The rain came down in sheets, drumming against broken rooftops and pooling in the cobblestones. Lightning lit the ruins of the village, a ghost of fire in the storm.
Kael Arden crouched in the shadow of a half-collapsed archway, his cloak plastered to his back, his sword resting across his knees. He had not slept since the fall of the Warlord of Veynar. Since the fragment of Hades burned into his chest.
Three nights and already the world hunted him.
Boots splashed through the mud. A squad of Church soldiers moved carefully down the flooded street, torches struggling against the downpour. Silver armor gleamed faintly beneath their cloaks, their voices sharp over the storm.
"Orders are clear." one muttered.
"The mercenary carries a fragment."
"Kill on sight." another hissed back.
"Fragments are heresy. Better he die now than become another warlord."
Kael's golden eyes narrowed. His ribs still ached, the wound from the warlord's cleaver throbbing with every breath. But worse was the voice.
"Why hide?"
It was a low, inevitable whisper, like earth shifting deep underground.
"You are death now. Show them. Strike. Tear."
Kael's grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles whitened. His breath fogged in the cold.
"Shut it" he muttered under his breath.
The soldiers passed, their torches vanishing into the rain. Only then did Kael rise. He pulled his hood low and stepped into the empty road. His boots splashed through black puddles.
The world had turned against him.
The Church wanted his head.
The Cult wanted his soul.
And the kingdoms wanted his power.
He was a blade without a master, a marked man walking the edge of the abyss.
By dawn, Kael reached the crossroads: four stone pillars, a weathered shrine and a checkpoint tower bristling with paladins. Their armor shone silver in the gray light, shields stamped with the sigil of the Church. Spears barred the road.
"Hold." one barked.
Kael didn't reach for his sword. He just stood there, rain dripping from his hood, eyes glinting faintly gold.
The paladins shifted uneasily. Then the crowd parted.
She stepped forward.
A woman in silver plate, polished but scarred, crimson scarf tied at her neck. Her stride was measured, unhurried. A knight's poise, lethal and certain. Her hand rested lightly on her sword, yet the air around her was sharp, like the moment before lightning struck.
Her eyes locked on him, steady, unwavering.
"Kael Arden." she called, her voice carrying even through the storm.
"You've walked far enough."
Kael's lips twisted in a tired smirk.
"Another executioner, then?"
Her expression didn't flicker.
"The Church has decreed your judgment. Surrender and your death will be swift."
Kael chuckled bitterly, lowering his hood. Golden eyes burned against the rain.
"Funny. That's what the warlord said too."
For the first time, her jaw tightened. Her hand gripped the hilt of her blade.
And then she moved.
Steel sang as her blade cut through the rain, a silver arc aimed at Kael's throat. He barely raised his sword in time, the clash rang like thunder, sparks spraying in the storm.
The impact jolted through his arms, rattling bone. She pressed forward instantly, her strikes relentless, testing him with precision jabs and sweeps. Each blow flowed into the next, her footwork steady, balanced, trained to kill fragments quickly.
Kael parried, but every clash sent pain flaring through his ribs. His boots slipped in the mud as she drove him back step by step.
"Pathetic."
Hades' voice curled in his skull.
"She is nothing. Unleash me and she will fall in one breath."
"Not by yours." Kael hissed, teeth clenched, forcing himself to focus on her blade.
She spun, her crimson scarf flashing and her strike nearly split his shoulder. Kael twisted, steel scraping his pauldron, sparks hissing into the rain. He countered, low and vicious, a mercenary's cut, not clean, but brutal. She caught it on her guard, her boots digging furrows in the mud.
Her eyes widened for just a heartbeat.
"He's holding back. Fighting without the fragment."
Kael grinned through blood and rain.
"What's wrong? Expecting me to roll over?"
She didn't answer. Her next strike came faster, sharper, a silver blur. Kael barely dodged, her blade carved a line through the stone pillar behind him, showering shards across the mud.
The paladins watching shouted, weapons ready, but none dared join the fight.
The storm swallowed everything, the ring of steel, the crash of boots in the mud, the growl of Kael's breath as his body screamed for him to give in, to draw on the fragment's power.
Her blade flashed again and this time he met it head-on, sparks spraying, muscles straining. The lock of steel pressed them close, eyes locked in the rain.
For a heartbeat, the world froze.
"...What are you, Kael Arden?" she asked, voice sharp but steady, almost curious.
Kael's eyes burned gold and black, fire glinting in the storm.
"Just a man too stubborn to die."