A loud battle cry sounded and the youth charged forth; exactly as the large one had expected. The attack was broken apart with a swift punch to the stomach. This caused Ryan to double over in pain, arms hugging to his midsection where the damage had been done. A direct attack would fail, he realized. So he retreated back to a safe distance, forcing the large warrior to attack him. The champion was powerful, but incredibly slow. Ryan was easily able to dodge each and every attack that was thrown at him. However, Ryan wasn't fully recovered, and his body weakened with each passing moment. Finally the first barrage of fists crashed against the chest plate of his armor, causing ribs to shatter from the sheer force. This was it Ryan thought as a fist crashed into the temple of his helmet; sending him into a world of darkness. The young warrior was knocked out, but the champion hadn't had his revenge just yet. Picking him up by the waist he flipped him about in his hands; slamming him head first into the stone ground. Glowing neon blue blood leaked from the cracks in the armor, but the warrior continued to breathe.
The couple demanded that the champion stop, for there was no honor in killing one that was unable to defend himself.. After a short discussion the couple agreed that Ryan was indeed a superb warrior. However, he lacked experience, which the massive champion had pleanty of. Unfortunately, they had no idea Ryan was still recovering from previous injuries, or surely he would have defeated their champion with little effort. Without tending to Ryan's wounds; they brought him back to his home, tossing him into the pile of blankets that he slept on.
Hours passed, and finally his vision returned. The warrior was in poor shape, unable to move from the intense damage that his body had sustained during that battle for survival. As he sat up he coughed violently, spitting up a thick glob of that glowing, neon blue blood of his. He knew deep down that he was going to die from his wounds. Yet he wasn't ready to pass on into the next world, so he struggled furiously to keep the cold touch of death from his shoulders as long as he could. Eventually his eyes drifted shut, feeling himself drift into a deep sleep, which he feared was his final rest.
While the warrior's vitals gradually dropped, the armor shifted itself over the youth once again. Only this time it was actually working on it's own to cure him of his fatal injuries. Dozens of tiny wires slithered from the armor and into the open cuts so it could work to heal it's owner from the inside out. Amazingly it took less than half a day before the youth was back on his feet, fully healed thanks to the capabilites that the armor possessed. However, the armor would soon try to control Ryan's life, bending the warrior to do his creator's bidding. The armor was as if it were an organism in itself, a parasite even. Ryan relied on the armor in combat, and the armor depended on Ryan for a host. With those wires still inside Ryan's body it was easy to control and manipulate him. Like a broken record it replayed events from the past to fuel his anger, and spark a new hatred towards the human race.
Later that night he struck one of the towns, eyes glowing red from both rage and being controlled. Only those humans that hid themselves well would survive; the rest being unfortunate to die by his hand. Perhaps this would have been avoided if he had a friend, but all that he trusted ended up trying to destroy him in the end, or use him like a puppet for their dark desires.
Somewhere in the battle he snapped, the armor actually absorbing into his body. This was a unique talent among his generation; the ability to unite with the armor to form one supreme being. The armor and the Bion were imperfect on their own, but in this sick new form that was taking shape, there would be no flaws. This was the birth of the perfect warrior. Only once in his life had he ever slipped into this new form, and he always lost control of himself while in that form.
Once transformed he became the ultimate killing machine as his creator's had intended him to be, slaughtering much of the town's population in a matter of minutes. A brave soul took the burden of destroying Ryan into his own hands, shooting him in the back of the head with a high-powered rifle. The bullet passed through his head harmlessly, as he wasn't dead, nor living. Each and every cell in his body could maintain life on it's own and think independently. Though it always acted as a single unit, driven by a tiny, almost microscopic control center deep in his body. The human was cut down by the blades in his hand, the chaos resuming once again.
Two weeks later Ryan regained control of his body, waking in his makeshift bed with the armor coating his frame. Never again would he allow the armor to takeover his body as it had done that one dreadful night. With a simple yank of a chip, that particular unit was disconnected forever from the rest of the armor. This new "perfect" form was something he promised himself never to use unless it was a last resort; for he hated not being in control of himself and running wild, attacking based on his emotions.
Weeks passed without running across another in the forest, causing him to grow lonely. Eventually he learned that the bards in the local tavern told of the demon that lurked in the forest, this due to that one night where he was controlled by the armor. Without anything to do, he played that morbid, yet placid tune upon his flute to ease his emotional suffering. Little did he know that it attracted a fan come nightfall. This would be the start of a new chapter in his life.