The Dark

Despite both fighters’ exhaustion, they still stared each other down. Every breath was heavy. Behind Gladius, the villagers had fallen eerily quiet, watching their champion struggle against a bloodied boy.

“This is embarrassing,” someone muttered.

“You think the boy lied about who he is?” another asked, voice hushed.

“Maybe we overestimated Gladius as a fighter.”

The murmurs turned into scattered whispers. Gladius’s eye twitched. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and wiped his forehead roughly.

“Gah—I won’t stand for this.”

With a snarl, he began circling. Reith mirrored the movement, both locked in an uneven dance. They moved slowly, warily, steps digging into the dirt. When they’d made half a circle, Gladius suddenly bolted—racing back to where he’d been thrown earlier. His sword still lay in the grass.

Reith cursed under his breath and chased after him, forgetting—too late—that his scythe remained embedded in the earth where he had left it erlier.

Gladius reached his weapon and spun with fury, swinging wide arcs at Reith. The boy barely ducked, backing away, trying to angle around the onslaught. But Gladius pressed him, eyes wild, forcing him away from the center of the battle where his scythe laid, and toward the edge—toward the river.

“What happened to a gentleman’s match?” Reith managed through grit teeth.

“This was never that,” Gladius growled. “You tried to make it into one. I, on the other hand, came here to win.”

The next slash landed deep across Reith’s stomach.

A hiss escaped his lips, but he didn’t scream. Gladius twisted, slashing upward from hip to shoulder, then again down in a brutal follow-through. Reith blocked with his forearms, staggering, barely able to stay on his feet.

Blood poured freely.

Another thrust—Gladius’s blade pierced the opposite side of Reith’s torso then where it had erlier. The katana slid in with a sickening crunch.

Reith’s head dropped. He stared down at the blade sticking into him.

“I got you now,” Gladius said, victorious. The crowd erupted behind him, cheers bursting from those who had wagered in his favor.

“No…” someone whispered.

Eira turned away, trembling. Sai’s hands were in tight fists. Mira struggled against the shadows holding her, shaking with panic.

“No, no, no!”

Then came Reith’s voice—low, broken, and full of heat.

“I got you.”

Gladius blinked.

“What?”

Reith reached up, grabbed the katana with both hands, and stepped forward—driving it deeper into himself. Gasps rippled across the courtyard. Even Gladius’s eyes widened. Reith’s grip slid up the blade and seized the hilt.

And then—CRACK.

A brutal headbutt collided with Gladius’s face. He stumbled back, dazed. His hand caught on Reith’s sleeve as he fell, tearing it off from the cut fabric.

He landed hard in the dirt, gripping the tattered cloth, blinking up at Reith.

The boy stood tall—barely. His eyes were empty. His scar glowed with a strange, pitch-black light. The katana was still embedded in him, the wound a gaping mess.

“Just give up!” Gladius snapped, blood dribbling from his mouth.

In response, Reith coughed up more of his own, red spilling down his chin. His knees trembled.

The scar’s light began to fade.

Gladius pushed to his feet, as he backed off form the struggling Reith something nudge his boot. He looked down.

The scythe.

A smile cracked across his bloodied face.

“Reith watc-!” Mira shouted, voice hoarse. She surged forward, but the shadow gripping her struck her hard in the neck, then tightened its grip across her throat.

“No interfering,” it hissed.

Gladius grabbed the scythe. He didn’t hesitate and started approaching Reith once more.

The back end smashed into Reith’s eye socket, sending him reeling. Another strike drove the handle into his throat. Reith dropped to his knees, gasping.

Gladius stepped close, took hold of his sword’s hilt, and shoved his boot against Reith’s chest.

“Sorry for this,” he muttered with mock sympathy.

With a sickening pull, he yanked the katana free. Blood splashed across his legs as Reith lurched forward, then then as Gladius kicked pressed his foot over his chest Reith leaned back.

And then—

With cruel precision, Gladius drove Reith’s own scythe into his shoulder and shoved him back.

Reith toppled like a puppet with its strings cut. He fell into the river with a splash.

The water turned red almost immediately. Reith’s eyes fluttered shut as the current pulled him downstream.

“Reith!” Eira screamed.

“No! NO!” Mira thrashed violently.

Sai’s head dropped, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. Even Corvin, bound and silent all this time, looked visibly shaken. The coldness in his stare vanished, replaced with raw disbelief.

Gladius stood at the edge of the river, watching as Reith’s form drifted. The blood trail thinned. His body started to sink.

Gladius gave a short, respectful bow of the head.

“Well then,” he said to no one in particular, turning back to the crowd.

The villagers who had placed winning bets roared in approval, throwing arms in the air and cheering.

“Gladius! Gladius!”

“He did it!”

“Champion!”

But the losers stood still, some whispering, some looking away.

Gladius raised a hand, silencing them.

“Shadows, take them to the village. Keep a close eye on them,” he said coldly.

The shadows obeyed, jerking the four friends into motion.

As they were dragged away, Mira twisted in their grip and screamed with unfiltered rage at Gladius. “You think this is over?! You think killing him makes you strong?!”

He ignored her.

“I swear,” she hissed, voice venomous. “If I get my hands on you, you’ll wish the river had taken you instead.”

Gladius paused. His gaze flicked over his shoulder. For just a moment, something unreadable passed across his face.

Then he turned away.

They were led up towards the hill where Sai had pointed out where a path was on the map just a day before. They were being led under heavy guard, the sun now fully risen over the horizon, casting long shadows across the blood-stained earth. Gladius placed the sword into the dirt and sat down on his knees in front of it, hands placed on his legs.

The river flowed on—carrying Reith’s body in the stream, a single pulse stirred beneath the water. The scar, dim now, still hummed faintly in the dark.