Chapter 7: The Duel at Dusk
In Saikono Village, the sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The village, more akin to a small town, buzzed with life as its inhabitants went about their evening routines. But amidst the calm, a storm was brewing. Two adventurers, once comrades, stood on the brink of a violent confrontation. The crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle held its breath, their curiosity piqued by the tension between the two men.
Just as the bearded man with the axe was about to strike, Fulan and Fayrouz moved in perfect unison. Fulan's body erupted in a faint white aura as he darted between the two men, his speed blinding. At the same time, Fayrouz's glowing blue bandages shot out, wrapping around the axe and halting its deadly arc. The crowd gasped, their murmurs growing louder as they witnessed the sudden intervention.
The swordsman, still standing behind Fulan, stared in shock at the young man who had just saved him. "This speed..." he muttered, his voice barely audible.
On the other side, the bearded man glared at Fayrouz, his grip tightening on his axe. "Young lady," he said, his tone calm but laced with irritation, "what do you think you're doing?"
Fayrouz met his gaze with unwavering calm. "Stopping a fool from committing murder in the middle of a peaceful village."
The bearded man's eyes narrowed. "Murder? You've got it all wrong. This is justice—a simple discussion between friends. So, why don't you step aside before things get worse?"
The crowd watched in silence, the tension thickening with every word. Fayrouz, however, didn't flinch. She tightened her grip on the bandages and replied, her voice steady, "Things getting worse? The only person who'll have a bad time here is you. To me, you're just a ticking time bomb that needs to be thrown in a cell for a few days to cool off."
The bearded man's face twisted in anger. His axe began to glow orange, steam rising from its surface as it burned through Fayrouz's bandages. For a brief moment, Fayrouz's glowing blue eyes flickered, a flash of memory—her mother's face—crossing her mind. She quickly retracted the bandages, transforming them into a small blue ring made of fabric. She inspected it carefully, relieved to find no burns or damage.
Meanwhile, the bearded man raised his axe high, causing Fulan to tense, ready to strike at a moment's notice. But instead of attacking, the man brought the axe down with full force, slamming it into the ground.
*Crash!!!*
The impact sent chunks of cement flying, filling the air with gray dust. The crowd coughed and shielded their eyes, but the dust wasn't thick enough to obscure their vision. It was clear the strike had another purpose. The bearded man released his grip on the axe, leaving it embedded in the ground as he turned to walk away.
"Tonight," he said, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd, "three hours from now, at exactly nine o'clock. You and I will settle this the way warriors do. If you truly call yourself an adventurer, then meet me here. If you want to run, do as you please. For Lamaria's death, I'll end our friendship tonight."
The swordsman's lips curled into a small, enigmatic smile. "We've known each other for nine years," he said, his voice calm but heavy with unspoken emotions. "Do you really think I'd run?"
The bearded man paused for a moment before continuing on his way. "Yes. If you had valued her more, you'd be the most perfect man I know."
With that, the confrontation ended, leaving the crowd in stunned silence. The two men, though outwardly different in their reactions, both carried a deep sadness. The swordsman's quiet resolve and the bearded man's simmering anger spoke volumes about the weight of their shared history.
As the crowd began to disperse, murmurs of excitement and speculation filled the air. Some children, disappointed by the lack of immediate action, grumbled as they walked away. "No fight? I was so excited to see adventurers battle. What a waste of time. My mom won't let me out at nine anyway."
Others, however, were already making plans to witness the duel. "They're fighting at nine? It'll be a bit chilly by then."
"So? Are you staying home?"
"Of course not! A duel between professional adventurers is rare. I'm not missing it."
"Want to bet on the outcome?"
"Only if you let me bet on the axe guy."
"The swordsman looks weak. There's no point in betting..."
The villagers spoke casually, as if the upcoming duel were nothing more than a friendly match. But for Fulan and Fayrouz, the situation was far more complex.
Fulan watched as Fayrouz followed the bearded man, her back turned to him. He couldn't help but notice the swordsman's unnatural calm, the way his eyes seemed to hide a world of pain. There was more to this story than met the eye.
Fayrouz, on the other hand, felt the weight of the bearded man's grief. She understood his anger, his need for closure. Losing someone dear was never easy, and no amount of wisdom or philosophy could ease that pain.
The swordsman and the bearded man. Silence and rage. Fulan and Fayrouz. Their paths had crossed in unexpected ways, and now they were all entangled in a web of emotions and unresolved conflicts. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over Saikono, one question lingered in the air: Would this night end in tragedy or redemption?
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