Darkness Meets the Crimson Flame

                  

Akhen stood motionless in the basement's gloom, his breathing the only sound in that hollow space. For a man who moved through life like a shadow, this stillness was unnatural. The visions clung to him—not as memories, but as wounds. Too vivid. Too needed to dismiss.

A quick decision.

He turned sharply, boots echoing as he took the stairs two at a time. The satchel swung heavy against his hip as he reached the upper chamber, its weight suddenly insignificant compared to what now drove him.

A glint arrested his movement.

There, half-buried in dust near the desk's leg , a blade.

Not his practical dagger. This was longer, its curved steel etched with those same impossible glyphs that adorned the walls. When his fingers closed around the hilt, the dust fell away like sand through an hourglass, revealing a metal that drank the light rather than reflected it.

The wind howled across the barren stretch between Ashvale and the next blight upon the land , Lumina. Akhen stood at the crossroads, the weight of the unfamiliar sword at his hip a constant reminder. It was not his preferred weapon , he had always moved with the lethal precision of daggers, swift and unseen—but this blade... this blade spoke to him.

Curved like a crescent moon, its edge broadened into a cruel sweep, perfect for cleaving flesh in a single motion. The grip was worn, the leather wrapping stained with old blood , someone else’s history, now his. He had taken it from the corpse. Or perhaps the corpse had given it to him.

He slid a hand over the scabbard, then turned his attention to his satchel. A frayed map, half-eaten by time and damp, told him what he already knew: Lumina was close. A few clicks north.

A city of two faces.

Akhen’s fingers traced the edge of the map. His next destination.

But first , the road.

He adjusted the sword at his waist, feeling its weight settle against his stride. The daggers hidden beneath his cloak would remain his first choice, but this blade... it had purpose.

And Lumina had secrets.

He began walking.

The city of Lumia has two borders unlike other cities.

Outer Border: A rotting shell of slums, where the desperate clawed at survival. Much like Ashvale, but with the added cruelty of knowing true opulence lay just beyond reach.

Inner Border: A towering wall of polished stone, manned by guards in gilded armor. Beyond it, the nobility lived in a world of marble and perfumed lies, untouched by the filth they fed upon.

As Akhen reached the outer border and started walking ,

The stench hit first , a thick, living reek of sweat, shit, and smoke. The streets were rivers of mud and refuse, buzzing with flies and the hollow-eyed stares of those who had long since given up on hope.

Children with knife-sharp eyes darted through the crowds, fingers quick and hungry. Some wouldn’t live to see next winter.

Black-market surgeons worked in open stalls, their tables stained brown with old blood. A screaming man writhed as a butcher-barber sawed off a gangrenous foot - no opium, no mercy.

The slum’s usual clamor died as Akhen walked. People melted from his path, their whispers sharp as knife-tips. Then—movement. Soldiers in ash-gray cloaks poured from alleyways, forming a loose circle around him. Their hands hovered near sword hilts, but none dared draw.

A boy—barely more than a youth—stepped forward. "Hold!" he commanded, voice cracking with forced authority.

Akhen didn’t stop. His fingers brushed his dagger’s hilt.

The boy spun toward the shadows. "Captain Kael, its him!"

A figure emerged.

Crimson hair burned like a wound against the drab surroundings. The man’s cloak obscured his face, but his voice cut through the tension like a honed blade:

"Hey brat , stop right there ."

Akhen paused for a moment , “what do you want?”

Kael’s face made it clear that they came for Akhen.

”you know who sent me , they don’t want you roaming around as you please. ”

Akhen passed out a smile, ”its better for you to leave”

Kael's head snapped up. Fire burned behind his eyes -not anger, but conviction. "I think your little journey ends here."

Kael unsheathed his sword, the longsword caught the dying light, its crimson fuller glowing like an ember. The shield on his arm bore the same hue—not paint, but some strange metal that drank the sunlight.

Kael moved first—a textbook lunge straight from the royal training yards, his form flawless. The crimson-edged longsword flashed silver as it cut through the space where Akhen's throat had been a heartbeat before.

Akhen slipped right like shadow given form. His dagger's hilt drove toward Kael's solar plexus—

Clang!

The shield intercepted with brutal efficiency, metal screaming as it absorbed the impact. Kael didn't just block; he'd pivoted into the defense, using Akhen's momentum to set up his counter.

"Predictable," Kael smirked.

His longsword became a blur—three whistling strikes in perfect sequence:

A horizontal slash at the neck which Akhen dodged by a hair's breadth,

A reverse uppercut for which Akhen arched backward,

A downward cleave that never landed,

Akhen's boot crashed into Kael's jaw.

The overhead kick sent the young captain staggering. Before he could recover, Akhen pressed the attack.

A palm strike to the elbow followed by a brutal elbow to the floating ribs and a knee aimed at the thigh's pressure point.

Kael's shield arm dropped momentarily, his stance wavering. Yet his grip on the sword never loosened. Blood trickled from his split lip as he reset his feet, eyes alight with something beyond pain.

A Formidable opponent .

"You fight like none I was taught to expect," he panted.

Akhen circled, dagger low. "And you defend like a man who knows my next move."

The truth hung between them , this was no random skirmish.

Kael's sword flew like a silver bolt—not a desperate throw, but a calculated distraction. Akhen barely sidestepped when the shield crashed into him, slamming him against the wall. Stone bit into his back as cold steel kissed his throat: a rondel dagger, its needle-point hovering over his pulse.

"You should not resist." Kael's breath came ragged, his nose already swelling from the earlier headbutt.

Akhen moved faster than pain or reason.

His forehead smashed Kael's nose again , crunch , warm blood splattering both their faces. A twist of his wrist, and his own dagger flashed upward, carving a crimson line across Kael's cheekbone.

The boy reeled but didn't fall. His free hand clutched Akhen's collar, dragging them nose-to-bloody-nose.

"I... will not fall." Each word dripped red onto Akhen's tunic. "Not until I defeat you."

Around them, soldiers fingered their spears. Kael's raised fist froze them mid-step.

The air between them crackled with the metallic scent of fresh blood. Kael's dagger had bitten shallow, but true , a stinging reminder of mortality across Akhen's shoulder. The rip in his tunic flapped like a war banner as he struck back without hesitation.

Akhens dagger's pommel connected with Kael's temple in a hollow thock , the sound of a butcher's cleaver hitting wet oak. The captain's knees hit the dirt,

Yet when his gaze lifted, there was no surrender in it , only that infuriating, unwavering respect.

"You fight ..." Kael spat red, grinning through split lips. "...but its useless.”

Akhen's knuckles whitened around his dagger. He crouched, bringing them eye to eye.

Akhen leaned closer, voice low and edged.
“I will do what I like.”

Kael’s jaw set. “Then I will rise… again… until you listen.”

The shove sent Kael skidding through the dirt, his armor scoring lines in the earth. Soldiers parted way as akhen started walking away.

Kael knelt down in to the dirt bleeding , his blade fallen but his oath still remained unbroken. His eyes locked on to akhen with unwavering commitment.