Crossing blades with Khiafin was unlike anything Forsythe had ever done. Battling Khiafin seemed more about awkward steps and aborted slashes than actual swordplay.
He turned his head slightly to watch as the shortsword barely missed his cheek, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he parried the hammerpick that was lancing down in a different direction, pick end aimed at his thigh. For the first few moments, at the start of their battle, he had been able to listen to Raven and Fanciful trade boasts, insults, and confident predictions of the outcome of their fight.
Then he was forced to ignore them completely.
Shifting his weight to his left he hopped sideways in order to dodge Khiafin’s sword flourish, a move that seemed to have come from a seemingly random whim from the younger man. Forsythe frowned as he watched Khiafin pivot and turn, moving forward. Most opponents might have just hopped with him or started to turn and move. Khiafin had chosen to turn in such a way that Forsythe’s hop made him have to turn to face Khiafin as the other man charged. The negligible distance between them made it troublesome for Fours to maneuver with his footwork.
“[Intrepid Strike - Rapid].” Forsythe decided to try to change the pace of the fight, immediately thrusting out and using the forward momentum of Khiafin to pressure the killer with his own unique attack style.
“[Shadow Step],” Khiafin calmly uttered.
The first thrust passed through an afterimage as Khiafin disappeared in front of him. The second followup thrust was on its way before Fours caught up to the fact that the smiling killer was no longer in front of him. Because he hadn’t been parried and hadn’t made contact, Fours immediately lost the bonuses from Intrepid Strike.
Worse than that, he had lost sight of Khiafin momentarily. Forsythe spun on his heel and immediately propelled himself backward, barking out “[Godwind]!” His form blurred for a moment and the rush of wind disoriented him for a second as he brought up his sword in guard. A useless gesture, because Khiafin hadn’t appeared behind him.
Forsythe frowned as his movement stalled. Khiafin’s ability Shadow Step would require the gentleman killer to step from the shadow of his opponent. A short-range teleportation skill that was only really limited in how fast the user could recover and the skill cooldown. No matter how you thought about teleportation, there was always a moment of lag as the user regained their senses from moving from one place to another. It made fighting shadow step problematic because Khiafin’s actual recovery rate was superb, often far quicker than most people react to the move and turn around. The obvious thing to do once you got the hang of seeing it or predicting the usage was to step forward really fast and away from the place the shadow step user was emerging, or in Forsythe’s case, use a skill to move at an explosive rate away.
Khiafin hadn’t stepped from his shadow though, and that’s why Forsythe momentarily hesitated. Shadow step wasn’t limited to enemies only. You could absolutely step into the shadow of your allies. That’s what Khiafin had done.
A man had been approaching with a spear from Forsythe’s blindspot, a testament to how incredibly focused Forsythe had been. Khiafin wasn’t the kind of opponent that he could choose to do anything other than devote his entire attention toward.
Forsythe grimaced.
Apparently the same couldn’t be said for Khiafin. He’d been easily keeping up with him and had also noticed the advance of his ally, using his Rebel friend’s shadow to immediately avoid Forsythe’s intrepid strike at the start of the skill.
With an ally like that, even simply lurking on the periphery of the battle, it would become twice as hard to keep track of Khiafin. Forsythe took the moment and the space provided to look around the arena. It wasn’t… all that shocking, he supposed, that the stands had erupted in chaos. More and more Transients who originally were here for the AA Finals began to choose a side, and many seemed eager to start in the arena stands or hop down to fight in the now exposed arena itself. The shield had disappeared.
Forsythe returned his attention to Khiafin, noting that the younger man was grinning at something the spear man said. Khiafin nodded, smiling wider as the other man grinned at him and turned toward Forsythe. Tens. Forsythe didn’t recognize the spear-wielder named Tens, but he was probably pretty powerful if--
Forsythe’s eyes widened incredulously when Khiafin’s face lost it’s smile as Tens turned away from him to give Forsythe a bloodthirsty smirk. Without any hesitation whatsoever, Khiafin began to sweep his sword back and forth across the other man's back. The spearman stiffened slightly, starting to turn with a wide-eyed look of panic. Khiafin just swung faster, his sword moving in a blur that made Forsythe realize that he hadn’t been going all-out on him yet. Tens managed to turn and started to roar, raising his spear-- and then froze as the end of the hammerpick smashed into his forehead.
Tens collapsed on the arena floor, his body lying there unmoving. Khiafin looked down at it and seemed to be frowning. After a moment he swept his hand aside, obviously dismissing the loot screen he was looking at. The corpse immediately disintegrated and burst into shards before disappearing in a final flash of light.
Khiafin looked up and carefully scratched the top of his head with a finger that he released from the hilt of his hammerpick, careful not to knock himself on his head with the weapon while he gave Forsythe a chagrined smile.
“Sorry about that! I guess I should have been clear to people that I wanted to fight you in a ‘fair’ manner! I’m certainly not going to let someone who likes to gang up on people wander over and interrupt us.”
“I didn’t know you could attack your fellow faction members,” Forsythe replied calmly, trying to rein in the cold feeling that was flashing up his spine. Khiafin showed no signs of thinking it was a big deal. It had just been something Khiafin decided to nip in the bud before it became a problem. He’d seen more sheepish expressions from the kids in his restaurant who asked for more placemats to draw on with the free crayons he put out for them.
“Me either! We’ve all learned something today! Hooray! I feel like we’ve all grown, be it in knowledge or experience. Experience in my case, knowledge in yours.” Khiafin laughed in a carefree manner, his eyes briefly closing in mirth. When they opened again they were staring at Forsythe with the same quality of intensity they’d had before the ‘trash’ had tried to ambush him from behind.
“You got experience?” Forsythe felt his curiosity pique. “What about contribution? Do you get negative contribution or something?”
“Ah,” Khiafin paused, looking startled. There was a sort of comedic owlish look of surprise as he considered the question. “Hold on a second. Game off…” He crossed his sword arm with his hammerpick arm in the timeless 'time out' position. The hammerpick disappeared from his hand. He then used that hand to press down on the air, obviously looking through screens to get the answer.
This guy.
Forsythe’s lips twitched as he watched Khiafin immediately disregard him in order to get the answer to his question. If he were Raven or Aidan he would have probably attacked Khiafin while he was distracted, or at least while Khiafin pretended he was distracted(you never knew). Forsythe, however, really did want to know the answer. So he waited.
“Nope!” Khiafin smiled up at Forsythe. “I got a little bit of experience. I didn’t catch his level or anything, so I don’t know if it is more or less. Did you happen to notice anything… distinct about him?”
Forsythe shook his head. He and Khiafin shared a momentary look of embarrassment.
“I feel kind of bad now. I don’t know anything about that poor guy I just sent off to the Cathedral.” Khiafin sighed.
“You should feel bad.” Forsythe agreed with him. He had stabbed that guy in the back. Literally.
“You didn’t know him either!” Khiafin argued, pointing his shortsword as if he was making an excellent point.
“If he’d been my ally, not only would I have not stabbed him in the back, I would have learned something about him,” Forsythe replied calmly. “I’m certainly not at fault here.”
“Would you have teamed up with him to beat me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Oh.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
They both sighed.
Khiafin resummoned his hammerpick and then spread his arms wide. “Shall we?”
Forsythe straightened up a bit, trying to get some of his enthusiasm back as he raised his blade. “Unless you want to go backstab a bunch of your other guys and leave me alone?”
Khiafin shook his head and Forsythe lowered his, bitter disappointment on his face.
“Well then, game on…” Khiafin vanished in that same sickly black smoke, causing Forsythe’s eyes to widen in concern. Had Khiafin been chatting him up this whole time waiting for his shadow step cooldown to recharge? Not only that, but it was entirely possible that Khiafin had simply used Shadow Step earlier to make him believe that he couldn’t use it at a profound level? Did that Tens guy just die because he was part of some elaborate scheme? No, it was probably because Khiafin just didn’t like to share.
Dirty! Shameless! He was going to have to talk to Elisha about the people she was choosing to befriend! It was bad enough that she called Aidan her uncle.
Forsythe dove forward, trusting his instincts. All of them were currently screaming that he had no time to whirl around and use a skill to get away. The brush of air at the back of his neck proved those instincts correct as he landed on his side, turning over twice before jumping back to his feet.
Khiafin stood where Forsythe had, a blank look on his face with the shortsword outstretched toward where the back of his neck had been a moment before. Even as Forsythe was straightening up to present a side-profile the younger killer seemed to shimmer, moving fast enough that even Forsythe’s perception was having trouble keeping up with him.
Forsythe hopped to the side, barely managing to pull away from the swordpoint that had appeared directly in line with his eye. Hastily he brought up his sword and three quick flashes with three loud clangs rang out as he, once again, barely managed to push that ludicrously fast hammerpick away from his chest, head, and then arm.
“[Intrepid Strike - Final Form],” Forsythe immediately thrust out, hoping that the final form would be fast enough to at least get Khiafin to parry.
No such luck. Khiafin had already been stepping passed Forsythe and continued to step that way, his momentum already carrying him out of range of the first thrust.
“Ugh,” Forsythe stepped back and put the sword back up in an easy vertical guard position. He placed his other elbow behind his back and spread his legs slightly so he could spring to the side or forward, depending on how his opponent acted. His normal style didn’t seem to be working. There just weren’t any real patterns that Khiafin was using that Forsythe could detect. Even Khiafin’s choice to attack in that last exchange completely baffled him. His decision to attack a few times and step around him was completely at odds with the situation. Like Khiafin was just making choices randomly and on a whim.
“You’re kind of stiff, you know?” Khiafin shook his shoulders, stepping from foot to foot in place as he looked at Forsythe, pantomiming that the other man should loosen up. “And you just stand there like a big tree waiting to get hit by an axe.”
Forsythe blinked, wondering what deception this was.
“Try not to die,” Khiafin muttered, seeing that his attempt to have a discussion had failed.
Forsythe raised his guard again, trying to figure out why Khiafin was now walking toward him with his arms spread to either side. He was wide open. Forsythe needed him to take just one more step and he’d be in the range for a thrust or a lunge. Any number of thrusts or lunges and ripostes would be possible from anywhere inside that range. He wouldn’t immediately attack when the opponent was close enough. He would wait for half a beat to throw his opponent off and--
Khiafin stepped forward hard on his right foot, propelling himself forward with the shortsword swinging inward toward Forsythe’s midsection. Forsythe immediately parried the blade and stepped in to counterattack. He grunted once as he was forced to stop the counterattack to block the hammerpick. Khiafin had twisted slightly in the air, twisting his head around to keep track of Forsythe as much as possible and allowing his sword to carry around in a wide sweep. Turning completely around Forsythe had been forced to block the hammerpick that was brought around. Then the sword, then the hammerpick, then the sword again. Khiafin was pirouetting on one foot with both weapons stretched out, his head whipping back and forth to keep Forsythe in his sight as much as possible. It looked like one of those ridiculous whirlwind spinny moves popularized in smash games. There was, however, nothing funny about how fast it was. Nor was there any joke about how the speed kept varying, throwing him off when he wanted to sneak in a jab.
Clang, ping, clang, ping, ping, clang, ping.
“[Intrepid Stri--”
Khiafin vanished mid-twirl, causing Forsythe to abort his skill mid-sentence.
That damn shadow step!
Forsythe raised his blade above his head and then maneuvered it behind him to block what was sure to be a sweeping strike.
Ping!
As expected, Khiafin had not been able to stop his weird spinning attack and it had been a horizontal sweep. Forsythe turned around just in time to catch the hammerpick across his temple, staggering him backward a step. He raised his blade to swat at Khiafin while he regained his footing but found that the shortsword in his enemy's hand was already coming around.
Khiafin had continued his spinning attack through his shadow step. There was no need to reorient yourself after shadow stepping if you were already engaging in an attacking style that was capable of striking everything in range. The shortsword bit into his shoulder before carving a line of damage from his collarbone to his armpit.
Forsythe’s eyes widened as the damage started to make his health flash rapidly downward. He tensed his legs to make a hop backward--
In doing so he had lowered his arms to get the balance to jump without falling. His saber had fallen down a bit toward the ground. Khiafin canceled his spinning attack and stepped toward Forsythe, his hammerpick disappeared as he reached out to grab Forsythe by the shoulder. The hand firmly clamped down.
Forsythe’s eyes widened and he started to move his shoulder back to disengage from the grab. Too slow. The gloved hand pressed down on his shoulder with increased strength, making him plant his feet firmly into the ground. Forsythe started to raise his blade to counter the inevitable shortsword pierce that was sure to come.
Instead, Khiafin’s shortsword disappeared from his hand. Khiafin kept his hand on Forsythe’s shoulder and stepped into him, briefly lowering his body as he used his free hand to push Forsythe slightly off-balance and to the side. The momentary opening gave Khiafin another chance to take a step, this time in an attempt to spin himself behind Forsythe.
“[Garrote],” Khiafin called out calmly as he succeeded in getting behind Forsythe.
Forsythe felt the hand holding his arm suddenly release him, and a thin line of wire caught his sight as a gloved hand appeared to the side of his head. It spun up in a quick noose, came down over his head, and quickly tightened. Sensing the abnormal amount of danger, he tried to lower himself to slip the wire but was too slow. The wire immediately tightened around his neck. In desperation, he dropped his saber and brought up both his hands in order to get his fingers under the wire.
Khiafin turned behind him, back to back with Forsythe, both hands full of wire. Then Khiafin bent over fast and hard. Forsythe felt his feet leaving the ground as the wire dug into his skin. With no sword, no feet on the ground, his health bars blaring dramatically, Forsythe was momentarily at a loss as to what to do.
Khiafin had done a number of things that had baffled him. He kept making decisions that made no sense to Forsythe. From not pressing an advantage when he had momentum, to the spinning attack that had seemed kind of pointless until he realized that it could be continued while Shadow Stepping, to Khiafin’s decision to abandon both his weapons and seize this weird sort of advantage he now had.
“[Murder].” Khiafin’s calm voice chilled Forsythe. It had such a finality to it, but how could this be? Forsythe still had a small chunk of health left… a quick glance revealed that the garrote was bleeding him badly and he’d taken quite a number of blows prior to this. Before he could decide what to do a small screen popped up, causing Forsythe to grimace.
-------------------------
Skill Check in Progress.
Target of Murder: Forsythe.
Health of Target 15%. Under the effects of Grapple Subjugation, Silence, and Garrote. Rolling for Target at Disadvantage.
Target at Disadvantage Determined to be: Strong!
Target has survived Murder attempt!
--------------------------
“Know what I got from the Void fight, Forsythe?” Khiafin didn’t seem too bothered even as Forsythe began to struggle with renewed vigor. The status screen had seemed terrible, but he had survived against whatever horrible thing Khiafin wanted to do to him.
Forsythe just grunted. Despite the fact that he didn’t feel the pain from actually being strangled, he was still silenced. Forsythe reached for the knife at his belt, already planning to ruthlessly slash at his own neck to get the wire. If he could get the wire off(and didn’t die from the slicing) he was confident he could put some distance between himself and Khiafin.
“It was a cloak, a cloak of murder.” Khiafin sounded a little apologetic like he was sorry that it had come to this. “[When You Raise Your Blades - KILL!].”
---------------------------
Skill Check in Progress.
Target of Murder: Forsythe.
Health of Target 14%. Under effects of Grapple Subjugation, Silence, and Garrote. Rolling for Target at Disadvantage.
Target at Disadvantage Determined to be: Strong!
Target has survived Murder attempt!
ERROR! [Cloak of Murder]: Re-Roll Required.
When You Raise Your Blades - KILL!
Target at Disadvantage Determined to be: STRONG.
Target has survived--
ERROR
Adding In [Cloak of Murder]: Re-Roll Required
[All Things Die].
Target Has Been Under Control For Long Enough.
-------------------------
Khiafin lowered his body slightly even as a pool of red shadow formed at his feet. It licked up his legs and through his cloak, the dark red color seemed to be struggling to insert itself between Forsythe and Khiafin, back to back as they were. A moment later when it had made the journey it billowed once, an immense cloak that flowed out appearing from Khiafin’s cowl. Ragged holes and tears were everywhere, the hem of the fringes looking like they had been burned by some sort of fire and never repaired. For a moment they twisted in the wind, gaining the attention of many in the arena and in the stands. The air darkened like all the light was being pulled toward the area where Khiafin was bent over, Forsythe struggling frantically on his back.
Then the cape flared outwardly and covered Forsythe.
It pulled itself shut and then twisted violently, once, twice, three times.
Khiafin stood up slowly as the cape loosened and once again billowed behind him. When it was released, Forsythe was nowhere to be seen.
Local Announcement:
------------------------------
[Forsythe Has Died].
Khiafin, level up+
[Cloak of Murder]: Count increases from 678 to 679
Rebel Contribution: +890. Imperial General Slain.
"I am in so much trouble," the murderer muttered. Forsythe had been good, and brave, and strong -- and it had not been enough. The amazing swordsman had been trying to treat him as a warrior, or a fellow swordsman. But, at heart, Khiafin's style had always been about killing.