"Everything that lives has breath. Everything from the sun in the sky, to the grass of the ground. To the trees in the forest. To the water in the stream. To the animals who eat the plants. To the humans who eat the animals. And even... to those who take the breath of others."
The tall figure exhaled softly, lifting its head ever so slightly as the ebony void within their hood gazed forth.
"I wonder what your last breath will sound like, Swordmaster."
"Hmph. I wonder the same of you, Death."
"Oh?" The figure stated, cocking it's head to the side. "And how do you know I'm Death?"
"A scythe, a black hood, and an ominous message that sounds as if you've lived forever? That's the textbook description of Death."
"Heh... hehheh... hehehehehe!" The hooded figure started with a chuckle that turned into laughter as he tossed his head back.
The hood flipped off of his head to reveal that this was not, in fact, the skeletal face of the Grim Reaper that the Swordmaster expected.
This was a child that had hair as black as tar with skin that shone like bronze in the evening light. His eyes were inky pools of darkness, filled with a brown so dim it could almost be mistaken for nighttime.
The boy couldn't have been more than 16, yet his voice and demeanor spoke of someone who was beyond double that age.
As he clutched his belly, the Swordmaster narrowed his eyes.
His senses, honed by countless battles both in his homeland and overseas, screamed that he wasn't safe.
Not currently in danger, but not safe in the slightest.
"Who are you then, if not the Reaper come to collect on my old soul?"
"Hmm... that's a good question. Not really one I want to answer, but a good one. Let's just say I'm a fan of your work. That blade of yours has carved a bloody swathe in this world that will last a long, long time."
"Mm. Very true." The Swordmaster nodded his head and moved his body, presenting himself in a manner that seemed casual, but was more like the beginning of a pounce.
His muscles were both tense and loose, prepared to propel him at speeds faster than the human eye. His trusted blade hung on his left hip, his right hand twitching ever so often.
"Did you want something from me? Or did you just want to come see your idol in the flesh?"
The teen smiled a bit more, his already grinning face growing into a visage of pure happiness.
"Of course I wanted to see you! Especially before I take your breath away! I mean, it's been so long since anyone has seen or heard from you!" The boy swept his cloak behind him as he began to pace, not allowing the Swordmaster to inquire about his breath being taken.
"Your last known battle was... 9 years ago, on the coast of a kingdom whose name was burned out of the history books." The teen said as his smile shrank quite a bit. "You guided your men swiftly and decisively on the beach of this country, slicing through the opposition as easily as a knife would."
The boy... no, the young man gave a bit of pause, as if to saturate the moment with pure tension.
"Do you remember the name of that place? The place that you and the men under your command ransacked?"
The Swordmaster's eyes narrowed as his hand inched down, silence dominating the small area between him and the boy.
Three paces, he thought as he focused.
Three paces between me and the boy. One to unsheathe the blade, two to find the angle and three to deliver the killing blow.
"Yes. Yes, I think I do remember." The Swordmaster began, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of his blade.
"Say it." The teen spoke softly, all pretenses of his happy go lucky attitude gone.
His eyes were pools of shadow, filled with the ruinous hatred of a man scorned.
"Say the name of that place. Of my home. Speak to me, Swordmaster, the name of my people. Or should I do it for you?"
The world slowed as the Swordmaster's eyes narrowed.
Not too far from the pair, a droplet of dew rolled freely off of the leaf of a tall tree.
Before the drop hit the ground, the Swordmaster moved.
In three steps, he had removed his sword from his sheathe, angled it towards the man's neck, and attempted a killing blow.
Only for the warrior to grasp the scythe to his left with both hands, spinning it once and using its curve to hook and remove the sword from its master's grip.
As the blade flew up, the teen glared into the eyes of his enemy.
"Alkebulan." He started in a low tone, before his eyes burned with fury.
The scythe flashed, and a thin red line appeared on the master's throat.
"The home of my father, and his father, and countless other people before! You removed it from the history books, from the history of this very world! Now... now I shall remove that wasted breath from your very lungs."
He stepped back once... twice... three times before his feet failed him.
Warmth spilled from his neck as his essence ran freely from his body.
He reached up, touching his throat as it constricted.
He fell onto his butt as he clawed at his throat, trying and failing to keep the blood and air in.
His eyes met the teen's, who sucked in a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head as he flicked the gore from his weapon.
"Mother was right. Tainted breath from a worm like you wasn't even worth my time."
He turned his back and put his hood back up, trudging forward as the world around them went black.
