Yet, he moved, the clash of steel and the pounding of hooves echoed through Mount Pyre as the battle surged on. Amid the chaos, a lone figure strode through the field. Rhaine, "The Lionhearted," dragged his massive spear through the mud, its blunted edge carving trenches into the ground. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, but his aura remained unbroken. Rain poured down, streaking his purple cape and battered armor, but he walked with the certainty of a man who would not yield.
True to his name, he was relentless.
"The Angel of the Red Sands," Rhaine called out, his voice cutting through the din of the battlefield. "An epitaph I've never heard, but a name all the same. I will not fall to a nameless swordsman."
"Nor will I," Akash replied, his resin-infused blade steady in his hands.
Rhaine closed the distance, each step weighed down by the toll of the fight. His spear dragged behind him, but his piercing gaze remained locked on Akash. His breaths came haggard now, each one rasping through the rain-soaked air. Yet, he refused to falter. His presence alone was enough to command attention, even as the battle raged around them.
Another step forward. Then another. Rhaine's form wavered slightly, his body betraying the cost of his relentless advance. His knees buckled for the briefest of moments, but he caught himself before falling. His voice grew harsher, rasping with exhaustion, but there was no weakness in his tone. "There is pity in your eyes, Angel. I seek no pity."
Akash's voice was firm. "You'll find none here."
Rhaine gritted his teeth and raised his blunted spear. His arms trembled under its weight, but he hefted it all the same. "Good," he growled.
And then he charged.
Akash braced himself as Rhaine's hulking figure barreled toward him, spear swinging wide. The first blow came down like a hammer, and Akash barely had time to parry. Resin-infused steel met the iron shaft of the spear, sparks flying with the impact. The force sent shockwaves down Akash's arms, and he gritted his teeth as his boots slid against the mud.
Rhaine was not a man; he was a juggernaut. His strikes were heavy, deliberate, each one meant to crush. There was no finesse in his movements—only sheer, overwhelming power. Akash danced back, narrowly avoiding the next swing as the spear's blunt edge tore through the mud where he had just stood.
"You cannot win, boy!" Rhaine roared, his voice filled with a defiant pride that refused to break. "Your blade will shatter against my will. My blood will not stain this earth for you!"
Akash's breaths came in sharp bursts. His arms ached from deflecting the monstrous blows, and his feet slid on the rain-slicked ground as he tried to keep his balance. Rhaine's strikes came faster now, despite his battered form. The man fought like a cornered lion, each swing of his spear more ferocious than the last.
The spear came down again, this time aimed for Akash's chest. He sidestepped, pivoting on his heel, and brought his blade up in a sweeping arc. Resin-infused steel bit into Rhaine's armor, carving a shallow cut across his shoulder. The Lionhearted grunted, but the wound only seemed to fuel his rage. He spun, the spear whipping around in a wide arc, forcing Akash to leap back.
"You think that blade makes you invincible?" Rhaine snarled. "Your title means nothing. Titles are earned, not given."
Akash's grip tightened on his sword. His shoulders burned, his legs threatened to give out beneath him, but he refused to back down. "I don't need a title to defeat you," he said, his voice steady despite the fatigue creeping into his body. "I'll fight because I must. Because I can't let men like you stop us."
Rhaine let out a guttural laugh, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Then show me, Angel. Show me what conviction looks like."
The two clashed again, their weapons colliding with a deafening crack. Akash's blade slid against the spear's shaft, sparks flying as the two warriors fought for dominance. Rhaine pressed forward, using his weight to force Akash back, but the younger swordsman refused to yield. With a surge of strength, Akash pushed back, knocking the spear aside and closing the distance.
This was his chance.
Akash's blade descended, a sharp arc aimed for Rhaine's exposed neck. But the Lionhearted was not so easily bested. He stepped into the strike, letting the blade glance off his armor, and brought the butt of his spear up in a brutal counter. The impact slammed into Akash's ribs, sending him sprawling into the mud.
Akash gasped, the air driven from his lungs. His vision blurred as the pain radiated through his chest, but he forced himself to rise. His hands trembled as he gripped his sword, the rain stinging his skin as he steadied himself.
"You're strong, I'll grant you that," Rhaine said, his voice rough but still filled with defiance. "But strength alone won't save you."
Akash rose to his feet, his blade held firm despite the trembling in his arms. "It doesn't have to."
The Lionhearted roared and charged again, his spear raised high. Akash's eyes narrowed, and time seemed to slow. He saw the trajectory of the spear, the slight hesitation in Rhaine's step, the moment where his balance faltered. He took a breath, steadying his resolve.
And then he moved.
With a sharp pivot, Akash sidestepped the charge, his blade flashing in the rain. Resin-infused steel met flesh, cutting deep into Rhaine's shoulder. The spear fell from his grasp, clattering to the ground as blood poured from the wound. Rhaine staggered, his knees buckling beneath him, but he remained standing.
Akash didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his blade driving into Rhaine's chest. The Lionhearted gasped, blood spilling from his lips, but he didn't fall. Instead, he smiled—a serene, almost peaceful expression that etched itself into Akash's mind.
"Only those with conviction are prepared to give everything," Rhaine said, his voice faint but unyielding. "Hold onto that conviction... until you find your destined death."
The rain fell harder, washing away the blood as Rhaine's body finally collapsed. Akash stood over him, his chest heaving with each breath, his blade still dripping with blood. The Lionhearted's words echoed in his mind, a weight he couldn't