Don’t Lose Your Head, Dulla-sama!

Lightning shot across the blackened sky, charging the air around Lord Dulla Tyranus as he calmly surveyed his lands around him. The Greymires stretched out for kilometers in every direction, only interrupted by the turn of a windmill and the outline of his town atop a hill. A wetness was in the air, heralding the arrival of rain—and likely something else that he needed to crush.

A deep breath shuffled the dark plates of armor that adorned his body, embossed and engraved with his own personal sigil. A confidently cruel smile stretched across his face, framed well by his black hair and amply trimmed mustache. As another crack of lightning tore across the sky he felt a fire stir within his breast.

It would need to be satiated soon.

His gaze turned to the town and a grim chuckle escaped his throat. The foolish civilians under his iron rule dared not step foot out as he rode to meet the rumored 'hero'. They were well disciplined and knew their place during the strict curfew he had pressed upon them.

Especially not when this 'hero' was the daughter of the fool that had decapitated him so many years ago.

His grip on the reins of his horse tightened, leather straining between his gauntlet-clad fingers. He would make sure her blood was scattered upon the same soil that he'd been slain upon.

Ever since his defeat at the hands of that accursed 'hero', the Scourge of Greymires had become far stronger. He now had a true edge that could not be dulled by the likes of some mere human, and the borders of his domain were a bladed wall to all, regardless of power.

Greedy dragons, rampaging bands of adventurers, even the likes of the World Guild with their foolish and weak notions had fallen to his might when they dared to step foot upon his home. The stories of their defeats had been written upon their bones, left as warnings to all that dare to cross him.

A deep cackle escaped him as his steed rode forth, cutting through the night with a dread and despair that could not be matched. It was all thanks to that accursed hero, and now his victory will come to a close by the death—or perhaps capture depending on the circumstance—of that man's progeny, all these decades later.

The sudden glint of armor brought his advance to an abrupt halt. As another streak of lightning illuminated the stormy sky, beneath it all on the road in front of him was a figure of pure, unblemished silver. It was the only thing that could be seen—by the gods, just how polished was their armor to be able to stand out in the dark in such a way?

He dismounted from his steed and approached, his dread blade firmly in his hand as the figure began to approach him as well.

Well, if they put that much effort into maintaining their equipment, they were already leagues more competent than most of the fools that challenged him. Perhaps the rumors were true, and this was the daughter of his murderer.

Lord Dulla steadied himself as they eventually met upon the stretch, staring at one another across a twenty-meter gap. The armored figure was surprisingly smaller than what the rumors had suggested, but the power emanating from her was unmistakable.

She was the spawn of that idiot.

"So you have come to face your end at my blade," Dulla said, projecting his confidence. "I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I would be lying. Now then, brace yourself and be grateful as I shed your blood."

The wind blew, bringing with it stray droplets. As it did so, the woman's visage was finally revealed. Beneath a crown of golden blonde hair, the woman's expression was one of determination as rain began to pelt the land.

"I am Dame Eirlys Gloriana the Radiant Vow, and I have come to defeat you, Dulla-sama!"

"…"

The dullahan's eye twitched at the odd honorific. "Excuse me?"

"I'm here to defeat you! And then, once I do, I shall ensure righteousness is restored to your soul!" she said, raising her longsword and smiling brightly as the storm began to rage in earnest around them.

"What in the hells are you on about?"

"I am going to fix you!!!"

"…Fix what?"

"You!" Eirlys pointed dramatically at Dulla with her sword, her smile becoming even brighter. "And then we will get betrothed and live happily ever after! Just like the stories of old—"

In a flash, Lord Dulla closed the gap, his dread blade extending into a whip of obsidian metal as it dug into the unarmored neck of the frighteningly chipper woman. With a smooth twist of his wrist, he tore the blade to the side, intending to rip her head off of her shoulders and send it sailing away.

He normally never 'killed' killed, but this was an exception. This had to be some form of madness from the rumors, and if he allowed it to continue, he might very well lose his mind to whatever insanity had taken hold of this woman.

*CHINK!*

The blade stopped just as the edge dug into her skin, drawing a thin line of red that felt like he was attempting to cleave a mountain in half. His eyes widened as he glanced down at his blade in surprise.

By the elder gods, what was happening?!

It was forged of duranite within the heart of Khaz'Adirm for gods' sake, and she was stopping it with nothing more than her bare flesh. Was she truly that strong?! No, such a thing could not be possible, this was a trick! It had to be some manner of trickery!

Channeling all of the magical might he could muster—and unfortunately uprooting the carefully lain cobblestone of the road as he did so—he wrenched back on the blade, intending end upon whatever foul magic was at play as his own surged down the length of it.

Instead, she was flung toward him and her gleaming armor was torn asunder, revealing a painfully beautiful figure that was only marred by her equally bright smile and a flash of pink. With a girlish giggle she was suddenly in his face, her hand on his chin as their noses brushed together.

"HOLY HELLS?!" He roared in confusion, twisting away and slamming his helmet down on his head as he desperately put distance between them. "WHAT IN THE GODS IS THIS MADNESS, WOMAN?!"

She gave him a coy wink and a giggle.

"My, my, Dulla-sama," she said, making him shiver as she used that accursed honorific on him again. "You truly are as powerful as the twisted tales told of you! I can hardly wait to see what else you can do with your 'sword'… but first, the battle!"

With an awkwardly dramatic flourish she raised her blade, the gloom briefly parting in a flash of lightning as the clouds above swirled around them both.

"Come and let us fight!" she declared in the most girlish voice imaginable, "and then we can get married!"

"LIKE HELL WE ARE," he bellowed, his blade slamming into the ground with the force of a thunderclap.

The world shook as their blades shattered the landscape—SHIT! He'd just gotten that crossroad sign replaced—and in an instant, the two combatants leapt into the air, clashing with a force that shattered the sky.

Wind, steel, magic, and power, it all swirled and clashed in a symphony of chaos and destruction.

Lord Dulla grimaced.

What the hell was wrong with this woman?! Her blade flashed like a storm of light; her strikes were like the crashing of mountains. And while her armor was in tatters and her hair fluttered like a wild mane of gold, the mad glint in her eyes and smile were still as sharp as her blade.

Moments turned to minutes in their dance of death. Each clash of blades a gamble with fate, each dodge a leap from one razor's edge to another. They fought not just with weapons, but with a primal fury that set the atmosphere ablaze with its intensity.

Dullahan or human, it mattered not in this maelstrom of violent wills. The Scourge of Greymires, Dulla Tyranus, had never felt such ferocity, not even in the battles of his past self.

This was definitely the offspring of that accursed 'hero'… but something else was at play here. Something unnatural.

As the storm raged, so did their battle. Nature trembled at their feet, and the heavens themselves seemed to retreat from their clash.

Yet despite getting hundreds of blows in that should've killed her a thousand times over, all Dulla's blade did was cut the remnants of her clothing and armor. Her body was nigh-indestructible and her smile was a maddening beacon of joy and delight.

To make matters worse, she began to sing amongst the thrum of combat!

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

♫ Oh, my darling Dulla-sama!

Your cruel laugh and glowing eyes!

The way the wind blows your cape, as you bring bandits to their demise! ♫

♫ Oh, my darling Dulla-sama!

Behind that handsome aged face,

It's clear to me that your harshness is real, but it emboldens this maiden's chase! ♫

♫ Oh, my darling Dulla-sama!

Our love will bloom in time!

Let our blades clash as much as our bods, so much it's nearly a crime! ♫

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

"STOP SINGING YOU DAMN FOOL!" Dulla shouted, his sword flashing with dark energy as he nearly stumbled in disbelief.

The Radiant Vow, as the mad woman called herself, simply parried and spun around him, her sword slicing the air as she moved with an almost otherworldly grace.

However, despite the amazing technique, she had finally made one vital mistake.

She had turned her back on him.

"I'll show you the power of the Death Knight of Karandir," Dulla hissed, focusing his dark magic into his blade. It pulsed with the energy of the force that had risen him—that had given him this second life— and in one swift movement, he thrust it towards her unprotected back.

Pure, unadulterated spite.

There was a sickening squelch, and Eirlys' sword fell from her hand, her body tensing as she let out a gasp of pain. Dulla's eyes narrowed in satisfaction, feeling the blade pierce through her flesh and bone.

"…" But only slightly?

He pulled his sword free, the dark energies dissipating as he watched her slump to the ground, a pool of crimson forming around her. He'd expected her to cry out in pain, to beg for mercy, or at least to give him some kind of satisfying reaction.

But no.

She simply looked at him with a serene smile, her eyes twinkling with a strange kind of joy, as if this was exactly what she had expected from their encounter.

"That was… beautiful. Please, in my last moments, call me by my first name?"

The sudden request caught him off guard, and for a moment, he hesitated. But then, a small chuckle escaped his lips, a sound that was as dry as the deserts of Zan'sar, and as cold as the ice of the Frozen Wastes.

"Eirlys," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Rest now."

And with that, the woman's eyes closed, and her body grew still, her final expression one of peaceful contentment.

…Until her wounds suddenly closed over and she gave a contented sigh.

"Ufufu, that was wonderful," she purred, slowly pushing herself back up as the rain began to finally slow. She turned to face him with that same maddening grin, her armor and clothing somehow fixed in the process.

"…" Lord Dulla just stood there in shock, his own head nearly falling off in surprise as an overwhelming dread overtook him.

"Let's do this again, Dulla-sama," she asked with an almost childlike glee and a wink. "Oh, the pain you inflicted made me feel so alive~"

"…" Silence was all he could muster despite his ungodly strength.

"I'm looking forward to our next battle, my beloved Scourge," she said, gathering her fallen weapon and sheathing it with a bright smile. "Until next time!"

She began casually strutting toward his town in a sway of hips, her body language completely at odds with her actions. The sheer insanity of the situation was making his head spin, and his fingers felt numb in a manner he hadn't felt since his death.

The dullahan watched her until she was a dot in the distance—

*ka-chink*

Before falling to his knees and letting out a scream that shook the very foundations of the world itself.