With no time to raise his sword, Dinis leaned his body backward, dodging the strike by mere centimeters. The gigantic blade came down with crushing force, embedding itself in the ground and sending up a wave of mud and water all around. Before Dinis could recover, a violent impact struck his stomach, throwing him several meters back and leaving a searing pain in his abdomen. He rolled over the mud and stood up with effort, tasting the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth. The air around seemed to vibrate with the presence of his adversary, and the strength of that blow made it clear: the knight was an implacable opponent.
When he finally managed to focus on the enemy, Dinis was surprised by what he saw. Before him stood an imposing humanoid figure, covered from head to toe in heavy armor that gleamed sinisterly even under the swamp's mist. The way he wielded the immense steel sword seemed almost supernatural, as if it were just a light baton in his hands. Every movement was precise and calculated, without hesitation or weakness. His posture was rigid, impenetrable, like a mountain that refused to be moved.
The knight advanced with slow but steady steps, the weight of his armor making the ground tremble with each stride. Dinis could feel the intensity and coldness of that gaze behind the helmet—a look that seemed to overflow with hatred and murderous intent. The force of that punch to his stomach made it clear that he was not facing an ordinary opponent. This enemy was on a level far beyond what he could have predicted, perhaps even superior to what he had faced before in the forest.
For a moment, Dinis wondered if the knight could be the same one who had saved him from the Ghouls, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The hostility and bloodlust emanated from the knight like a miasma, weighing down the air and making the stagnant swamp water ripple in response. There were no signs of aid or protection here; that being was determined to kill him.
Determined not to be intimidated, Dinis steadied his stance and advanced, his sword raised. When their blades clashed, the impact was so powerful that the air around reverberated, as if the very environment was feeling the weight of the confrontation. Each of the knight's strikes came with overwhelming brutality, and Dinis found himself forced to redouble his agility to keep up with the force of those assaults. He knew that any slip would mean his death.
Incessant crashes echoed throughout the swamp as the swords crossed with an intensity that made the mud around splash in all directions. No matter how hard Dinis fought with everything he had, his adversary seemed tireless, each movement as precise as the last, as if he possessed infinite stamina. Dinis, on the other hand, began to feel fatigue weighing on his arms and legs, and he knew that his only chance of surviving was to find an opening—something that didn't seem to exist in the knight's rigorous and impeccable style.
In a decisive moment, Dinis thrust his sword forward, aiming at the enemy's chest. The knight deflected the blow with a lateral movement, easily pushing Dinis's blade aside. Seizing the opening, Dinis threw a punch with all his strength at the enemy's head, but the knight intercepted his fist with his gauntlet, squeezing it with such force that he felt the bone start to crack. The searing pain shot through his arm, forcing him to writhe, but he reacted quickly, delivering a precise kick to the adversary's helmet, managing to push him back a few steps.
Taking advantage of the brief imbalance, Dinis threw the knife he had picked up in the forest with precision. The blade flew toward the knight, passing through a narrow slit in his helmet and piercing his left eye. A roar of fury echoed through the swamp, reverberating like thunder and carrying a thirst for vengeance that seemed to fill the air with palpable pressure. The knight's rage was so intense that it seemed to materialize into a dark aura, like a deadly miasma, heavy and suffocating.
Dinis watched, his body rigid and heart racing, as the knight retreated, pulling the knife from his eye with a groan of pain and hatred. The fierce and torn gaze behind the helmet searched for him with blind fury, as if nothing but vengeance moved him. The knight began to destroy the debris around him with brutal swings of his sword, in search of the Sentinel who had dared to wound him. Each strike smashed pieces of wall and rotted wooden pillars, scattering debris through the air and shaking the sludge like waves in a storm. The ruins of the old village trembled with the intensity of the blows, and the swamp water churned with each furious movement of the adversary.
Realizing the imminent danger, Dinis retreated silently, hiding among the debris with controlled breathing. The air seemed heavier, suffocating, and the instinct for survival spoke louder than pride or the desire to win. He knew that this was a battle he could not win in his current state, with the deep cut in his abdomen and the fracture in his hand limiting his movements. The priority now was his survival and the mission to find answers about his parents.
Without hesitation, Dinis took advantage of the knight's distraction to escape. Moving with utmost caution, he disappeared into the shadows of the swamp, leaving behind the enraged knight, who continued demolishing the ruins in an attempt to find him. The echo of the hateful shouts faded as Dinis ran with all his might, each step costing him precious energy.
The pain in his hand and abdomen made him grit his teeth, but he did not slow his pace. He needed to put as much distance as possible between himself and the armored monster. After all, the meeting with his parents was more important than proving something to himself in combat. After hours of relentless fleeing, Dinis found an old abandoned tunnel where he could hide.
In the improvised shelter, he tore a piece of fabric from his clothing and tightly wrapped his injured hand. After a brief rest, he began moving again, determined to avoid any risk of being found again. As he wandered with a heavy countenance, he reflected on the bitter taste of incapacity. His whole life had been dedicated to exhaustive training and preparation to overcome any obstacle, but here he was, facing an enemy impossible to defeat alone. That moment made it clear that despite all his strength, the world still harbored forces he could not subdue.