A chilling breeze nicked at the hunter's skin as yet another cold wave moved in on the frozen plain. Ice crunched underneath his black boots as he crept forward, silently stalking his prey. Six yards ahead, an assassin stalked prey of his own.

The mission was simple enough. Kill the assassin and take his soul. He'd done it millions of times, but this time it was different. This time, the hunter was the hunted.

He readied his two hand scythes for attack and charged. The assassin barely had time to react. He attempted to jump out of the way but as he leaped, the hunter's scythes severed his right forearm.

He dropped to the icy earth and cried out in pain as crimson blood spewed over the frozen grass. The hunter stood, towering above his victim.

"P-Please! Don't!" The assassin begged. His voice was shrill.

"It's time to die." The hunter declared, raising his scythe.

"No!" His voice was shrill.

With a single slash, the hunter decapitated the assassin.

His body, now nothing more than lifeless flesh, lay still. The hunter knelt down and placed his hand on the corpse's chest. Faintly shining an eerie glow, the soul of the deceased slithered from its body and into the hunter.

Mission Complete.

The hunter started to walk away, then stopped when a sharp pain erupted through his body. He dropped to his knees, letting his weapons fall to the ground. The hunter looked down to find the blade of a familiar sword stabbing through his chest and be ripped back out.

"Like you said," A dark voice whispered. "It's time to die."

"Not yet it isn't." The hunter struggled to get out.

With lightning reflexes, the hunter sprang up and slammed his elbow into the attackers face. The attacker stumbled back, shocked that the hunter was not a lifeless corpse.

The hunter straightened up, regaining his strength as the hole in his chest quickly healed.

He was staring at a strikingly beautiful young woman with long red hair, and eyes to match. The young woman was staring at an impressively muscular young man, with black hair, and glowing blue eyes. He hid his face behind a skull mask.

"So, War," The hunter began. "What brings my little sister to the Frozen Plains? I hope it wasn't to kill me."

"Oh, Death. Arrogant as usual." War retorted, regaining her composure.

"Must I teach you another lesson in respecting your elders?" He picked his scythes off the ground.

"It will be I doing the teaching today."

Death put his scythes tip to tip, transforming them into a single scythe. "Then by all means. Teach."

War raised her sword, bringing it down on Death's head. Or rather, would have, had Death not quickly moved to the side, as to allow War's blade to cut into the frozen dirt. He slammed his scythe onto her blade, stepping forward, sliding the it up the blade towards War's head. War ducked her head back just as Death's scythe swiped the air above her head. It a single, fluid motion, they spun around, and struck. The sword and scythe came together with such force as to knock them back. War slammed her sword into the ground, causing it to rip open towards Death and fire to snake it's way up through the fissure. He jumped back, casting ghastly ice to combat the fire. The fire dissipated with a mournful glow.

"You're cryomancy is as impressive as ever." War complimented.

"Allow me to show you just how impressive it truly is."

He raised his hands and the air began to grow colder than it had been. Breath became fog and heat became nonexistent, all except the heat radiating from War; a wall of ice formed around the two combatants, raising as high as a skyscraper; the ground that had melted from the fire froze over.

War and Death charged, full force at the other, weapons colliding in a flurry of furious sparks. Death brought his scythe down just as War jerked her sword into the air.She pushed him off, sending him soaring into the wall. He landed, feet first, on the wall, catching himself. Looking up, he found War's sword barreling toward him. His reflexes were far to quick for his sister to keep up with. He back flipped off the wall, landing behind her, and swung while her guard was down. The blade of his scythe cut into War's back, sending out a spray of blood. She, in turn, spun around, smashing her blade into his. Their weapons collided with such great force, a shock-wave rippled off, shattering the wall of ice.

"It seems I have the upper hand." Death mocked.

"Not likely." His sister snapped.

"I'm afraid this battle is over."

"Says who?"

"Whom." He corrected. "And, says I."

War looked down to find her brother's hand on her middle, and ice beginning to form. She looked back up, into his glowing eyes, just as ice glazed over hers. War was nothing more than a statue of ice.