24. In The Rain

Nathanial bolted out from the foliage with his blade in hand. The flash of silver, shrouded in an azure aura, immediately drew the attention of the Empire’s forces further back. But those weren’t his target. The one he was after was the single scout kneeling at the front.

The only one leading the group through the storm without a shred of hesitation.

He felt the rain push against his armor, the loud thud echoing in his ears as he drew closer to the enemy leader. Nathanial was mid-lunge before another foe attempted to intercept him. In the corner of Nathanial’s eyes, he could see a scarlet blade arcing toward him, and even though most would turn to counter.

He didn’t.

Not with Fredrick breaking through the cover of leaves and intercepting the blow head-on with his own blade. Sparks flew outward with crimson and emerald dancing through the air. Both men were locked in a struggle, desperate to come out on top.

“Do you really think it would be that easy?” Fredrick taunted, locking eyes with his match.

“You Everheart scumbags always think you’re a step ahead.”

Nathanial ignored the distractions with his gaze meeting the enemy leader’s. They were only a few meters away from each other. A few meters until the fate of their two forces was decided, and at that moment, Nathanial swung downward with the full weight of his body behind the strike.

The azure light cut down, yet the Empire’s leader grinned with a fiery gaze. His blade rose with the end pointing toward the ground, leading Nathanial’s attack along the spine and right past him as he rose. They stood with their backs facing each other, pivoting on their rear legs at the same time while drawing tight arcs of scarlet and azure.

The metallic clash rang out through the forest with a force that created an outward burst that momentarily blew the droplets of rain away from the point of impact. Nathanial gritted his teeth, his blade pushing against his foe. He stared at the man, his pale expression a clear reflection of their contest of strength.

They were both evenly matched in terms of aura and strength.

The only difference would be their technique.

Nathanial twisted his sword to one side, attempting to deflect his foe’s strike outward while stepping in. The counterattack arced toward the scout’s head, but he stepped back while narrowly dodging it. Then, in one swift motion, stepped in to drive a thrust toward Nathanial’s heart.

In a desperate attempt, Nathanial struck the tip of his foe’s blade. The ring of metal echoed through the air with his breath held firmly in his lungs before a sharp exhale ripped it as he adjusted his grip to perform a downward slash across the man’s chest.

His iron blade dug into the man’s leather armor protecting his chest. The scarlet aura flared in protest as Nathanial’s sword carved out a chunk of energy.

Too shallow…

He focused on the man as he heard voices from around him call out a name. Lucas, Lucas Theodore. That was the name of the foe he was fighting. A name he couldn’t ignore as their exchange began once more with the sounds of battle around them fading into nothingness.

It was like an elaborate dance of blades. Each one fighting to claim space and exploit weaknesses with broken guards and exchanges releasing flashes of light through the night.

For every thrust, a circular parry pulled it aside.

For every feint, a calculated retreat.

And for every riposte, a deflection by a hair’s breadth.

Yet, no matter how many times their blades crossed, none were fatal blows that decided the outcome of their duel.

The rhythm accelerated with the sound of iron hitting iron, turning into a metallic heartbeat. They didn’t utter a word, as it would only be a wasted breath. Their blades were so perfectly matched that they moved in unintentional chaos, and with a mutual shove, they broke apart.

Nathanial didn’t care for words, neither did his foe. Only a single desire remained, and that was to kill the person in front of them. To tear them limb from limb and break free from their predicament.

For the Everheart’s side, it was a battle for freedom.

The Empire’s side a battle for dominance.

One side raced against the clock, while the other stalled for the encirclement to complete.

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The cold rain struck Nathanial’s armor. He could hear the desperate war cries around him. The song of the battlefield roared in his ears. He didn’t dare to avert his gaze from his enemy. At Nathanial’s waist, besides his spare sword, was a dagger he had taken in case it all went wrong.

There were still options at his disposal, and somehow he needed to break through his opponent’s defenses to land a decisive blow.

In such a situation, what would Luka do?

How would his mentor systematically dismantle his opponent’s defenses in order to achieve victory?