason, he felt a desire to die, especially at the hands of Cryer. However, that was unlikely since she was only a student of single edge sword.

If they wanted him dead, they would send that Skull Kissing Bastard. Someone he did not want to fight.

So he planned on this being where he ,Ronald the deathless, would let the grim reaper within fully swing its weapon. He would drag both himself and his opponent's soul to the unknown beyond.

"I will win." he muttered finishing his own preparation while the masked man returned.

"It's done." He said his voice deep and eerie despite only being a whisper. Turning to the silent woman, he asked, "is the acid ready?"

"Yes, the strongest I can muster." She nodded, her voice devoid of all emotion but with an undertone of nervousness. She raised her hand and a small cloud of red gas rose from it. "This stuff is way too strong. Not even a regenerator can heal from it."

"Well done." Ronald nodded, grabbing the sword and closing the trunk. "Make sure that stuff can't be seen. You know what to do after."

The statement was quick and to the point. Ronald was a man of business. He didn't need distractions when dealing with a powerful opponent.

Even so, only a scant three minutes later he was faced with a monster, not an opponent. His encounter with a boogie woman, known for her crimes against darkness, took place in the small boarding area. That boogie woman was X-96, a being who seemed to be from the outerworld.

For the deathless casket hunter, there was no other suitable opponent. No one would doubt him if he died at the hands of such a well-known underworld killer.

The serenade of demonic hums ended as the vigilante launched forward like a cannonball. There was a sense of closeness as the vigilante seemed to consume the swordsman who was still as a tree. In the midst of the resulting clash, the swordsman of death stood still. His left hand shook as if guiding the item that had sprung from its sheath in defense of its master and food source.

The vigilante and the sword crossed, one defending, and the other attacking. Red and blue cascaded across the area. Watching on intently, the swordsman stood strong, carefully weaving his weapon's path to ensure X-96 would stay within the boarding area.

He muttered, "Weird", as the vigilante ducked beneath the sword. It's been nearly a minute since the blade and the vigilante began their dance of death, yet contrary to what he was expecting, her movements were 'clunky'. They were powerful, without a doubt but they missed far more often than they hit. It was clear that she was a rookie in terms of hitting but her evasion was surprisingly high. "You're quite a smart rat!" He laughed, closing in with a knife, the sharp silver turning to blistering white hot metal.

Contrary to popular belief, there were many ways to combat regeneration-based powers. They weren't all powerful. In fact, those who hold these blessings consider them curses. Most frequently, a high dose of concentrated knockout gas is used to subdue regenerators. A gaseous form of any type of chemical compound, corrosive or poisonous, is a commonly known countermeasure, but it has to be used in extremely high doses or concentrations.

Extreme temperatures are another countermeasure. The body's natural need for homeostasis cannot be fixed by regeneration, whether it's sunstroke or frostbite. Accordingly, burns would not heal correctly and would require surgery if severe enough.

Heat is a powerful weapon, especially when used in combination with a sharp, finely crafted piece of metal in the hands of a trained professional killer.

Cutting through the vigilante's thighs, a cascade of blood released heat and toxic fumes. In an effort to cope with the sudden pain, the Vigilante let out an animalistic scream that seemed to shake the whole world. Yet Ronald remained steadfast. To truly swing the grim reaper's scythe, he must inflict and gain as much damage as possible before his death.

Coming in closer, he called for the soul sword. The sword dug through both of their legs then firmly into the ground, making separation near impossible. Pushing past the pain associated with the soul sword's curse, the bladesman stabbed his dance partner with nineteen superheated knives until he had none left to stab.

The toxic blood that sprung from the wounds burned the man as the vigilante felt their body being cooked from the inside. Knives were drilled deeply into their head, hips, abdomen, and shoulders; the exact amount of lethal damage.

Still the old man stood strong, dragging the knives across the vigilante's body and bathing in the toxic blood steadily eroding his body as the vigilante writhed in pain. Every time the knives exited the vigilante's body the veteran Psyker reinserted them into uncut areas, butchering the beautiful yet horrifying body as his own was eroded to the bone.

The vigilante was horrified as they witnessed their body being cut to shreds. 

“Move” they yelled in their mind,pushing past the forgotten sensation of pain to throw a punch that was cut in two by a blue knife,Followed by a knife digging into their head. “If this keeps up my core…”

"Death is what we are." Ronald began, reciting his family’s mantra of prayer in order to resist the pain.Like a hunter gutting fresh prey he pulled their chest apart. not giving mind to the geyser of blood that covered him he continued "To swing the reaper's scythe, we will bear any pain." Releasing a furious roar, the vigilante attempted to bind the swordsman yet in defiance of their efforts, black flames caused by death gripped their body and steadily eroded the older man's bones. The reaper's soul - Ronald the deathless' blessing - has been fully charged now all that remains is for his mortal form to be burned away."To take pleasure in the deaths of our fellow man shalt be our sin worthy of nought the great light."