The Devouring Knight

Skitz turned his gaze to Shade, the towering creature had cracks running across his body like molten lines. Despite his damaged form, his eyes still burned with a dim red glow.

"Hey, pal," Skitz called out, resting a hand on his leg. "Watch these guys for me, yeah? I gotta help the captains before those elves steal our prey."

Shade rumbled lowly, a deep growl that sounded almost like an acknowledgment.

"Good," Skitz said with a grin, giving him a light tap before his body blurred into shadows.

In the next instant, he vanished, darting across the battlefield like a streak of black lightning.

…..

The battlefield around them was nothing but smoke, fire, and corpses.

Skarn stood with his chest rising and falling like a beast that had fought for days. His armor was shattered in several places, his skin marked with cuts and bruises, but his grin never faded. His axes, once gleaming with sharp edges, were now chipped and dull, their handles splattered with blood.

Across from him, Commander Gregory stood hunched, his massive one-handed axe digging slightly into the ground to keep his balance. His once-proud armor hung in tatters, and his chestplate bore the imprint of Skarn's last strike. Behind him, his warhorse lay dead, its body skewered by the tusks of Skarn's boar.

The air between them was heavy with exhaustion, the kind that only comes after clashing to the brink of death.

Gregory exhaled sharply, his shoulders trembling. "Damn you…" he muttered, his voice hoarse. "You're still smiling after all that?"

Skarn chuckled, spitting blood to the side. "Heh. Can't help it. It's been a very exciting fight." He twirled one of his broken axes and tilted his head. "What's your name, Knight?"

The commander frowned, surprised by the question. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Gregory straightened his back, pride still burning faintly in his tired eyes.

"You're the only one who enjoyed this, monster," he said, his voice steady despite the pain. Then, after a pause, he added, "Name's Gregory."

Skarn's grin widened. "Skarn," he replied, thumping his chest once. "Remember it."

Gregory gave a small, bitter laugh, then raised his axe again. "Then let's finish this."

The moment the words left his mouth, both warriors charged. The ground beneath them cracked, sending dust and debris flying as their weapons collided with a thunderous clang! Sparks flashed between them, lighting up the smoke-filled battlefield.

Gregory swung his massive axe in wide arcs, every strike fueled by the last of his strength. Skarn met them head-on, his twin axes spinning in a furious rhythm.

Gregory roared, his veins bulging, sweat and blood dripping down his face. "Come on, monster! Let's see how long that grin lasts!"

Skarn's laughter cut through the chaos, wild and full of heat. "That's it! Now you're getting into it!" he shouted, twisting his body to parry a swing before driving a boot into Gregory's chest. The impact sent the commander stumbling back, boots skidding across the dirt.

But Gregory didn't stop. With a deep breath, he charged again, letting out a raw battle cry that tore through the smoke. Their weapons met once more, the shockwave sending dust and bits of armor flying around them.

One last clash, Skarn's twin axes crossed in an X, catching Gregory's blade mid-swing. For a heartbeat, they pushed against each other, both snarling with effort. But then Gregory's knees gave way, his weapon sliding from his hand.

He fell to one knee, blood dripping from his chin, but a faint smile formed on his lips. "Kill me… this is your win… Skarn."

Skarn stood over him, chest heaving, his grin still wide. But then he shook his head slowly. "I can't kill you now."

Gregory frowned, his voice hoarse. "Are you… dishonoring our fight?"

Skarn chuckled, resting one axe against his shoulder. "No. I defeated you, so I have the right to decide. You'll die soon anyway," he said casually, his eyes glinting. "And when you do, I'll be taking that skill of yours."

Gregory smirked faintly, half annoyed, half amused. "Don't play with me… just end it."

"Don't worry," Skarn replied with a toothy grin. "I will."

He moved faster than Gregory could see, a blunt strike from the hilt of his axe hitting the commander's temple. Gregory's eyes fluttered, his body going limp as he fell unconscious.

Skarn looked down at him for a moment, then let out a tired laugh. "Good fight." He turned his head toward the horizon, breathing heavily.

From a distance, Skitz paused mid-run. His sharp eyes caught the fading aura of Gregory and the steady one of Skarn. He smirked, relief flashing across his face.

"Guess no need to worry about him," Skitz muttered. Then, without missing a beat, he turned and dashed toward another battlefield.

…..

Arrows streaked through the air like rain, whistling past one another in a deadly rhythm. The sound of bowstrings snapping echoed in the chaos, each shot precise, each dodge timed to the heartbeat.

Krivex slid behind a shattered wagon, his sharp eyes locked on the figure across the field, a commander dressed in green-plated armor, twin daggers strapped to his thighs, bow already drawn.

The commander released a volley, three arrows slicing through the air. Krivex rolled to the side, then returned fire in one smooth motion. Both archers moved like dancers, every turn and draw deliberate and sharp.

When the gap between them closed, the fight turned fast and brutal.

The commander lunged first, drawing his daggers in a flash of silver. Krivex dropped his bow, drawing a short sword from his waist just in time to block. Sparks flew as steel clashed.

The two exchanged rapid blows, daggers thrusting, sword slashing, each one trying to read the other's rhythm.

"Not bad for a beast," the commander hissed, ducking low and swiping upward.

Krivex grinned, parrying with a twist of his wrist. "Not bad for a human either."

They broke apart, circling. Arrows and corpses littered the ground between them. The wind howled around Krivex's boots as his mana began to stir, faint green light swirling at his fingertips.