The masked swordsman's strikes were like lightning — fast, deadly, and relentless. Our swords clashed again and again, the ring of steel filling the chamber as sparks scattered with every blow. He moved with perfect precision, his footwork flowing like water, and his attacks left no openings.
But I didn't need openings.
I needed endurance.
I met his speed with my will. Every swing of my blade grew heavier, every step more deliberate. I felt the ache in my arms, the burn in my muscles, but I pushed forward. Because I couldn't afford to fall. Not now. Not ever.
He lunged. I twisted aside, his blade skimming past my shoulder — and I struck. My sword hissed through the air, slicing a thin line across his robes. Blood bloomed, dark and slow, and for the first time, the masked warrior faltered.
"You bleed," I said, my voice ragged.
"So do you," he replied.
I looked down. Blood trickled from a cut on my side — one I hadn't even felt. But pain was irrelevant. This fight wasn't about pain.
It was about survival.
He attacked again — but this time, I met him head-on. Our swords blurred in a storm of motion, the chamber echoing with every impact. I felt his strength, his skill, his killing intent — but I didn't yield. I couldn't.
Yoon-Hee was waiting.
My family was waiting.
And I would not let them down.
"You fight well," the masked man said as we broke apart, breathing hard. "But resolve alone won't be enough. Let's see how far your will can take you."
He raised his sword — and the air around him shifted. Flames wreathed his blade, black and cold, casting long shadows on the stone.
I knew then this would be a fight to the death.
But that was fine.
Because if I had to die to protect the people I loved…
Then so be it.
"Come then," I said, raising my sword. "Let's finish this."