Raiji's eyes scanned the room. Blades of every make and era were mounted on the walls, and more were displayed on a frame behind the throne-like chair. A collector's den, or a trophy hall.
THE SWORD THIEF: "And who might you be, weakling? That sword you've got... is nice."
RAIJI: His voice was calm, a flat statement of fact. "I am the fastest sword from the fighting pits. They called me the Wind Blade. I am Raiji." A slight pause, his hand settling on Baneblade's hilt. "Or your end."
THE SWORD THIEF: A flicker of recognition crossed his face, followed by a smirk. "Ah. That place. I'm from there. Years ago, I fought King Croc and lost. One of the few to even damage him, though. Midas gave me an offer, but I was... ambitious. Went for a rematch. Did better. Still lost to that stupid V5." He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, to the city beyond the desert. "Used Midas to escape the walls instead."
RAIJI: His expression didn't change. "So you gave up. Loser."
SWORD THIEF: "It's not that simple. You would have given up, too."
He raised his arm, palm open. The swords mounted on the walls and stacked in barrels began to rattle, then rise, hovering in the air. With a swipe of his hand, he sent a steel wave of a dozen blades screaming toward Raiji.
Raiji didn't retreat. He surged forward, weaving through the deadly hail in a series of fluid, impossibly close dodges.
SWOOSH—RATTLE—CLANG!
Blades embedded themselves in the floor and walls behind him.
RAIJI: (Not even breathing hard) "That was close. So you decided to play dirty."
He didn't wait for a reply. Baneblade flashed, cutting the air itself. A crescent of compressed wind sliced toward the Thief.
"There's a reason I call you loser. I also lost to King Croc. I cut him, too. You know the difference?" Raiji advanced, unleashing another, larger wind slash. "I got up again."
The Sword Thief sneered, gesturing. A wall of hovering swords interposed itself, blocking the wind slash with a resounding BANG of deflected force.
SWORD THIEF: "Is that the best you've got? You're lucky. You never lost multiple times. Before I escaped... I fought one man. He took all my skill, all my pride..."
He swung his own blade, not at Raiji, but at the air. The motion gathered the hovering swords into a single, massive blade of swirling metal that he brought down in a colossal slash.
Raiji braced, blocking the core of the strike with Baneblade. The impact shuddered through him. Before he could recover, the Thief gestured left. The massive sword-form split apart mid-swing, the individual blades curving around Raiji's guard from all sides.
Raiji moved.
Just in time.
He became a miniature tornado a Mininado of precise, whirling slashes. His blade was a silver blur, deflecting, parrying, and sending the attacking swords spinning harmlessly away to clatter against the walls.
Most of the swords spun to the side, neutralized.
SWORD THIEF: (His voice low, haunted) "This guy I fought... he was too much. Greater than the V5. Greater than King Croc on white v5"
Raiji pushed himself up. His arms were a lattice of shallow cuts, his torso scored in several places, a trickle of blood running from his brow. He was breathing heavily, but his gaze was unwavering.
RAIJI: (Between breaths) "You never learned to take a loss... but you do know this: every major loss... you get stronger. You get up. You try again. You train. Someday... you'll be on that level."
The Sword Thief watched him, a flicker of something recognition, frustration in his eyes. He discarded the swarm tactic. In a fluid motion, he drew his personal blade, a needle-thin rapier, and settled into a classic, perfect dueling stance.
SWORD THIEF: "Let's fight for real. Skill only. Just one more time."
A cluster of blades rose behind him, not to attack, but to hang suspended like a jury. He launched forward, his rapier a silver streak aimed for Raiji's heart a smooth, practiced motion honed over decades.
Raiji didn't try to parry the un-parryable thrust. He dodged to the side, his own movement a blur. The Sword Thief flicked his wrist; the hovering blades shot down like steel rain.
Raiji was already gone, dashing through the openings. He cut the air, sending a wind slash point-blank. The Thief's rapier danced, deflecting the compressed air and sending it rebounding.
Raiji didn't flinch. He dashed over the rebounding slash, closing the distance, and cut downward. The Thief brought his rapier up in a desperate block, the force driving him back a step. He shoved Raiji off and lunged, his blade slicing a clean line across Raiji's shoulder.
Raiji grunted, spun with the momentum, and brought Baneblade around in a vicious, rising diagonal slash aimed to bisect the Thief from hip to shoulder.
Caught off-guard by the ferocious counter, the Sword Thief could only throw himself backward. He avoided the kill, but not the cut. The tip of Baneblade opened a deep gash across his chest. He parried the follow-through, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
Sword Thief : (standing tall proud and tall) "Too slow, Wind Blade."
RAIJI: A evil smile touched his lips. "I still caught you."
The Sword Thief's free hand shot to his side, drawing a second blade from a hidden sheath. It was a sinister red, and as he swung it, a wave of searing flame erupted from the edge. Raiji threw himself backward, the heat blistering the air where he'd stood.
RAIJI: (Eyes wide with shock) "What was that? Fire from a sword? How?"
SWORD THIEF: "Long story. You're new to this, so I'll keep it brief: if you're strong enough like really strong you can make a sword do more than cut." He gave a cold smirk. "So I was holding back."
A low, moaning wind began to howl outside the building.
The Thief gestured, and a new wall of floating swords formed a barrier in front of him. With a decisive swing of his red blade, he sent the entire wall flying toward Raiji, each sword trailing a lick of flame.
Raiji dashed to the side, the incendiary barrage shattering the wall behind him in an explosion of splinters and embers.
RAIJI: (Panting) "Close one."
He paused, listening. The wind's howl was now a shriek, punctuated by the ping of sand against metal. "Is that... the sandstorm picking up again?"
OUTSIDE THE METAL SKULL
The sandstorm was indeed returning with a vengeance. The horizon was a boiling, ochre wall advancing on Scrap Town.
Kiro and Titan stood at the main gates, squinting into the maelstrom.
TITAN: "This storm's the strongest we've had all year. Wait... what's that in the distance? Looks like... people. And raptors? How?"
Kiro's enhanced vision focused. Emerging from the swirling dust was a small army—a chaotic mass of scavengers on armored, reptilian mounts. He estimated their numbers instantly.
KIRO: "It is. There's like... four hundred of them. A small army."
The force ground to a halt just outside effective range. At its head, a figure stood taller than the rest, his armor ornate and clean despite the storm.
BARTHOLOMEW: (Voice amplified, dripping with arrogant command) "I am Bartholomew Synthfield the Sixth! And you will show respect! Bring me this Cube user! What's his name...? Doesn't matter. He beat my men, humiliated a boss, and turned him in. We are here for him."
The old owner of Saber, Clayton, shuffled up beside the leader, pointing a trembling finger.
CLAYTON: "He also beat me up!"
BARTHOLOMEW: (Without looking) "Not now, Clayton. You lost. So now I get your spot as right hand. Too bad." He refocused on the gates. "Surrender the boy, or we grind this scrap-heap into dust."
KIRO: (Shouting over the wind) "Who are you, anyway? I'll fight all of you at once!"
TITAN: (Cracking his knuckles, his voice a low rumble) "I'll join in. I'll be helping. If they attack the city... it's bad for everyone."
Meanwhile, inside the Skull, the noise was a cacophony of clashing steel—CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Raiji wove through the storm of blades, his movements a hair's breadth from death. The Sword Thief gestured, and the flying swords obeyed, attacking from left, right, above, below. By some miracle of speed and instinct, Raiji dodged every one—until a single blade slipped through, carving a deep gash across his left shoulder.
Raiji gasped, his grip on Baneblade faltering for a split second.
The Element Slayer didn't miss the opening. He lunged, both his blades the red flame-sword and his rapier coming down in a single, decisive blow aimed to crush Raiji's guard.
From the corner of his eye, Raiji saw it. He twisted, bringing Baneblade up in a desperate cross-block. The impact was monumental. His arm screamed in protest, shuddering under the weight of the dual assault.
SWORD THIEF: "You are strong... but still too weak. Watch your left!"
Another sword, controlled from afar, shot toward Raiji's unprotected side.
Raiji couldn't dodge. Instead, with a roar of effort, he shoved the Thief's blades back just enough to free his own. He spun, not to dodge, but to intercept. His blade met the flying sword in a shower of sparks, knocking it off course but the force still drove the point into the ground, pinning his sleeve and holding him for a critical moment.
RAIJI: (Breathing hard, a fierce grin cutting through the pain) "Look who's got a weakness. You've got a safe zone... or are you just scared?"
With a sudden, explosive motion, he wrenched free. A quick, precise slice downward knocked both of the Thief's personal blades aside. He dashed back, then forward like a viper, a second slash sending the Thief stumbling backward.
The Thief, enraged, sent the entire remaining swarm of swords screaming toward Raiji.
Raiji didn't retreat. He jumped, a spinning vortex of motion around the Thief. As he moved, he unleashed wind slash after wind slash. The Thief, head down, could only block desperately, each concussive impact driving him deeper into the sand that now clouded the air from their shattered floor.
Then, the Thief looked up, searching for his foe.
Raiji was already there. A final, committed dash. Point-blank range.
SWORD THIEF: (In a rush of panic) "I've got you!"
Every remaining sword, along with his two personal blades, shot forward in a final, all-or-nothing convergence. The red blade led, a crescent of fire leading the deadly steel tide.
Raiji met it. Not with a dodge, but with Baneblade. He didn't block the steel; he intercepted the fire. The unique property of his sword activated, the runes along its length flaring as it absorbed the elemental attack. The flame winked out, the energy dissipated harmlessly, and the now-ordinary red blade was knocked aside.
But Raiji was in the air, committed. He watched, almost in slow motion, as the Thief's own uncontrolled swarm of swords their guiding flame extinguished continued their deadly trajectory.
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
Three swords impaled the Sword Thief one in each shoulder, one in his thigh. He staggered, about to drop to his knees with a wet gasp, blood soaking the sand around him.
Raiji, still in mid-air from his deflection, saw the opening. With the last of his strength, he reversed his momentum. Baneblade flashed one final time, not with wind, but with the raw kinetic force it had just absorbed. He unleashed a point-blank Fire Slash the stolen energy of the Element Slayer's own blade directly at his exposed opponent.
The crimson wave of heat and force hit the Sword Thief square in the chest, finishing what his own swords had started.
The Thief was thrown backward, crashing into his throne of scrap metal before slumping to the ground, still and silent.
Raiji landed heavily, the strain of the fight evident in every movement. He stood for a moment, chest scorched and heaving. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he sheathed Baneblade.
Meanwhile, outside the Skull, Veyra stood atop the last groaning gangster, surveying the courtyard of fallen bodies. She ejected the spent shells from her revolvers with a sharp click-clack.
VEYRA: (Panting slightly) "Hopefully, that's all of them."
A heavy, scraping sound came from behind her. She spun.
Bruce was pushing himself up from the ground, his movements unnaturally fluid for a man just beaten into unconsciousness.
BRUCE: His voice was different flatter, devoid of its earlier brutish arrogance. "What have you done here? All three of you picked a war you cannot win."
VEYRA: (Eyes narrowing) "You're up again?" She didn't wait, launching into a suit-enhanced kick.
Bruce moved. Not with his earlier lumbering power, but with impossible, economical speed. He caught her ankle mid-air, twisted, and drove a fist into her stomach, sending her skidding back across the sand.
Veyra coughed, forcing herself up. "Wait... 'how three'? How do you know about Kiro? You never"
Before she could finish, Bruce's body went rigid. A faint, sinister purple light began to glow in his eyes, then spread, forming a crackling, translucent shroud of violet energy around his form. His voice shifted completely, becoming layered, ancient, and echoing with unnatural power.
THE ENTITY: "I am not Bruce. I am the Messenger. Leave the Frontier. If you know what is good for you... leave."
The purple light vanished as suddenly as it appeared. The raw, imposing strength bled out of Bruce's frame, and he collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, hitting the ground with a final, heavy thud.
Veyra stared, her tactical mind reeling, the implications colder than the desert night. They were being watched by something far worse.