The orange sunlight caressed and warmed up the cave. Many of the group shielded their eyes, groaning, in an attempt to avoid getting up. Mors's eyes fluttered open as he stared at the familiar stone ceiling.
Brushing his hand along the rough hilt of his sword, he rose to his feet. Stumbling around the dim cave, his stomach growled as he neared the sleeping Milo. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a firm hand settled on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
"Let the man sleep." Mors turned sharply, his nervous eyes locking onto Brandon's steady, resolved gaze. "Don't provoke him. It's not worth it."
Mors rubbed his tired eyes, glancing around the dimly lit cave. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry. I guess the hunger's getting to me."
Brandon revealed a small smile, pulling a candy bar from his back pocket. "Kid, your cheeks are looking hollow. Here, take this—it should help ease the hunger."
As Mors took the candy bar, a single teardrop slipped down his cheek. He walked slowly to the entrance of the cave, running his fingers through the soft grass as he gazed at the horizon. He paused for a moment, inhaling the fresh air, his eyes fixed on the rising sun.
He sank into the cool grass, staring at the sky.'I miss my friends.'
"So you're missing home too, huh?" Price walked out, his homemade sword—crafted from bones and wood—resting against his side.
"Yeah." Mors's voice faltered as his eyes darkened. "I had my closest friends with me when the monster appeared."
"I'm sorry that happened to you." Price said, his voice filled with sorrow.
Mors gazed at Price's lifeless eyes. "What about you?"
Price sank to the floor, his hands pressing into his face as his voice trembled. "I once had a daughter." He whispered, his hands falling to the grass. "She was taken from me... because of selfish people."
Mors turned towards the rumbling in the distance, his fists tightening. He shifted uneasily, his shoulders drooping with the weight of his thoughts.
"Her name was Lila. She had pneumonia." Price's voice cut through the air, venom dripping from every word. His fists clenched, and his teeth ground. "I was too poor to save her..." His breath hitched, his eyes welling with tears.
Price stood, drawing his sword from his waist and pointing it at Mors. Mors rubbed his throat, unable to force the words past the lump building in his throat. Price dragged the blade across the grass, the sound echoing through the air as he circled Mors.
Price's knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the sword. "Get ready, kid. This is your warning."
He lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air, missing Mors by a hair. Mors's face turned ghostly white. The sword's whistle brushed past his ear, leaving his heart pounding. Mors stumbled forward. His grip trembled as he swung wildly, the blade cutting nothing but air.
Price dashed forward again, muttering under his breath. "I couldn't afford insurance for my baby girl. She died because of me." He continued chasing and swinging toward Mors.
Mors clenched his teeth, sweat stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. 'Damn it! I'm going to die!'
"And when she died, I killed the C.E.O. of that hospital—the one who denied her care!" Price charged relentlessly, each swing tearing into the ground and scattering dirt.
Mors staggered back, his sword trembling in his unsteady grip as he swung wildly to fend off death. 'Shit! What am I supposed to do?'
Price flinched, a sharp gasp escaping him as Mors's blade grazed his leg, drawing a thin line of blood. "I was in jail! Do you know how long I had to think about everything?"
Mors stepped back, narrowly dodging each slash. Price pressed forward, kicking up dirt and flinging it into Mors's eyes. Price kicked Mors, sending him flying. Mors rolled in the dirt, slick with his blood, but he rose to his feet, eyes burning with renewed resolve.
Mors pushed forward, the pain from his wounds blinding him. They continued the exchanged blows, Mors clearly losing. Glancing over, Mors saw Brandon watching with a downcast expression.
Mors dodged a downwards swing and rolled to the side. Running forward, he dove into Price, knocking them both onto the ground. Price writhed beneath Mors, hands shoving at him with desperate strength. With one final, brutal kick, Mors was sent flying backward, crashing into the dirt.
Price stood up, blood pouring down his forehead. His hand shot out, and with a sudden crackle of energy, a radiant sword of light materialized in his grip, humming with an intense vibration.
Price swung his sword, the slashes of light tearing through the air, aiming for Mors. He gritted his teeth, bracing for the impact.
The light cut through his skin, digging deep into his muscle. Mors gritted his teeth as Price slowly walked forward.
The sword in Price's hand dissolved into shimmering sparkles. "I was wrong. Harming others out of grief only brings more pain. It's something I've had to live with." Price reached down, offering his hand to Mors.
Mors reached out with trembling fingers, weakly grabbing Price's hand. "Don't kill people out of hatred...'If you asked me whether I'd do it again, even knowing what it would cost, I'd have to say yes."
Mors clutched his stomach as a low growl echoed from within. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm starving."
"A woman sprinted from within the cave, her glowing wings unfurling behind her as she moved. "Price, are you alright?"
Price limped toward her, his body leaning against her for support. "I'm fine, Hope. When did you get the wings?"
Hope shrieked as she turned around, attempting to get away from the glowing wings. "What the fuck!"
A soft, golden light radiated from her wings, and the men's wounds began to heal, the warmth spreading through their bodies." The two men collapsed to their knees. A long, weary sigh escaped their lips, their exhaustion settling in like a weight on their shoulders.
Brandon staggered out of the cave entrance, a grin tugging at his lips. "I'm glad you both learned something. Once you're healed, Mors, you should sharpen your sword."
Mors looked down at his closing wounds, sighing. "Thanks, Hope."
Hope smiled, looking at Price. "No problem at all. Thanks for sparing with Price; he really needed that."
Mors stumbled into the cave, his eyes darker with fatigue yet sharper with newfound clarity. Mors grabbed one of the whetstones scattered nearby, its rough surface cool against his fingers, and began grinding his blade.
Brandon plopped down beside Mors with a thud, resting his hands heavily on his lap. "That was a cool fight. So, what do you think our next step should be?"
Mors chuckled softly, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "There are two things we need. First, we all need to train." Mors looked down at the sword he was grinding away at. "That fight taught me something: he was holding back."
Brandon nodded. "Yeah, for sure. So, what's the second thing?"
Mors sighed, setting the whetstone down. "We need to shower and start figuring out our abilities."