Cain’s eyes interlocked with the red-haired girl. She was standing rigid, her posture tense, every muscle in her body coiled tight, ready to spring. But something about her gaze caught him off guard—there was fire there, a wildness. But, it wasn’t defiance, not like the man in front of him.
The man was tall and lean, his stance firm and unwavering, showing a confidence that few in the village seemed to match. His dark hair was tousled, framing a face hardened by years of battle. His clothes, worn and patched, bore the marks of many fights—a fighter through and through, Cain thought with a glimmer of interest. This one, at least, wouldn’t fall without a fight.
Cain took a step forward, his voice low but carrying easily over the tense silence. «You all can save yourselves a lot of bloodshed today,» he said, his tone calm, almost reasonable. «All I want is a single item. You hand it over, and we’ll leave without spilling a single drop.»
Rian narrowed his eyes, his posture tense. «And if we refuse?»
Cain’s gaze lingered on him, sizing him up. «Then we do this the hard way.» He tilted his head slightly, glancing over the assembled villagers as if assessing their strength—finding it lacking. «But here’s my offer: you send out your best fighter. They face me, one on one. If they win, we leave. No trouble for your people.»
A murmur rippled through the crowd, villagers looking to one another with glances of unease and relief. Cain smirked. It was a way out, but not an easy one.
Rian took a step forward, his chin raised defiantly. «I’ll fight you.»
Cain’s lips twisted into a faint smile as he took in the challenge in Rian’s eyes. He could respect that—bravery from a man who knew he was outmatched. But respect would only get him so far; this was still business, after all.
«Then let’s get this over with,» Cain replied, rolling his shoulders, tensing his artificial arm, as he prepared himself for the Duel. «Valkyrie.»
Valkyrie, her short, crimson hair tied into a ponytail, stopped next to him. «Yes, sir?»
«Give that man your blade,» Cain ordered and before Valkyrie could protest, he shot her a glare and she complied. With a swift Motion she grabbed her sword from her hip and tossed it towards the man, who clumsily caught it.
Cain drew his own energy blade, a weapon with a slightly curved blade, and activated it. The weapon hummed to life and the blade was posted by a thin almost invisible barrier of super condensed energy, sharpening it at a molecular level.
The man before him furrowed his brow in concentration as he tested the weapon’s weight, rolling his shoulders and settling into a stance that showed he wasn’t a complete stranger to combat.
Cain studied the way Rian held the blade. The man’s grip was solid but hesitant, like he wasn’t used to the weight of a real Weapon. Cain had seen enough battles to know when someone was truly comfortable with their sword—and Rian was not.
He was strong, no doubt, but strength alone wasn’t enough. Not against Cain.
The hum of his energy blade thrummed through the air, the weapon an extension of himself, alive with power. Cain took a deep breath, letting the familiar feel of the blade in his hand calm him, center him. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving His opponent.
Cain studied his oponent, his artificial eye scanning the man’s every movement, analyzing the tension in his muscles, the way he held his sword, and the uneven rhythm of his breathing. The eye flickered faintly, feeding Cain data in real-time—his opponent’s vitals, the trajectory of his strikes, the probability of his next move.
«Before we begin,» Cain said, his voice steady but sharp, «I’d like to know the name of the man I’m about to defeat.»
The man’s jaw clenched, but he held Cain’s gaze without flinching. «Rian.»
Cain’s lips twitched into something resembling a smile. «Rian. A strong name. I’m Cain.»
He spun his blade once, testing the air, letting its hum fill the space between them. The wind whistled softly through the village square, carrying with it the scent of smoke from nearby fires and the low murmur of nervous villagers. Cain felt the weight of their stares, but it didn’t faze him. This was his stage, and Rian was just another actor in a play Cain had directed many times before.
«Well, Rian, I hope you’ve made your peace with whatever gods you pray to.»
Cain advanced with a deliberate pace, watching Rian carefully as he closed the distance. Rian swung first—a powerful strike aimed at Cain’s midsection. But Cain saw it coming a mile away. With a swift sidestep, he avoided the blow easily, letting the blade pass by him harmlessly.
«Not bad,» Cain remarked casually, as if they were discussing the weather, «but not good enough.»
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Rian didn’t hesitate. He spun around and attacked again, this time with more precision, aiming for Cain’s legs. His artificial eye projected the arc of the blade, and he countered effortlessly. The sound of clashing steel echoed through the square as their blades met in a shower of sparks. The force of the impact sent vibrations up his arm, but Cain didn’t budge an inch. He could feel the tension in Rian’s movements—the man was strong, but strength without control was nothing.
«You’re going to have to do a little better than that,» Cain said, his tone laced with unusual amusement.
Rian gritted his teeth, attacking again and again, but each time, Cain parried with ease, his movements smooth and calculated. Cain could feel the frustration building in Rian’s strikes, the man’s determination turning into desperation as the fight wore on.
Cain, on the other hand, was toying with him. This wasn’t a duel—it was a lesson. One that Rian was quickly learning. Cain could have ended it in the first few moments, but there was something satisfying about drawing it out, showing the villagers just how hopeless their situation was.
«You fight with your heart, Rian,» Cain said, his voice calm as he blocked another blow, « admirable, but you’re letting it cloud your judgment. You’re swinging with anger, not skill.»
Rian’s breathing grew heavier, sweat dripping down his brow. He swung again, this time with all his strength.
The artificial eye tracked the movement with clinical precision, marking the weakness in Rian’s form. Cain’s left hand shot up with lightning speed, catching Rian’s wrist mid-swing. The impact sent a shiver through his arm, but Cain held firm, his grip like iron. Rian’s eyes widened in shock, his strength faltering as Cain’s artificial arm held him in place effortlessly.
The look of shock on Rian’s face was almost sad.
«And that,» Cain said quietly, «is why you’ll lose.»
With a swift motion, Cain twisted Rian’s arm, forcing the sword from his grip. It clattered to the ground with a dull thud, the finality of the sound echoing in the stillness.
With one final sweep, Cain’s blade connected with Rian’s arm. The impact wasn’t deadly, but the energy field around the blade sliced clean through, severing the limb just above the elbow. Rian cried out in pain, stumbling back, clutching the stump where his arm used to be.
Cain stepped back, watching as Rian fell to his knees, his face twisted in agony. The duel was over. He could have killed him, but he hadn’t. Not yet.
Cain deactivated his energy blade with a hum, the tension in the air thick as the crowd watched in silence, waiting for what would happen next. Cain’s eyes flicked briefly toward the Red Haired girl, but his expression remained unreadable.
—---------------------
«It’s done,» the leader of the Ascended said. «Your fighter lost. Now hand out the Item!»
The duel was over. Rian lay on the ground, his arm severed, blood pooling around him. Her stomach churned at the sight, and for a moment, everything else—the Ascended, the crowd, the threat of violence—faded away. All she could see was her brother, broken, his breath full of pain.
Cira’s gaze now snapped to Cain, fury surging through her veins. The audacity—the sheer coldness in his voice—made her want to lunge at him, consequences be damned. But she couldn’t. Not with Rian lying there, barely conscious. Not with the village’s safety hanging by a thread.
Cain sighed as he sheathed his blade. «Search the Village. Destroy stuff if you have to.»
The Ascended fanned out only a handful, including the woman Cain called ‹Valkyrie›, stood by Cain, whose eyes still laid on the villagers.
«You think you can just come in here and take what you want?» she shouted at the leader, her voice trembling with rage. «You think we’re just going to hand over the Item after you’ve harmed our people?»
Cain’s gaze flickered to her, his lips curling into a smirk. «You have no leverage here, girl. Your precious fighter lost. There’s nothing stopping me from taking it by force.»
Cira glanced back at Rian, who was trying to gather himself, pain etched across his features as the village's doctor helped him with His arm. She couldn’t let them win. Not like this. Not after everything they had fought for.
One of the Ascended standing near Cain raised their gun, not to shoot, but as a clear warning. The sleek, high-tech weapon gleamed in the light, and its barrel pointed directly at her.
Before Cira could react, Lina stepped forward, positioning herself between Cira and the Ascended. She raised a hand, her voice calm but firm. «Wait, we don’t want any more bloodshed.» Her eyes flickered to Cain, her tone measured. «There’s been enough fighting. Let’s talk about this.»
Cira’s breath caught in her throat. The sight of Lina standing in front of her, shielding her, filled her with a mix of pride and fear. She wanted to scream at her to step back, to let her handle this, but Lina had always been the one to try and diffuse situations, to keep the peace.
Cain’s smirk didn’t fade, but he nodded ever so slightly, lowering his chin. «Your girlfriend’s smarter than you, it seems. But the question remains—will you give me what I’ve come for, or do I have to keep taking it?» His eyes glittered with a predatory gleam, and it was clear he wasn’t bluffing.
Cira’s chest tightened as Lina moved in front of her. The warmth of her presence, the smell of spices on her breath—it was grounding, even in this moment. But as much as she loved Lina’s bravery, this was dangerous. Too dangerous.
For a brief second, it seemed like Lina might defuse the situation. Cain’s eyes narrowed as he watched her closely, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t make a move.
And then, out of the corner of her eye, Cira saw it—a flash of movement. One of the villagers, desperate and panicked, raised his weapon.
The movement was small, barely noticeable to most, but it was enough. One of the Ascended soldiers nearest to Lina reacted on pure instinct. His weapon fired.
The blast was sudden, deafening. It cut through the tense air like a lightning strike.
Cira’s world slowed to a crawl. The sound faded, replaced by a ringing in her ears as the scene before her played out in slow motion. Lina’s body jerked violently from the impact. Her eyes went wide with shock, her mouth half open as if she wanted to say something. The smell of burnt flesh hit Cira’s nostrils, acrid and sharp, making her stomach churn.
Lina staggered backward, her feet struggling to find purchase as the life drained from her face. Cira rushed forward, catching Lina as she fell, the weight of her body collapsing into Cira’s arms.
«Lina,» Cira whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. Panic gripped her chest like a vice, squeezing the air from her lungs.
Lina's eyes fluttered, trying to focus. Blood pooled quickly around her wound, staining Cira's hands and clothes a deep crimson.
«No,» Cira choked, her voice breaking. «No, no, no, Lina, stay with me.»
Cira’s breath hitched as she cradled Lina’s body, her hands trembling as she pressed against the wound. Blood was everywhere, sticky and warm, soaking through Cira’s clothes. The weight of Lina’s body felt unbearable in her arms, and her world seemed to close in—just the two of them in that horrifying moment. She couldn’t lose her. Not like this.
She looked up, her vision blurred with tears, and saw Cain standing above them. His expression wasn’t one of anger or even indifference. There was something softer there—pity, perhaps? His dark eyes met hers, and for a second, Cira thought she saw a flicker of regret. But he didn’t move. He didn’t offer any apology.
Behind him, one of his soldiers approached, carrying something—the Anti-Radiator. It was a small, sleek device, almost unremarkable, but Cira knew what it was. The thing they had come for. The thing that had cost Lina her life.
Cain’s gaze followed the soldier as he handed him the device. He held it up briefly, inspecting it, before slipping it into his coat. Then, without looking back at Cira, he spoke.
«This was never meant to end in blood,» Cain said, his voice low but steady. «But blood has a way of finding us, no matter our intentions.»
Cira wanted to scream at him, to hurl curses, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat felt tight, her mind numb with shock and grief. She could only stare, holding Lina’s limp form, as Cain turned to leave.
The Ascended soldiers, silent and efficient, began to move out, their purpose fulfilled. The village, once filled with life, now stood in a stunned silence, the only sound the quiet sobs and gasps of those left behind.
Cain’s footsteps were steady as he walked away, his figure disappearing into the distance with his soldiers. Cira’s heart pounded in her chest, in sync with Cain's footsteps her vision fading between the present and the lifeless form of the woman she loved in her arms.
And then, as quickly as they had come, the Ascended were gone.