The Duel

The ring of metal echoed through the buckets as the final bets were cast. Villagers stepped back, forming a wide, uneven circle. The morning air was brisk, filled with tension. Every eye was locked on the fighters.

Across from Reith, Gladius rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, a seasoned predator sizing up his prey.

He squinted at Reith. “You really going to insult me with that kind of entrance?” His tone dripped annoyance. “This isn’t a village fair, boy.”

Reith tilted his head slightly. “You asked for names.”

“Tch.” Gladius lowered into his stance, katana gleaming. “Fine. I’ll carve a better name into you myself.”

Without warning, he launched.

Reith barely raised the shaft of his scythe in time to catch the first blow, but Gladius was already moving. He twisted, slicing low. A flash of steel. A clean cut across Reith’s calf.

Reith didn’t flinch. He pivoted into a sweeping counterattack, but Gladius was ready—ducking, spinning behind him, and landing another cut on his upper arm.

The crowd winced.

Sai cursed under his breath. “He’s not even trying to dodge.”

Mira clutched her hands together tightly, knuckles white. “He’s bleeding already…”

“He is dodging,” Eira said softly, eyes sharp. “He just can’t keep up.”

Another exchange—faster this time. Brutal.

Gladius advanced with calm precision, testing Reith’s every defense. The scythe intercepted some of the blows, others glanced off or landed cleanly. It was clear, Reith wasn’t winning. He was enduring.

Gladius struck again—Reith’s thigh. Then the back of his shoulder. Then a sharp kick to the back that sent Reith stumbling toward the edge of the crowd.

Corvin stepped forward, but the shadow holding him kept him still, a thin cut tracing his neck from the movement. He grit his teeth, eyes narrowed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen him look like he’s in trouble.”

“He’s been in trouble since this fight started,” Mira murmured, voice heavy with worry.

“He just didn’t realized it until now,” Sai added, eyes flicking between every movement.

Reith tried to retaliate—first a sweeping side strike. Dodged. Then a powerful overhead arc. Gladius sidestepped, hooked his katana behind the scythe, and yanked it forward. Reith stumbled into a roll but popped back up, steady despite the crimson staining his clothes.

Still, his face was calm. No grunt. No pain. Just breathing—heavy now.

Gladius danced back, brow furrowed. “You’re leaking like a stuck pig, boy. How long do you think you’ll last like that?”

Reith didn’t answer. Instead, he lunged—his first real attack.

The scythe sliced horizontally, aimed to cleave straight through.

Gladius grinned as he bent backward, letting the blade hiss past just inches above him. Then, with flawless speed, he stepped inside and drove his katana forward.

Steel bit flesh.

The blade punched under Reith’s ribs and out his back in a clean, brutal impalement.

Eira gasped, hand flying to her mouth.

Mira turned away, unable to look. Sai clenched his jaw, his hands was trembling.

Silence fell.

Reith stood frozen. One second. Two.

Then Gladius yanked the blade free.

Blood poured in a steaming rush. Reith staggered back, gripping his side, fingers instantly soaked red. The other hand still loosely held the scythe.

“Well, well…” Gladius smirked. “So you do react.”

Reith’s face was unreadable, but his breath hitched. He said nothing.

Gladius began to pace slowly. “Look at that. Little farm boy’s finally let go of his charade.”

Corvin’s eyes locked onto Reith. “That wound… how is he still standing?”

“I don’t know,” Eira whispered. “But he’s probably wont be for too long”

“That must hurt like hell, he should give up,” Sai muttered. “But sadly that’s not who he is.”

Gladius raised his blade again. “Still upright? Impressive”.

“Hope your friends aren’t too attached to you.”

He lunged.

But this time, Reith moved differently.

One step back.

Then he hurled something wet—his own blood—directly into Gladius’ face.

The swordsman recoiled, momentarily blinded.

That was all Reith needed.

CRACK.

The scythe’s haft slammed into Gladius’ sternum, folding him forward. Reith followed up with a brutal knee to the chest, stealing his breath. As Gladius reeled, Reith locked the scythe’s handle behind his neck and drove another knee—this time into the side of his face.

The older man crumpled, crashing to the ground, crawling in retreat, still clawing blood from his eyes.

Reith stalked after him, one hand pressed under his bleeding side, the other holding the scythe, steady, relentless.

thud

Reith placed his scythe into the ground as he approached.

Gladius finally cleared his vision, just in time to see Reith’s scar flickering black with a clear, unnatural glow.

“What the—?”

Reith answered with another smear of blood across Gladius’ face. Then he grabbed the man by his cloths and hurled him—straight toward the shadows where his friends were held in place.

Gladius landed hard, weaponless now—his sword abandoned in the dirt.

But he scrambled to his feet quickly, wiping his eyes and locking onto Reith again.

“Eh?” he scoffed. “You have no strength left. I’ll still end this.”

Reith raised his scythe from the ground… then pointed it towards him.

“I suggest you yield,” he said evenly. “You have no weapon.”

Gladius smirked, raising his fists. “A sword is just an extension of the body. And these—” he flexed his fingers before making two fists “—still work fine.”

Reith nodded once. “Fine.”

Thud.

He placed his scythe into the ground and lowered into a bare-handed stance.

“A gentleman, I see,” Gladius sneered—and then they both charged.

Gladius landed a gut punch and clipped Reith across the head—but Reith grabbed his shoulders and drove a knee into his side.

Gladius snarled in pain and fury. In desperation, he jammed his thumb into the bloody wound beneath Reith’s ribs, pressing hard.

Reith’s face didn’t change. Not even a twitch.

Gladius looked up—and saw nothing but cold, focused eyes.

Then—

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

Reith headbutted him. Once. Twice. A third time. Bone on bone. Gladius reeled.

Finally, Reith released him with a brutal push-kick to the stomach, sending them both sprawling to the ground.

They lay there for a moment—bloodied, bruised, gasping for breath.

The crowd was utterly still.

Then Mira whispered, her voice trembling, “He’s… still keeping up.”

Corvin exhaled, a small smile forming. “Barely, yea.”

Sai nodded grimly. “It seems Reith wont yield nor lose—no matter what it costs.”

And as Reith rose, staggering but unyielding so did Gladius, desperation clear on his face as blood ran down it.