-CLANG!-

"Hrngg..."

"Geehh..."

The two warriors struggled against each other: giving their all into overwhelming the opposition. Muscles strained, teeth grit, and feet digging desperately into the desert sand hoping to root themselves in place, Connor and Hikma were in a stalemate.

"Hooo...."

"Grrrr..."

As the confrontation stretched on, they began to converse.

"Argh... how the hell are you so strong, old man?!" Connor groaned as he was forced to give up ground.

Hikma smirked, "The blessings of Lord Aite is unfathomable! Yield, and I shall grant you a quick— guh!?" Before he could finish, he was also pushed back a step.

'There!' Taking this moment of weakness, he continued pushing forward, and after one hard push, forced Hikma to lose his footing.

'I got you now,' Smiling, he dashed towards him, sword at the ready.

However, utilizing the length of his staff, Hikma used it as a foothold and launched himself meters into the air!

"You're decades too young if you think you can best me in a duel!" Recalibrating himself in midair, he pulled out a set of daggers and pointed it at Connor right below him.

'Fuck!' Panicking, Connor hurriedly brought his sword to block.

-Clang!-

The twin daggers clashed against his sword with a sharp clang, making him wince. That was a bad idea.

"Aha!" Hikma forcefully kicked him in the chest while he was unfocused, simultaneously knocking him to the ground and widening the distance between the two.

As gravity pulled him down, Hikma threw one of his weapons at Connor, "Take this!"

Having the wind knocked out of his lungs, Connor didn't realize the danger overhead until the last minute.

'Shit!' Widening his eyes, he instinctively tilted his head to the side, barely missing his date with death in the process ...

'Too close...' He sighed and got up, analyzing his surroundings as he did so: to his far left was his sword, its blade deep into the sand; right in front of him was the old man's dagger, still buried next to his body's imprint.

But before he could decide his next course of action, Hikma was already lunging for his neck, rendering all his plans moot.

-Fwip!-

Jumping away, he managed to prevent a slit throat, though it allowed Hikma to inflict a deep wound on his forearm.

"That's gonna hurt tomorrow," Hissing in pain, Connor desperately kicked at his adversary.

-Thump!-

His kick struck Hikma in the shin, knocking him face-first into the ground. Knowing it wouldn't last very long, he immediately dived for the dagger, aiming to disarm the man.

To his surprise, Hikma recovered even faster than he predicted, and just before he was able to grasp the hilt of the blade, he had sand thrown into his eyes.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Argh!!" Temporarily blinded, he was in no condition to see, let alone search for the dagger, which allowed his foe first dibs.

"Shit... that's playing dirty, you old coot!" He tried to get up and run, only to fall back down as his left leg was pierced by the knife he failed to confiscate.

"Gaaaaaah?!" He screamed from the sharp, molten-hot pain. Never in his life had he ever felt so much pain, which only continued to grow as he felt the blade twisted while still inside his calf.

"Hehe..." Suddenly, Connor felt a hand grasping at his hair and the cold touch of a sharpened blade on his neck.

Through the flecks of sand still on his eyelashes, he could see the demented smile on his opponent.

"You..." Although he wanted to curse, he didn't have any energy left, so he settled with spitting at him instead.

-Ptooey!-

"Hmph!" To his dismay, Hikma easily avoided the ball of spit, letting it fall limply onto the smooth desert sand...

"Look at you," Hikma began, his mouth gradually widening into a smile, "You can't even beat an 'old coot' like me; how can you even think of touching lord Aite?" Letting his grin transform into a devilish snarl, Hikma continued.

"You are just a weakling who couldn't even keep your friends,"

"Wha—?! How did you..."

"Oh, I know," He sneered, "I know all about your failures! How you failed to save your family, how you blamed yourself for their deaths, the constant 'what ifs' in your head!"

As he spoke, he raised his free hand into the air. Slowly but surely, a clump of green particles started to form on the tip of his middle and index finger. He didn't know why, but the moment he laid eyes on it, alarm bells suddenly started to ring in his head.

'Shit!' He struggled, shook, did everything he could to escape from the iron grip of Hikma, all in vain.

Hikma noticed this and chuckled, "Hohoho... scared, are you?" He glanced at his fingers: it was ready! So, with a huge smile on his face, he pointed it at Connor's shoulder... and pushed.

"Don't worry, your death..."

'Shitshitshitshitshit, whatthefuckdoIdo!!!' With every brain cell going on overdrive, he wracked his brain over escaping. And then... he heard it, and time stopped.

'Hey, I'm finally awa— Holy shit, what the fuck did you get yourself into?!' Ah, his saviour...

Without wasting a single second, he urged for help, 'Quick, no time to explain: help me get the out of this now!"

'Uhh... Oh! You can use your brain to write stuff into the book of fate!' And like the good servant it was, the Book of Fate gave some handy— though not well-written— plot armour.

'And you didn't bother telling me this... why?!'' Connor wanted to scream. Why the hell was he kept from such a lucratively great secret?!

It scoffed, 'Oh sure, I could absolutely tell you! Buuuuut you'd also be running the risk of suffering from the worst Animae invasion ever,'

'...how bad?' His tone now nowhere near as intense.

'Forgetting the last month's worth of memories bad,' He gulped at this, but another peek at the scary green smoke made him more than willing to accept the consequences.

'Better than dying at least; now, how do we do it?'

'Uh... funny you should mention that... um... only a specific subset of people can use it?' It spoke sluggishly, like it was hesitant to even utter the next set of words lest Connor rips it limb from... page from page?

'You fucking shit...' That's it; he's officially lost all hope

'Don't worry! You can definately use it!' That's it; he's officially not lost all hope, 'Just... I have no experience with it, and I can't really teach you... sorry?'

...Hope? What's that? Can I eat it?

He gave up, 'Whatever, I'll deal with it myself; go back to sleep, you sad excuse for a plot device!'

'Good luck. I'm rooting for you,'

'Don't need it,' With that, time resumed...

"—Will be PAINLESS!"

He could see it: how the smoke began to move, how the smoke hardened into a crystalline spearhead made specifically to end his existence.

And most importantly: How. It. Got. Closer...

'C'mon, what do I do?! Activate damn it!'

And closer...

'Abra cadabra!? Alakazam?!'

And closer...

'God-fucking damn it, Fate, so help me I will strangle you alive if I die!'

Until...

'Now!!'

-Fwish!-

"..." There was a brief pause, as if both of them were shocked by what happened, before Hikma robotically craned his neck downwards.

There— piercing through his chest and out the back of his body— was glass. Clear, shard-like, sharp glass.

"...Ah?" And all that glass? It destroyed his heart.

That's when it happened: like a snap, he began disintegrating. But not just him; everything began disintegrating. Him, the sand, the sun, the sky, hell, even the Book of Fate disappeared!

Slowly, fleck by fleck, everything disappeared, leaving only blackness in its wake.

He gasped. Who? It didn't matter.

It cracked. What? It didn't matter.

Everything came down crashing. When? It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered...

...Yet that's exactly when it did.

-Crash!-

And he woke up.