The man lifted his falchion, his breath coming in ragged, wet gasps. He gazed up at the blurry, shifting figure of the boy who hung from a moss-slicked branch, illuminated vaguely by the slivers of moonlight piercing the canopy.
"Die!" the knight roared, forcing his body to obey one last command.
With all his remaining might, he swung. The blade cut through the air with a terrifying hiss, a strike so powerful it would have cleaved a fully armoured man in two. It was a blow Norvin couldn't possibly dodge—his body was mid-swing, his momentum committed.
But he didn't need to dodge.
The blade bit deep into the trunk of the tree, missing Norvin's hanging leg by a mere inch. Wood chips exploded outward like shrapnel, but flesh remained untouched.
The knight stared at his embedded sword, his eyes widening in confusion. This was not supposed to be possible. A Core Nexus did not miss. A warrior who had spent years refining his depth perception and muscle memory did not misjudge distance, even in the dark.
'Ah... My head... it's splitting...'
The thought swam through the knight's mind like oil on water. The realization hit him harder than the fatigue: the poison. It wasn't just pain; it was delirium. The world was tilting on its axis, doubling and blurring. The target wasn't where his eyes told him it was.
Norvin saw the hesitation. He saw the way the man's knees buckled slightly, the way his hand trembled as he tried to wrench the blade free from the wood. This was his chance.
Scrambling like a squirrel, Norvin climbed higher into the dense foliage, disappearing into the shadows where the man's failing vision couldn't reach.
"Boy!" the man shouted, spitting a glob of black blood into the mud. "I know you are there! Stop hiding like a vermin! Come out and face me!"
He spun in circles, his boots squelching in the mire, trying to track the rustling leaves. He looked directly above him, sensing a shift in the air pressure. A dark figure, a hardened object, seemed to be plummeting toward his face.
"Got you!"
Out of instinct, the knight raised his sword in a high guard, focusing his dying gaze on the falling shape. Metal clashed against metal with a ringing spark. The knight caught the blow perfectly—his blade locking against the haft of Norvin's small wooden axe.
Norvin, suspended in the air with his weight bearing down on the knight's sword, stared directly into the man's bloodshot eyes.
"Did you forget?" Norvin whispered, his voice cold.
"Forget wh—"
The question died in the knight's throat.
Norvin released the axe.
Letting the weapon fall harmlessly to the side, Norvin used the momentary leverage to swing his body forward, dropping inside the knight's guard. His hands flashed to his belt. In a movement too fast for the poisoned man to track, Norvin drew the two intricately designed knives he had hidden in his pockets.
Thud. Thud.
The sound was wet and final.
Norvin landed crouched in the mud, breathing heavily. Behind him, the man stood in silence, his posture rigid. His sword was still raised high, blocking an enemy that was no longer there.
Slowly, the falchion slipped from his grasp, landing in the muck with a dull splash.
The man remained standing for a second longer, frozen in a macabre statue of defiance. Two ornate hilts protruded from his face—one buried deep in his left cheek, the other piercing the center of his forehead. Streams of dark blood flowed down, masking his expression of shock.
Norvin stood up and kicked the back of the man's knee. The structure collapsed. The knight fell face-first into the swamp.
Almost immediately, the Marsh Forest responded. The mud around the corpse began to bubble and churn, more viscous and eager than before. The roots of the nearby trees seemed to quiver, inching imperceptibly closer to the fresh source of nutrients. As the mud slowly swallowed the man's corpse, dragging him down into the suffocating depths, Norvin finally allowed himself to collapse against the nearest tree trunk.
His lungs burned, and his hands shook uncontrollably now that the adrenaline was fading. He looked down at his boots, which were already sinking.
"I have to move," he muttered to himself.
He couldn't stay here. The forest was eating, and it wouldn't mind a second course.
Gritting his teeth, Norvin forced his exhausted limbs to move, climbing up the rough bark of the tree, seeking the safety of the high branches away from the voracious earth.