The wind howled through the enclosed battleground of the Shesha, its barrier shimmering faintly as both fighters squared off. Valens and Eryndor stood motionless, locked in an unspoken challenge, their spiritual energy, Pbv, enveloping them like second skins. Inside this sacred zone, their unique abilities were nullified, leaving raw strength and strategy to dictate the outcome.
Valens clenched his fists, his concentration evident as he redistributed his Pbv, thickening it around his hands while thinning it elsewhere.
"I thank you for this opportunity," he said, his voice calm but edged with menace. "Your Shesha traps me, but thanks to my soldiers, I already know your abilities."
The Elf's eyes flared with anger, his spiritual energy pulsating with newfound intensity. "You vile bastard! You sent them to their deaths just to figure me out? You're no warrior—you're a coward."
Outside the Shesha, Liam trembled with rage. His nails bit into his palms so fiercely that blood began to drip from his clenched fists.
Valens shrugged, his smirk as sharp as his words. "They were tools, nothing more. Weak ones at that. But now, we're both stripped of our tricks. How long can you keep this exhausting technique going before you crumble?"
Eryndor's breathing was steady, his eyes narrowed in focus. He flexed his fingers subtly, gripping the hilt of his blade hidden in his gauntlet. The poison on my blade… one cut is all I need. I have to create an opening, force him into overextending, and strike before he realizes.
Valens watched him, his expression unreadable. His Pbv shifted around his fists, thickening like armor. His stance was grounded, conserving energy with minimal movements. He's cautious, waiting for me to act first. He must know I have something planned. No matter—I'll outlast him. This Shesha is draining his energy faster than he realizes.
Eryndor's jaw tightened. He feigned a quick advance, testing Valens' reaction. Valens didn't flinch, his dark eyes tracking the Elf's every movement. The crowd outside the Shesha murmured, their anticipation palpable.
Eryndor lunged suddenly, launching a sharp jab toward Valens' chest. Valens sidestepped and countered with a powerful low kick aimed at Eryndor's thigh. The Elf absorbed the strike, his face tightening in pain but refusing to show weakness. He retaliated with a high kick that Valens narrowly blocked, his forearm bracing against the impact.
The fight escalated quickly. Eryndor pressed forward, his strikes relentless—a quick combination of jabs, hooks, and a spinning kick aimed at Valens' midsection. Valens dodged and deflected, his movements efficient, conserving his strength.
He's fast, but he's overcommitting, Valens thought, waiting for the right moment.
Eryndor shifted gears, suddenly darting low and sweeping at Valens' legs. Valens anticipated the move, hopping back and retaliating with a stiff jab that caught Eryndor on the shoulder.
The Elf stumbled slightly, but he recovered quickly, circling to Valens' blind spot. His hand brushed the hilt of his blade again. Just a little closer…
Valens smirked, seeing the shift in Eryndor's posture. He's hiding something. A weapon, perhaps? That's why he's dragging this out. Let him come. I'll use his impatience against him.
Eryndor charged, closing the gap with a quick feint followed by a sudden attempt to clinch. Valens deflected the attack, locking up with him. They grappled for dominance, exchanging short but vicious strikes—elbows, knees, and headbutts.
Eryndor broke free, leaping back to create space. His chest heaved as he repositioned himself. Valens, too, seemed to slow, though his smirk remained intact.
"This Shesha of yours," Valens said, his voice calm but edged with mockery, "it's impressive. But how long can you keep it going? You're burning through your energy. I can feel it."
Eryndor didn't respond, his focus razor-sharp. He darted in again, slashing with his blade in a swift, precise motion. Valens barely dodged, leaning back just in time, the blade's tip grazing the air in front of his face.
The Elf pressed his advantage, but Valens countered with a quick uppercut, staggering Eryndor. The crowd outside gasped, their hands covering their mouths as Eryndor stumbled back.
Valens moved with surgical precision, reaching behind his back. In one smooth motion, he revealed a small knife and slashed upward, catching Eryndor across the arm.
Eryndor gasped, retreating instinctively. His hand touched the wound, his eyes widening as he felt a strange numbness creeping through his body.
Valens smirked, his voice dripping with mockery. "You felt that, didn't you? Just a scratch, but that's all it takes."
Eryndor's knees buckled slightly, his breathing labored. The Shesha began to flicker, cracks forming in its shimmering barrier. As it started to crumble, the pendant around Eryndor's neck fluttered in the wind.
The sound of birds chirping filled the air. Beside a cascading waterfall, two girls and a boy—young Elves—were fishing together.
"You didn't catch anything again today," Eryndor teased, holding up a large fish. "Look at mine! To catch something this big, you'd need seven lifetimes!"
"Just wait. I'll catch an even bigger one," Aeris retorted, lowering his fishing thread into the water again with determination.
Lyriel sat nearby, watching the flowing stream. "I don't think you should catch fish. They have lives too, you know." She clasped her hands as if in prayer.
"Oh, stop being so preachy," Eryndor said, rolling his eyes. He flicked her forehead with his index finger. "They're food. That's what they're for."
"Hey, leave her alone!" Aeris stepped between them, gently pushing Eryndor back.
Eryndor crossed his arms, his voice tinged with annoyance. "You're the reason she's like this! Always protecting her—she can't even stand up for herself!"
"What's wrong with that? If you keep acting like this, we won't play with you anymore." Aeris took Lyriel's hand, guiding her away toward the kingdom.
Eryndor watched them go, his expression shifting from anger to frustration. He sat by the waterfall, throwing rocks into the water. "I'm a prince. They should feel honored to be my friends. Who needs them anyway?"
Time passed, and the sun dipped below the horizon as the moon took its place in the sky.
"You're late, Eryndor," his mother scolded when he finally returned home.
"What does it matter?" Eryndor avoided her gaze and went to his room.
Lying on his bed, Eryndor thought of Lyriel and Aeris. His mother entered the room and sat beside him.
"Did you fight with your friends?" she asked gently, leaning closer.
"No. I broke my friendship with them. I remembered I'm a prince. For my honor, I refused to play with them," Eryndor replied, turning his face away.
"Is that so? Then you should make new friends. That should be easy, right?" His mother smiled.
"Are you mocking me? I tried to explain something to them, but they wouldn't listen. Then they said they wouldn't play with me and left. They should feel privileged that a prince like me is their friend!" Eryndor shouted, standing on his bed.
His mother sighed, watching him with a knowing smile, but said nothing more.