The Contractor's Conquest

Chapter 9: The Will to Survive

Elyra stood firm at the edge of the domain, her heart pounding as the glow of her Domain of Duel ability bathed the battlefield in an eerie blue hue. The shimmering ring encasing Sylas and the assassin pulsated faintly, almost as if alive, reacting to the intense emotions within. She clenched her fists and whispered to herself, her thoughts a mixture of hope and fear.

"My Domain of Duel forces this fight to be resolved by pure will and skill, but its random buff in luck… That's the gamble. It could have gone to the assassin, but I believed in my son. Sylas, your destiny will not end here. You must win. You will win. Fight, my child!"

She bit her lip as the assassin relentlessly drove his blades toward Sylas, forcing her son into a desperate dance for survival.

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Sylas panted heavily, his legs feeling like lead as the assassin continued his unrelenting assault. The man's twin blades gleamed menacingly, each strike aimed at his vital points. Sylas ducked, sidestepped, and blocked as best he could, but his body was reaching its limit. His clothes were torn, and blood trickled from several shallow gashes on his arms and torso.

The assassin smirked, his movements quick and deliberate. "You're good for a kid," he said, his tone mocking. "But all you're doing is delaying the inevitable. Look at yourself—barely standing. And me? I'm just warming up."

Sylas didn't respond, his focus solely on the fight. His father's ability, Merchant's Scale, was working its magic, balancing their strengths. Still, Sylas couldn't ignore the fact that his opponent had years of experience and two deadly weapons to his name.

"This guy's stronger, faster, and deadlier. But is that enough of a reason to lose? No," Sylas thought, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know why they're targeting us, but I refuse to die here. I'll fight. I'll survive."

With renewed determination, Sylas pressed forward.

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The assassin swung his blades in a vicious arc, aiming for Sylas's midsection. Sylas twisted his body to avoid the strike, but the second blade came for his neck. Dropping low, he managed to dodge the fatal blow, but the edge of the blade grazed his shoulder, drawing blood. Gritting his teeth, Sylas pushed through the pain and drove his fist into the assassin's ribs with all his might.

"Urgh!" the man grunted, stumbling backward from the impact.

Sylas didn't waste a moment, following up with a kick to the assassin's ankle. The man growled in frustration as he lost his balance, limping slightly. Still, his attacks didn't falter. He slashed wildly, forcing Sylas to retreat.

The assassin smirked, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Not bad, kid," he said. "But you're just a bug waiting to be squashed."

Sylas ignored the taunt, focusing on his breathing. His body screamed in protest, but he refused to give up. He analyzed the fight, noting the assassin's slight limp and the way he favored his right side.

"He's injured too. He's faster and stronger than me, but his movements are slowing down. If I can just hold on…"

The assassin lunged again, one blade slashing toward Sylas's torso while the other came from above. Sylas sidestepped the first strike and bent backward to avoid the second. As he dropped to the ground, he spun his body, delivering a sharp kick to the assassin's shin.

"Damn brat!" the man roared, staggering as Sylas quickly got back to his feet.

"

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Elyra watched helplessly as her son struggled. Her heart ached with every wound he took, but she held her ground. "You can do this, Sylas. I believe in you. Fight, my child."

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The assassin lunged again, his blades gleaming. Sylas dodged the first strike, but the second blade came dangerously close to his throat. Just then, the assassin's foot slipped in a pool of blood—Sylas's blood—and his balance faltered.

Sylas saw his chance. Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, he drove his fist into the assassin's groin with all his might.

"ARGH!" the man screamed, dropping his weapons as he fell backward.

The assassin's head hit a sharp piece of rubble with a sickening crack. His body went limp, his eyes staring blankly into the void.

The domain shimmered and dissolved, its purpose fulfilled.

"The duel ends. Victor: Sylas."

Sylas collapsed to his knees, his body trembling from exhaustion and pain. Elyra and Mark rushed to his side, their faces etched with worry and relief.

"You did it, son," Mark said, holding him up.

Elyra gently touched Sylas's face, her voice soft. "Rest now, Sylas. You've done more than enough."

Sylas closed his eyes, his mother's words echoing in his mind as darkness took him.

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End of Chapter