The ash falls slowly from the sky, twisting in the air like weary dancers who have lost the melody. Every particle of ash that lands on Orestes's body reminds him of what he has lost, and weighs more heavily on his weary shoulders. The ground around him was a mixture of mud soaked with blood and metal shards from weapons shattered under blows he had no time to parry.
His knees sink into the earth, as if the ground itself wants to swallow him.
His right hand grips the hilt of the sword planted before him, and his left hand trembles as it searches for any point of support. His breath comes out hot and ragged, while his inner voice whispers to him without mercy: "You are about to fall..."
But he doesn't hear only that voice, he hears a name...
"Niva..."
The image appears suddenly in his mind, clear despite the smoke and blood. Her childish face as she runs towards him in the throne room, her laughter that was stronger than any victory anthem, the way she would hide behind his leg, and the whole world would not touch her as long as she was close to him.
"Mira..." Her features as she holds his hand on a quiet morning years ago,thinking he doesn't notice the trembling of her fingers. Her gaze when she bid him farewell, trying to be a queen before him, but her eyes hid a single plea: that he return safely.
The images intertwine with a harsher inner voice: "Perhaps you will never see them again...perhaps all of this is meaningless..."
Orestes clenches his teeth until he almost hears them creak. He rejects the thought, he refuses for this to be the story's end. "If I fall...who will carry the sword after me? Who will stand between the darkness and them?"
The air around him grows heavy, filled with the smell of burnt iron and blood that has lost its warmth. He tries to rise, but his muscles betray him; every movement reignites the pain from wounds that were never given a chance to heal. Yet, he drags himself forward, his sword drawing a line in the mud until he finally lifts it, his head bowing slightly from the weight of the weapon and the weight of everything else.
His eyes fixate on the shadow of Darkis, standing with murderous steadiness. His features show no fatigue, his steps calculated like one who knows the end is near.
And Orestos, as he stands on his feet again, feels as if he is lifting the entire kingdom with him.
· "If I fall... the kingdom falls with me."
The air between them was tense, like a string about to snap. One step from Darkis made the earth crack under his feet, while Orestos raised his sword slowly, tilting his head as if measuring the distance with deadly precision.
Neither waited for a signal.
Darkis moved first, his voice piercing the silence:
· "Theater of Absence... opening scene."
Black shadows like curtains fell from the sky, wrapping around the arena, as if they had separated from the outside world. The ground
transformed into a reflective black tile, every step on it echoing like a step on a theater stage.
Orestes pressed his feet into the ground: <"Testament of Glory... Summon the Shield"
A golden burst exploded around him, forming a semi-transparent shield that clung to his body and covered the sword with glowing lines. Every one of his movements emitted golden sparks that flew into the air like fragments of the sun.
Darkis attacked first with a horizontal strike, as if his hand was wiping away a scene from existence itself. It was no ordinary slash, but a line of shadow that erased everything it touched. Orestes bent to the side, the tip of the shadow passing near his face and leaving a cold trail, then countered with a heavy vertical strike, the staggering force pushing Darkis half a step back.
Neither of them stayed in one place.
Darkis suddenly disappeared and appeared behind Orestes, his next strike a blend of speed and weight, but Orestes parried it with his golden shield, sparks flying from the friction, the air tearing.
Then came the first explosion. Orestes plunged his sword into the ground,a golden wave emanated like an expanding circle, pushing the shadows away for seconds. Darkis leaped back,smiled a faint smile, then stomped his foot on the ground, which cracked to release coiling shadow arms trying to grab Orestes. The latter evaded them with a spinning strike, but one shadow succeeded in pulling his foot down, allowing Darkis's strike to come from above like a guillotine.
At the moment of contact, Orestes released a "Shock of Glory" — a concentrated burst of energy from his shield, which sent Darkis into the air, but the latter spun as he fell and kicked Orestes's sword, sending it in an arc to the side.
Without his sword, Orestes advanced with his fists, his blows sheathed in golden energy shattering the shadows Darkis released. Every
punch carried the weight of years of experience and war, but Darkis responded with lightness and precision, as if dancing within a storm.
Their fists collided in the center, the force of the explosion causing the ground to sink under their feet, and the shockwave pushed the illusory walls of the theater outward for a moment before they returned, sealing them in their own private world.
Then, suddenly, they exchanged dozens of blows in an instant — their movements became impossible to track, except through the golden sparks and fragments of shadow flying in every direction. Every step, every dodge, was calculated down to the millimeter, and every attack opened an opportunity for a counter-attack the next moment.
Orestes pressed on, pushing Darkis to the edge, but the latter disappeared again, and this time appeared directly in front of him, whispering.
< "Next chapter... your end"