Rowan stood there, trembling, fists clenched at his sides as Ardyn circled him, his eyes gleaming with cold anticipation. The wind whipped through the crumbling walls of the fortress, carrying the scent of damp stone and salt, but it was the heat inside him that burned the most. The frustration, the doubt, the panic—everything he had tried to push away was threatening to overwhelm him. His breath came in shallow bursts as he steadied himself.
"You're not done yet," Ardyn's voice broke through the haze of Rowan's exhaustion, cutting through his thoughts like a knife. "If you can't fight through the pain, you might as well lie down and die now. Is that what you want?"
Rowan locked eyes with him, his chest heaving as he wiped the blood from his lip, forcing his legs to stay firm beneath him.
"No," he spat, more to himself than to Ardyn, the word coming out like a growl.
"Then act like it," Ardyn barked, almost a command.
The words stung, but they lit a fire inside Rowan. He wasn't going to back down, not now, not when everything was falling apart. Not when the only thing he had was the sheer will to keep going.
Without thinking, Rowan surged forward, his body moving on pure instinct. His fists flew in a wild arc, driven by rage more than strategy. He swung at Ardyn's chest, but the mercenary was ready. He sidestepped, flowing around the punch like it was nothing. Rowan tried again, more fiercely this time, but Ardyn was already a step ahead, his footwork swift and fluid.
The older man's face twisted into a smug grin as he easily avoided each strike, his movements too controlled, too practiced. Rowan felt the anger building, but with each failed punch, his frustration turned into something else—something more primal, a need to prove he wasn't just a helpless pawn in a world that wouldn't care if he died.
"Is that all you've got?" Ardyn taunted, dodging a particularly wild swing and tapping Rowan's shoulder with his palm in an almost dismissive gesture. "You're not going to survive in this world with just anger. You need skill. You need discipline."
Rowan staggered back, his muscles trembling from the strain. The fight was already draining him, and he could feel the tendrils of self-doubt creeping in. Every move Ardyn made felt like a masterclass in combat. Every time Rowan tried to anticipate his opponent's next step, Ardyn was already several moves ahead.
But Rowan wasn't going to give up. Not here. Not now.
He closed the distance again, his fists pounding the air as he tried to land a blow—any blow. But Ardyn anticipated each one with terrifying accuracy, dodging, blocking, and countering with ease. Rowan's heart raced as his movements grew more desperate. His breath was ragged, and the cold air stung his skin, but he barely noticed. The only thing that mattered now was not falling to his knees, not succumbing to the fear.
And then, finally, Rowan managed something.
He feinted to the left, then brought his fist crashing to the right, and this time, Ardyn didn't move quite fast enough. The punch grazed Ardyn's shoulder, and for the briefest moment, a flicker of surprise crossed the mercenary's face.
Rowan's pulse quickened. That was the opening he needed.
"Better," Ardyn said, nodding in approval, but there was no hint of praise in his voice. Only the faintest glimmer of interest, like Rowan was finally starting to prove himself as more than just a nuisance.
Rowan didn't have time to savor the moment. Without warning, Ardyn lunged forward, faster than Rowan could react. The mercenary's fist collided with Rowan's ribs, sending him reeling. The force of the punch knocked the air out of him, and he stumbled back, gasping for breath.
"You're still too slow," Ardyn growled. "You're reacting, not thinking. You need to anticipate."
Rowan tried to steady himself, clutching his side where the pain throbbed like a wildfire, but Ardyn wasn't done yet. Another strike came—a swift, devastating kick to Rowan's stomach. This time, Rowan couldn't block it. He hit the ground hard, the impact sending shockwaves through his body. For a moment, the world around him spun, his vision blurring as he gasped for air. His hands trembled, his body unwilling to cooperate. He felt like he was drowning, like he was on the edge of losing everything.
"Get up," Ardyn's voice was harsh, but there was no mercy in it. "You're not dead yet."
Rowan's thoughts raced, his body aching, but he did as he was told. He pushed himself to his knees, the stone scraping painfully against his palms. For the briefest moment, he wanted to give up, to lie back and let the pain take over. But something deep inside him—something primal—refused. He couldn't quit.
His mind flashed to the first fight he had been in, the one where he had barely survived, relying solely on the Memory Echo shard's power to get through. He had used it without thinking, desperate to stay alive. But now? He couldn't rely on the shard forever. He was already feeling the familiar drain it caused when overused, and Ardyn had warned him against using it too often. The power couldn't save him if he didn't learn to fight for himself.
"Fight," Rowan whispered under his breath, trying to gather the fragments of his focus.
"Pardon?" Ardyn called, as though he hadn't heard him.
Rowan's voice was steadier when he repeated it, louder this time. "I said… fight."
Something shifted in him. He stood slowly, his legs shaking but no longer trembling with fear. He wasn't going to win by being cautious. He wasn't going to win by trying to play it safe. If he wanted to survive here—in this world—he had to stop hiding.
He charged again. This time, his steps were measured. His movements less frantic, but faster, with more intent. He used his body to sway with Ardyn's attacks, anticipating them before they even landed.
A jab to Ardyn's side landed cleanly. The shock on Ardyn's face was brief but noticeable. Rowan followed with a kick aimed at his opponent's leg, forcing Ardyn to step back and regain his footing. It was a small victory, but it was something. He wasn't just a passive participant anymore. He was fighting.
Ardyn blinked, his eyes narrowing with surprise and something else—something approving. "Better. But that was luck. Don't get cocky."
Rowan swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest. The fight wasn't over. It had only just begun.
Ardyn lunged again, but this time Rowan wasn't thrown off balance. He sidestepped, using Ardyn's own momentum against him, just like the mercenary had shown him. The air seemed to thrum with the energy of the battle as Rowan dodged another strike, narrowly avoiding the blow to his ribs.
But Rowan didn't stop. He couldn't. The fire inside him burned brighter, fiercer than before. He attacked again, pushing harder. His movements were more fluid, less disjointed. His body was still far from perfect, but it was his.
The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Each time Rowan thought he had a solid opening, Ardyn blocked or countered with unnerving precision. His body was beginning to ache in places he hadn't even known existed, but the fire inside him wouldn't let him stop. He couldn't.
As the fight dragged on, Rowan began to feel it—the familiar surge of power from the Memory Echo shard. It was there, just beneath the surface, tempting him with its promise of strength. He felt the power growing in his limbs, the sharpness of his senses, the instinctual knowledge of Ardyn's next move. It was intoxicating.
But Rowan fought against the temptation. He couldn't let the shard do all the work for him. Not this time.
"Activate Memory Echo," he whispered under his breath, forcing himself to rely on the shard's power just for a moment.
And for a heartbeat, everything stopped. His senses sharpened to an impossible degree. Rowan's movements became precise and instinctual, the world around him slowing as he processed everything with newfound clarity. He landed another clean hit, a fist to Ardyn's jaw.
The mercenary stumbled back, surprised but smiling. "Better," he said, wiping the blood from his lip. "But don't get used to that power. You've still got a long way to go."
Rowan staggered, his energy draining as quickly as it had come. The shard's power had already begun to fade, leaving him once again vulnerable. But it didn't matter. Rowan had proven something to himself. He had fought with everything he had, and while it wasn't perfect, it was enough.
"Alright," Rowan said, panting heavily. "What now?"
Ardyn gave him a smirk that almost resembled approval. "Now, we see if you're ready for what's coming."
Before Rowan could ask what that meant, a distant rumble of thunder echoed across the horizon. The sky darkened, and the first tremor shook the ground beneath them.
"What is that?" Rowan asked, his heart racing.
Ardyn didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled his sword from its sheath with a sharp, metallic ring. His eyes were hard, scanning the horizon as the sky seemed to ignite with a sudden burst of light.
"Trouble," Ardyn said. "And it's not here to chat."
The distant glow was growing brighter, and with it came the sound of something far worse than any fight Rowan had ever known.