“What a creepy place to dump a body,” I say. “It’s fitting.”

I stand alone in the marshy field. It’s open, barely lit, and seemingly detached from the rest of the world. Though the city is within eyesight, this random meadow of wet, smelly grass feels almost alien.

Crouching and scanning the area, I see no blood, no bones, no chunks of fallen skin from a decapitation nor gore from the removal. It’s clean. Either that or I’ve missed something.

“Pretty much confirms he doesn’t kill them here,” I say as I scan the sides of the riverbank. “Or he’s extremely precise and clean, not that it changes anything.”

It’s the middle of the night, but my body lets off a soft glow as the bones underneath shine with a brilliant white thanks to my light cloak.

“Nothing here,” I mutter, disappointed.

I was hoping for some clues to figure out who I’m fighting. Torn clothing. A spare blade with some sort of etching or insignia. Some type of pendant or marking dropped. No luck, it seems.

Time ticks by.

“Dammit.” I look around. “Have I been stood up? How unromantic,” I joke to ease the tension in my neck. “If he doesn’t show, that means it was Gai,” I realize. “Gods, I hope not. That would make me sick.”

It’s not Gai.

No way.

Crunching grass behind me pricks my eardrums. Turning, I spot a figure in the darkness. The shape is familiar. Eery.

The killer trudges near-silently through the marsh. His ghostly mask seemingly glimmers in the darkness.

“Sorry, can’t see you very well,” I quip.

My arm pulsates with light energy. I let it fire from my palm.

The beam narrowly misses the man, illuminating him for a second before hitting the ground. It skirts through the earth lifting sediment until losing its power somewhere the the earth.

“Oh, there you are. My mistake. I could have hit you,” I say with a sweet, cute smile.

The killer says nothing. He didn’t even flinch when I fired that shot.

“You’re gutsy. It’s the only likable thing about you,” I remark. Pulling out my blades, I twirl them in both hands, tossing them between my palms. “I’m ready if you are.”

In response, the man pulls out his sword. He drops the scabbard on the ground like a discarded limb.

Okay.

I’ve been cocky, but I need to get this fact through my head.

He will kill me this time. I can feel it.

There will be no second chances.

This is a horrible person who’s ended the lives of multiple women in brutal ways and subjected them to torture and abuse before they were killed. The same thing may happen to me if I fail. But there’s a difference between the dead and me. I will fight to the bitter end. This person will not take me alive, regardless of whether I can kill him or not.

I will win.

I will not stay weak.

I will not remain a coward.

I will change.

I will become the hero I desire to be.

I will become someone I can love.

My body sets in a stance. The man mirrors me with his single blade.

Crickets chirp in the background. The two moons sitting above us shine brightly in the sky, both fully enlightened this night. They act as our only audience whose mere presence prevents a cold, dreary silence from overseeing this fight.

Time pauses.

I know not which one of us moved first, but our blades soon clash under the cover of night.

TING!

Nature is silenced by the stinging sound of steel searching for flesh to cut, for a life to end.

I bounce away from the initial onslaught, but the killer presses me. His swordsmanship is better than mine. I could feel it the last time we fought and felt so again with our first strikes.

My right hand goes for a diagonal slice at the man’s abdomen.

He deflects.

As soon as our blades match, I swipe at his gut with my other sword.

The killer dodges backward. The sound of my sword cutting through air mocks my ears.

Pressing him now, I follow up with my right blade hoping to take him off balance.

The killer shifts to the side. He watches my steel pass his face.

Using the momentum, I twist into a spin, reversing my attack at his back. My swords strike in tandem at the killer’s top half.

Again, the strike only cuts air.

The killer bends backward. Blades narrowly pass his face. Once more, he watches my strike miss him as if toying with a child.

Before I can reset for a counter, he jumps back to create space.

We’re back to square one.

The marsh is silent for a moment. Then, as if wary in doing so, nature tentatively resumes its noises as the killer and I slowly circle each other.

Gritting my teeth yet smiling, I cock my head to the side. “Are you scared?”

No response.

Figures.

I step forward with a left-handed strike.

My blade is countered before I can attack. The killer’s blade rests on top of mine, punishing it into the ground while stopping my wrist.

Shit!

A fist meets the side of my face.

Warm blood fills my mouth.

I tumble left, falling over my blade. Blinking, time seems to slow for a second as an immense warning tickles the back of my neck

Follow the momentum.

Using the power of the strike against me, I allow my body to twist. I feel a blade chop at the back of my hair as I create a half-assed distance between a potential killing blow.

Another warning sign triggers fear in my heart.

I raise one of my swords defensively, but the motion is in vain.

A foot meets my stomach.

I’m sent soaring back a few feet toward the stream again.

“Not again!” I cry, jabbing my blades into the dirt. They stop my momentum, carving two long gashes into the dirt, as I breath heavily in relief.

The killer stares at me from behind his mask. I can feel his eyes on me even if I can see them. They’re consuming me, tasting me.

Even with my light cloak on, the difference in sheer technique is apparent. My limbs are protected from swords, but Master Talbert said my abdomen was still weak. Likely, other parts of my body aren’t protected that well either. I can’t get cocky.

This guy is too good.

He’s better than me.

Then he can’t be someone young or new to the castle. At the very least, we’re the same age or he’s older. Unless this is a young prodigy, but I’d know who that is immediately, and no one comes to mind.

Given those circumstances, my personal list for who the killer is has narrowed greatly.

Shit, what hell am I talking about? After last week, there’s only a few people it could be. I’ve been pushing it to the back of my mind and lying to myself, but it’s obvious. I’m not completely certain who this man is, but…if I had to guess…

I can’t think about that right now. It’ll distract me.

Dammit.

The killer’s sword suddenly swells toward my chest.

How did he close the distance so fast?!

I catch his blade with the sides of both my swords, sheering the strike away from me.

Four tendrils protrude from my back. Their ends sharpen into points as they surge forth…only to miss.

The man deftly dodges—flipping, skirting, and evading with general ease.

Each of my tendril strikes are followed by another. Where he dodges, I predict and retaliate. When he shifts, my attacks alter. My four tendrils and two swords, all enhanced by my light powers, work like a gang of veteran fighters to overtake this monster.

Even still, he avoids or blocks every single attack.

This man is on par with anyone in my friend group or their superiors.

I know who this is. There’s maybe five people this person could be. There’s no mistaking it, no hiding from that fact.

And they know me. Personally.

Stop thinking about it, Scarlet!

I keep pressing forward.

Yet I’ve gained no ground.

Even as I keep attacking, a stalemate remains.

My light cloak is on, the six tendrils I can make are out, and my head feels woozy.

Even so…this bastard’s barely trying.

I don’t know how long I can keep both my gifts going in tandem, but anything half-assed here will mean my death.

I’m giving him all I’ve got, and I still can’t hit him.

Changing tactics, all six of my tendrils pierce at the man. I aim them at his lower-half.

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The man leaps backward.

Instantly, I disintegrate the tendrils and focus light energy into my right hand. Gripping my blade, I point my knuckles at the killer. Four of my fingers lift up while my thumb and pointer pinch my weapon.

A burst of pure light energy darts out in a narrow beam weakened by the fact I cannot drop my sword.

It removes a chunk of the killer’s upper shoulder.

A grunt leaves the man’s lips, but he lands on his feet without staggering. His left arm sags but is still connected to his body.

“Better,” the man says.

“I try.” I flip my glades as I widen my stance, eyes unblinking. “You still have your shoulder, don’t you? I’ll change that.”

Before I can release more of my light energy, the man closes the distance between us in a few hurried steps. He leans heavily on his opposite arm now.

I’ve made headway.

My attacks are starting to get through.

I duck away the initial attack and counter with a slice charged at his newly hurt shoulder.

Awkwardly, the man dips to avoid my counter, but I notice pain in his posture.

The edge of my blade barely catches the underside of his other arm as he tries to avoid me.

I nearly gasp in excitement.

Then pain hits me.

The tip of the killer’s sword catches the side of my mouth.

It cuts without resistance. The edge of my lip is forcibly widened by the steel.

Panicked, I shift back, but the damage is done. Warm blood coasts down the left side of my face. I can hear it softly patter against my shirt and skin, creating two muted, different sounds.

My tongue instinctively glides over the cut.

To my horror, it moves past the corner of my mouth well into the middle of my cheek. The taste of flesh and iron overwhelms my tongue as the tip gently exits near my back teeth.

Shit, even when my gifts heal it, I’ll always have a massive scar on my face.

Heh…there goes my good looks…

Odd. I can’t feel any pain. Must be the adrenaline. My gifts don’t feel any weaker. It wasn’t a life-threatening cut.

Can’t let that keep happening.

Can’t—

Eyes wide, I bend backward as a jab so fast I barely had time to notice it darts at my face.

“Dumb,” says the killer now standing beside me looming overhead.

Shifting his wrist, the killer lets go of his sword for a single moment. He re-grips it just as quickly, shifting to an underhand grip like he’s holding a dagger. The force and altered momentum allow him to quickly plunge the tip of the blade down.

It aims at my stomach.

MOVE!

A tendril from my back punches into the earth and pushes me left.

Even so, a sharp pain digs against my side so brutally that even adrenaline cannot hide it.

“Gah!” I shout.

Retaliating, I fire a blast of light energy where the killer was standing. Unable to see the direct result, I smash into the ground. My tendrils disintegrate and my cloak fades.

Gasping in agony, I look up.

The killer watches me. His arm, the one I’d hit before, now lays on the ground beside him.

He…He didn’t even scream. What the hell?

The killer stares at me with that lifeless mask, sword in hand, ready to keep fighting.

My body feels like a broken fountain as pain and blood weakens me.

Glancing down, I notice my side is open, bleeding profusely. It feels sticky and my leg is getting warm as blood drenches my clothes.

Shit…

It hurts…

It’s harder to control my gifts. Son of a bitch…it’s a near-fatal wound.

But dammit, so is his.

We’re wearing each other down.

With shaky legs, I stand. My breathing is ragged, pain’s making it harder to move, and I’m starting to lose my cool.

The killer rushes forward.

What the fuck?! How does he keep doing that?! How can he keep going?! He lost his shitty arm! Why is he so determined?!

Dammit, force the power out, you dumb bitch, or you’ll die! Forget the pain! Forget that! Fight! Just fight!

I pitch forward, launching myself with a tendril. Six widen out on my back as I place both my blades together. I can feel their shapes wobbling, unsteady, thanks to my wounds. Looking like the mouth of an octopus, I lunge forward, a demon above this killer’s head bearing down disaster.

The man meets my lunge. His body seems to blur as he moves sideways in the air.

That simple, fast movement avoids all my tendrils.

His blade pushes mine away.

It glides off the steel and shreds my biceps on both arms from the bend of my elbows to my shoulders.

All my gifts disappear again as I crumble to the ground in a heap.

“Ahhhh fucking fuck!” I stare at my arms. They’re sliced and bleeding, but usable. Any deeper, and they’d have been flayed like deli meat, showing muscle and bone.

The killer lands on his feet a distance away with his back to me.

I rise from the ground dripping blood as he slowly turns around.

With his mask on, his features are indistinguishable. I cannot tell if he’s impressed or unfazed. Is he toying with me, or has this been a hard fight for him as well?

I lift my blades, wincing the entire time. If I didn’t have my gifts, I doubt I could. Even now, I can feel my powers pulling back to heal my injuries. The feeling of tattered skin and blood trickling out the open wounds mixes with the sweat of my body.

Force it. Fight it. Push it.

You don’t have much left.

Fight.

There’s no other choice.

Turning my light cloak back on, it fails me. Containing that much energy throughout my body is impossible now.

Shit, shit, okay…something else, something else…

I concentrate on my legs.

Nothing happens for a moment.

I focus. Harder.

The darkness around me disappears as my legs alone brighten.

I’ve never tried to contain my cloak in one area of my body before, but it’s all I can think to do. My gifts are fading and getting harder to control. I doubt I could form more than two dark tendrils right now let alone fire another burst of light energy from my hand.

I’m losing.

I can’t lose.

I can’t.

It’s not an option.

Legs.

Power.

Speed.

I’ll beat him with speed.

The ground cracks under my feet as I burst forward, blades armed.

This is the fastest I’ve ever moved before.

I bet I could beat a car.

My muscles stretch to their absolute limits.

The distance between the killer and me closes instantaneously. I’m moving faster than he ever has.

My blades aim to bisect him from the left side of his neck down to the underside of his right armpit.

Whether I kill him or not is the last thing on my mind. I’ve lost too much blood. My body’s weak and tattered. The battle has dragged on for far too long.

If I dwell on anything other than surviving, I’ll die. I’ve got to act. Do something. Anything.

Ah.

This must be what Gai felt when he killed for the first time.

I can do it.

Kill.

My blades reach forward.

They miss.

I feel steel kiss my side again in the same spot as before.

I lose the ability to move.

My swords fall from my hands. The momentum causes them to stick into the dirt.

I glide forward, hitting the ground.

Skid, bounce, hit, bounce, skid…stop.

Dirt cakes my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the burning sensation on my side.

Scared, I look at the wound.

The skin at my waist is severed deeper than before. It bleeds profusely, but my guts are still inside me. Barely.

My head feels woozy.

Ah, dammit.

A dark tendril wraps around my waist. I use it to apply pressure. Through the black, red liquid parses through the dark particles, dripping to the ground.

Footsteps trudge toward me. The killer’s lost a limb, but he’s hardly faltered in this fight. He passes my swords as they indent the ground like morbid tombstones.

The distance between us closes.

Shaking his head, the man raises his sword above his chest, ready to bear it down on my body.

SHUNK!

A blade enters the killer’s abdomen, piercing his left side just beside where his belly button would be.

The grip on his own blade falters. He stumbles away from me, dropping his sword to the ground. Losing his balance, he falls forward on all fours. His hands reach back to take out the blade, my blade, tossing it aside once he has a hold. The killer finally lays on his stomach for a moment before rolling weakly onto his back.

I stand.

“Knew I couldn’t…beat you…fairly…right from the start—”

Oh, Gods, I’m in pain. Shit, shit, shit!

“—so I thought of a few traps I could use. This one was more…spur of the moment…I never intended to hit you. I just needed you to think I thought I would.” I grimace. “Damn, I may have taken too much of your sword. Ow…tis but a scratch.”

Stumbling forward, I grab my second blade out of the ground.

“My wounds are starting to heal, thank the Gods. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I attached a tendril to one of my swords as I dropped it, idiot. It’s hard to see dark energy in the middle of the night, right? Especially when I thin it out across the ground,” I huff, gasping the entire speech.

The man says nothing. He groans a bit, but that’s it.

I reach down and grab his sword, tossing it to the side. It splashes into the river.

“Now we’re even,” I mutter.

Looking down at the man, his wounds are obscured by his dark clothing save for the missing arm. That morbid mask still covers his face, hiding any anguish the man might be experiencing.

Having won, my gifts work to repair my body without the strain of combat hindering me. I can feel my flesh knitting back together on my face, arms, and stomach.

“I win,” I mock, a grin making its way over to my lips. I hold my blade with the tip pointed downward execution-style. “Repent and pray if you must. You’re done.”

The man relaxes his head into the dirt, accepting his fate.

“I know I know you,” I mutter. “If I remove your mask, I won’t be able to kill you. I can feel it. You’ve done horrible things. Killed many women. Desecrated their corpses and violated their skin with your touch. Anyone like you should receive the death penalty,” I say. “Therefore, I judge you guilty.” I smile sadly. “Never thought I’d get to be a judge someday.” I look down. “Please, die.”

I aim the blade at the man’s throat.

Tension rises in my brain.

I close my eyes.

Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it.

Strength surges in my body.

I aim down.

The blade sinks in.

I open my eyes.

The insertion point narrowly misses the man’s head as my blade punctures the dirt.

I pull out the sword, falling back a step. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why can’t I do it?! You’re evil! Fucking evil! Why can’t I kill you?!” I cry. “I want to, but I can’t!”

Weakness almost causes me to fall, but I steady myself.

“Fuuuuuuck!” I scream. “Fuck, fuck, fine! Fine! I’ll never be able to do it. I get it.” I walk back towards the man. I raise my sword. “But it doesn’t mean you get to move ever again.”

I bring down my sword, wincing, eyes half-closed.

It kisses his non-injured shoulder at the joint, sliding all the way through, tracing deeply where his tendons would be.

I repeat the action for both his legs.

The deed is done.

He’s a head on a bloody stump with useless limbs.

I drop my sword, falling back a step until I land on my ass, sighing. My gaze drops down. “Dammit, I’m such a weak little bitch,” I curse. “I just can’t do it. I can’t kill. It makes my stomach hurt. I want to cry. My limbs feel weak. I’m not meant to do it.”

“A pity,” mutters the man.

The killer hovers over me. His shadow looms. The only limb missing is the arm I’d taken off earlier.

I recoil.

How? They shouldn’t be usable unless he can make his…skin…indestructible…

Steel.

He can make his skin work like steel.

Oh.

I know who it is.

A force lifts my body into the air. The world swirls around me, blending in nauseous confusion until my skull cracks against the grou—