I couldn’t stop myself from yawning when I left the throne room and passed through the chamber beyond. I had no idea how long I’d been in this castle, but I was eager to get back to the Village and tell Jakob about my exploits, possibly after getting a good night’s sleep.

As I reached the landing to the catacombs below, I made a terrible discovery. The way was completely barred by fallen debris. It would seem that in the fight against the Forlorn Shadow, the ceiling in the tunnels below had collapsed. I could only hope that Father Adam had made it out alive, though deep down I knew there was no way he’d ever be able to leave the tomb he’d willingly been interred into. Even if I went back through the cavern by the cliffside ledge, I was sure I’d find the hidden entrance barred or destroyed as well.[1]

I didn’t mourn Father Adam, though I did feel bad for leaving him in that horrid tomb. I mean, I didn’t actually know him, and he was just a figment of this world, but the distinction between fabricated and real was becoming so blurry that it was hard not to care.

A few minutes later, when I felt I was ready to leave, I pushed open the large door, emerging out into a courtyard dimly lit by the light of the silver moon and partially by my newfound Sight. The air was cold, though not to the point of freezing, but enough to be able to feel the wind chill my exposed face.

I placed a hand on my scabbard when I saw the figure standing some metres ahead of me, in the very centre of the large open space within the confines of the castle walls. Strange, I thought. I was pretty sure the King had been the last boss of this World, unless I was somehow mistaken. Though something was also odd about the person in front of me: They didn’t fit in. There was a certain recurring theme to all the enemies and allies of this World, and that slight discrepancy in the build, height, hair style, and clothes of the Stranger made it clear they were a player like me.

“What do you want?” I yelled. My voice echoed off the far walls and returned a second later, though the player didn’t answer. Then I saw what they were holding. A sword. And not just any sword: The Cursed Sword.

When the person started walking towards me, I realised that they weren’t interested in a chat. No. They were here to kill me and take my stuff. A Player-Killer, just like those I’d been warned about. Just like Kerebor…

I slid my right foot back to give myself better balance and placed my hand on the handle, ready to send out my strongest attack when they came close enough.

In the seconds that passed, I took in many details about the person, who, as they drew nearer, was lit up by the amber lights from my ring, which seemed to have a limited ranged of eight metres or so. First off, my assailant was a woman. Her hair was reddish-brown and similar in length to mine, though a lot thicker and wild, like an animal’s. Her face was haunted, skin grey, eye sockets and cheeks hollowed as if from a lifetime of starvation. She wasn’t exactly tall, though still taller than me, and I got the impression her character was meant to look Eastern European. The armour she wore was sparse, basically just a black leather jacket, black linen trousers, and darkened metal gauntlets and greaves. I wondered if the lack of armour was a compromise necessary to wield the hefty blade in her hands.

All black, just like me.

She dragged the massive blade behind her and the scraping noise it made across the hard earth reminded me of the throne room fight. Not only was she using the same weapon as the Forlorn King, but also the same stance. I distantly wondered if she too was possessed by the Shadow somehow, despite the fact that I’d already defeated it. It made me wish I still had the True Flame with me.

Then she stopped.

“Even the brightest flame can lose its way in the dark!” she yelled suddenly, her voice distorted like the Shadow’s, but distinctly human.

On cue the night became pitch-black. Even my Sight afforded me no more than a metre of visibility. Immediately after, I heard a whoosh through the air and instinctively jumped backwards, as a massive blade slammed down towards me. But I wasn’t fast enough. The sword point connected with my breastplate, scraping a thick groove down the cuirass just as I sprang out of the way. The force of the blow, albeit glancing, was enough to knock me back. I quickly turned the fall into a roll, got onto my knees and then charged ahead, my hands still glued to my scabbarded sword.

This bitch just ruined my beautiful armour. She is going to suffer for that!

I let loose a charged Quick Draw towards where the attack had come from. My blade passed through the air unchallenged and then something cold sliced open my left arm, followed by a thump as the heavy blade hammered into the ground.

I fell back, trying to figure out how badly hurt I was, but a rush of air forced me to change direction as the sword swung past me in a horizontal slash. She was way faster than the boss had been, and completely unpredictable, with no discernible patterns to exploit. I wasn’t just fighting another player; I was fighting someone experienced in fighting players. To say I was screwed was an understatement.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I didn’t want to die like this, so I put on my best game face.

“Is that the best you’ve got!?” I taunted.

From behind came the tell-tale rush of air, and I moved out of the way, this time erring on the side of caution, since I now knew how ridiculous the reach of her sword was.

She was on me again before I even had time to prepare, but I managed to fall back unscathed. It seemed my taunt had fired her up, since she once more barely gave me a chance to recover, before attacking again.

Granted, she clearly still had the upper hand. I couldn’t see her, but she could somehow see me, which made any attempt at counterattacking pointless. And it would only be a matter of time before all my dodging and sidestepping wore me out completely.

After her fourth attempt to cut me up failed, I realised the true reason behind her frantic onslaught. The veil of darkness was dissipating.

Just as the realisation struck me, I backed up into a solid obstacle. It might have been the outer wall or one of the structures in the courtyard, though I couldn’t tell. It seemed my attacker wasn’t stupid. She had deliberately corralled me into a corner.

Another whoosh sounded before me and I ducked sideways, just as the heavy blade passed by me and tore into the solid wall. I tried to move along the wall, while my she regained her composure, but not even a second later, a horizontal slash carved along the wall and I only barely managed to pass under it. Not letting an opportunity go to waste, I quickly got up and kicked off from the wall, while also casting forth a minimally charged Quick Draw. There followed a sharp clash of metal on metal, and although my strike had clearly been blocked, I was now behind her and I slashed my sword down vertically in a Helm-Splitter strike. But despite catching my opponent by surprise at first, my follow-up only struck the earth.

However, the reach of my amber lights was slowly growing. Her special attack, the cloud of pitch-black shadow, was now almost completely gone. This fight was about to become far more even.

I both saw and heard her next attack. It was an incredible spin, like a human tornado, using the sword as a weight to propel her body forwards, while simultaneously slashing all around her. The sound the blade made was incredibly loud, but she no doubt knew I could now see her, and thus was resorting to different tactics. It was a cool attack, likely one of the abilities tied to the greatsword she was wielding, but its telegraphing was too obvious, and I simply backed away, trying to position myself near the middle of the courtyard, where there was plenty of room to manoeuvre. But as I backed away, some unseen force pulled me off my feet and I fell on my ass. The wind she was generating with the spin had dragged me towards her!

Like a vulture spotting a feast, she lunged for me with a massive overhead slam, similar to the one that had messed up my armour. For a second, I lay there watching the amber lights play along her outline as she dove for me, but then I snapped out of it and quickly scrambled backwards, just as her blade slammed down between my legs. She twisted her grip on the short handle and drew the blade out of the ground in a forward slash, which carved through the earth and towards me. I kicked off from the ground and turned the move into an impressive backflip[2], not wasting a second before sending forth a Quick Draw, followed by a Lacerate. She blocked my powerful first strike by planting her sword in the ground and twisting her body around it, like someone hiding behind a large shield. For the double-slash, she used her gauntlets to quickly block them.

This was bad. I was still outmatched, despite being able to see her.

Then an idea popped into my head. It was a really stupid idea. But I couldn’t think of a better plan.

I dodged the next few attacks she sent at me, patiently waiting for the right opportunity. And then she performed her overhead slam again, and I knew it was time to strike.

Time slowed as I charged straight for her whilst that enormous blade cleaved down towards me, aiming right for my head. As I came within her reach, I saw the realisation in her eyes, but she didn’t try to avoid my blade as I plunged it into her leather jacket and through her chest. Then her blade also hit home, though it settled painfully in my shoulder instead of my head, thanks to a small adjustment I made at the very last moment. If not for my armour, it would have taken my entire shoulder and arm with it. Granted, the pain was still enough to make me cry out.

My cuirass was now officially ruined. There was the large groove in front and now also rent metal in the neck and shoulder-guard. It wasn’t a mortal wound I’d received, since only the blade up near the hilt had hit me. That said, I felt warmth spread from my shoulder and under my clothes, as a lot blood travelled down my body. I also felt the uncomfortable sensation of a memory being ripped from me as darkness creeped into the fringes of my vision.[3] She lost her grip on the sword and it fell over my shoulder, followed by a thump as it hit the ground behind me.

She took a step towards me, further spearing herself on my obsidian edge, which right now looked like a piece torn from the night sky, its bloodied edge mirroring the landscape of stars above. Her head fell on my good shoulder and her arms hung limply from her body. It almost seemed like the sword in her chest was the only thing keeping her upright.

Then she let out a brief laugh, followed by a cough. I knew she would die any moment now.

“He gave me the name Mŕtvy,” she said, followed by more coughing. She strained her voice again, trying to say something important before her time was up. “In my home country…” Another horrible cough. “… that means…”

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[1] Sometimes there’s nothing you can do. It’s rough feeling so powerless, but within a fixed world such as this, things are decided in advance, like the threads of fate. At least when it comes to the lives of those fabricated beings that inhabit it. We humans transported here are the volatile elements that are supposed to make everything interesting and unpredictable.

[2] Sorry, that should read: “…what I thought was an impressive backflip…”

[3] Somehow I noticed it, despite the darkness that reigned all around me. It was like a different kind of ‘dark’, as though not just the absence of light, but the total domination of darkness.