Dream's End
The tip of the Holy Sword sliced through the rain with a whispery schwick. By that moment, Adelaine looked like she was forcibly holding together a body that should have collapsed long ago. A deep hole gaped in the center of her chest where the Holy Sword had just been pulled free. Black demonic energy leaked from it like threads, mingling with the rainwater.
Yet strangely, the sword's tip never lost its way. It aimed precisely at the narrow gap beneath Ena's throat—the space between collarbone and neck. Even an armored knight would be pierced if their breath hitched by a single beat. Adelaine thrust there in a state that would have felled any human long before. The stab was sharp despite her bloated form. Her arm extended first. Her shoulder followed late. Her collapsed ribcage rose a beat behind. A grotesque motion. The Holy Sword bound that broken rhythm into a single line by force. A severed body. A living sword. That imbalance birthed an eerie speed.
Ena took half a step back. Before her heel touched the mud, her front foot pivoted. The Holy Sword's edge grazed past her throat, parting a few raindrops left and right. A belated wind tugged at her robe's hem. Ena didn't throw her head back far. She didn't arch her torso excessively. She yielded only as much as needed. Then she raised her sword. Its blade met the Holy Sword's flat side.
Kagak! With the screech of metal on metal, the Holy Sword's trajectory was pressed downward. In that instant, gaps opened along Adelaine's wrist, elbow, and neckline all at once. To a swordmaster's eye, it was too wide an opening. Sever the wrist. Disarm the Holy Sword. Slash the throat. Stab the heart. Every path lay bare. But Ena didn't move her sword tip. She eased the pressure on her blade. She retreated just far enough to let the Holy Sword rise again.
Adelaine staggered. Black demonic energy gushed more violently from her chest wound. Her foot slipped on the mud. Her massive body tilted sideways. Soon her left foot scraped back, gouging the earth. Her right foot regained balance. Her lowered knees held the shaking form. The Holy Sword dipped, then rose. Heart height. Aiming for the opponent's center. Roën watched from one step behind. Beneath his feet lay a thin film of black molten metal. If needed, it could surge up to envelop Ena, seize Adelaine's ankle, and transform part of the forest into a barrier of black steel.
Roën always took that position. Behind the Commander-in-Chief. Not too close, not too far. He froze until the order came, and moved the instant it was given. Now, that spot was for watching the sword. Moments ago, Adelaine Lucrecia had been a horned behemoth smashing trees. With arms that had lost human shape, she'd pounded the ground, clutching the Holy Sword embedded in her chest, howling like a beast. Ena had subdued that monster without even drawing her own blade. She'd crushed its wrist, broken its flow of power, let its own weight collapse it. The beast had fallen.
But now Adelaine had drawn the Holy Sword. With her remaining hand, she'd gripped the blade lodged in her chest and yanked it free. Curse, blood, and rain poured out together. Black demonic energy threaded from the pierced chest. The moment she grasped the Holy Sword, her stance changed. Toes. Knees. Waist. Sword tip. Everything was different. Roën understood immediately.
She's honoring her.
Refusing to end a warrior's finale trivially. Refusing to cut short the beast's remaining time like an animal. Answering sword with sword. What Ena gave Adelaine was heavier than pity from on high.
"It's been a while since my blood ran hot."
Acknowledgment. If she stands with sword in hand, that stance is honored to the end. Even if her body became a monster. Even if her voice was lost. Even if buried under "missing" in cathedral records. With Holy Sword drawn and dueling stance taken, she was still a warrior. And Ena was receiving that warrior's end.
Adelaine charged again. The Holy Sword aimed straight ahead once more. Ena eyed the toes first. Frontal thrust. It appeared so. Adelaine's right foot shoved the mud. Her knee dropped. Her waist folded forward. The sword tip speared straight at Ena's center. But the shoulder lagged slightly. The twisted shoulder moved a beat behind the front. That tiny misalignment foreshadowed a slash after the thrust.
Ena waited until the Holy Sword rose to chest height, then dropped her tip to press the thrust's side. Simultaneously, Adelaine's wrist twisted. The frontal thrust vanished downward. It surged from low left to high right. Kaang!
"Thought that would work?"
Ena's sword parried the Holy Sword. Its weight traveled down the wrist. Knightly swordsmanship laden with beastly strength. The sword path lived. The power was excessive. Rain burst between the two blades. As droplets scattered, Ena tilted her blade instead of powering her arm. The Holy Sword's weight slid sideways. Adelaine's body lurched forward. Black demonic energy trailed long from her chest wound. In that moment, Ena's left hand moved. Her palm touched Adelaine's shoulder—not shoving, but redirecting passing force.
Thud. One knee slammed into the mud. Muddy water splashed up. Even on the planted knee, the Holy Sword didn't drop. Its tip menaced Ena's abdomen. An upward thrust from low stance. Most swordsmen seek defense first when kneeling. Adelaine pressed the attack. The Holy Sword rose from below. Ena twisted her waist ever so slightly. The tip tore her robe's hem. Wet fabric parted, scattering rain. Ena pressed short and deep along the Holy Sword's spine with her blade. Its edge bent toward the mud. Push further, and the wrist folds. Further still, and it embeds in the ground. Adelaine's neck would be wide open. Ena withdrew her force.
Adelaine exhaled roughly—a sound caught between beastly roar and human groan. Her sword followed. From the knee-planted stance, she spun her body. Waist twisted first. The Holy Sword traced a low arc. A slash at Ena's ankle. The blade skimmed low over mud, dragging rain. Ena lifted her toes. The edge grazed beneath her foot, thinly slicing mud. Adelaine used the recoil to rise. She didn't touch the Holy Sword to the ground. Using it as a cane would break her stance. Clutching that worn, stubborn form, she stood again on sword recoil and remaining leg strength alone.
Roën watched, slowly curling his fingers. The black molten metal at his feet quivered faintly, responding to his emotion. He'd seen countless swordsmen's ends. On the brink of death, people usually seek the easiest path. When knees buckle, they brace on the ground; when the sword grows heavy, they lower it; when breath fails, they abandon stance. Adelaine endured all those easy paths. Voiceless. Bodiless. Nameless in records. She didn't use her sword as a cane. That stubbornness was her last humanity.
The Holy Sword moved again. Wild swings now. Her body crumbled, but the sword persisted. First, frontal thrust. Ena shoved the tip aside as it neared her eyes. The Holy Sword seemed to lose direction in the rain. Then the second came. The deflected blade pivoted on the wrist, targeting her side. Ena caught it on her sword's flat. Kak! Heavy impact rode down her blade. Adelaine's brute force reloaded. Ena didn't retreat. Instead, she stepped inward. Before the heaviest part gained momentum, she slipped to the blade's root. The wider the swing, the more it exposes inside. Kwaduk. Ena stepped into that void. Adelaine's arm couldn't follow, grinding with friction. Black demonic energy leaked wildly from her chest.
The third was low. Adelaine dropped her pressed body. Twisted legs scraped mud. The Holy Sword rose toward Ena's knee. Ena stamped its trajectory down. Ching! It bounced low. The ricocheted Holy Sword didn't return immediately. Adelaine wrenched her wrist. Converted bounce to thrust. Fourth. The tip veered under Ena's side. The fastest chain from a slowing body. The way of a swordsman who'd endured long. Ena voided her body. The tip brushed inside her robe. Fabric tore. Behind, Roën's presence stirred faintly. Ena blocked with fingertips alone.
Don't come.
Roën halted. This duel was still Ena's. Adelaine recovered her sword. Even that short motion shook her massively. Demonic energy poured from her chest. Dark smoke rose between horns. After drawing the Holy Sword, that body couldn't last long. She seemed to know. Or perhaps the sword did. Time was short. Adelaine crouched low. Twisted toes gripped mud. Knees sank lower. Back hunched forward. Holy Sword pulled to her right side. Ena read the stance. This one comes strong.
"Urgh...!"
Knightly breakthrough. For shoving shield-bearing foes. One sword clears the path; the body smashes distance. The Holy Sword swept wide from right to left. Rain whipped into the blade, scattering. Her massive form surged forward. Beastly power loaded onto the sword. Adelaine's foot tore mud. A root snapped under the weight. Ena didn't meet it head-on. She stepped in. Before full power. Before peak heaviness. She met near the Holy Sword's root, twisting her wrist. Kak! Its arc lifted upward. Adelaine's body voided. The wider the swing, the larger the inner gap. Ena entered it. Past the side, right before her. Breath's distance. The stench of black demonic energy stabbed her nose. Rotten blood. Scorched holy power. Ancient curse. Mingled with rain, it hung damp.
Ena struck short beside the chest wound with her sword's pommel. Kwak! Adelaine's body reeled back. No throat slash. No heart stab. No tearing the chest hole wider. Just pushed. Adelaine retreated three steps. One. Two. On the third, her body tilted sharply. She raised the Holy Sword for balance. Its tip didn't touch ground. Instead of cane, she drew its weight inward, resetting stance. Twisted shoulder rose. Waist straightened forcibly.
"Your sword still lives."
Ena said lowly. Adelaine didn't answer. Her eyes clouded. The Holy Sword's tip rose faintly. As reply. Ena raised her sword again.
"Then I'll receive it to the end."
Adelaine moved. Slower now. Slower than from the start. Feet wouldn't lift properly. Knees dropped but rose tardily. Yet the sword remained precise. She knew her body lagged. So she simplified. One thrust. One slash. One recovery. Superfluity vanished. Body failing, the sword became more purely sword. Adelaine thrust. Ena's heart. Frontal. Oldest sword path. Ena raised her sword low to high, shoving the tip up. The Holy Sword's edge passed over her shoulder. Adelaine instantly twisted wrist. Deflected thrust dropped to target throat. Ena caught on her sword's flat. Kaang! Clashing blades made surrounding planted swords hum faintly. Ching. Ching. Ching.
Adelaine pulled back into a slash. Retreat usually widens distance. She made it attack. Holy Sword dragged rain toward Ena's arm. Ena folded arm to evade. Touched its side with her tip. Slight contact. Enough to misalign the line. Amid rain, their feet crossed. Ena's motions were small. One toe in mud, knee dips slightly, shoulder shifts half-inch. Those sufficed to deflect all Adelaine's grand swings. Adelaine's were large. Massive body shook. Demonic energy vented between horns. Black threads burst from chest wound. But the sword tip kept seeking Ena. Precisely. Relentlessly. Desperately.
Roën steadied his breath watching. The Commander hadn't opened yet. Ena's sword bore no flames. Her hundred-day aura wasn't fully unleashed. Air was just warmer than usual. Rain hit Ena's shoulder. Traced her robe. Rain flowed unchanged. Forest stood soaked. Demonic energy lingered damp in air. Meaning Ena had opened nothing. Yet Adelaine couldn't touch her. Former Hero. Holy Sword's master. Azabel Curse survivor for centuries. Monster with sword in chest, yet reclaiming orthodox duel stance at the last. Such a foe was being pushed back by Ena's unopened sword.
Adelaine's strikes shortened. Her once-orthodox paths persisted. But body forbade wide arcs now. Long slashes gone. Grand breakthroughs diminished. Left: close thrusts, short slashes. Holy Sword targeted Ena's wrist. Ena raised to parry. It rose to throat. Ena pulled pommel short, deflecting the edge. It slid down to waist. Ena dropped knee. Blade grazed robe top. Adelaine thrust again. Heart. Heart again. Heart endlessly. Ena saw the repetition. Once technique. Now will. No strength for complex swordplay. All remaining poured into simplest path. Heartward thrust. Straight to end.
Holy Sword came again. Slower. But heavier. Depth over speed. Seeing it, Ena didn't evade. As tip neared heart, she moved her sword short. Holy Sword's point veered slightly. Grazed collar, parted rear rain. Adelaine's body entered before Ena. Fully voided. Neck. Chest. Waist. All open. Ena chose no slashing path. Laid her sword atop Holy Sword. Blades crossed. Rain flowed between. Adelaine gasped. Clouded eyes met Ena's. Clear now. For a moment. Truly brief. Humanity flickered beneath curse's murk. She saw Ena. And something long lost. Cathedral's white pillars. Day she first gripped Holy Sword. Comrade knights on expedition. Masters of swords she'd planted. Home she never returned to.
Ena couldn't know it all. One thing mattered now. Adelaine could still hear. And could be released. Ena said lowly.
"Enough."
Adelaine's hand trembled. Holy Sword dipped faintly.
"You've endured long, Adelaine."
"Ahh.... Urgh.. Wha.."
Rain fell harder. Water traced blades. From her eyes flowed rain—or something else. Ena slowly withdrew her sword. Gazed at her.
"Now."
Voice low. As command. As solace. As funeral's final line.
"Rest easy."
Adelaine's pupils quivered. Strength fled her Holy Sword grip. Yet she didn't fall. Striving knightly to the end.
"...Wha. ...Whuuk.."
"Something to say?"
"Whuuk... Woooolf..."
Wolf... catch the wolf.