Room 5

A whirlwind whipped through the arena while the crackling of electricity and booming of thunder sounded beneath the ground. This was followed by the splitting of the earth, tearing a deep fissure across the arena, releasing thousands of souls. Whipping through the air violently, the souls seemed trapped by an invisible barrier that they continued to ram with no avail. Then another quake shook the arena as grotesque tentacles expelled from the chasm. Slinging around the arena while collecting the escaped souls, the tentacles absorbed the souls as punishment and retreated back down the fissure. When it had finished, Sytry rose from the deep abyss, the tentacles retreating into his body from where they grew. As his feet touched the ground, the fissure cracked shut and the arena appeared normal.

It had been a millennium for him even though a few years had passed in this world. Sytry had changed. His long black hair was now short and slicked to the right side and his colorful, extravagant tattoos were now simplistic designs of black ink.  He wore a white t-shirt topped with a worn, black leather jacket that fit snug around his chest and abdomen. Dark blue jeans and black worn leather shoes accompanied the rest of his attire. Though the smoke that had always bellowed from his lips was ever going which was the only thing that resembled the old Sytry.

"Long time," He began, "Really long time." His voice showed hints of nostalgia as the smoke escaped with every word he spoke. Sytry peered around the arena, observing the battleground and sensing the different auras and energies given off by the other contestants. "Familiar faces are here, how heartwarming." The sarcasm was evident as his head snapped around to look behind him, his body renaming turned forward. "Come on, now. Don't keep me waiting, we've done that for long enough."

As his opponent formed, Sytry's body twisted around to face the same direction as his head, a grin forming as his body moved. He watched as the sword and shield were brought forth and his grin turned to frown with annoyance as his opponent spoke. "Don't patronize me." Sytry retorted, his face enveloped by the smoke coming from his mouth.

Sytry's posture straightened as he inhaled deeply. With a quick exhale, he clapped his hands together causing a thunderous boom to resonate throughout the arena. This was soon followed by a thunderous roar from the sky which changed the bright, cloud filled sky into a purple, darkened void and the ground into a shallow marsh filled with rotting corpses. "Sounding of the First Trumpet." Sytry spoke lowly as the roar from the sky ceased. An eerie silence fell over the new darkened, corpse filled arena as Sytry sunk into the marsh. As soon as Sytry had completely vanished, the corpses started to pull together, forming a grotesque abomination of different bodies and limbs standing 10 feet tall and wielding a whip reaching out 20 feet, made from several of the other corpses' spines with ribs acting as spikes. As soon as the creature formed, it lashed out at Silent with its whip.