The knight raised his head, golden light glimmering faintly through the visor's slit. He pulled his sword from the earth, and as he did, it shone brighter—reforged not by hammer and anvil, but by the vows he had once spoken at an altar long ago. The air carried the sound of phantom boots, steady and unyielding, as if the courtyard itself breathed discipline.
He was no longer one man. He was every knight who had ever sworn an oath. His armor, battered though it was, seemed renewed by that truth. He raised his sword in both hands, his posture unbroken, helm aglow with faint golden light where his eyes might have been. He breathed slow, steady, as though the realm itself lent him strength.
This was no battlefield. This was judgment. Indra lowered his head, his breath sharp as whispers invaded his mind. A single name hissed against his skull again and again—
'Mimir… Mimir… Mimir.'
His left eye burned, the socket searing with unnatural heat. He didn't know the name, yet it tore itself free from his lips.
"Mimir."
Blue light ignited. His vision fractured. The courtyard did not vanish—it dissolved, revealing not stone, but what lay beneath: the vows carved into every slab. Promises sworn in youth. Pleas whispered over dying comrades. Chains of words never spoken, shames buried beneath a knight's discipline.
Where the knight saw eternal strength, Indra saw cracks. Fractures. Weakness. The threads of regret holding the entire Sanctum together. The knight surged forward, sword flashing in a perfect arc. The strike rang like a cathedral bell across the courtyard, sparks bursting as Indra raised a blade—one scavenged from the corpse of a fallen knight from before. Steel met steel. Boots and bare feet slid across stone, weight locking them together.
And then the knowledge poured into Indra. Odin's Eye did not just show—it spoke. It revealed. His lips parted with a hiss. "So many promises…" Indra said through clenched teeth. "A vow to your king. A vow to your God. A vow to the dying brother you couldn't save. And—" His mouth curled into a dark chuckle. "—a vow you broke."
The knight's blade flared with golden light, pressure forcing Indra backward. "My vows are mine to bear, not yours to twist!" Strike after strike fell, precise and measured. Each blow a prayer, each swing discipline incarnate. Yet each one quivered under Indra's eye, threads unraveling even as they struck.
Indra's sword snapped across the knight's chest, leaving a glowing line of damage. The knight staggered but caught himself, summoning a shield into his off-hand—a shield wrought from the oath of protection he had sworn the day of his initiation. His stance remained steady, unwavering.
Indra sneered, voice sharp as lightning. "Do you hear them? The boots. The marching. They aren't your allies, knight—they're your ghosts. Your failures, turned to echoes. I can see their faces." The knight straightened, shield lifted high, golden light blazing brighter. "Then look well, for they march with me, not against me."
The banners along the courtyard flared. For a fleeting instant, spectral soldiers shimmered at their poles. The phantom legion stomped in unison, the sound echoing like a heartbeat across eternity. The weight of discipline pressed harder, invisible chains tightening around Indra's limbs, dragging him into unwanted formation.
Still, he lunged. The Eye burned, piercing deeper, searching for the final crack—the oath trembling beneath all others. "There. I see it." His lips curled into a grin, eyes flashing. "The vow you could not keep!" The knight answered with steel, his radiant blade clashing sparks against Indra's mimic steel.
"And still I fight!" Their swords sang again and again. Sparks flew like stars, twilight blazing with each collision. The knight's movements were a litany, every swing deliberate, each step a hymn to duty. Indra moved like the storm—fluid, unpredictable, guided by the visions spilling through Odin's Eye.
"Every vow is a chain," Indra spat, forcing him backward. "You're nothing but a prisoner of your own promises." The knight's teeth ground beneath his visor. "Rather chains of honor… than a crown of lies." With a roar, he unleashed a flurry. Strike after strike cut across Indra's defenses, too fast, too precise. The boy's body bled beneath the weight of it—slices opening across his arms, chest, legs. His blood splattered across the cobblestones, steaming in the twilight air.
At last, they crashed together one final time. Odin's Eye blazed with fate, the knight's Sanctum glowed with will. The courtyard trembled, banners cracking, stones splintering as two realities collided. The knight's growl thundered. "You see paths and endings. But you will never see what it means… to stand!"
Step by step, he pushed Indra back. The Eye seared, visions fracturing, every glimpse of fate tearing into Indra's mind like molten shards. Pain lanced through his skull. His body faltered.
And in that blindness, the knight's sword struck true. Steel screamed. Indra's blade shattered, fragments scattering across the courtyard. The blow hurled him backward, skidding across fractured stone. His body shook, blood dripping from fresh wounds. But he did not fall.
His voice, hoarse but burning, cut across the twilight. "I will not go back! My freedom…" His right eye narrowed, his left eye blazed. "…IS STRONGER THAN YOUR WILL TO KEEP ME HERE!" The Eye roared. Something deeper, older, resonated inside him. His skin rippled. Draconic scales tore across his flesh—obsidian black with streaks of molten gold glowing between them, like cracks in volcanic stone. They spread across his forearms, his legs, his chest, his face, his form no longer wholly human.
His hands tightened around the broken hilt. Another blade lay at his feet—he seized it. Without thinking, without training, he twirled it with instinct that was not his own. The courtyard roared with thunder as he charged again. The clash rang out like a cannon shot. Twilight stretched on. The banners blazed. The phantom boots marched louder than ever. The duel was far from over.