A few moments earlier
The black knight drew in a deep breath; nine shadow clones mirrored the motion in perfect silence. He planted his feet, grounding himself, eyes shut for a heartbeat before opening them again, focused, narrowed, locked on the demon knight. Then he and every clone surged forward.
The demon knight waited at the center of their formation, his longsword lowered, its edge wrapped in a green shimmer of wind magic. As the knights closed in, greatswords rising from every angle, he moved. His blade swept out in a tight arc, intercepting a diagonal strike from one clone and a horizontal cut from another in the same motion, while his weight shifted back, his armored heel driving into a third clone's chest and bursting it apart in a puff of dissolving shadow. Eight remained.
A downward swing crashed toward him from behind; he angled his stance so the blow slammed against the kite shield strapped to his back. Another clone lunged from the front, a precise thrust, only for the demon knight to slide his blade along its attack and carve a retaliatory slash straight through its torso, splitting the clone into drifting black vapor. Seven remained.
The real black knight, even knowing it would risk revealing him, sent a shadow tendril crawling from beneath his feet. It lashed across the dirt and seized the demon knight's shadow by the right leg. The effect was immediate, his body halted as if anchored to the ground.
That pause was all a clone needed. A greatsword came down in a brutal overhead chop, smashing into the demon knight's left shoulder. His living armor groaned from the impact, metal shifting in a low internal rumble, though he himself showed no reaction. His attention snapped instead to the tendril's origin, following the dark line straight to the real black knight.
He swung. The blade of wind tore through the air, invisible but unmistakable.
The black knight had already raised a shadow shield, but even so, doubt flashed through him, it might not hold. Two clones standing in front of him merged into a single darker form and stepped into the attack's path. The wind blade sliced through the combined clone effortlessly, yet their sacrifice slowed it just enough for the shadow shield to barely, just barely, absorb the remainder.
Five clones left.
*If Carver hadn't been controlling those, I might have been dead again,* he thought, releasing the tendril immediately. Holding the demon knight any longer would have been a death sentence.
He and the remaining clones burst into motion again, flickering past each other at such speed that the demon knight momentarily lost track of which figure was real again.
The demon knight drew in a slow, deliberate breath as he slid his longsword into its sheath. The black knight faltered in confusion—why sheath it now?—but the opening was too tempting to ignore. He surged forward with the five remaining clones, all six shapes converging on the demon knight from every angle.
The demon knight dropped into a wide stance, his heel grinding into the dirt as he rooted himself. As the knights closed in, a ripple of demonic energy pulsed off him, distorting the air. In the same heartbeat, he tore his sword free.
The unsheathing was so fast it struck sparks off the scabbard, and then the blow landed.
The black knight's attack froze mid-swing. A wet, choking sound escaped him as blood burst through the slats of his visor. His legs buckled, armor clattering as he collapsed onto his knees. Around him, every clone flickered apart into dissolving smoke, each one split along the exact same wound carved across his side.
His gauntleted hand clamped against the gash along his left ribs, pressure the only thing keeping him upright. *Shit! I—this is really bad!* The thought hammered in his skull as he lifted his gaze.
The demon knight stood relaxed, sword angled loosely at his side. Blood trailed down the blade in steady drops. "Now that is an interesting smell," he murmured, head tilting slightly as he examined the red streaks. "You are…"
A thundercrack of destruction cut him off—splintering timber, shattering stone.
The black knight twisted toward the sound just in time to see Lennix's broken body slumped against the village well, the stonework fractured beneath him. Velastra stepped into view, her approach unhurried, her voice carrying with unsettling calm as she looked down at the vampire.
"Looks like you lost."
Given the state of things, the black knight felt those words land with a heavy, bitter truth.