Every step Crow took towards the undead was a victory. The sight of it inspired fear enough that to approach it seemed madness, even to him.

But it was madness he needed. Nothing would come of caution, he knew. Not when so much of his time had trickled by already as he walked or waited. He broke into a sprint.

A dozen paces flew by beneath him in moments, and Crow felt a cry escape his throat as he reached the monster. It turned to him; sword moving as a dark streak through the warm air, splitting dust.

Temporis’ eye showed him the blow before it begun. He ducked with a hair’s breadth to spare, feeling a great wind about the black iron as it cut through the air above his head. The motion left him unsteady while he closed in, but Crow righted himself in time to lash out with a kick.

Wind whistled again as the tower shield thrust forth; crunching into Crow’s body with a speed to surpass strain and thought alike.

Vision darkening, ears ringing so loudly as to smother all other noise, he felt a sudden weightlessness. Then a bone-rattling halt as something scarcely softer than the shield met his back.

Sight returned to him in blurred, shifting patches as his hearing slowly settled. Crow saw with a start that he lay in a heap at the base of the chamber’s far wall, the undead standing a dozen yards from him.

It launched me. He realised, groaning as he tried to shift only for his body’s pained protests to halt the motion. The sensation was almost lost on him beneath his shock at what had happened.

Crow wondered how far he’d have soared were the wall not in his path. He feared the answer.

Thought returned in a rush, hitting Crow like a fist and urging him into motion as the titanic undead stormed after his sister.

Astra beat a hasty retreat, proving herself faster than the monster even in spite of its great strength.

With the length of its sword and depthlessness of its stamina, her edge mattered little.

Crow was running almost before he realised what was happening, closing in on the battling figures with loping bounds and gritting teeth. He saw the undead shift as he neared. Fast. Not fast enough.

His shoulder caught its unguarded ribs, delivering all of Crow’s momentum with a single, great impact. He richocheted from the figure.

Falling back, he saw the undead take a single step to one side- righting itself with that motion alone. Crow was standing only an instant later, yet fear still gripped him.

The undead was on him without pause, bringing its gigantic mass to bear with an impossible speed. Crow Glimpsed his neck erupting with blood as the blade bit deep into it, throwing himself back and barely dodging the future.

More swings followed before he could right himself, leaping up from the ground and dropping like lightning in their return stroke. Sidelong, diagonal, thrusting, slashing and hacking. The assault’s variety was no less frightening than its prowess.

At such close range, with such a swift enemy, Crow’s precognition had no time to warn him of any one blow. Keeping the edged metal from kissing flesh fell to his reflexes and agility.

And every dodge seemed a nearer miss than the last. Wind blowing stronger in the blade’s wake.

Just when he was sure the swiping steel would catch him, its wielder was given pause by an impact from the side. A blue streak, too fast for Crow to make out in any detail.

He didn’t need to see more. Crow leapt back in the half second’s reprieve, seeing the sword follow long after him.

For a moment the undead was open, its burdensome blade swinging far too widely to be brought back around, shield too cumbersome to be moved with any swiftness. He saw his chance to escape; then cursed, seizing the attack instead.

Crow lunged, pivoting with a kick and grimacing at the sensation of metal buckling and screeching under his shin. The monster barely noticed his blow.

Too fast for him to dodge, its sword came hissing around. Crow’s arm raised like a shield to meet it, growing hot and numb as the edge sawed deep into its meat even while he stumbled back as if from a cudgel blow.

Blood spurted free to fall across the ground in a crescent arc. Crow regained his bearings with barely time enough to avoid the next by diving flat against the floor.

It bought him only a moment’s safety, leaving him helpless as the weapon was raised once more. Crow stared at the sword, instant compressed into an eternity.

No trembling. He noticed, dully. Somehow the mechanical steadiness of the creature’s grip terrified him more than its size or swiftness. There was no time to dwell on the observation before it brought the blade down like a guillotine.

Another flash of blue caught Crow’s eye, slow enough this time that he could ascribe a vaguely elliptical shape to it.

Streaking colour met the flat of the black blade, knocking it aside and spraying cobalt sparks out in all directions like embers from a gunshot. Before the weapon could be brought back around, Astra was upon its wielder.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Crow scrambled to join his sister, sparing only a single glance in the direction from which the projectile had come. He saw a girl he hadn’t noticed before, slight and slender with tustled hair and dark skin. She seemed familiar, yet he couldn’t place her.

Here’s hoping she’s another world-famous prodigy I don’t recognise.

The air before Astra shimmered, giving Crow a moment’s notice before it split into a red-rimmed Gate. He twisted around it, moving by just as his sister disappeared into the light. His leaping blow landed at the same instant it snapped shut behind her.

Pain lanced his hand as it rebound from the helmet, but Crow’s satisfaction at fazing the monster buried it. He landed before the undead recovered, its counter flying too slow to catch him.

The sight of shimmering air halted Crow’s retaliation, solidifying to another Gate as Astra leapt out once more.

She seemed to surprise the undead, punching it twice and lashing out a balance-breaking low kick before it moved. Crow threw his own to its remaining leg, sending the giant brute stumbling.

It’s not invincible after all. Just big. I’ve fought bigger people more times than I can count.

The blacksmith’s boy had been bigger than him, as had the butcher’s son. He’d fought them both all the same. Fought them, and won.

Six feet or eight, it made no difference. Save the time it would take to wear them down.

Torchlight was cleaved and eaten as the blade whipped back around. Crow twisted aside, feeling it open a cut on his cheek but fail to snag anything but skin.

His fist came down against the hand that held it, knocking the sword downwards even as it shifted back. Crow cursed, rolling to one side as he felt a wind on him at the blade’s passing overhead.

Too strong a grip to break.

Crow was up quickly, fighting quicker still, but the more he clashed with the monster, the more doubt seemed to find purchase in his thoughts.

Every blow was limp against the black plate. Every dodge a narrow escape from the blade’s pursuit. Astra fought with him; sometimes by his side, often from the opposite direction. Always darting in and out, relying on Gates to extricate her from close quarters and leverage her inferior physicality.

Even with both of them fighting together, their assault compounded by periodic blasts from the dark-skinned girl, it was with luck as much as skill that they remained balanced with the undead.

And no fortune lasted forever.

Astra’s foot caught beneath her, snagging on some unseen imperfection in the stonework and jerking her to a halt as she made for a Gate. Her guard was a hasty thing, barely dampening the impact of shield against flesh as the undead struck her.

She flew so fast as to disappear from Crow’s sight, yet he hadn’t a second to spare worrying before the enemy turned its focus singly on him.

In an instant Crow found himself tested twice as much, his enemy’s movements sharpened to a terror-inducing edge by Astra’s absence. Finer, less hesitating and with a singleness to blot the rest of the world out.

I’m fighting a machine. He realised, thoughts tumbled and sporadic in his head as all sense was drawn to evasion and defence. How in the pit can I fight a machine?

The sword’s tip nicked his arm, drawing a cold line that turned hot as Crow ducked back. He hissed, dodged again. Failed to avoid a second, larger gash being left across his thigh.

Blue particulates rained like wind-whipped snow as another projectile shattered against the undead’s helmet, then the Glimpse of a shield-bash gave Crow time enough to leap from its path. The blow generated a wind to water his eyes as he retreated, but even then the undead didn’t relent.

So focused on the enemy was Crow, he barely noticed Unity approach it from behind.

The boy moved swift and silent as a rat, unhesitating as he neared the undead and without fear as he reached out for it.

A hissing came from around his hands, red energy dancing like firelight as it clung to him. The sound gave warning of his approach, but the enemy’s turn was too sluggish to use it.

With a flash and a screech Unity disappeared behind a faint cloud of wisping smoke spat up from the undead’s armour. Debris cleared to reveal the boy tumbling backwards across the room like a bowling ball.

He stopped ten yards back, laying limp and still. The monster didn’t so much as glance at him before restarting its charge to Crow.

After the first of its steps, a Gate snapped open by the side of the undead’s head. Astra’s heel crunched solidly against its helmeted temple as she leapt from the oval of light. Crow rejoined the fray a moment after.

Again they fought as one, thoughts bleeding away to be replaced by the long-practiced unity attained by so many hours of sparring.

Crow moved in time with his sister, as she did him. Not needing to so much as glance her way, knowing where she would be, how she would attack. He saw the falts in her stance, the openings and hesitations, moving to reinforce her weaknesses as he trusted Astra would his own.

Their synchronicity was a weapon to match the power of any enemy, but even as he fell into the familiar rhythm alongside her, Crow recognised its imperfection.

Injuries slowed his movements. Stabbing pain giving him pause, fatigue robbing him of speed and strength.

The hundred blows taken from weaker skeletons made themselves known in the bruises they left, every step serving as a painful reminder.

Crow cursed as he barely avoided another flesh-rending slash, stumbling further back from the undead and fighting to regain his balance before it could bring the blade around for another blow.

This isn’t fair. We’re doing everything right.

For the dozenth time he ducked as the sword arced for him, and Crow realised too late he’d made a terrible mistake. Astra stood behind him, next in the weapon's path. Her own movement coming slow and slugigsh against the attack.

She screamed as the metal bit into her shoulder, steel sinking deep into flesh and quivering where it stuck as the girl’s tunic turned crimson.

The sound was a knife against Crow’s skin; filling his sight with a scarlet haze, his veins with fire.

He rushed at the undead, lungs emptying in a scream that seemed left behind in his wake. The creature was slow to react, perhaps surprised. Crow cared little.

All he gave heed to was the feeling of his knuckles crunching against the dull metal of its helmet.

The undead’s head barely moved under the impact, its sockets coming to meet Crow’s eye. He had only the briefest moment to feel his guts wrench in understanding of his mistake before the shield arced upwards, edge crunching into his chest and driving him high into the ceiling.

He fell amid a stony rain.