Steel met steel. The two veterans of war circled each other. A feint from the satanic man, deflected. A return feint, dodged. Their feet never stood still, constantly moving around each other in search of a weakness. The wind screamed as steel struck at Cyrus, only to be redirected to the side a hair breath away from his chest. The grip reversed, spinning the blade into a dagger grip before driving it towards the Decanus's chest. Cyrus's warning bells screamed. The steel weapon tore through the air, its passing sent wind fleeing, buffeting into his back.
Beads of sweat accumulated in the man's unblinking eyes, blurring his vision. Realising the danger, the roman hurriedly wiped it off while hiding behind his rectangular cover. His counterpart's smile grew in the man's moment of weakness.
That short lapse in attention was all that the monster needed. The beast hurled himself above the shield's cover, slashing downwards. Instincts saved him. Cold steel bit into the wood. Stunned, Cyrus backpedalled in surprise, desperately warding off the continuous barrage of sword strokes.
Each attack left after-images. Dodge. Parry. Deflect. Duck. Dodge. He mistimed a dodge, finding another red mark on his chest. He stumbled back. "You knew were conscripted into the army under a guise from the murderers!" Parry. Dodge. "You went allow with it!" Deflect. A parry was angled wrongly, sending the full force of the flow shooting up his arm. Block. "YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO BARE THE FAMILY NAME, ECTORIUS!" Bones creaked under stress. The verbal and physical onslaught continued at a rapid pace, ramping up just as Cyrus's breath grew more ragged. The devil-possessed man cackled, "Is this all you've got? Your family would've died even if you took up arms and defended them! A blow ravaged his shield, plunging into the battered wood. "YOU ARE WEAK!" Cyrus opened his mouth but no rebuttal came out. Deep down, he knew his copy was right.
The roman desperately tried to regain the initiative. He attempted to shield bash his nemesis, shoving his entire body weight onto the corrupted mimic only to find his shield ripped aside, revealing the faces of two mirror images inches apart. The world paused. One's eyes were full of hate and rage while the other had a predatory smile as if enjoying this spectacle.
The black-scarred man whispered in a false-secretive tone "I think you were right in hiding in the closet, watching as your family were killed." Cyrus's face blotched red but before he could react, he felt a bull charging into his stomach. A metallic taste filled his mouth. He felt his ribs bend backwards before snapping off completely. Air was expelled from his entire being. Pain overwhelmed his mind.
His body was launched into the air like a rag-doll, crashing into the grey ground several meters away. He had been disarmed of his shield. His sword was a few paces away from his limp body, an unusable battered and twisted piece of metal. A deep, sandal-shaped indent was visible on his chest piece. Cyrus coughed blood, the viscous liquid bubbled from his mouth, dribbling down his lips and onto his chest. Water dripped from his eyes, whether from pain or sorrow one couldn't decipher. His blurry vision trained on the shape of his enemy but remained a stone statue. His breaths were inaudible and faint, his chest barely rising with each inhale. Cyrus wished for death.
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The uninjured man casually strolled over to the broken body of his double, brushing invisible dust off his unscratched armour. Sheathed the sword, unbuckled the scabbard and tossed it at Cyrus's feet along with the shield. The evil thing roared, "YOU WEAKLING! FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN! THIS IS WHY YOUR FAMILY DIED! NO AMOUNT OF ARMY TRAINING CAN DRIVE THE COWARDLINESS OUT OF YOU!"
The words sent sparks into his heart, rekindling the dying embers of rage within. His limp hand twitched, clenching into a fist. Slowly rising from his pool of blood, accompanied by the sound of cracking bones, his blood-shot eyes latched onto his enemy. He took a stumbling step and another, puking blood as he went. His counterpart simply smiled eagerly.
You are under the effects of [Berserk]! +50% Stats - 75% Intelligence Stats until effect ceases
Picking up the gladius, the broken man charged at the monster, sword raised. His copy easily kept up with the erratic pace and rhythm of the now-deranged man, deflecting and redirecting in flowing motions like a dance. A few minutes passed of this seemingly choreographed fight.
Tired of playing with his weakened clone, the monster caught the hilt of the sword as Cyrus brought his weapon down, trapping his opponent's fingers within his own. His wrist flicked downward, twisting the sword 180 degrees. A terrible crack rang from the roman's hand. White shards peeked through the skin.
Remorseless, red eyes gazed into his own reflection. He planted his feet on Cyrus's chest and slammed him onto the ground. He pried the fingers delicately off the hilt, letting the limp arms fall to the ground. "It's been fun playing with you, but I have business to attend to."
[Berserk] status has been removed!
Cyrus looked up at his clone and mumbled unintelligently, the blood clogging up his voice box. "What was that," the demon questioned curiously, "last words?" The defeated roman moved his lips but little sound came out. His doppelganger leaned in over the body's battered face, "say it again." The red-coated lips opened, "You're wrong. I am worthy of the Ecotius name."
Steel flashed, followed by a shower of tar. The corrupted-Cyrus staggered upright, a mangled piece of metal protruding from the side of his neck. The man's eyes widened, stretching his hand out to catch the black liquid flowing freely from his body. "You-you!" The blood pupils rolled to the back of his head and the body fell on top of Cyrus. Looking down at the pitiful, spite-driven man, he sighed, "I may be a coward, but my family's death has pushed me onto the right path, the road of strength, body and soul. Their sacrifice wasn't in vain. The past is the past, let it lie there." Grimacing, he turned his head towards his counterpart, finding the red eyes gazing at him, not with contempt but...uncertainty? "What now," the black being whispered. "You rest." Satisfied with the answer, his counterpart closed his eyes and the raspy breathing stopped. The grey world fell into a comfortable silence. Light-headed from the blood loss, Cyrus's eyelids drooped and the last grey light was cut off. Sleep took him, no longer greeting him with hellish landscapes or flashes of his past. Just peaceful darkness.
Congratulations! For eliminating your evil side, [Article B Section 1] of ToS has been removed. You have been granted the title [Saint]!