The man with the red robe glided across the ground. It seemed as if he barely had a need to lift his foot to move. He approached Epim, his hands in front of him spaced evenly apart.

Epim was unsure of how to handle the upcoming threat. His knife was still at his side, but the thought of close combat set him on edge. The opponent clearly had the upper hand in that regard, and Epim had no experience whatsoever in combat.

The man moved closer, the distance between them had grown to the point they could make out the details in each other's eyes. Epim noticed the martial artist had deep blue eyes, and he thought they did not at all fit his intense face.

The martial artist was now three steps away from being face to face with Epim. His left hand began to shake, something Epim took immediate note of. His attention honed in, expecting the incoming strike.

The martial artist’s previous closeness to the ground seemed incredulous, his left foot left the ground with speed, and his right pushed off the ground with a strong force. Epim, whose focus was on the fist was taken completely off guard as the leg of the martial artist slammed into the side of his face.

Epim felt spit and blood shoot out of his mouth, and before he could counter, the martial artist returned to the ground. The martial artist's right fist slammed into Epim’s face, and his head flew back. The martial artist did not give a second, and slammed his left fist towards Epim’s stomach.

His fist slammed into the white fur cloak covering Epim’s front, and he felt each fiber of the cloak absorb his blow, his fist didn’t come close to reaching its intended target.

This momentary instance of peace was enough for Epim to regain his sense after the two blows. Although he felt his face throbbing, he disregarded the pain and threw his right fist towards the martial artist.

The martial artist relaxed his legs, and he fell down to the ground, hearing the air whistle above him in reaction to the swing by Epim.

Thrusting his hands into the ground, the martial artist kicked both of his feet into the stomach of Epim. This time, he felt a slight impact. Epim’s feet skidded against the ground. The martial artist flipped into a standing position.

Epim’s thoughts were in disarray and his breathing heavy. He panted, and looked at the Martial artist with a hazy focus. “(I can barely follow his movements…”) The pain shooting through him was new, so different from the numbness he used to feel. “(Can I even survive, let alone beat him?”) His right hand instinctively began to reach for his knife, until the ring on his finger caught his eye. It was glowing, ever so lightly. He felt a current pump through his heart, the place where that meager light had made its home.

His thoughts began to order themselves. His right hand touched the neck of his cloak, and his eyes focused. The terrain was flat, his opponent had an absolute advantage in explosive power. There was no room for speech, every action/? had been taken with the intent to kill. In movement, he was outclassed.

The martial artist examined Epim in the same way. “(That cloak’s dense, so it’d probably be better to aim for his extremities. But he’s aware of that too. So… I”ll just blow through the damn thing with needle and once he’s on the ground, I’ll finish him off with Hammer.”) HIs left leg pumped up, muscle bulging outwards.

The stalemate lasted for a minute, instantly broken by the sound of shattering earth. The martial artist appeared to Epim’s side, and a quick fast slam into the right side of his head. Epim’s body nearly toppled over, and the moment he regained his senses the martial artist was in front of him again.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

The muscular leg shot forward towards Epim’s stomach. The martial artist planned to end this encounter here and now.

His eyes captured the following moments in stunning clarity, although he had no time to react. Epim, with a dexterity that he had not even given a hint of, moved his body to the side the moment the kick approached him. At the same time, the cloak he wore unclasped itself from his body, and with his left Epim wrapped it around the extended leg and foot.

The martial artist immediately retracted himself, aiming to regain his balance. But the moment his cloak covered foot hit the ground he understood, he could no longer feel the ground through the cloak. It dampened his sense.

This revelation came the same moment the palm of Epim gripped his face. He felt the fingers grip into his skull, and throw him to the ground. Again, before he could react he felt the right fist of Epim slam into his stomach, the ring indenting into his stomach through his robe.

Epim stood and took a moment to breathe, and the right foot of the martial artist slammed against his back. Epim felt like his body had been almost completely shattered, but knew that falling to the ground was a death sentence, so he quickly stepped back out of the martial artist's range.

The martial artist’s right hand tried to rip the cloak off his foot, but it stuck to him like an adhesive. He stood and accepted that he’d have to deal with the lack of feedback.

And as his eyes looked towards Epim once more, he saw the visage of death behind him.

The glow on Epims’ ring had begun to grow more intense, enough so that even the martial artist could notice. Enough so that Epim could feel its radiance, and he allowed his instincts to take over. He closed his right palm into a fist, and with his left hand he covered it.

The smothered light of the ring transferred itself to Epim’s palm, and as he removed his hand, the center of his left palm glowed with twilight. And the ring shone no more.

The twilight light in Epim’s palm grew vertically, both up and down. And although it was a transitory light, it was physical, it had weight in Epim’s palm. The transformation continued after the vertical expansion had ended, and at the top of it, a blade curved outwards, made of the same light. In Epim’s left hand was an ephemeral scythe.

Although it had no edge, and certainly did not look sharp, the Martial artist knew that if the blade were to cut through him, he’d die in an instant.

Taking a deep breath, the martial artist focused. His connection to the earth was still strong through his right leg, and he could see Epim’s body trembling from the damage he had taken from his blows. The martial artist could win, with just a single solid strike.

Epim made the first move. He ran forwards, his hands carrying the scythe in a ready position to swing.

Leaning backwards, the martial artist focused his attention on the scythe. Epim had begun to grow closer, he could feel the tremors of each footstep on the earth. Closer, Epim grew. Closer, up to the point he swung the scythe.

The weapon of light cut through the air, and only through the air. As Epim swung, the martial artist burst forwards with a low stance, just below the area of the scythe’s arc.

While he was aiming to tackle Epim to the ground, his lack of symmetry betrayed him. The attack became more of a body blow, his shoulder slipping into the chest of Epim and nearly knocking the breath out of him.

His hands let go of the scythe, and the light vanished within an instant. The martial artist took immediate notice of this, and focused his weight to his right foot, intending to pivot and deliver a backwards fist to the face of Epim.

Pivoting on his foot was a success, but his fist never reached Epim’s face. A knife slashed across his eye the moment his head turned back towards him.

‘Gh.” The martial artist let out a stifled yell, before the right foot of Epim slammed into his open ankle. The importance of said ankle couldn’t be overstated, as it was the martial artist's only connection to the earth.

Falling, the martial artist’s thoughts were in disarray. He pushed his hands backwards, pushing himself from the ground, knowing that if he were to fall he would be defenseless against a second or even third stab of the knife.

Golden light shimmered around his neck, and he felt the cool touch of the twilight scythe caress his neck. It may have disappeared for a moment, but Epim could always call it back.

“I hope someone remembers you.” Epim’s words spilled out of his mouth callously, and the head of the martial artist fell to the ground with a thud.

In the Bewitching woods, Epim took his first life for the sake of a stranger.