The moment stretched between them.
The battlefield had not gone silent, yet Alpha and his opponent stood in their own isolated storm, the world narrowing to the space between their blades.
Blood dripped from the shallow wound he had carved into their side.
A first.
The enemy's stance had shifted, not in fear, but in recognition. Their gaze, hidden beneath the dark steel of their helm, was unreadable, yet Alpha felt their acknowledgment.
For the first time, he was no longer a dying man clinging to borrowed power.
He was an opponent.
Vanitas pulsed in his grasp, its presence thrumming through his bones. The sensation was intoxicating. Like something vast and unseen was stirring beneath his skin, pressing against the edges of his soul.
"You have taken a step forward."
The voice echoed through his mind, neither praise nor condemnation.
Alpha exhaled slowly. Focus.
The enemy moved first.
They lunged, their blade a streak of black lightning, slashing through the air with terrifying precision.
Alpha's body reacted before his mind caught up, his feet shifting, his blade rising at the perfect angle to meet theirs.
Steel screamed against steel.
The force of the impact sent shockwaves through his arms, yet he absorbed it, redirecting the momentum rather than resisting it.
A second strike came instantly, a diagonal cut meant to sever his shoulder. Alpha twisted, narrowly avoiding the edge, feeling the wind of the attack whisper past his skin.
Their movements were relentless.
But so were his.
He countered, sharp, precise. Vanitas carved through the air, forcing them to step back, breaking their momentum.
He pressed forward.
Their swords met in a flurry of strikes, each one faster, heavier, more dangerous than the last. Sparks erupted with every clash, the air itself vibrating with the force of their battle.
Alpha could see it now.
The way their weight shifted before an attack. The micro-movements that telegraphed their next strike. It was like watching the gears of a clock turning, each action leading to the next, each opening revealing itself in the flow of combat.
It shouldn't have been possible.
His reflexes had never been this sharp. His awareness had never been this precise. He was moving like a warrior who had trained for decades, not a man who had barely survived the last battle.
And yet…
Something was wrong.
His breaths were coming too fast.
His muscles burned, not from exhaustion, but from something deeper. Something unnatural.
Vanitas pulsed again, and Alpha felt it.
A weight settling in his chest.
"Power is taken. And power demands payment."
A moment of hesitation. A fraction of a second.
The enemy exploited it.
A gauntleted fist crashed into his ribs. The force sent him staggering backward, pain lancing through his body. His vision blurred for an instant, the battlefield tilting sideways.
Too slow.
The enemy was already upon him, their sword a blur of death.
Alpha barely brought Vanitas up in time, steel meeting steel in a violent impact. His arms screamed from the force, his feet skidding backward.
Something inside him pulsed.
Something cold.
Vanitas shifted, moved on its own.
Alpha's grip tightened instinctively, his body forced into motion. His feet adjusted, his stance realigned, and suddenly he was parrying with perfect precision. His movements were not his own.
And for a terrifying moment,
It felt right.
His blade cut through the enemy's defenses, carving another shallow wound. Blood spattered across the dirt.
The enemy recoiled, but Alpha barely noticed.
His breathing was ragged. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
Vanitas was sinking deeper into him.
"You asked for power."
The whisper was no longer distant. It was inside him, threading through his thoughts, weaving itself into his very being.
"And now, you must bear it."
His hands trembled.
The enemy did not attack.
They could see it too.
The change.
Vanitas pulsed once more, and Alpha felt something shift. A weight pressing against his soul, a thread of something unseen winding itself around him.
He had won this exchange.
But at what cost?
...The World Beyond the Battle...
Somewhere beyond the battlefield, the city of Iskaroth burned.
Alpha had not seen it with his own eyes, but he could smell it. The scent of scorched wood and shattered stone clung to the air, mixing with the acrid bite of blood and the metallic tang of magic.
Once, this had been the heart of the kingdom, an ancient city built upon the ruins of something even older. Now, it was a graveyard waiting to be filled.
The war had swallowed it whole.
And Alpha was a part of that war, whether he had chosen to be or not.
He knew little of the enemy before him.
Only that they were called The Hand of Veyr.
A warlord? A commander? Something more?
Their armor bore no insignia, no crest, only the shifting glow of runes that pulsed with raw magic. They had spoken little, but their blade had told him enough.
They were stronger than him. Faster than him.
And yet, he still stood.
That should have been impossible.
But Vanitas had changed the rules.
...The Price Yet to Be Paid...
Alpha forced himself to focus.
He could not afford to be lost in thought, not when the enemy was watching, waiting for the slightest weakness.
Vanitas pulsed once more, a quiet reminder.
He could feel it now.
The way the sword guided him, shaped his instincts, altered the rhythm of battle.
It was not merely steel.
It was something else.
Something that had existed long before this battle. Before this war.
"You are beginning to understand."
Alpha did not answer.
He could still feel the cold. The weight in his bones.
Was this what it meant to wield Vanitas?
To give something in exchange for power?
He did not know what he had lost.
Not yet.
But he knew one thing.
He could not stop now.
He would not stop now.
The enemy raised their blade once more.
This battle was not over.
And only one of them would leave alive.