Rowan's laughter echoed through the crumbling throne room, a sharp, untamed sound that carried through the wreckage like a blade slicing through the air.
The pale man stood motionless in the center of the room, his cold gaze fixed on Rowan. His pale, almost porcelain-like skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim torchlight. He didn't breathe heavily, didn't sweat, didn't waver. It was as if he were an unfeeling statue, carved for the sole purpose of violence.
But Rowan could see it—the subtle tension in the man's frame, the faint twitch of his fingers. He was poised to strike again.
Rowan tilted his head, his grin widening. His body was coiled, his blood singing with exhilaration as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"You're good," Rowan said, his voice low and brimming with excitement. "Really good. I'd almost call this fun."
The pale man remained silent. His right hand rose slowly, the motion elegant and deliberate, as though he were conducting an orchestra. The air around his fingers shimmered, twisting and bending unnaturally, until a blade of pure darkness coalesced in his grasp.
Rowan's grin didn't falter.
"Oh, you're one of those types, huh?" he said, rolling his shoulders. "Fancy weapons, dramatic stares. That's cool. But here's the thing…"
He slammed his fist into his palm, the blue glow surrounding his hands intensifying until it burned like fire. The heat rippled off him, distorting the air as the energy built.
"I don't need tricks to break you."
The pale man finally spoke, his voice cold and steady. "Confidence is a powerful tool, but it often blinds those who wield it."
And then he moved.
The distance between them vanished in an instant. Rowan barely had time to react as the dark blade slashed through the air, its edge slicing toward his throat. He twisted his body, leaning back just enough for the weapon to miss him by a hair's breadth. The blade passed so close that he felt the icy chill radiating from it.
Rowan retaliated immediately, his fist lashing out with enough force to shatter stone. The pale man dodged, his movements eerily fluid, like a shadow slipping through cracks in reality.
Their fight erupted into chaos.
Rowan moved like a force of nature, each strike a thunderclap, each movement fueled by raw, unrelenting power. His fists glowed with blue energy, leaving trails of light in their wake as they collided with the walls, the floor, and occasionally the pale man's blade.
But the pale man was his equal in speed and precision. Every swing of his dark blade was a calculated strike, aiming not to overwhelm but to exploit weaknesses. He moved with the grace of a predator, each step measured, each motion designed to kill.
The throne room couldn't contain their battle.
Cracks spread across the stone walls, chunks of debris raining down as their blows sent shockwaves rippling through the air. The ground beneath their feet buckled, the intricate patterns carved into the floor shattered and distorted.
Rowan laughed, the sound wild and feral.
"This is it!" he shouted, his voice reverberating through the chaos. "This is what I've been waiting for!"
He lunged forward, his fists moving in a blur. The pale man met him head-on, their attacks colliding with a deafening explosion of energy.
The impact threw them both backward. Rowan skidded across the cracked floor, his boots digging into the stone as he came to a stop. The pale man landed gracefully, his blade still held steady in his hand.
For a moment, they stared at each other.
Rowan's grin widened, blood trickling down his temple. "You're tougher than you look," he said, his voice laced with genuine admiration. "Most people don't last this long."
The pale man tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "You fight like a beast," he said. "No discipline. No restraint. And yet…"
His eyes narrowed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"There's a madness to you. A purpose hidden behind the chaos."
Rowan's laughter erupted again, sharp and unhinged. "You get it!" he said, spreading his arms wide. "Most people don't, y'know. They think I'm just some crazy bastard who likes to hit things."
He clenched his fists, the blue energy around them flaring brighter.
"But there's a reason I fight. A reason I need this."
The pale man didn't respond. Instead, he raised his blade, the dark energy around it intensifying. The shadows in the room began to shift, twisting and writhing like living creatures.
Rowan's eyes lit up with excitement.
"Finally," he said, his voice low and eager. "You're getting serious."
The pale man disappeared.
Rowan's grin didn't falter as he turned, his fist already moving. His knuckles collided with the dark blade, the impact sending a shockwave rippling through the air. The pale man appeared behind him, his movements as silent as death itself.
The fight escalated.
The pale man's strikes came faster now, his blade a blur of shadows and cold, cutting arcs. Rowan met each one with raw, unrelenting force, his fists clashing against the weapon in bursts of light and sound.
Every step, every movement, was a dance of destruction.
The pale man weaved through Rowan's attacks with inhuman precision, his blade carving through the air in deadly patterns. Rowan countered with pure power, his fists shattering the ground and walls as he fought to keep up.
For every strike that missed, another landed. For every moment of silence, another explosion followed.
Rowan's laughter grew louder, his grin never fading.
The pale man's smile grew colder, his eyes narrowing as he adjusted his strategy.
Then it happened.
The pale man feinted left, his blade flickering out of existence for a split second. Rowan moved to counter, his fist swinging wide—only to feel the icy bite of the blade slice across his ribs.
He stumbled, blood dripping from the wound. The pale man stepped back, his expression calm and collected.
Rowan looked down at the gash, then back at the pale man. His grin widened even further.
"That's the first time I've been cut in a while," he said, his voice filled with genuine excitement. "I like you."
The pale man didn't reply. He raised his blade again, his stance shifting as he prepared for the next attack.
Rowan's laughter echoed through the crumbling throne room.
"Come on, then," he said, his fists glowing brighter than ever. "Let's see if you can do it again."
And with that, the battle resumed.