RED HOOD ✔

7: TRUE SWORDSMANSHIP

Marshall locked eyes with Apsychos, a smirk spreading across his face. "Pinocchio, buddy, how are ya? Don't tell me you're still mad." Oh, now he's gonna get it. I've learned two crucial things since coming here: 1.) You never call Apsychos "Pinocchio," and 2.) Definitely don't call him that when he's armed. Marshall, blatantly ignoring both rules, seemed to have a death wish.

"I didn't come for that. We need your help," Apsychos stated, brushing off the taunt with surprising calm. The last guy who called him Pinocchio nearly got a sword to the throat, but Apsychos barely flinched at Marshall. "They need your help, not me. I still think this is a bad idea," Susanna chimed in, her tone icy.

Marshall's smirk didn't waver as he turned to me, his smile chilling—not the friendly kind, but the kind villains flash in movies when they've got the hero cornered. "What about you, hood? Do you think me helping you guys with the war is a good idea?" How did he even know why we were here? I hadn't heard Anna spill the beans. "How did you know we need your help?"

"I make it my job to know, hood. I've got ears that have ears everywhere, kid. But you didn't answer my question. Do you need my help?" Marshall prodded, his smirk deepening, which kind of irritated me.

I mustered as much bravery as I could. "I just don't want to see anyone die."

Marshall's chuckle reverberated through the room, cold and devoid of any genuine amusement. "People die every day, hood. Why are you so worried about the deaths of people you don't even know?" His question pierced me, leaving me momentarily speechless, pondering the depth of my own convictions. Why was I so compelled to protect these strangers, to throw myself into the heart of a battle that wasn't originally mine?

Before I could formulate a response, Marshall pressed on with a proposal that shifted the gravity of the conversation. "I have an idea. Why don't you fight my shadow, Ruth? If you can beat her, I'll consider helping you." The suggestion hung in the air, a challenge that seemed as much a test of my resolve as it was a measure of my skill. I blurted out, "Deal!" 

Right then, Apsychos grabbed my arm, his whisper urgent. "What are you doing, Vince? You've never seen this girl fight. Marshall doesn't pick just anyone to be his shadow. Are you sure you want to take her on?"

I knew all of this, but Gi ton thàvmaton needed their help, and I needed to do anything possible to save it. "I have to do this, Apsychos. It's the only way we can win this war."

The arena set for our duel was like something out of a gladiator movie—vast, with some kind of artificial sunlight that made you doubt whether it was real. I refused the armor offered to me; all I needed was my hood. Ever since I first donned this hood, my swordsmanship had inexplicably improved. It felt like I couldn't do it without it; I needed that burst of energy if I was going to survive.

Ruth stood opposite me, her features obscured by a dark cloak, her armor peeking through as the fabric swirled around her. As I fixated on her striking appearance, an empty water bottle bonked me on the head. I turned to see Susanna, who had thrown it. "Stop drooling and focus, you moron," she hissed.

Chastened, I turned back just in time to see Ruth shedding her cloak to reveal a sleek red suit of armor, with two swords sheathed at her back. God, she looked incredible. No, focus—I wasn't here to swoon over her.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Marshall barked the start of the duel, and Ruth charged at me with astonishing speed, swords drawn. I dodged clumsily, tumbling to the ground. That was it—the energy surged within me, stronger and more potent than ever before.

Ruth leaped, soaring high above the arena before diving towards me, sword poised to strike. In the last second, I sprang back, leaping higher than I ever had, as if I were flying. From my aerial view, I saw the devastation Ruth's landing caused—a crater in the arena floor.

I landed safely at the arena's edge, catching glimpses of Anna and Apsychos among the spectators, their faces a mix of shock and support.

 As Ruth charged toward me once more, I felt a surge of energy that commanded me to unsheathe my mother's sword and meet her charge head-on. What was I doing? Normal instincts would have me fleeing from someone barreling toward me at breakneck speed, but here I was, propelled by some unexplained force, racing towards danger.

Our swords met with a clash that sent sparks flying, illuminating the dimly lit arena with a brief flash of light. Ruth was relentless, pushing both her swords against mine with a strength that defied her slender frame. "I'm impressed," she said, a wry smile playing on her lips as sweat trickled down her cheek. "I thought you'd die after the first strike, but here we are."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I retorted, struggling to keep up.

"Why would you say that?" she replied, still smiling, the edge in her voice sharper than her blades.

"You tried to put a sword in my chest after jumping sixty feet in the air," I gasped, "just following orders," she quipped, her smile now tinged with a grim determination as she inched closer, her blades bearing down on mine.

She increased her pressure, and I buckled, falling to one knee but still guarding against her relentless assault. "It will be a shame to kill such a pretty face, but a girl's gotta eat," she teased, her tone light but her intent deadly serious.

That was it—I was done for. Despair washed over me as I glanced at my friends, their faces filled with horror at the impending blow. Even with this newfound energy coursing through me, I felt outmatched. This is how I die, I thought bitterly. Arrogance had led me here, to believe I could be the hero. But then, a fiery resolve ignited within me.

NO. I refuse to go out like this. I'm not going to die here.

Summoning every ounce of strength I didn't know I had, the energy inside me grew, becoming a roaring force that nearly overwhelmed me. My sword felt alive in my hands, somehow transforming as I split it into two. Magic? It didn't matter—I was all in.

Now armed with dual blades, I deflected Ruth's attack and, with a burst of newfound power, launched her into the air. She descended with lethal intent, but this time, I was ready. Instead of fleeing, I called my bow to my hand, the quiver appearing on my back. In a fluid motion, I loosed an arrow, striking her in the arm. The shot wasn't meant to be lethal, but it threw her off balance, her body tumbling through the air.

As she fell, I prepared to catch her, wondering if I was strong enough. Catching her felt like catching a feather—she landed softly in my arms, the mysterious power cushioning the impact.

Gently setting her down, I faced Marshall, who sat wide-eyed on his makeshift throne. "I defeated her, Marshall. You gonna keep your promise?" His brief nod was all I needed. "Fine... We will help you, hood."

My friends rushed to congratulate me, their faces a mix of awe and relief. "How did you do that, Vince?" Anna asked, still dumbfounded.

"I don't know, it just happened," I replied, grinning. "Moves like that don't just happen," I added, laughing off their amazement.

I wanted to check on Ruth, but she had vanished. When had she left?

As we walked back toward Aunt Liza's house, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Those blood-red eyes appeared again in the forest. "What do you want, beast? Show yourself!" I yelled, the energy still pulsing strongly within me.

"Vincent... Congrats, you are getting stronger and soon, you will be ripe enough to fight me," the beast's voice echoed in my mind.

"How about you fight me now, coward!" I shouted back, defiance replacing my former fear.

"Don't worry, Vincent, that time will come," the beast replied, its tone almost appreciative. "I am indeed intrigued by the accomplishments you seem to be making. I cannot wait to see the type of hood I get to devour this time."

With that, its eyes disappeared, leaving a chilling promise hanging in the air.