Killer's Intent

《 Chapter 20 》

"That's right," Kieran confirmed, twirling his daggers. "Let's settle this once and for all."

He could still vividly remember the adrenaline rush he had felt last time, the thrill of danger, pushing him to his limits, and the feeling of how powerful his Skill had become. He wanted to fight him again, wanted to see how much more he could achieve. Never had he anticipated a fight this much before in his life.

"Alright then," Daemon replied, readying his broadsword in return. "But I must warn you that things will be different this time."

Things would be different this time.

The sentence carried a dangerous glint, making Kieran feel on edge. Things would be different this time, in more ways than one.

"Then don't blame me for making the first move." His daggers were already cutting at the man in front of him even before his last words fell.

Raising his broadsword, Daemon parried his strike, but Kieran continued to push forward with another attack, forcing him to take a step back.

"Eager, aren't we?" Daemon drawled, a dangerous glint playing in his eyes. The familiar wave of killing intent swirled around him as he adjusted his footwork, striking with a swift blow.

"Please, you were the one who suggested it," Kieran countered, feeling the harsh impact of metal against metal. He heard the swoosh of the sword as it came back at him with alarming speeds, and stepped back as the sharp blade missed him just by an inch. "Now stop stalling and show me what you've been hiding this whole time."

"Well, if you insist."

Immediately after, the air around them began to drop, the temperature rapidly decreasing as if an invisible force was consuming all the heat around them. Dark tendrils of black smoke rolled leisurely on the ground, accompanied by a sinister hiss that signified the unspoken promise of destruction.

Once again, Kieran felt that overwhelming sense of danger, and that sweet, sweet killing intent, stronger than ever, threatening to push the limits of his Skill.

Yes. This was what a real fight looked like.

The heavy clashes of blades, setting an unrelenting rhythm. The light echo of footsteps, weaving, dodging, adapting to the other's movements. The rush of adrenaline, the focused calculation of movements, the blood pumping through his veins. The ever-present feeling of danger, the uncertainty of the moments to come. 

The thrill that came with the it, the thrill that made him feel so alive, so focused on living in the present, unshackled from the chains of his past.

It was here, in the midst of battle, where every decision danced between the line of life and death, where even the most minuscule of mistakes could change the flow of the tides.

Because after all, the blade was only as capable as its wielder.

Yes. This was what Kieran had been looking for, and this was exactly what he got.

The freedom he had tried so hard to find.

As the fight went on, Kieran felt a subtle change within his body as he continued to exchange blows with Daemon. His breathing evened out, with every inhale and exhale occurring at a steady pace as his ears tuned out all the unnecessary noises from the background. The world around him gradually disappeared from his vision, leaving only himself and Daemon in the center as they fought blow after blow after blow.

It was as if every cell in his body existed for this single moment, screaming at him to fight, fight, and fight until only one of them was left standing.