"Alright… let's get serious now."
Shirley's smile stretched wide, practically glowing with madness. His eyes burned, not with rage, but raw excitement. The cleavers twitched in his hands like they were fighting too, eager.
In the next instant, he was gone. A blur of red streaked toward Cael.
Their clash detonated a burst of Presence so violent it cracked the concrete above them and split the air like a whip. Both of them were knocked back, skidding across the underpass in opposite directions, grinding to a halt but never losing footing.
Cael brushed dirt off his coat and stared at Shirley with those gold, unreadable eyes.
"So… you've recovered. I don't know what exactly you all are chasing. Hope, freedom, chaos? But this time…" He clenched the grip of his sword, presence sparking around his arm. "…this time, I end it. You die here, 'Genius.'"
Shirley let out a breath. Rolled his shoulders.
"Cool speech." He spun his cleavers once, then pointed them toward Cael with a grin.
"Let's run it then."
Cael disappeared in a flash, he then appeared up on a tall building nearby, he appeared in random spots in a flash circling Shirley slowly.
One moment Cael stood still, the next, he was already mid-swing in front of Shirley. Shirley barely caught the movement, a red gleam in Cael's eyes, a flicker of killing intent, and instinctively raised both cleavers as Cael surprised attacked him.
The force sent Shirley flying, crashing through a hollowed storage crate nearby. Wood cracked, dust choked the air. He groaned, blinking the stars from his eyes. One of his cleavers had a chunk missing at the edge. And blood tickled down the side of his face.
He wiped it with the back of his hand. "Alright," he muttered, smiling despite everything. "Didn't like that cleaver anyway."
He stood up slowly, took a deep breath, and crossed his cleavers in front of him in an X. His eyes narrowed.
Time to test something.
Shirley dashed forward, his legs glowing faintly as the Strength Presence surged through them. With every step, his speed doubled. Faster, faster, faster still. His hair snapped back like a flag in the wind. To Cael, he had completely vanished.
Until Shirley slammed into him with the crossed cleavers.
Cael stumbled back, not from pain, but from sheer surprise. The force rattled the earth beneath their feet.
Shirley hopped back, spinning his cleavers lazily like he was tossing spatulas. "Let's call that one… X-Man," he muttered, proud of himself.
Cael raised an eyebrow. "What kind of name is that?"
"I dunno, it felt cool in my head," Shirley replied, then immediately rolled to the side as Cael swung again, cleaving the air where he'd just stood.
Shirley used the momentum of his roll to spring into a low slash. Cael parried with one hand, effortlessly—then kicked Shirley straight up into the air. Shirley flailed mid-air like a fish, cleavers still tight in his grip.
"Okay! Alright!" he said as he landed, winded. "So we're still doing the super serious sword demon thing, cool cool."
Cael didn't answer. He rushed in again.
This time, Shirley tried to out-think instead of out-muscle. He spun his cleavers in circles, deflecting Cael's precise strikes in odd angles. He leaned into his unorthodox style, ducking low, spinning too early, fighting like he was both improvising and dancing at the same time.
But still, one cut grazed Shirley's shoulder. Another clipped his thigh. It wasn't fatal, but it was a message: You are not on my level.
"Jeez," Shirley huffed, "do you even sweat?"
Cael didn't respond. His next blow was aimed for the throat.
Shirley dropped flat, narrowly avoiding decapitation, then used his back like a launchpad, flipping into a wild mid-air kick that caught Cael off guard, busted his lip, and sent both of them stumbling.
Both of them regained footing.
Shirley's smile returned, but it was more strained now. Blood dripped from his head again. His hands trembled slightly from the strain. "You know," he said between breaths, "you're fast, scary, and super edgy. But I'm stubborn. And a genius. Which, statistically speaking, is a deadly combo."
Cael's eyes narrowed. "You're stalling."
"Obviously. I'm out of my mind, not out of plans."
He stepped forward again, dragging one cleaver behind him like a trail of sparks. He could feel the presence flaring in his chest. His legs ached, his ribs throbbed, but he wasn't backing down.
He dashed again, low and fast, zigzagging, throwing wild angles, swinging from high to low, each strike trying to bait, to push Cael just slightly off rhythm.
And for a few seconds, just a few, it worked.
But then. A blade caught Shirley straight in the side. Not deep. But enough to throw him off course. He hit the ground, coughing hard.
Cael approached, silent as ever, lifting his blade.
Shirley, still smiling, dragged himself up.
Cael swung his blade with such force it carved through the air, splitting it like paper. The resulting shockwave tore across the lake ahead of him, kicking up a wave so high it slapped the far bank like nature itself was ducking for cover.
But when the wind settled—Shirley was gone.
Cael blinked. His frown tightened. His eyes scanned the mist, the silence wrapping around him too suddenly.
Then he turned his head. Standing right behind him, cleavers crossed and feet firm, was Shirley. His grin wide and filled with excitement.
Cael felt instant regret and the realization of what Shirley was about to do hit him.
By the time Cael caught the glint in Shirley's eye, the attack had already begun.
"X-Man!" Shirley shouted.
And then he vanished again.
The world seemed to slow down just to watch what came next. Shirley shot forward, weaving past Cael's blade with a speed that was just slightly ungraceful, but still, undeniably effective. His cleavers carved through the air and then across Cael's torso, slicing a deep, brutal X right across his chest.
Blood sprayed in twin arcs as Shirley landed behind Cael, sliding into a crouch with his cleavers still held in that exaggerated X formation.
Cael's eyes widened. He stumbled slightly, breathing sharp and fast. He touched his chest. His fingers came back red.
Shirley stayed in the pose longer than he needed to. "You know," he muttered over his shoulder, "I really thought of that name just now. Pretty sick, right?"
Cael didn't answer. He turned slowly, aura pulsing more violently than before.
Shirley flinched. "Yeah. I figured that would piss you off."
With no warning, Cael lunged again, faster this time. Shirley backpedaled, laughing nervously. "Hold on, hold on, let's not act like that wasn't clean! That was tough! Respect it at least—"
Steel met steel as their weapons collided again. Shirley grunted, sliding back on his heels. He tried to return the favor with a spinning cleaver swing, but Cael dipped low, forcing Shirley to leap back, then duck, then roll out of the way in a completely undignified somersault.
He popped up again, breathing hard. "Alright. That's cool. I didn't need balance anyway."
But as Cael pressed in, Shirley's grin didn't fade, it only grew sharper.
He started experimenting, bouncing off walls, throwing his cleavers like boomerangs, rebounding them with kicks midair. At one point, he even used his cleaver as a scooter, sliding across a broken railing like a pro skater who didn't quite know what he was doing but made it work anyway.
Still, Cael kept up. His blade flowed like water, each slash refined. And for every flashy trick Shirley pulled, Cael countered it with calm, cold precision.
Shirley was landing hits, but they were shallow. While Cael's were getting closer to center mass.
Shirley knew it too. He was sweating, chest rising and falling hard.
"I can't outmatch him," he thought, darting back from a blow that clipped his shoulder. "Not straight up. But if I keep him guessing… if I keep it smart enough…"
He launched himself again, a blur of mismatched rhythm and reckless energy.
For now, it was working.
But how long would it hold?
TUCKERS POV
Somewhere far from the chaos, Tucker blinked awake, face-down in scorched dirt.
The first thing Tucker saw when he woke up was that same woman from earlier, the one who clowned on his jeans. Now, those jeans were gone. In their place: a loose tank top, shorts that looked hand-stitched from scavenged fabric, and shoes that were… leaf-based. Not in a fashion-forward way. In a made-from-actual-leaves kind of way.
He blinked at the ceiling of the tent above him, sunlight sneaking through the seams. Slowly, he sat up, feeling sore all over but not broken. He wiggled his toes inside the leaf shoes, then frowned as they crinkled like a salad. He muttered then chuckled, "Imagine hooping in these."
The woman crossed her arms and gave him a flat look. "You're welcome for saving your life, by the way."
Tucker stretched, wincing as he moved his shoulder. "Appreciate that, but… you coulda left the jeans, you know."
"They were a fire hazard," she replied bluntly. "I did you a favor."
Tucker stared at her. "A fire hazard? They were denim!"
"They were ugly," she said.
Before he could come up with a good comeback, the tent flap rustled, and a young man poked his head in. "He's up?"
"Clearly," she said.
The guy stepped in, glancing over Tucker. "Good. You're gonna need your strength soon."
Tucker raised an eyebrow. "Strength for what?"
The woman knelt down beside him and passed him a waterskin. "This is the Land of Flames. The only reason you're breathing is because Asura hasn't found you yet."
Tucker's grip on the waterskin tightened.
"Rest time's over," the guy added. "You've got a visitor coming."
NARRATOR
Far beyond the walls of the makeshift camp, through a scorching canyon layered in smoke and ash, something inhuman stirred. The air pulsed with unease. Footsteps. Fast, and deliberate. Echoed through the jagged valley.
Asura had picked up Tuckers smell.
And he was getting closer.