Gurok's breath came in heaving gasps, as he circled the Kuros-wielding knight. His battle-axe, its edge chipped from their exchange, felt unnaturally heavy in his grasp, the exhaustion of the prolonged duel weighing on him.
Around them, the battlefield lay strewn with fallen warriors, their blood staining the snow in crimson patterns. The knight though, other than the arrow at his back and side was still looking strong.
Though his once-pristine armor was now dented a little, the knight commander still moved with precision and ease, his great sword humming with the dark energy of Kuros. The air around the blade shimmered and twisted, as if the air itself recoiled from its cursed edge.
A bitter wind howled across the battlefield carrying the metallic scent of blood and the distant cries of the dying. It whipped the knight's scabbed around his legs as he rushed forward, his armored boots pounding against the frozen earth, using his weight and momentum to flow seamlessly into a vicious diagonal slash aimed to cleave Gurok from shoulder to hip.
Gurok barely managed to parry, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his already battered arms. Worse was the dark aura clinging to the blade; it seeped through the steel of his axe and into his flesh like a poison. it's cold, creeping numbness sapped his strength and will with every exchange.
"You tire, beast," the knight taunted. Eyes gleaming with malice. "Your kind was never meant to stand against the chosen race."
Gurok spat a glob of blood onto the snow. His muscles burned, his breaths ragged, but his tusks remained bared in defiance. "Chosen Race?" he growled, tightening his grip on the axe.
"You're just a man with a glowing sword."
The knight's response was immediate, attacking with a flurry of strikes designed to overwhelm their opponents. A slash at the neck, a low sweep toward the ankles, followed by a spinning reverse-cut that forced Gurok to backstep.
Dark Kuros trailed the blade like ink bleeding through water, lingering in the air like afterimages of death, forcing the Gurok to guess where the next attack would land. The snow beneath their feet churned at thier relentless dance of steel.
Wosshh!
Another black-fletched arrow, loosed from the unseen archer hidden among the fighting, streaking toward the knight's injured side. But this time, he didn't even flinch.
His free gauntlet flashed upward, a pulse of concentrated dark Kuros erupted briefly from his palm. The arrow shattered mid-flight, its shaft bursting into a cloud of useless splinters that pattered harmlessly against his armor.
Gurok seized the moment of distraction, his legs driving him forward with a roar. He put all his weight into a this blow, his axe aimed to cleave the knight in two from hip to shoulder. The knight twisted his torso at the last instant, letting the axehead graze harmlessly off his pauldron in a shower of sparks.
Before Gurok could recover from the miss, the knight retaliated, driving the heavy pommel of his greatsword into the side of Gurok's temple.
The Krag staggered, his vision swimming with swirling black spots. The world tilted, the edges of his sight blurring. The knight pressed the advantage without mercy, his greatsword whirling in a deadly arc.
"Kuros- Partial Enchantment- Black Eruption."
Dark energy erupted from the blade. It swirled into a vortex of pure shadow that detonated in a small but devastating explosion centered directly on Gurok.
The force lifted the massive Krag off his feet, hurling him backward like a child's ragdoll. He crashed into the snow with a grunt that was driven from his lungs, his body carving a deep, furrow in the snow before skidding to a stop, his axe clattering from his nerveless fingers.
The knight advanced, his greatsword humming with renewed power, the dark aura around it writhing. He raised the blade high, its tip catching the light of the twin suns, poised for the final, killing blow.
"Die with honor, beast."
The blade descended
CLANG!
A cleaver with a wickedly sharp edge intercepted the strike mid-air. Sparks erupted as steel met steel, the impact resonating like a struck bell. Arieus stood between them, his massive frame casting a shadow over the Gurok.
His muscle strained as he held the knight's empowered blade at bay, his tusks exposed by a grin that widened with savage delight. With a roar, he simply shoved, using his brute force to send the armored warrior skidding backward several paces.
"My turn," Arieus utter in a deep, resonant voice. Rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his grip on his cleaver.
The knight recovered swiftly, his greatsword humming back to life, the dark Kuros coiling around it like a nest of serpents.
"Another dog to put down," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
Arieus chuckled as snowflakes began to fall, settling on the thick white fur of his cloak and braided black mane, as he took a step forward.
"You talk too much," his eyes glinting with amusement, "for a man who's about to lose his head."
---
The knight attacked first, refusing to cede the initiative. It was a swift horizontal slash aimed to decapitate Arieus, the blade singing through the frigid air, its edge shimmering with dark Kuros. The Krag war-chief ducked at the last possible instant, the steel passing so close it sheared a lock of his braided mane, the severed hairs drifting lazily to the snow.
Before the knight's momentum had fully carried him through, Arieus uncoiled from his crouch retaliating with an upward cleave, the massive weapon cutting through the air with a thunderous, pressurized whoosh.
The knight barely managed to leap back, the wind of the passing blow ruffling his own hair as his armored boots skidded through the slush.
The knight's eyes narrowed behind his visor, reassessing his opponent with newfound, intense wariness. "You're faster than you look."
Arieus grinned, "And you're slower than you think."
"Really"
His next assault was a masterpiece of swordsmanship, a fluid, unbroken combination of slashes, thrusts, and subtle feints. Each strike was enhanced by the writhing dark energy of Kuros, the malevolent aura lashing out like living tendrils, trying to find an opening, to numb and corrupt. It forced Arieus to weave, duck, and block, his cleaver meeting every attack in a shower of sparks.
"Kuros- Partial Enchantment- Phantom Edge"
The great sword's movement became a blur, and for a disorienting moment, it split into three identical copies, each one cutting from a different angle. Arieus twisted, his cleaver whirling to deflect two of the illusions, but the third, grazed his side, the dark-edged steel biting through his armor and drawing a thin line of blood.
Yet, he didn't step back. Instead, his grin widened, his muscles flexed like a beast ready to pounce.
"Now that's more like it."
The knight, annoyed by the lack of effect, pressed forward, each swing of his blade carrying the weight of his corrupting power and the promise of oblivion. Arieus met him blow for blow, his cleaver singing through the air with enough force to shatter stone. The snow beneath them gave way under the strain, vaporizing from the sheer kinetic fury of their duel.
Then, as if reading each other's mind, they broke apart, simultaneously, putting some distance between them.
The Kuros warrior's greatsword pulsed with writhing black energy, the air around it distorting like a heat haze over a desert. His armored boots crunched through the icy crust as he slowly advanced, his visor's slit revealing eyes that now burned with burgeoning frustration.
Arieus rolled his shoulders, his massive cleaver resting casually against his fur-clad shoulder.
"That Kuros of yours," he said nodding at the dark aura surrounding the knight's blade, "it screams against the world. Like a child throwing a tantrum..."
"Why."
The knight's sword flared brighter, violently at the insult, the dark energy writhing as if in agony.
"My Kuros has given me the strength to slay a hundred of your kind, beast." He frowned, while reducing their distance.
"It is the fundamental order of creation, the primordial fire that forged the very world you stand upon! No your place."
With a sudden burst of speed that belied his massive frame, Arieus closed the distance. His cleaver came down in a whistling arc..
...only to be met by the blackened greatsword in an explosion of sparks and dark aura. The impact sent visible shockwaves through both warriors, their feet grinding as they fought to keep their footing. Their weapons locked in a stalemate, neither giving an inch.
"Really?" Arieus laughed, pressing forward with more force until their blades quivered violently between them.
"Do you think it is the only power in this world?"
The knight snarled, and disengaged. His sword left afterimages of clinging darkness as he unleashed another furious flurry. Each blow was infused with the corrupting essence of his Kuros, trying to sap Arieus's strength, numb his flesh and unravel his very will to fight.
Arieus gave ground his cleaver moving with calm efficiency, deflecting and redirecting rather than meeting force with brute force.
A diagonal slash aimed at his rib was deflected, sparks flying as black aura hissed gainst steel.
A thrust to the gut was avoided by a hair's breadth, Arieus pivoting on the ball of his foot so the dark blade only grazed the side of his armor.
An overhead slash, meant to crush his wrist was simply sidestepped, letting the greatsword slam into the snow, leaving a small crater where he'd stood.
"Come on?" Arieus taunted as clods of frozen soil and snow rained down around them.
"Even with your precious Kuros, I can still see your patterns. Your predictable steps." With a sudden, motion, his cleaver lashed out catching the knight off-guard and forcing him into an awkward parry.
The knight staggered from the sheer impact, breathing hard behind his visor.
"You speak nonsense. My power is true. I am blessed. My Kuros..."
"MY KUROS CAN'T BE DEFEATED!"
"KUROS- PARTIAL ENCHANTMENT- CRUSHING BLADE!"
An immense, invisible force slammed into Arieus as a massive blade of condensed dark Kuros, two times the size of the physical sword, erupted from the greatsword, hammering down with the absolute pressure of facing of a falling mountain.
"DIEEEEE!"
Snow and earth exploded upward from the point of impact. Creating a geyser of white and black spraying high into the air, obscuring everything in a localized storm of debris.
"WHAT?!"
When the veil of snow fell, Arieus stood unmoved, his feet planted firmly. His cleaver, held in a high guard, had taken the attack head-on. Something faint faded from the metal where it had met the dark energy. He wasn't just unharmed; he was grinning, his eyes alight with fierce joy. And then he struck back.
He attacked with a simple overhead chop, drawing the knight's guard high, then dropped low, letting his blade carve a deadly, sweep toward the knight's legs.
The knight, reflexes honed by countless battles, barely leapt back in time, only for Arieus to shift his grip mid-motion and, hurled the cleaver like a massive throwing axe.
Steel met steel with a deafening clang as the knight brought his greatsword up to block, his arms shuddering violently under the unexpected impact, but Arieus was already moving.
He caught the rebounding weapon one-handed midair and, in the same fluid motion, drove a knee directly into the knight's armored gut.
The armor crumpled inward. The knight wheezed, the sinister aura around his blade flickering as his concentration shattered.
Arieus gave him no quarter. He followed with a green fist, sending the knight sprawling into the snow.
The knight rolled onto his side, blood trickling from his mouth and staining his chin, his visor knocked askew to reveal one wide, disbelieving blue eye.
"How... did you... block that?" he spat, each word a struggle. "i sense no ...kuros from you... It...it... should have unmade you."
"Fool," Arieus mocked, as he loomed over him. "Do you forget there are powers outside the ability to wield Kuros. Creatures that laugh at your 'fundamental power".
Another smash from Arieus's fist shattered the knight's attempt to regain his stance. A follow-up slash from the cleaver screeched along the entire length of the raised greatsword, throwing a continuous fountain of sparks as the knight held it in a desperate, last defense.
Then, in a flash Arieus drove the his blade through the pauldron on the knight's shoulder, twisting the blade as the man screamed in agony.
"You... can't..."
"Fundamental order" Arieus leaned close, his breath hot against the knight's ear. "You built your 'order' on lies told by your fat, comfortable sages. The true law of this world?" He wrenched the cleaver free with a sickening tear. "Only strength is real."
The knight's head was the first to slam into the frozen earth. Then Arieus finished with a cleaver stroke that split armor, flesh, and bone in a single, brutal motion.
A sound like shattering glass echoed as the greatsword's aura dissipated, the weapon falling to the snow, unmoored and lifeless.
Arieus stood, steam curling from his body in the cold air. Around him, the battle had turned, Gurok was already rallying the remaining Krags, their war cries rising as they pressed the advantage against the knights, whose morale had faltered but whose discipline held firm. These were no ordinary soldiers, they were truly elites, and they would not break easily.
Dana walked closer, an arrow still nocked. "What were you and the human talking about?"
Arieus stared down at the dead knight, then looked at his cleaver, its simple, sharp edge gleaming with something deeper, something more profound, than mere reflected light.
"The reason," he said quietly, "why the humans would lose."
He turned, his muscles tensing as he surveyed the ongoing struggle. "Get ready," he growled, the moment of introspection gone. "We need to finish this and head back to camp."
His grip tightened on his weapon, his eyes already scanning for the next foe.
"I need to prepare for my reinforcements after all."
------------
Femi was sitting in a small, dimly-lit room, the walls painted a fading, buttery yellow that had once been cheerful but now seemed tired and melancholic under the flickering, lazy glow of a single bare bulb overhead. It swung slightly on its cord, casting long, dancing shadows that stretched and receded across the worn floor.
A little wooden dining table, its surface stained from years of use, stood between him and the others. A woman with kind but weary eyes, her hands fluttering nervously like trapped birds, and two children, a little boy swinging his legs excitedly beneath his chair, his eyes wide with innocent glee, and a little girl, carefully arranging her grains of jollof rice into neat, separate piles before eating each one.
The table was filled with the rich, mouthwatering, and a deeply comforting aroma of steaming plates of jollof rice, the grains glistening red with tomato and pepper, flecked with caramelized onions and scattered with tender pieces of chicken, the skin crisped to perfection. The scent mingled with the faint traces of woodsmoke and nutmeg lingering in the air.
It was comforting.
Everyone at the table was engaged in a lively, conversation, the woman laughing softly, a hand to her chest, at something the little boy had said, the girl giggling as she deftly stole a piece of chicken from his plate when he wasn't looking. Every thing seemed pleasant and nice.
But Femi just sat there, his hands resting on either side of his untouched meal. His dark eyes, flicked down at the food, then up at the others, studying each face carefully, before dropping back to his plate again. His jaw was set, his fingers tapping lightly against the table's surface.
The laughter faded slightly as the woman glanced at him, her smile faltering for just a second before she turned back to the children, pretending not to notice the tension thickening the air.
Finally, Femi broke the silence, his voice low and measured, cutting through the warmth.
"So..." He began, his tone deceptively calm. "You all think I'm a fool, ...eh?"