Focus is a skill that Arch reserves for the end of a fight. It is a technique of utter simplicity, one that any practitioner of his art could practice. Taking the same steps as his other techniques, he focuses energy into his body. The only difference is that his other techniques hone that energy into an executable force, in the form of a sharp needle, or a bludgeoning hammer, or a myriad of other forms. Focus instead makes no such transformation. It simply brings out the absolute force capable from the human body. His fists do not act as anything but fists, no longer can he shoot a vacuum of air. He is now restrained, restricted to only the lethal force his own body carries, amplified several times in his state of clarity.

Arch clenches his fist, the sound of his bones cracking and straining echoes off of the stone walls of the dungeon. His eyes seem to capture light, time seems to slow. He thinks of his brother, his foolish brother, his young brother, the brother he couldn’t save, the brother who committed himself to the wrong path, his brother that had been killed by the man in front of him.

Focus is a skill that makes the man bare, in body and soul. As a result, thoughts of his young brother surfaced.

“Because you’re my brother, don’t you know the pain I had to go through? You sit there with your head high, you think my actions are beneath you! Don’t think I don’t know. You’ve never gone into the woods because you think it’s pathetic. Not me, I do it because it’s our job as mercenaries.”

Aiga always wore his disdain openly, he was a man who refused to let the world misunderstand his character.

“But you, you hold on to pathetic pride and are rewarded for it. I who dutifully do my job to gather product goes unrewarded while you work your way up the ranks! Pathetic, Pathetic I say! You may be my older brother, but you are no example.”

The kind memories Arch had of his brother Aiga were slim, and they were never what he thought of first when his brother came to mind.

Now, from the depths, his master’s warning exploded into his mind like a geyser.

“Ar, I taught you out of love, and taught your brother out of respect for you. But I must confess, he has no future in the technique. He believes the technique can be honed out of will and want, he has no understanding of the meaning of changing oneself. And, if I may speak honestly with you as a peer instead of a master, I fear for you. Your care for him is admirable, but it makes you firm, your heart becomes unshakeable. Can’t you understand that this is contrary to our path?”

Focus brought everything to the surface, before dispelling it to replicate the calmness of untouched water.

“I blame myself for my brother. Were I stronger, I could guide him. If I were weaker, I could relate to him. I can’t help him, because he knows that I can’t understand him. Master, you’re a true friend, someone who I can go to for guidance, someone who wishes to understand me as I am.”

His muscles tensed. Epim’s face was being burned into his mind’s eye, as his body prepared to strike with everything he had.

“My brother has no one he can say that of. He has no one to share his path, and he can not see the paths others take as being anything but a refusal of his own. The only thing I can do is watch him, as he walks down it. Even if he has a distaste for me, it is enough to see him reach the end of his road. Because I can not walk alongside him, it is the least I can do as his brother. I simply want to be there to see how far he can get on that lonely path of his.”

Arch was a man, one who had long lived with a purpose.

“And even if it is foolish, even if it causes me pain, one day if he stands there and looks back… I wish to meet his gaze. That’s my duty, as his brother.”

His brother had died, there would be no such reunion, no such accumulation of experience, let it be known that the future Arch had envisioned had been shattered.

And if one were to describe Aiga’s death as the end of his road, then it is perhaps better that Aiga died alone and away from Arch, for he had never turned his head back and even thought of his brother in the accumulation of his life. He had died as he lived, a man who not once cared for others.

Momentarily, Arch closed his eyes. Visions of his brother, of his training, of his time as a mercenary, all of it came to him.

Then, through the waters murky with memory and history, Arch reached the apex of Focus. There was no more thought, no more reminiscence, all thoughts faded, even those of his brother. What existed now was exclusively the instinct, and the goal, of destroying the man in front of him.

Without a need to command himself to action, Arch had arrived at Epim’s side. His left fist flew, slamming against the scythe blade that was raised in opposition. The twilight that formed the blade shattered just as before. His left hand gripped Epim’s shoulder tightly, his fingers sinking into his flesh, tearing through the clothes with little resistance.

Before he could summon his scythe again, before he could raise his knife in resistance, before he had even fully comprehended the situation he found himself in, Epim found his stomach being caved in by the fist of Arch.

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Such a hit would normally blow him away, but the grip Arch had on him kept him close, and another blow to the stomach followed. Another blow, and another. He would keep the repetition of blows, until Epim broke.

He reared another blow, this time aimed at the face of Epim. It was intended to be the final one. His state of Focus intensified even further as his final strike made its way forward, the surroundings faded from his vision, everything culminated in his fist.

The only thing that had not faded away, were Epim’s eyes. He had just now only seen the disdain that was carried within them. Their brown color was accentuated by a swirling twilight caught in his pupil.

The fist missed its mark, forced out by an overwhelming aura of corrosion that struck at his fingers submerged in Epim’s flesh, calling his attention to quickly withdraw them. He released his grip and backed for a moment, his fingers skin corroded and nearly the entirety of the muscle as well. Wisps of twilight energy lingered on the fingers, fading in the light.

Epim did not have time to form an absolute battle strategy, nor gauge his own condition, or even understand why his opponent backed away. He simply responded in turn to Arch’s action, and slammed his fist into the stomach of the man in front of him. The hilt of the knife in his hands intensified the force.

But of course, pain that assailed the body was different from that which ate away at the flesh. In the state of Focus, Arch could disregard the impact, and swung his elbow down onto the arm of Epim’s, intending to break it with as much force as he could muster

The blow impacted with great power. Enough to the point Epim’s hand was forced to let go of the knife, and it clattered on the ground away. Yet, it did not break. No sound of bone cracking, or muscle giving way lended itself to Arch’s ears.

Still, the momentum threw Epim off enough for Arch to act again, this time with a kick to the side of his neck. His leg shot through the air with speed, and it impacted with a great bang. Sending him to the ground.

Arch did not let up, intending to deliver another blow the moment his feet touched the ground and he regained himself. He moved forwards, and promptly felt a scythe blade carve its way under his right arm. Epim had flipped the shaft of his scythe so that the longer side had faced Arch in midst of his fall, and he called the blade to the end of it.

Still, the cutting blade was past him now, and the added damage of the scythe threatened to put him out of commission, so he refused to throw away his chance at victory and continued his attack, a downward strike towards the mispostured Epim. Arch’s fingers stuck together and shot downwards, no longer focusing on the bludgeoning power of fists but the piercing powering of a well placed strike. He would gouge Epim’s heart and put an end to it once and for all.

Arch’s eyes did not miss anything now, they saw the most minute movements of Epim, including the scythes shaft in his hand twisted slightly, which he would understand a moment too late meant the end of his attack. Like a zipper, the scythe blade was called downwards from its extended length, and fell down the length of the shaft, now cutting through the length of Arch’s arm and downwards, dispelling the moment it approached Epim’s hand.

His eyes became hazy, his understanding of the battle had left him, but still he went for another strike, pivoting the other side of his body to finish his attack. His eyes witnessed the ephemeral scythe disappear entirely now from Epim’s hand.

The calm waters quivered, as he felt a blade cut upwards through the bottom left of his body. Epim’s scythe which had only been called forwards from his right hand had appeared in his left, small and compact. Blood danced in the air. The blow like the others he had been inflicted was not lethal, but the damage done had permanently changed the outcome. His state of Focus waned, and his thoughts were in disarray.

“I don’t understand..” Arch coughed blood, his thoughts were wild and uncertain. “How could you resist… to this extent.” Arch had great confidence in his technique, and of course in his own combat ability. But Epim had doused that. If it were in a contest of skill and he was defeated, it would be one thing. But Epim had simply barred his blows and acted in return. Every attack he had thrown was returned with an even more severe one from Epim, he had lost in a strikingly simple way. “You monster…”

It was true that every strike caused great pain to Epim. And it was true, that every strike was far greater than the previous ones which had brought Epim nearly to ruin. But Arch had made a glaring mistake in his actions guided through the absolute impartiality of Focus. He had bet that his blows would break Epim as they would any other man, and they hadn’t.

The light that turned within Epim and spurned him forwards resisted, even when doused. Even when his stomach caved in, he held himself together. Even as his arm felt as if it would separate from his body, he held himself together. And even as that light flickered and was on the verge of flickering out, it turned to meet his desires.

The battle was over as Arch collapsed to his knees and blood stemmed from every part of his body. Consciousness was quickly leaving him, his memories dispelled by Focus now flooded back to him. He looked towards Epim as he felt the strength leave his body, knowing he was defeated and his time of death soon was to come. His own confidence in his strength was gone, his need for revenge for his brother unsettled, and even his want as a warrior fled as he saw the look of pity in Epim’s eyes.

Epim walked forward, his body sagged with exhaustion, pain radiated from every part of his body. In the midst of the battle he had made an understanding, something had come to him as he saw the man in front of him fight so ferociously and with purpose. He positioned the scythe to the neck of Arch, and spoke this revelation aloud.

“Before I cut your brother’s head off, I told him that I hoped somebody would remember him. And now, I understand the error in my words. I don’t need someone else to do it. I saw him at the end and will remember him as he was, I have no need to pass the burden of remembering to anyone else. It’ll be the same for you now, too.” The blade hung around Arch’s neck as Epim spoke slowly, the words were not cold, they were in fact warm, a true and final act of connection Epim had given Arch. He spoke to him not as a defeated warrior, but as an equal who simply wished to be understood.

Arch closed his eyes. The man in front of him truly, had taken everything from him. It matters not how calm the waters are, they will forever be subject to the whims of the wind as long as they confine themselves to their basin.

He fell to the ground with the thoughts of his brother’s path, the one he wished to see the end of as his brotherly duty. He thought how much of a pity it was, that his last moments were seen by someone who would never understand the pain of the steps that were taken on it.

Epim stared at the unconscious figure on the ground, his scythe unmoving. The battle had done a great deal of damage to him as well. He spoke out loud again, to no one but himself. “I came here to solve the village’s problem, and all I did was get side tracked by my own personal affairs. How… foolish.” The words came out of his mouth with a struggle, as he turned away from Arch’s body, foregoing the final blow. “I’ll have to… get up there and help out… I promised…” He made it about two steps, before his body gave out and he hit the ground. His world went dark, as he slipped into the welcoming embrace of darkness. The little light within him turned slowly now, taking a well deserved rest.

Down in the dungeon of the castle of Bewit, two men who knew not a thing about the other laid on the ground bloody, neither of which had even considered for a moment taking action for their own sake.