The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine as I made my way through the dense forest. The mission was complete, and Gregor the Red’s head rested securely in a cloth sack strapped to my waist. The journey back to the Guild should have been uneventful.
But fate had other plans.
As I stepped through the underbrush, something
stirred.
A
figure
—standing motionless beneath the moonlight, just beyond the treeline.
I
froze.
He was clad in
black armor,
his presence an unnatural void against the silver glow of the night. His helmet was featureless save for a single, thin slit where glowing
red eyes
peered through. A
greatsword
rested on his back, its wicked edge catching the light.
A
name
surfaced in my mind.
Varian the Black Reaper.
A wanted man. A
knight-turned-mercenary,
known for his brutal efficiency and
unmatched swordplay.
A bounty worth
five times
what I made for killing Gregor.
An opportunity.
I
smiled.
“
You’re on the wanted list, you know,
” I called out, my hand resting lightly on my deck of cards.
His head tilted slightly. His voice, when he spoke, was a
deep, hollow growl.
“
And you’re in my way.
”
The air
shifted.
A fight was inevitable.
The Battle Begins
He moved first.
I barely had time to react before
his sword cleaved the air where I had been standing.
The force of the swing sent a shockwave through the forest,
splitting trees in its path.
I darted sideways, flipping into the air as I released
three cards.
They curved toward him like
silent assassins.
But—
CLANG.
He deflected them with his gauntlet, his armor
barely scratched.
“Tch.”
Annoying.
I landed on a low branch, crouching as I assessed his stance. His speed was unnatural for someone wearing full plate.
This would take effort.
I flicked another card—
a feint.
The moment his blade moved to block it, I
dashed in.
My dagger found a gap between his plates, slashing into his side.
A hit.
Or so I thought.
His
gauntlet slammed into my ribs,
sending me crashing into the dirt.
I rolled just in time to avoid his sword
impaling the ground beside me.
He was
strong.
But I was
faster.
Dancing with Death
I exhaled sharply, pushing off the ground. The pain in my side told me
a rib was bruised.
Maybe cracked.
It didn’t matter.
I flicked my hand, sending
ten cards into the air.
Then I
closed my eyes.
And let them
see for me.
The world
shifted
—I was everywhere at once. Above him. Around him.
Inside the fight itself.
My cards
rained down like daggers.
He swung wildly, deflecting some, but
not all.
One embedded into his shoulder. Another slashed across his helmet, leaving a thin crack.
He
staggered.
An opening.
I
moved.
In a heartbeat, I was behind him. My dagger
sank into the joint of his armor—
But—
Pain.
His armored elbow smashed into my jaw, sending me reeling.
I tasted
blood.
He turned, sword flashing, aiming for my
throat.
I barely managed to twist away, but the blade
bit into my arm.
Deep.
I gritted my teeth. My vision blurred for a second, but I couldn’t afford to falter.
I
had to finish this.
The Final Strike
I needed one
clean shot.
He came at me again—reckless, aggressive. His injuries slowed him, but he was still
dangerous.
I pretended to stumble. Let him think he had me.
He took the bait.
His sword came down in a
heavy arc.
I
vanished.
In reality, I had
shifted
—stepping just inside his guard, where his massive blade was useless.
And then—
I
drove my dagger into his throat.
For a moment, he stood there, still gripping his sword.
Then his
knees buckled.
Blood pooled around him. His red eyes
dimmed.
With a final, gasping breath, he
collapsed.
Dead.
I leaned against a tree, my chest rising and falling.
My body
ached.
I was bleeding. But I was
alive.
I reached down, gripping his helmet.
With a sharp pull, I removed it. His face was pale, his features twisted in shock.
Another
bounty collected.
I wiped the blood off my blade and
got moving.
I still had to get back to the Guild.
And the night was still young.