Cough! Cough!
A woman knelt on one knee, her sword blade struck into the ground. She coughed out blood as she struggled to get up.
She wore battle-worn gear. A dark, reinforced leather breastplate across her chest, scarred and scraped from countless encounters. Beneath it, a layer of chain-mail was visible at her shoulders and waist, though several links had been broken and tarnished.
She wore heavy, articulated greaves on her shins and thick leather bracers on her forearms, which were now dark with a sickening mix of her own blood and the grime of the battlefield.
The fabric of her tunic underneath was a deep, somber gray, now ripped in several places, revealing angry red wounds. Her clothes were functional, built for fighting and survival, but they looked utterly pathetic against the scale of destruction around her.
Her purple hair was matted and streaked with dried blood. Her eyes were filled with unreadable emotions.
She was surrounded by debris, destroyed buildings, smoke, and the smell of dust mixed with the stench of blood.
The street she stood on was completely destroyed, with the moonlight illuminating the bizarre and pathetic situation.
She finally stood up and looked at the end of her left side.
Just at the far end, the sound of metal could be heard and occasional sparks of light moving could be seen.
Soon enough... it died out.
She opened her mouth to speak... but a tear slipped down first.
It's repeating? Are we actually going to fail... again?
Her thoughts were interrupted when slow and deliberate footsteps grew louder, getting closer to her. Amid the dust and debris, a figure slowly emerged.
In the faint, eerie glow of the moon, the figure finally stepped clear of the swirling dust. He was a half-naked man walking barefoot. Below the waist, he wore a pair of dark trousers. It was rustic, perhaps leather or a thick, dark fabric that tied at the waist, giving a sense of rugged, unburdened movement.
He was well-built, every muscle in his chest, arms, and abdomen defined, sculpted by what looked like years of hard living and training, though strangely, he seemed to bear no fresh marks of battle... no blood, no grime, no new cuts to match the carnage they were standing in. It was unsettling.
His hair was long, a striking cascade of white that fell past his shoulders, catching the weak light. And at the center of his chest, beneath the moonlight, she could just make out a dark, well-drawn tattoo of a glowing ball engulfed in flames. On his back was another tattoo, but it was the drawing of a cat, its figure inspired by an hourglass.
He approached the woman with a wide, wicked grin plastered on his face.
He glanced toward where the clash of metal had been moments ago. The grin slowly disappeared from his face, making way for an unreadable expression.
He slowly turned his gaze back to the injured woman, whose expression had changed to anger after seeing him.
".. The ninth time, Elara... We both failed again," he said, his voice showing a hint of disappointment.
".. I failed to find my son, and you failed to save your world... Why does the world keep giving us chances if we can't make things right? All I really want to do... is kill my bastard son, who is making my life a living hell."
He paused.
At that moment, sparks of light and a thundering sound resounded in the sky. Elara and the man turned their gazes to it.
The man was the first to shift his gaze away and sighed.
"And there they are. Your loyal boy and my other son battling for different things. My son will destroy your world for allegedly killing his brother, and your loyal boy is... um... stupid. Why risk your life for humanity? I guess he got that from you."
Elara gritted her teeth and assumed a fighting stance, tightening her grip on the hilt of her sword.
Above them, a violent battle of power was going on, and now it looked like another one was likely to replace the one that had died out minutes ago.
But the man was reluctant.. or rather, not interested.
"What's left to fight for, Elara? Look around. Primoria has been destroyed. Asgard has been destroyed. Eldrath has been destroyed. Only Gehenna remains. What's left to fight for? Demons have won! Gods, humans, and Eldrath fell at our feet. Demons rule!"
Elara's lip twitched slowly, forming a grin.
"Have you forgotten? Cycle of the Stray... You kill me, and another cycle will begin."
The man threw his head back and laughed. After laughing, he looked back at Elara and sighed.
"Nine lives... that's what Cycle of the Stray means... And this is the ninth life, Elara. Don't you recall?"
Elara's confidence slowly crumbled as she staggered back a little. Her eyes widened in horror.
"So this... this is how it ends... I couldn't save humanity? That can't be... No, it can't."
The man slowly walked toward her.
Just then, the battle in the skies ended as two figures – a male and a female – came crashing down, engulfed in red flames. They landed on a large debris just a few feet away from Elara and the mysterious man with immense force, but that didn't kill them... because they were already dead beforehand.
The fire, though, didn't stop burning them and only swallowed the surrounding debris.
Elara looked at the fire in horror. Though she couldn't see the figures, she knew who they were.
"Leo... Rina," she whispered as tears rolled down her cheeks.
The man gazed at the fire with an unreadable expression.
"Your loyal boy and your daughter died yet again, huh? Too bad they won't see their mother die in the best way possible."
Then, the male figure whispered something before inhaling his last breath. The statement ignited a spark of light deep within Elara's soul.
He said:
"Fight... or... die without a name."
But that wasn't enough to stop the man.
The man suddenly took a step forward, aura emanating from his body, illuminating different colors while imposing a great force on Elara.
His whole body felt overpowered..or was maybe overpowered. He stretched his right hand forward. Sparks of light gathered around his palm, slowly taking shape until a large curved blade formed. The weapon glowed faintly, humming with unstable energy.
Elara steadied herself and lifted her sword. Her arms shook slightly. She was tired, but she refused to give up.
He looked at her, his face calm and unreadable. Then he moved.
The first swing came fast. The sound of metal striking metal echoed through the ruins. The impact threw sparks into the air and sent a gust of dust across the ground. Elara staggered back but didn't fall. She pushed forward and swung again.
Their blades met a second time. The clash was intense. Each strike forced her arms to ache. She could feel the pressure in her bones.
He didn't look strained. Every move he made was controlled and well calculated. When she swung from the left, he blocked. When she tried to feint, he stepped aside. His eyes followed every motion she made.
Elara gritted her teeth. She tried to break his rhythm by aiming low. Her sword scraped against the side of his leg, but it didn't cut deep enough. Before she could pull back, he elbowed her in the shoulder, making her stumble backwards.
She fell to one knee but quickly rolled away as his glowing blade came down, cracking the ground where she'd just been. Pieces of broken stone flew into the air.
She pushed herself back up and charged again. The sound of her boots hitting the ground echoed through the street. Their swords clashed once more, and this time she pushed him back a few steps.
"You're still stubborn." He smirked.
"Shut up.." she spat, swinging again.
Their weapons met again and again. Each strike sent vibrations through the air. The sound was sharp and constant.
Elara ducked under a swing and slashed upward. The tip of her blade cut across his chest, leaving a faint line of blood. He looked down at it briefly, then back at her.
"That's new.." he muttered.
He moved faster. She barely saw him before his foot slammed into her stomach. The hit threw her several feet back. She landed hard, coughing blood onto the cracked ground.
Her sword had fallen from her hand. She reached for it, but before her fingers touched the hilt, his shadow fell over her.
He kicked the sword away. "It's over.." he said flatly.
Elara looked up at him, breathing heavily. "Not yet."
She grabbed a piece of metal from the ground and swung it upward. He caught her wrist easily, twisted it, and forced her back down. The metal shard clattered beside her.
He pressed his glowing blade against her neck. The heat from it stung her skin.
"You always make it difficult.." he said quietly.
".. Even when you know you can't win."
Elara's voice was weak but steady. "If I stop fighting, I'm already dead."
He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "You really don't change."
He raised the blade higher to finish it.
But before he could swing, she drove her knee into his ribs. It wasn't strong enough to injure him, but it broke his balance for a split second. She rolled away and scrambled toward her sword.
She picked it up and turned just as he came at her again. Their blades collided once more. The repeated hits grew faster... short, desperate exchanges filled with grunts and the sound of metal clashing.
Elara's movements were slowing. Her arms felt heavy. Her breathing turned shallow. Every strike she blocked sent pain through her whole body.
Finally, he caught her blade mid-swing with his bare hand. The glowing energy from his weapon flared, breaking her sword into two.
The broken blade fell to the ground.
He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. Her feet dangled as she struggled to breathe.
"Any last words?" he asked.
Elara's voice came out strained as a grin slowly appeared on her fatigued face.
"Yeah... see you... next time."
A faint light pulsed from the mark on her chest.
His eyes narrowed. "You.. "
Before he could finish, the light exploded outward. A shockwave burst from her body, throwing him across the ruined street. The force leveled what was left of the nearby buildings.
When the dust settled, she was gone.
He stood slowly, coughing from the impact. He looked at the empty spot where she'd been, then at the broken sword lying nearby.
"Another cycle?" he muttered quietly. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
He sighed, turned his gaze to the moon, and walked away through the rubble.
As he walked, the same light that caused Elara's disappearance burst out from his body, and when it died out... he was also gone.
.. the same happened to the bodies engulfed in red fire.
Let the tenth cycle begin...