Fire blossomed around him, the man in the center of it all. He was crouched atop a building, more of a statue than a building, but a building nonetheless. Outstretched from the building, was a hand, and the hand held a large torch.
It was on this torch, that two men fought, two ordinary men, in an extraordinary world, a world that wasn’t built for men like them. And so they had to die. The question of it was how, and when.
One of the men was large, almost massively large, a hulking monstrosity of a man, bulging with muscle, and nearly seven feet tall. He had two massive knives in his hands, and he was swinging them over and over at the smaller man in front of him.
The smaller man held a sword in his hand. It was curved wickedly and it appeared to be similar to a sickle. The tip of the sword curved backwards slightly into a hook, and time and time again, the man would strike out at the far larger man, then curve the sword backward, breaking skin and pulling muscle.
As the two men fought, fire ravaged their surroundings, burning the metal they stood upon, and even melting it in some parts. Yet the two men continued fighting and as they did, it became clear that the large man was winning, and not by a little.
The far larger sword appeared to be growing heavier and heavier in the other man’s hands, and his blocks were always a split second before the blade reached his head or chest. And as the man realized this, he reached into a pocket with one hand, momentarily letting go of his sword leaving it in his right hand, and in that split second, the large man lunged, both knives aimed directly for his center mass.
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An instant before the blades hit him, he managed to bring his sword down onto the blades knocking them slightly downwards, and he exhaled slowly as they plunged into his stomach. And then the blades were pinning him to the wall, and he and he had his back to it. And then the small man grabbed the tall man by the throat and whispered hoarsely, “You forgot something.”
The sword in his hand was far too large and heavy to use in a situation like this, and he almost dropped it, but before he did, he managed to angle it so that it plunged into the large man’s foot, and through the floor.
The large man let go of his knives, and in that bare instant, he reacted, pulling them out of his own stomach, and spinning them into his own hands before he drove them, not directly forward but upwards into the big man’s chest, penetrating heart, and lungs.
The big man’s eyes opened wide with surprise, and then he breathed out, slowly exhaling before the sword was pulled out of his foot, and the small man shoved him over the balcony of the building.
The small man breathed in and out, and then he dropped the sword, stumbling slightly, before he grabbed something from the floor and smiled softly, before he closed his eyes, and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest, and then he collapsed backwards, like a puppet with its strings cut.
As he fell backwards off the edge of the building, the object he’d picked up from the floor fell out of his fingers, and tumbled from the edge of the balcony. It seemed to tumble a little bit before it stabilized with the point of it aimed directly towards the ground.
As it hit the ground, it landed on something, driving directly through it and snapping it in half. The arrow was halfway embedded into the floor, and around it lay splinters, and the shattered remains of a once legendary figure's bow.