Kael shivered as a cold breeze swept over him. The sky remained mostly dark, but the first hints of the sun were beginning to peek above the horizon, painting the early morning in beautifully warm hues. The contrast between the chill in the air and the vibrant colors ahead was striking, yet Kael couldn't shake the unease creeping up on him.
Kael stood in the middle of a small, cracked plaza, his breath visible in the cold morning air. Behind him, the three challengers stood ready, while around twenty other members of his group formed a line, silent but resolute. The rest had stayed behind to protect the base, a necessary precaution.
He glanced at the crowd of slum dwellers gathering around them, a sea of ragged clothing and gaunt faces, eager for the spectacle to begin.
In stark contrast, a group of five men stood out from the rest. Their clothes, though slightly dirty, were intact—a sign of their higher status. Weapons hung at their belts, and their sharp, watchful eyes made it clear they weren't just spectators.
These men were enforcers from a larger gang, one that shared borders with both Gideon's and Kael's territory. Their presence was a reminder that while this duel would settle scores, it had rules, and those rules would be enforced.
"They sure are taking their time," Zane noted with a bored expression, his eyes lazily scanning the crowd.
Kael was about to respond when a murmur suddenly spread like a wave through the gathered slum dwellers. The crowd parted, opening up to let a group of men pass through.
"Is this a joke?" Nina muttered, her voice laced with disbelief. Kael couldn't help but agree.
Gideon's gang originally numbered around sixty members. Over time, and through various skirmishes, they suffered losses, some of which Kael himself had a hand in. Then, there was the internal conflict whose aftermath had remained uncertain—until now. Today, Kael was finally seeing the result of that turmoil.
The sight could only be described as pathetic.
Six battered men and three women made their way forward, their exhaustion evident in their weary expressions. Gideon, leading the formation, bore the brunt of their plight; his clothes were torn in various places, revealing a tapestry of wounds and bruises. The entire group appeared as though they had just emerged from a fierce battle—one they had lost quite decisively.
Kael, accompanied by the three others, strode forward, a look of disdain etched on his face. He stopped two meters away from Gideon's group, the atmosphere thick with unspoken animosity, and finally voiced his concerns.
"Is this another one of your games, Gideon? If it is, it will end harshly for you."
Gideon, a man in his mid-twenties, allowed a weary smile to flicker across his lips, as if he found amusement in their predicament.
"A game? No, I assure you, I approach this duel with the utmost honor."
Kael scoffed, disbelief evident in his tone.
"Someone like you talking about honor? You must have truly lost it. And I take it this pitiful appearance of yours is a testament to your recent power struggles? Don't think for a moment that we'll spare you simply because you couldn't manage your own mess."
"That little disagreement? It's all settled now." Gideon said, his eyes flickering with defiance. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."
Before either of them could continue, the overseer intervened.
"Enough of this chit-chat. We don't have all day. Get on with your final preparations; the first round of the duel will begin in five minutes."
Upon hearing this, Kael cast one final glance at Gideon before turning away.
Everything that needed to be said had already been expressed, and all necessary preparations had been made. The order of the challengers had been predetermined long before.
"Good luck. Not that you'll need it against that bunch," Kael remarked, before he, Alex, and Nina stepped aside, leaving Zane alone in the center, as it had been decided he would be the first to fight.
Gideon's side also completed their final preparations and moved to take their positions.
Their fighter was a young man whose appearance might have been intimidating at first glance. He was well-built—though not quite as muscular as Alex—yet still above the standards typical of the slums.
His weapon was a large metal pipe—rusty in places but still solid. The tip was stained with dried blood, a grim reminder of past battles. It was a fitting weapon for a brute.
Normally, even Kael would have been reluctant to face someone of such size and strength. But today wasn't a normal occasion.
The brute limped forward, his body covered in bruises, and he was even missing the little finger on his left hand, the wound hastily wrapped in cloth. He was in worse shape than Kael, which made him far less intimidating.
Opposite him stood Zane, staring at his opponent with a look of displeasure. His hands trembled, but Kael knew it wasn't from fear—it was from excitement. Zane, like Kael, dual-wielded. In one hand, he held a screwdriver, similar to the one Kael used to carry. In the other, a sharpened piece of metal, almost identical to Kael's old shank, now destroyed.
The similarities between the two were hard to ignore.
'Am I the one who created this monster?' Kael wondered for a moment, before shaking off the thought. 'Nah, he was already crazy long before we met.'
***
After ensuring both fighters were ready, the overseer stepped aside and bellowed, "BEGIN!" signaling the start of the duel.
The brute charged forward immediately. What might once have been a fearsome assault was now little more than a sluggish, awkward stumble. Zane remained still, a mocking grin plastered across his face, as the brute finally closed the distance. With a loud grunt, the man swung his pipe down in a heavy, vertical arc, clearly aiming to crush Zane's skull.
Or that's at least what would have happened if the strike had landed. Instead, Zane sidestepped the attack effortlessly, letting the pipe cut through nothing but air.
Thrown off by the missed strike, now fully at the mercy of his own momentum, the brute began to topple forward. He might have been able to steady himself, but Zane, wearing a sly grin, casually stretched out his foot, tripping the brute and sending him crashing hard to the ground.
A loud "THUMP" echoed through the plaza, followed by the metallic clatter of the pipe bouncing on the ground as it slipped from the brute's grasp. While the man struggled to pick himself up, Zane casually sauntered over to the fallen weapon and stood waiting, a smirk still playing on his lips.
Finally, with a string of curses, the brute managed to rise to his feet. His injuries had multiplied—his nose now bent at an unnatural angle, blood streaming down his face and dripping onto the ground below, further adding to his pitiful state.
With a swift kick, Zane sent the pipe rolling back toward the brute, a clear taunt, urging him to pick it up. The brute glared at Zane, rage flickering in his bloodshot eyes. Warily, he bent down to retrieve the pipe, never once breaking eye contact with Zane, clearly expecting some sort of trick or ambush.
But Zane didn't need tricks. He stood still, arms relaxed, letting the brute rearm himself and assume a fighting stance once more. There was no rush—Zane was enjoying the game.
The brute, finally realizing he had underestimated his opponent, became visibly more cautious. His earlier reckless aggression faded, replaced by a tense, guarded stance as he weighed his options.
Zane, however, picked up on the shift immediately. The brute's change in demeanor signaled that the real fight was about to begin. Zane's grin faded slightly, replaced by a more focused expression. It was time to get a bit more serious.
Without hesitation, he took the offensive, his movements quick and deliberate as he closed in on his opponent, ready to test the brute's newfound caution.
After exchanging a few blows, Zane aimed a stab at the brute's belly, but almost miraculously, the brute managed to dodge—at least, that's what he thought. The stab was merely a feint; the real attack came in the form of a slash directed at the brute's right wrist.
The blade sliced through skin and tendons, severing the artery in a horrific display of violence. Blood sprayed everywhere as the brute's grip weakened, and the pipe clattered to the ground once more, leaving him defenseless.
This time, however, the brute would not be given a chance to recover. Sensing that he was in grave danger, he launched a powerful left hook at Zane. But he was a moment too late—his fist brushed against the flickering strands of Zane's hair—as Zane deftly ducked just in time.
Then, with swift precision, Zane delivered the fatal strike. As the brute's arm flew overhead, exposing his armpit completely, Zane seized the opportunity. He plunged the screwdriver deep into the vulnerable flesh, driving it in to the hilt.
The brute was now barely standing, losing blood rapidly. He looked down at his wounds and realized there was no hope left for him. Before him stood his killer—a mere child. How embarrassing. If I hadn't been hurt from the start, I surely would have... With that thought lingering in his mind, he succumbed to blood loss, his body crumpling to the ground.
Zane turned away, choosing not to end his opponent's suffering, and walked off. His thirst for blood could not be quenched by the death of a single man, especially one who had already been in such poor condition before their fight.
Just like that, Kael's gang secured their first victory in the duel.
***
Kael watched as Zane approached, his emotions a tumultuous blend of frustration and relief. He had explicitly told Zane to take the fight seriously, yet here he was, still reveling in his chaotic nature. Despite that, Zane had managed to secure a victory.
"I'll deal with him after this," Kael thought, shifting his focus to a more pressing concern.
Zane—his greatest gamble—had won, and now victory seemed all but assured. The disparity in their conditions was simply too great to ignore.
He pondered Gideon's possible motives and what he hoped to gain from this fight.
'The dim number of his gang's members, their condition, the internal fight, this sudden duel...'
Finally, an unsettling idea began to emerge.
"There's no way," Kael gasped. Nina, standing beside him, noticed his sudden shift.
"What's the matter? Hey! Where are you going?"
But Kael was already moving, making his way toward Gideon's group. Just as he was about to take action, he saw a scene—a scene that he had witnessed not too long ago and now made his heart skip a beat.
It was the scene of the crowd parting, making way for someone. The "someone" in question was a group of around thirty warriors. While their equipment was on the lower end, they were a fearsome bunch. Some bore light wounds, but no serious injuries were visible.
The first to react was the overseer, who stepped forward with a hand resting on his weapon.
"I don't know who you are or what you want," he warned, "but interfering in a duel will not go unpunished. Walk away while you still can."
The reply came from a man who strode ahead of the formation, seemingly the leader of this force. His voice resonated across the plaza.
"A duel? Last time I checked, only a gang leader can declare one. That rat Gideon no longer has a claim to that position."
***
A deathly silence enveloped the entire plaza. Everything clicked for Kael as he finally connected the dots. His assessment of the situation was as follows:
There must have been an uprising within Gideon's gang about a week ago. Given the quality of the subsequent group's equipment, it appeared to be a conflict between the lower and higher-ranked members. The situation must have worsened, prompting Gideon to devise a backup plan—namely, preparations for the duel.
If he had won, his position would solidify, allowing him to reclaim control of the gang with the newly acquired resources.
If he lost, he would die, and if the internal fighting continued, he would ultimately face the same fate. Thus, he initiated his scheme. He crippled the opponent's best fighter, and immediately after, he announced the duel.
Declaring something so impactful while in such a precarious position must have been the last straw for the rebelling forces, leading to a series of fights over the last three days.
In the end, Gideon's plan must have gone awry, as he and his allies were too injured to secure a victory.
'Why the hell did he even come here? Why did he not run?' Kael pondered this, but deep down he knew that, in such a weakened state and while being pursued by his former gang members, Gideon's fate was already sealed.
Gideon's next action confirmed that he had reached the same conclusion. He began pulling something from his back pocket.
At first, Kael couldn't discern what it was, but when he finally recognized it, his blood ran cold.
***
From the lessons his mother had imparted before she died, this was one of the most important. He vividly recalled their conversation from that time.
His mother had drawn something in the dirt with her finger and said, "Kael, if you ever see this, you need to run. Do you understand? This means death."
Those were harsh words to say to a four-year-old child, but they were necessary.
"But, Mom, what is it?" asked the young boy, his eyes filled with curiosity as he gazed at the drawing.
"This, Kael, is called a gun."
***
For a moment, everything froze. Kael tried to scream, but no words left his mouth. A few of the other onlookers noticed what Gideon was doing, and pure fear washed over their faces.
Then the first shot was fired. A deafening noise shattered the stillness, and the head of the rebellion leader exploded, chunks flying everywhere.
Now everyone understood what had happened, and a frenzy of panic engulfed the crowd. People—regardless of gender, age, or position—were running for their lives. Amid the chaos, Kael caught sight of Zane, who seemed to revel in the mayhem, cutting people's Achilles tendons while cackling hysterically.
Kael himself was running, acutely aware that he would likely be the target of the next shot.
And he was right. Just a few steps away from an alley, Kael heard the ominous clicking of the trigger once more and threw himself to the side.
A terrible pain exploded in his side. Ignoring it was hard—so agonizingly hard—but Kael endured and finally stumbled into the dark safety of the alley.
***
Kael sat against the wall, the icy grip of pain radiating from his side—or rather, the area where it should have been, now reduced to a bloody hole. It felt as though a giant had taken a bite out of him. Breathing was nearly impossible; most of his lung had been blown away, and his insides were seeping out, carried along by a torrent of blood.
He couldn't comprehend how he was still alive, but he knew it wouldn't be for long.
His consciousness was slipping away, drawn toward the cold, dark embrace of death. Gazing up at the sky, he caught sight of a flying vehicle that had appeared alongside armed forces, who began to jump out and land on the ground. Shortly after, he heard Gideon's scream, which abruptly fell silent. All that remained were the sounds of heavy boots pounding on the pavement.
'To think he was that petty...', Kael thought, feeling his mind grow heavy.
He did not want to die—no one did. Yet growing up in such harsh conditions had allowed him to accept his fate with a calm resignation. There was so much he wanted to do and achieve, but he could not. He had lived a pitiful life and would now die a pitiful death at a pitiful age.
Slowly, his senses began to fade.
First to go was his sense of touch; his body felt as though it were floating in pure emptiness. Compared to the agonizing pain he had felt before, this sensation was heavenly.
Taste, smell, and hearing followed suit, each slipping away into oblivion.
Finally, his sight began to fade as well. Darkness crept in from the corners of his vision, gradually gathering toward the center. Just before it enveloped him completely, a blue spark appeared.
Kael, who had grown up in the filthy slums, had never seen anything so perfect in his life. Its beauty was otherworldly and magical.
As the darkness crept toward the spark, Kael felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of urgency. Mustering every last ounce of strength, he reached out with his bloodied hand, desperately trying to grasp it. Despite his effort, his hand stopped just short—barely a centimeter away. He could no longer control his body; his hand fell back to the ground, limp and lifeless.
A deep sorrow washed over him, the realization settling in that even in his final moments, he had failed to grasp the one beautiful thing before him.
And then, the eternal darkness fully engulfed the spark.
Just like that, Kael died.