Smoke twisted around the shattered castle walls, hiding the ruins in a blur of fire and shadow. The Captain stood at the center, blade dripping, eyes sharp, while Oxel and a handful of guards formed a fragile line beside him. Exhaustion weighed on them, but no one wavered.
Then, from the haze, a colossal figure emerged. Each step rattled the scorched stone beneath their feet, and the air itself seemed to grow heavier.
Oxel stiffened, jaw tight, whispering, "No… it can't be…"
The Captain felt the same chill crawl down his spine. The shape, the towering bulk—could it be yoki….
For a fleeting moment, even his disciplined heart faltered. Yoki, here, now—after the General's death? There was no victory to be found in this place. Only slaughter.
But the Captain's eyes hardened. If it was truly Yoki, then so be it. He would meet him head-on. If he had to die, he would die on his feet, buying enough time for the others to flee. His mind burned with a single thought:
If this monster has come, we cannot win. But I can stall him… and that will be enough.
He lifted his sword, steady, resolute, ready to face what came through the smoke.
Oxel's voice broke through the haze, rough but steady.
The Captain shook his head, voice low and unyielding.
"No. If it's Yoki, this place will become our grave." He let the words hang, then fixed Oxel with a stare that left no room for argument. "If both of us die here, who will lead the soldiers afterward? "
Oxel's face hardened, torn between duty and loyalty. "Captain—"
"Go," the Captain snapped, his gaze never leaving the approaching figure. "If I fall, let my death buy you time. Don't waste it."
The air thickened as the shadow drew nearer, every step echoing like thunder through the smoke.
The ground trembled as the shadow finally broke through the smoke.
Not the gleam of silver axes.
Not Yoki's monstrous form.
Instead, a massive figure, broad and bear-like, surged into the open. His black hair whipped wildly as he bellowed, voice booming across the battlefield:
"WHO IS THE STRONGEST HERE?"
The roar rattled the guards to their core. Some stumbled back; others raised their weapons instinctively.
Oxel's breath caught, then eased as realization struck. Relief flickered in his eyes. "It's… not Yoki," he muttered.
Even the Captain felt the icy grip around his spine loosen—but only for a heartbeat. His blade remained steady, gaze unyielding on the newcomer.
It wasn't Yoki. No. But that didn't make this beast any less dangerous.
The Captain's voice cut through the haze:
"I am the strongest here."
He glanced back at his soldiers, sharp and commanding:
"Stay alert. Whatever he is… he's come for blood."
The giant raised one thick arm and bellowed:
"Hold!"
His soldiers froze at once, their blades lowering, the battlefield caught in an unnatural stillness. Smoke swirled between the two sides like a curtain waiting to rise.
The brute's grin split wide as his gaze locked on the Captain.
"Let us fight fair and square," he declared, his voice booming across the ruined gate. "If you win, my men will leave this place. But if I win…" His laughter shook the air. "…then there will be nothing but blood, until every stone of this castle drinks it. Tell me—is that not fair?"
The guards shifted nervously, but the Captain's eyes never left the man. His voice came low, cold, and steady—iron wrapped in calm.
"Very well."
Oxel's chest tightened as he watched the Captain prepare to face the towering enemy. The Captain's wounds still bled; every step he took seemed heavier than the last. Fear gnawed at Oxel — not for himself, but for the man he had followed all his life.
He moved quickly to his side, lowering his voice so only the Captain could hear.
"You don't have to fight him," Oxel said, almost pleading. "We can still take them together. Believe us—we can do this."
The Captain's eyes stayed locked on the massive figure ahead. His voice came cold and resolute.
"My life is not linked to this fight. Even if we keep battling and somehow win, countless soldiers of our kingdom will die for it. But if I fight him alone… and you see that I am losing… then you will think of a way to save the soldiers and the people by running. That will be your duty."
Oxel's lips parted to protest, but the Captain was already stepping away, raising his sword. His figure cut through the smoke with unshakable resolve, leaving Oxel behind as the circle of enemies closed in and the duel was about to begin.
As the Captain walked toward the towering figure, the battlefield seemed to fade. Each step echoed louder than the clash of steel. His thoughts cut through the haze like his blade through air.
Why do they fear the death of a man who is no kin to them? Why? If I fall here, what truly changes?
He tightened his grip on the hilt. I chose this path—not for glory, not for safety, but for duty. This uniform is no shield for my life. It is a promise to theirs.
The firelight flickered across his scarred face, catching the hard set of his jaw. I am the Captain. My duty is to protect. Their fear of my death… I cannot understand it. My life is but a wall between them and the enemy. When it breaks, another will rise. That is the way of soldiers.
And with that, his heart grew still, his mind clear as steel. He stepped forward, ready to meet the giant, not as a man clinging to life but as the blade his people needed him to be.
The giant spread his arms wide, his voice rolling like thunder.
"My name is Osphal," he declared. "And soon, I will be the successor of Yoki." His eyes gleamed with savage pride as he fixed them on the Captain. "Now tell me about yourself."
The Captain's reply came cold and steady, as if carved from stone.
"I am just a soldier… a Captain doing his duty."
Osphal threw his head back and laughed, the sound deep and booming across the smoke-filled field. "Hah! I like you!"
But his words struck deeper than his laughter. Successor of Yoki. The weight of it pressed on every ear that heard. Oxel's blood ran cold; even the Captain felt a sharp jolt inside. To be named Yoki's heir meant this man was powerful beyond reckoning.
Yet the Captain's resolve did not falter. If anything, the revelation only hardened him further. Then I cannot hold back. From the first strike, I must give everything.
He raised his sword, his stance lowering, every line of his body sharp with intent. The air grew tense, the space between them crackling like the silence before a storm.
With a grunt, Osphal drew his weapon — a massive longsword, its blackened steel jagged along the edge, radiating danger with every gleam of firelight. He swung it with brutal force, the air hissing as the blade cut downward toward the Captain.
The Captain moved in a blur, slipping aside just as the ground split where he had stood. Dust leapt into the air, fragments scattering from the impact.
For an instant, his face hardened — not in fear, but in sharp recognition. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion crossing them, as though something in Osphal's swing had revealed a hidden truth only he had noticed.
Steel rang against steel as the Captain and Osphal clashed, blades sparking with every strike. One cut high, the other parried low. One thrust forward, the other turned aside. Blow after blow, neither could break through.
The circle of enemies and guards stood silent, watching the storm unfold. Dust swirled, sparks flew, and still their swords met in perfect defiance — but never in blood.
Yet time was not the Captain's ally. The wounds Yoki had carved into his body burned with every movement. His steps grew heavier, his arm slower by the smallest margin. Each heartbeat stole a fraction more of his strength.
Osphal, fresh and roaring with power, laughed as their swords locked again. "Is this all the strength of the kingdom's Captain?" he taunted, pressing forward.
But though his body ached and faltered, the Captain's eyes remained cold, sharp, unyielding.
Their blades clashed again, sparks spitting into the smoke. Then, with a sudden shift of his weight, the Captain twisted past Osphal's guard and drove his sword deep into his left shoulder.
Osphal roared in pain, stumbling back as blood sprayed across the ground. The Captain's chest heaved, but a fire lit in his eyes. I can do this.
He pressed forward, sword raised for another strike—
—but then he froze.
Osphal was laughing. Laughing through the blood pouring from his wound. And before the Captain could even draw breath, the brute blurred. His massive frame moved with a speed no man of his size should possess.
In a blink, he was upon the Captain.
A knee bent, a foot coiled, and then—impact.
Osphal's kick slammed into the Captain's stomach like a battering ram. The air whooshed from his lungs. His body lifted off the ground, spinning uncontrollably, and crashed hard against the stone floor, sliding to a stop at the far edge of the field.
Pain tore through him as blood spurted from his lips—the blow had reopened the wound Yoki had left, flaring the old injury painfully.
"Captain!" Oxel shouted, his voice breaking with panic.
But the Captain forced out through bloodied lips, "Stay back! Do as I ordered—do not interfere!"
Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off the ground, planting his sword into the earth for balance. Then, with a growl of defiance, he stood tall once more.
The duel raged on. Steel clashed against steel, their strikes echoing like thunder across the battlefield. For five relentless minutes, neither yielded an inch—each blow answered with another, each strike meant to kill.
But at last, Osphal feinted left and then drove his blade downward with brutal precision. The edge bit deep into the Captain's leg. Pain seared through him as his stance buckled, and he crashed to the ground.
Yet even then, he did not stay down.
With a guttural cry, the Captain forced himself upright, one knee sinking into the dirt, his body trembling. He leaned heavily on his sword, its blade his only pillar, but his eyes still burned with unyielding fire.
Osphal threw back his head and laughed, the sound booming like a drum across the battlefield. He lowered his blade, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
"I think this is the end," he said, almost mockingly. "You fought well—better than most I've faced. But your body was already broken before you stepped onto this ground. A shame, really. You never had a fair fight… but that is how life is."
Oxel's fists clenched, his chest burning as he watched the Captain struggle on one knee. He could no longer hold himself back.
With a cry, he drew his blade and lunged toward the duel—
—but steel barred his way.
Several of Osphal's soldiers stepped in front of him, weapons raised, their faces grim but disciplined. One shoved his sword close enough that Oxel felt its edge graze his chest.
"Stay where you are," one of them barked. "Until our commander gives the word, you do not move."
Osphal strode forward, a cruel grin stretching across his face. "You have a loyal soldier beside you," he said, glancing at Oxel. "I like that. All the better—I'll kill you right in front of him."
The Captain wiped the blood from his mouth, his voice low but defiant. "Who said I am dying?"
With a roar, he forced himself upright, driving his sword forward in a desperate thrust aimed at Osphal's legs. But the brute twisted aside, the blade slicing only through air.
Osphal chuckled darkly. "It's not going to work." He raised his weapon, preparing to deliver the final blow—
—but before his strike could fall, an arrow whistled through the smoke and slammed into the earth between them, quivering in the ground like a warning.
Osphal snapped his head toward the castle walls. There, atop the battlements, stood a lone figure dressed entirely in black, a mask concealing every feature of his face. The cloak and garments fluttered in the wind, blending with the drifting smoke, making it impossible to discern anything beneath the shadowed veil.
"Who are you?" Osphal demanded, his voice echoing across the battlefield.
The man's reply was calm, sharp as steel.
"Your death."