Two figures were dancing in the air, clashing weapons. One of them was a middle-aged man, with short black hair, turning slightly grey in sections. A scruffy beard and a look that says that he hasn't had rest in days. He wielded a silver longsword in one hand, as he moved skilfully from one sword form to the next.
The other was a young man whose features looked tranquil as if the battlefield was home for him. His long silvery hair flitted in the wind as he twirled the red and black spear in his hands, returning to a neutral stance.
A few moments past as they stared at each other. Then, they launched at each other, with a warrior's intent, another bout began.
The swordsman took the initiative and attacked first. An overhead strike came down onto the spearman, who gently parried the blow, deflecting the black to the side.
He then followed the momentum through and struck out with the butt of his spear aiming for the swordsman's head.
However, the swordsman recovered his parried blade and lifted the flat of the blade up to meet the strike, and with a heavy clang, the two weapons met.
Without missing a beat, the swordsman sent a powerful kick to the sternum of the spearman and sent the spearman tumbling to the ground below.
With a loud impact, a huge dust cloud erupted obscuring the scene. By the time the swordsman landed safely on the ground. The cloud cleared to reveal the spearman lying embedded in the ground, blood dripping down from a head wound.
"It seems I am still no match for the famous Swordmaster," coughed the spearman, as he struggled to move.
"…" the Swordmaster remained silent, only looking at the spearman, unwilling to let his guard down.
"…Then why did you provoke me?" He finally spoke, feeling slightly more comfortable that his opponent had given up the fight.
The spearman didn't offer any answers, instead, a wide sinister grin spread across his face.
"What else? Power. With you off your perch, Rexenwold is free for my guild to take!" Evil laughter burst from the spearman's lips. He didn't care that his body cried out to him in pain, he had achieved his goal and that's all that matters.
Horrific realisation appeared on the Sword master's face as his stomach dropped. He turned around, hoping to speed off. If he was lucky, he might be able to contain the chaos that this murder guild will eventually cause.
Then, suddenly, a stabbing pain electrocuted into his side. On reflex, he swung his sword and struck nothing. But not the usual nothing, this nothing bled a hot crimson liquid. With the sound of something hitting the ground, the body of a man materialised, almost bisected, from the shoulder to the waist.
Laughter exploded once more, "Did you expect me to come on my own? Of course not!" the spearman gloated. However, his crawling form only made him look pitiful.
As the Swordmaster turned back to his goal of Rexenwold, a burning throbbing pumped through his wound. It was poison.
"Don't think I will let you leave so easily," the pest spoke once more.
Then, the surroundings thrummed with energy. Several figures appeared, seemingly from nowhere and began to channel their spirits together for a large spell.
The Swordmaster would have usually been able to escape or destroy such a spell with relative ease. But his body had started to become numb, his vision blurry and his strength faded. It took nearly all of his remaining energy to stay standing.
At that moment, he stared at the swirling energy that had coalesced and wondered how stupid he had been. He was angry with how arrogant he had been. Angry that these people who treated others as pebbled on their road to power. Frustrated with his own weakness. But somehow, he felt peace that he didn't have to keep fighting anymore.
As the spell unleashed and came crashing down, the Swordmaster met it with a serene face. Then, suddenly, in a split second, his face twisted in anger.
'Fuck that! Give up? Don't make me laugh. These bugs should be ground into dust!' Unbridled rage exploded through his body. A strange energy enveloped his body and seemed to resist the spell's effect for a second. Creating a shield that blocked the force crashing down on him.
The faces of everyone present were twisted in fear. They dreaded the idea of him surviving. The man who had killed countless of their fellow guild members. They only dared to face him now, while he was poisoned and considerably weak. But even then, he still struck fear into their hearts.
'Kill me? You could only bring me to this point by ganging up together. I will murder you all for what you have done!' Even though these were his thoughts, the energy carried his intent to all of those close enough to feel it. A cold dread tickled at the back of their minds, as their throats dried.
With one final burst of unbridled energy, a blinding light obscured everyone's sight. When it finally subsided, nobody dared to look, too afraid of what they might find.
After a long moment, someone mustered the courage to look. And what they found was nothing.
Nothing was left, not even the ground the Swordmaster stood on. Just a huge, smouldering crater with crackling red, ominous energy swirling in the air. It was unclear whether it was residue from the spell, the sword master's energy, or something else entirely.
Whatever it was, it marked the last day of the legend of the Swordmaster. His last moments would scar the minds of those who had the displeasure of witnessing them. However, that would be kept a secret that would haunt them until they died.