The battlefield was chaos given form.
The ring of steel striking steel filled the air, clashing swords singing in a grim chorus. Boots slammed against dirt, sending tremors across the blood-soaked ground. The stench of sweat, metal, and smoke hung thick. Bandits roared profanities as they pressed against Kairo's newly modified formation, only to be thrown back by snarling kabolts and merciless ghouls.
Yet amidst the chaos, two figures cut through like predators entering their domain.
Zeven stood at the frontline, licking blood from the edge of his blade. His crimson tongue glided across the steel as he smirked.
"Mmm… sweeter than I expected," he murmured, savoring the taste of the blood on his sword he got by slashing at flint. His eyes flicked to Theo, then to Flint, who leaned heavily on the boy's shoulder. "I wonder… will your blood taste the same, little hatchling?"
Theo stiffened, helping Flint steady himself. The kabolt's wounded arm trembled, but his eyes gleamed with a feral determination.
Raghul strode forward, axe slung across his back, broad shoulders rolling. He cracked his neck, his grin wide and savage. "Finally! I thought I'd die of boredom watching you lot hack each other up. Took long enough to let me loose!" His laughter boomed over the battlefield like a war drum.
From atop his platform, Kairo's chest tightened. His eyes darted to the flickering panels of the Command Nexus.
[Analyzing Enemy Status…]
Name: Zeven
Race: Human
Tier: 3
Class: Swordsman
Skills: [Swordsmanship III], [Quick Step], [Bloodline Edge]
The panels shifted again, scanning Raghul.
[Analyzing Enemy Status…]
Name: Raghul
Race: Human
Tier: 3
Class: Butcher
Skills: [Heavy Cleave], [Enduring Rage], [Carnage Grip], [???]
The last line blinked, static cutting through the glowing text.
[WARNING: Unique Skill Detected.]
[Host Level insufficient. Skill data locked.]
Kairo's heart sank. "Unique skill…? Why can't I see it?" His grip tightened on the platform's edge. The panels shimmered, then dissolved, leaving him more unsettled than before.
(I don't even know what they're truly capable of. Damn it…)
He looked toward Theo and Flint, both dwarfed by the towering killers in front of them. A part of him wanted to send Onyx charging in, lance gleaming, but his eyes flicked toward Ardan. The bandit leader hadn't moved an inch, arms crossed, gaze steady.
(If Onyx leaves to help Theo, the bandit leader may make his move. And I… I don't know his strength yet)
Kairo clenched his teeth, helplessness gnawing at him. All he could do was shout across the field, voice cutting through the cacophony.
"Theo! Flint! Don't back down! Hold the line!"
Theo and Flint stood shoulder to shoulder as Zeven tilted his blade toward them. His smirk widened. "Two against one? Good. Makes it interesting."
"Stay close, Flint," Theo muttered, his small hand gripping the iron sword tightly. His chest pounded, but there was no fear. Only fire.
Flint growled low in his throat, claws flexing, his body trembling with both pain and readiness.
Zeven didn't wait. He blurred forward, feet kicking up dust as he darted at impossible speed. His sword came down in a vicious arc aimed directly at Theo's head.
Theo barely reacted in time. He raised his sword, Shiri's words echoing in his mind. "Rattle of the Deep. Flow with the strike." He stepped back, twisting his hips, this time using it in a different position for defence. His blade deflected Zeven's strike just wide, The force of it numbed his arm, but he held his ground.
Flint immediately countered, lunging with claws aimed at Zeven's chest. The bandit laughed, twisting away, his blade flashing. He slashed across Flint's side, but the kabolt's scaled hide deflected most of the blow. Sparks danced.
Theo followed up, swinging in a blur. His Rattle of the Deep carried his blade in a high-speed arc. The strike was fast enough to force Zeven to retreat a step, steel clanging as their swords clashed.
"Not bad," Zeven sneered, parrying. "But your hands still shake."
Theo gritted his teeth and pressed forward. Each swing was sharper than the last, his movements becoming less the clumsy strikes of a boy and more the flowing forms of a swordsman. He was rough, unrefined—but there was promise.
Flint circled, claws tearing through the air. Zeven weaved between them with practiced ease, dodging, blocking, twisting his body with fluid grace. Sparks of steel lit up the night as blade and claw collided.
Theo's chest burned, his breaths ragged. But with every strike, every clash, something inside him grew steadier. His glowing yellow eyes tracked Zeven's movements, almost predicting his speed.
"Again!" Theo roared, swinging down.
Zeven caught the strike, their swords locking. His grin widened. "That's it. Show me more, boy."
Theo pushed, but Zeven's strength was overwhelming. The boy slid back across the dirt, his knees nearly buckling—until Flint lunged in from the side, claws raking across Zeven's shoulder. Blood sprayed.
The swordsman hissed, springing back, a wild look flashing in his eyes. He touched the wound, then smirked. "Good. Good!"
Theo panted, sweat dripping. Flint snarled, stepping forward protectively. They had pushed Zeven back—but only slightly.
The duel raged on. Theo's blade danced through the air, slashing again and again with the rhythm of the naga style, his strikes pushing Zeven onto the defensive. Flint's claws came from the blind spots, forcing Zeven to spin, twist, and parry relentlessly. The ground tore beneath their feet, dust and dirt scattering with each impact.
But Zeven's experience was undeniable. He weaved through their combined assault, his sword deflecting Theo's strikes with precision, his footwork carrying him just out of Flint's deadly reach. For every wound they almost inflicted, he answered with a counter.
Theo felt his arms burn, his grip slipping. But he refused to let go. (I can't fall. Not here. Not now.)
The sound of heavy footsteps thundered behind them.
Raghul entered the fray. His massive axe swung up, its edge gleaming with a cruel red sheen. His grin widened as he barreled toward Flint.
"Out of the way, boy!" he roared, his strikes crashing like avalanches.
Flint turned, intercepting the axe with his claws. The ground quaked from the impact. Sparks flew as scaled claws met steel.
Raghul's strikes came again and again, relentless. Flint barely dodged, the massive axe slicing inches from his throat. With a final, brutal push, Raghul shoved him back, his strikes separating Flint from Theo.
Theo's heart stopped. "Flint!" He dashed forward, only to be cut off by a sudden strike from Zeven.
Their blades clashed again, steel on steel. Zeven smirked, eyes glinting with excitement. "No running, boy. It's time you and I truly clashed."
Theo's gaze darted toward Flint, who was staggering back under Raghul's brutal onslaught. The butcher laughed, his voice booming. "Ready to get chopped up, you bag of scales?!"
Theo's teeth clenched. His sword shook in his hands. He wanted to run to Flint's side—but Zeven's blade pressed against his, holding him still.
The battlefield slowed for a moment, the air heavy with tension. Two duels had been carved into existence.
Theo against Zeven.
Flint against Raghul.
Kairo's breath caught in his throat as he watched from above. The battlefield roared on, but everything narrowed to those four
Steel met steel, scales glimmered under the rising sun, and the battlefield seemed to hold its breath as destinies began to clash.
To be continued....