"You let my son go first. I guarantee you can walk out of here safely," Caius said with a grimace.

Adrian Eternus sneered at Caius's words. "You're pathetic. Do you think I'll believe empty words? If you're sincere, have the crossbowmen behind you lower their weapons first. I promise I won't kill him. But make no mistake—if I see one sign of trouble, I'll sever your son's head instantly."

Caius turned to his men and bellowed, "Lower your weapons!" He then faced Adrian again and said, "Now, tell me what you want."

Adrian's grin widened. "We've known each other for years, Caius, but today it ends. Let me call you an old friend—let's settle this with a duel. A fight to the death. If I die, everything ends here, and your son will be saved. But if you die, I promise not to hurt anyone else in your Shadowborn mercenary corps. You know I keep my word, unlike you."

Caius's face darkened. The odds were clearly against him, and he knew it.

Five years ago, when Adrian first joined the Shadowborn mercenary corps, Caius could have defeated him effortlessly. Three years ago, he could still have suppressed Adrian with ease. One year ago, it took everything Caius had to match him.

Now, Adrian, a fifth-level battle mage, stood before him as an indomitable force. Though Caius was a sixth-level warrior and theoretically had the advantage, his body was no longer what it used to be.

Half-orcs like Caius rarely lived beyond sixty, and his time was nearly up. The past couple of years had taken a heavy toll on him. His body had weakened significantly; his once-mighty lion warhammer was now too heavy for him to wield effectively. Forced to rely on a lighter axe, he could no longer fight with the same vigor.

While his extensive combat experience remained a strength, it offered little advantage against Adrian, who had also fought his way through countless battles and honed his skills amidst mountains of corpses.

Caius knew that accepting this duel was a death sentence. Adrian was simply too strong. Yet, his son was in Adrian’s hands, and everything Caius did was for him.

Though Caius had no illusions about his son's mediocrity, he felt he had no choice. With only a few years left to live, he had to pave the way for his son's future, no matter the cost.

He made his decision. Though old and frail, the courage that had once made the name "Shadowfang Caius" feared throughout Kruger still flickered within him.

"Fine. I'll accept your duel," Caius said finally.

"Good." Adrian grinned. This was exactly what he wanted.

Adrian struck the back of Caius's son with the hilt of his sword, knocking the young half-orc unconscious. He handed the limp figure to Kuro, who stood nearby.

"Keep an eye on him," Adrian instructed. "If he wakes up, knock him out again. And if anything goes wrong during the duel—say, if a third party interferes—don't hesitate to kill him."

Adrian's voice was deliberately loud, a warning aimed at Caius: "Your son's life is still in my hands. Don't try anything foolish."

Caius understood the threat clearly. Without a word, he removed his coat, revealing a suit of finely forged chain mail beneath. Drawing two short axes from his waist, he stepped into the center of the field.

Adrian sighed as he watched Caius prepare. Slowly, he lifted his narrow sword and approached. "Caius, I remember meeting you seven years ago. Back then, you were the strongest warrior in Revernus. Even five years ago, when I joined the Shadowborn mercenary corps, you were still a force to be reckoned with."

"But look at you now. You're old, fragile, and weak. Your failing body is bad enough, but worse is how your spirit has withered. You've become timid and spineless, more like a thief than a warrior. All you care about now is securing a legacy for your son, who's nothing but an incompetent fool."

"The honor, the pride that once defined you—they're gone. The Caius I admired is dead. All that's left is a husk, clinging desperately to the past."

Adrian's voice hardened. "If the Shadowborn mercenary corps is doomed, it won't be because of you or your useless son. If it comes to that, I'll destroy it myself, with my own hands."

"Come, old man. Show me if there's anything left of the warrior you used to be."

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Caius sneered at Adrian's words. "Don't think you can rattle me with talk."

Adrian sighed and shook his head. "I've said my piece. Let's finish this."

Raising his sword, Adrian pointed it directly at Caius. "Let me give you a warrior's death."

"You'll have to earn it," Caius growled. With a sharp movement, he hurled one of his short axes at Adrian.

The spinning axe carved through the air in a deadly arc, aiming straight for Adrian's head.

Caius's precision was impeccable. The skill behind the throw earned murmurs of approval from the Shadowborn mercenaries watching from the sidelines.

But Adrian remained unfazed. He sighed inwardly. “The old ghost is truly past his prime.”

Effortlessly, Adrian sidestepped the axe, letting it whistle past him and embed itself in the ground behind him. He fixed his gaze on Caius and advanced, his sword glinting ominously in the dim light.

The fight had only just begun, but it was clear that Adrian held the upper hand.

Had it been Caius seven years ago, that whirling axe might have spelled real danger. But time had blunted the keen edge of Caius's blows, so they came slowly and counted their cost.

Adrian, ever swift, followed the whirring axe. With a flick of his sword, he caught the axe mid-whirl, where it clattered against the axe.

Caius took that momentary lapse and charged forward with the remaining axe held high, glinting brightly under the light. The swing was well made, but Adrian was quicker. He dodged the strike and let his blade slice downward, heading for his opponent's stomach.

Even spent, Caius's instincts and experience proved formidable. He wriggled his body enough to avoid the blade, parried with a calculated swing, and the two fell into a deadly rhythm—a dance of strike and counterstrike, each movement calculated and precise.

A terrible spectacle. Adrian moved with ease and force, as if every attack were deliberate and exact. Caius fought not only Adrian but the unyielding burden of time itself; his movements, though calculated, were slowed by exhaustion and weakness.

Caius was at one time Adrian's idol. There once was a name that echoed in Kruger, inspiring respect and fear: the name "Shadowfang Caius." But today, time had reduced the legendary warrior to a shadowy semblance of himself. It was visible in Caius's laboured breath, his faltering steps, and the trembling clutched axe

Adrian felt a bitter mixture of sympathy and despair. He wanted an agitated, deliberate, exciting, anything-can-happen battle, not a sombre reminder of time's cruel hand.

"You've grown so weak, old man," Adrian said, frustration lacing his voice.

Caius kept his mouth shut, grinding his teeth as he parried another powerful blow. His silence fed Adrian's contempt.

"You were once a warlord," Adrian snarled. "Now you're just a coward who grasps at the hope that your good-for-nothing son might salvage what's left of your reputation. Do you remember what pride feels like?"

But Caius didn't say anything. Survival consumed his attention, every ounce of energy spent fending off Adrian's unrelenting attacks.

Adrian had reached his limit. From his mouth, he unleashed an enraged roar, also releasing a speed buff that fueled all the wrath he carried inside him. Rage dripped through his veins, intensifying his already potent strength and speed. His blows came faster, heavier, and more destructive, shaking the earth beneath his feet.

Caius's eyes widened in desperation. Adrian's power had been oppressive enough before; now it was insurmountable. Each swing of the shadow blade was like a hammer, and Caius could hardly stand.

A vicious blow collided with Caius's axes and destroyed his defence. The impact sent ripples down his arms, and the man's bones cracked as they dislocated. His axes fell from his hands, and he backed off, racked by pain.

But Adrian was not quite done. With one final, crushing blow, he struck Caius's chest. The old warrior crumpled, blood pouring from his mouth as he fell to the ground.

He laid his head on the ground and breathed shallowly, his eyes blurring. Every nerve cried out in anguish, but near the gates of hell, a strange peace began to soothe his soul.

"Old shadow, you are beaten," said Adrian, still and cold. Above Adrian, the sun stood, casting his shadow. A god seemed to speak judgement.

Caius opened his eyes, no longer containing any strength or ambition. He gazed up at Adrian. "Yes," he rasped, blood flowing from his lips. "You've won. I have no excuses."

Adrian raised his blade. "Any last words?"

Caius smiled weakly. "Just one. Have mercy on my boy—only him. He's a fool, but he's my blood. Let him live."

Adrian nodded. "I give you my word."

"Do it," Caius said.

With one blow, Adrian's blade sliced Caius between the shoulder and rib bones. That was the end of the once-mighty leader of a shadow-born mercenary corps.

Many mercenaries, loyal to Caius, stood aghast. They had seen the unconquerable "Shadowfang Caius" die. That weight upon them weighed like an approaching tsunami, suffocating and unyielding.

Adrian wiped his blade across Caius's cloak and rose. To the mercenaries, he turned, his voice level but commanding. "It's done. Your leader is dead. The Shadowborn Mercenary Corps is mine now."

None dared raise a hand against him. Some lowered their weapons and surrendered; others did not look at him, unable to bear the gaze of their new commander.

Kuro advanced with Caius's unconscious son in his arms and asked what they should do with him. Adrian gazed at the half-orc in question and shrugged. "Let him live, as I promised. But take his weapons. I will decide what will happen to him later."

Kuro nodded and carried him away. Adrian stood on the battlefield, his sword dripping with the blood of his former idol. A local legend, he should have felt triumphant, but all he felt was gnawing emptiness.

"Caius," he breathed softly, his voice almost inaudible. "You shouldn't have ended like this." As the sun set over Revernus, the mercenaries disappeared into the veil of darkness. Now, Adrian stood alone to bear the weight of his newfound leadership. The Shadowborn Mercenary Corps was his—at what cost?

Adrian fought to keep the lingering regret at bay, knowing regret over such things had no place in the kind of life he was about to lead.

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