The first blow came like iron thunder.
The lancer's monstrous spear screamed across the cavern floor, sparks erupting as it collided with my weapon. The sheer force staggered me, a quake running through my bones, shaking me to the marrow.
For an instant, the sparks lit its helm and through the narrow slits, I saw what lingered inside. Rotting flesh, stretched taut over bone. A glimpse of ruin. It was truly terrible.
"—Tch!" I spat, boots gouging trenches into the stone as I shoved back.
From the helm came a voice. It was adistorted and twisted voice. A chorus of broken echoes, warped by death:
" …rrraaa… gaaaahhh… oath… still… unbroken… oath… kill…dragon!"
The words were broken, senseless, yet its presence was whole. An unyielding wall of death.
Unlike the knight before, this one could speak, or something near to it. An indication of rank, perhaps. Or simply a great will that refused to die.
It attacked again. The lance shot forward like lightning made of steel. My spear caught it, but the shock tore through my arms, rattling bone against steel.
Then instinct, buried deep, seemed to drive it. With a guttural roar, it raised the oversized lance high overhead and brought it down on the cavern floor with the weight of mountains.
KRRAAAASH!
The cavern floor erupted in a thunderclap, stone shattering in all directions. The shockwave split the earth beneath me, jagged cracks racing outward like veins of black fire.
"—Tch!"
I rolled aside as the spear gouged deep where I had been, tearing a trench into the stone. Pebbles and dust rained down, choking the light.
From the smoke, many more attacks came forward. Lance strikes stabbed blind but precise, too fast for a half-corpse. Each one split air and stone alike, hunting my chest.
I slid low, white cloak snapping, weaving between the flashes of iron. One near-miss seared past my ear, shearing away a lock of hair before embedding itself into the cavern wall. Sparks hissed like fireflies.
The knight wrenched it free with a screech of rusty steel. Its helm tilted toward me. Unnatural red eyes glowed like embers, brighter now, as if the fury of the once living burned in the now dead.
Then came the other knight's.
Dozens of them.
Blades dragged on stone, the sound like chains across a tomb floor. They circled in, empty sockets aflame with crimson hunger.
I spun the spear into my grasp, shadows forming my helm as I lowered my stance.
One lunged first. My blade flashed, splitting helm and skull with a single strike. Black blood sprayed, thick and tar-like,from it's body and dripped onto stone.
For a heartbeat, I froze.
"...Again. Blood. But the dead should not bleed."
The thought cut sharper than any blade. Was this black blood natural for the undead? Something told me it was not.
The knight staggered but rose again, body twitching. I tore its weapon free, drove it into its chest, pinning it to a boulder. One slash severed its head. Another cleaved its torso. Black ichor spilled before the body dissolved into pale mist.
A whistling scream of steel. Close.
The lancer's spear tore past, its wind raking my cheek. It swept again, broad and brutal.
I braced.
Spear locked against lance. The collision hurled me back, slamming me into the cavern wall. Rock splintered, forming a crater around me. My lungs emptied in a cough of blood.
Through the haze, the lancer advanced. Each step shook the ground. Its eyes blazed red, brighter than fire.
"…Live… still… living… duty… unfulfilled…"
My side burned,I raised my hand to my head. I looked at my gauntlet. Red liquid glistened even in the dark.
Not black. Not tar. My blood. The blood I hadn't seen in over a thousand years.
I stared. The world seemed to narrow to that one truth.
A laugh tore out of me.
"So I bleed. That's proof enough. I live. You… do not. Let me free you from your curse.Take it as my thanks for reminding me what it means to feel alive."
I stood,my breath ragged, spear rose again.
Inside me, I reached for emptiness. For silence. And found it filled.
Mana flared,wild like a first fire,the once miniscule amounts were growing with every passing moment.
It poured into the spear until bluish flame trailed its length, burning against the darkness. My vision lit with iridescent glow, my heartbeat echoing like a drum. My eyes glowed blue with the sparks running down and up my frame.
The horde roared.
"Gaaahhhhhh!"
"Deaaathhhhhh!"
"Blooood!"
They rushed in.
I spun my spear, shadows arcing behind it like crescents of fire.
"Then come! I'll show you what blood looks like in motion."
Chaos broke.
One knight's skull shattered beneath my strike, bone and rusted helm split in two. Another's blade scraped across my helm, sparks raining, but I pivoted low and carved upward, splitting its torso open. A third fell with its head cleaved diagonally, ichor spraying in black ribbons.
Above, a shadow descended. Its sword fell toward me like judgment.
Steel screamed as my spear caught it mid-strike. Sparks blinded us both. Rotten eyes glared into mine, a mixture of agony and hatred. I shoved, twisted, hurled it away, then leapt. My spear spinned with my weight. I drove the blade through its skull.
It convulsed, then dissolved into mist.
One after another, they fell. Bone split. Rust shattered. Black blood stained the stones before vanishing into nothing. Soon, the cavern was thick with dissolving haze.
And then there was silence.
Only the lancer remained now.
It stood apart, towering, patient. Watching. Waiting.
Its shadow stretched across the cavern. It seemed somewhat solemn.
I lowered my spear slightly, breathing hard. "Were you waiting for a true duel?" I asked.
No words came,only silence. I took that silence as an answer.
"…Very well. Then let's duel."
It leapt and vanished into the darkness above.
The lance descended like a falling star.
I sidestepped at the last instant, spear sliding along its shaft in a shower of sparks, striking up toward its helm. The blow staggered it. For the first time.
A guttural sound bled from its helm. Like an animal in anguish.
" —Errraaahhh… un…yielding… warrior…"
I grinned through blood.
"Unyielding indeed!"
I surged forward, each strike heavier, faster, alive. My spear blazed, black flame tearing across the cavern. Its lance met me at every clash, each collision detonating like a thunderclap.
The cavern rang with steel. Sparks cascaded like falling stars.
The battle grew savage, rhythm born from heartbeat and breath.
Alive.
I was alive
With every clash, I carved that word into the dark.