Once more, the figure of the successor loomed out of the darkness, his presence looming over the clearing like a storm cloud. His knife shone dimly in the moonlight, and his chest heaved with effort. Even though he looked unkempt, his sneer was still as keen as ever, as if he knew something I didn't.
His voice was surprisingly calm as he replied, "Olivia, you're a fighter." "I'll give it to you. However, even combatants have boundaries.
I gripped the knife tighter in my fingers, and my breath caught. Behind me, Ethan lay slouched on the ground, his face a mask of agony, his breathing shallow. The calm of the stream next to us was a harsh contrast to the stress that pervaded the atmosphere as it chattered softly.
I responded, terrified but determined, "Stay back."
The replacement smirked more broadly as he cocked his head. "Or what?" he questioned sarcastically. Will you use that dull sword on me? Defend your fallen hero? It nearly sounds lyrical.
