Allesio and Aamon walked to a deserted open field in the farthest corner of the town. The silence between them was tense, heavy with unspoken truths.
"Now tell me," Aamon asked, folding his arms.
Without warning, Allesio lunged at him, swinging his sword. Aamon's reflexes kicked in—he leapt back and drew his own blade just in time.
"What are you doing?!" Aamon shouted.
"I'm putting an end to our relationship," Allesio said coldly.
He charged again, this time with more force. Aamon blocked the strike, sparks flying from the clash, and knocked Allesio back with a quick counter. Both of them jumped away from each other, their eyes locked.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" Aamon demanded.
"I'm going to kill you," Allesio replied, his voice steady but burning with pain.
Aamon's expression darkened. "You know I'm the reason you always managed to escape. Without me—"
"You're the reason I'm stuck in this mess to begin with!" Allesio roared.
He darted forward with frightening speed. Their swords clashed again—this time, the impact forced Aamon back a few steps, causing him to stumble.
"If you had been by my father's side that day, he wouldn't have died!" Allesio shouted.
"I told you—I was sent to defend a village. I received a letter from the King himself," Aamon said, straining to block another furious strike.
"Why would Father send you away when he knew he was in danger?!" Allesio growled. He slashed again. "You liar"
"You know how the King was. He always prioritized others before himself," Aamon replied, breath short as he struggled to match Allesio's growing intensity.
"You were his Royal Guard!" Allesio yelled. "You could've assigned more soldiers. You could've done something!"
Their blades rang out like thunder in the empty field. Allesio's attacks became wilder, faster, but also more precise. Each blow carried the weight of years of guilt and unanswered questions.
"You knew there were traitors among the royals! He told you himself!" Allesio shouted.
One final strike forced Aamon to his knees.
"After all these years… after all the times I helped you escape… why now?" Aamon asked, breathing heavily as he rose again.
"Does this have something to do with that boy? Aeron?" Aamon's voice sharpened. "All these years, you never once left the Empire. Now you're far away with him?"
"So you've given up on avenging your father?" Aamon said, his tone accusing.
"Shut up," Allesio growled, and charged again.
This time, his sword slashed across Aamon's chest. Aamon rolled away, narrowly avoiding a fatal hit.
Grimacing, Aamon summoned stones with his magic and launched them at Allesio. The air filled with flying debris.
Allesio blocked each one, his sword moving in a blur.
In that moment, Aamon appeared behind him and struck down. Allesio twisted, blocked the blow, but the sheer force sent him crashing to the ground.
Aamon moved quickly, aiming his sword to finish it. Allesio rolled to the side, narrowly escaping the blade, and grabbed Aamon's arm. With one swift movement, he threw Aamon off balance and pinned him to the ground.
But Aamon retaliated with a powerful kick, knocking Allesio back.
Both stood again—battered, breathing hard, their swords ready.
"Sword Art: Lightning Strike!"
Aamon's sword crackled with lightning. In a flash, he charged at Allesio—his speed barely visible to the human eye.
"Dark Shadow!"
Just as Aamon was about to strike, Allesio's surroundings were consumed by a swirling black fog.
Aamon halted, blades drawn, scanning the darkness. "Tch... Where did he go?"
From the other side of the mist, Allesio stepped out. Calm, collected.
"Finally using your Sword Art, huh?" Allesio called out.
"You're one to talk," Aamon countered with a smirk, though tension lined his face.
Tsk… If he's resorting to dark magic, I'm at a disadvantage, Aamon thought.
"Sword Art: Clone Mirage!"
In an instant, Allesio was surrounded by hundreds of clones—identical copies, each one armed and ready.
"Sword Art: Lightning Strike!"
The clones surged forward with blinding speed, charging at Allesio from every angle.
"Dark Magic: Infernal Flames!"
A ring of shadowy flames erupted around Allesio, expanding outward in a burning wave toward the incoming storm.
"Tch!" Aamon grunted.
"Sword Art: Wind Strike!"
With a wide swing, he summoned a slicing gust of wind that swept the flames aside.
"Dark Magic: Infernal Rain!"
The sky above them darkened, and then rained down blazing black fireballs.
Aamon's eyes narrowed. "Sword Art: Lightning Speed!"
He dashed faster, dodging and deflecting the falling fireballs with precise slashes.
"Keep going like this and you'll burn through your mana," Aamon warned as he weaved between the attacks.
"Don't worry-" Allesio smirked through the heat, "before that, you'll exhaust yourself out."
"Heh. You have a point," Aamon admitted.
"That's why I'll end this now—Ultimate Sword Art: Phantom Execution!"
Aamon vanished.
"Dark Magic: Devil's Eye!"
Allesio's eyes flared red, briefly giving him sight through the high-speed blur. He barely caught Aamon mid-dash, blade aiming straight for his chest. Allesio raised his sword just in time to block.
A sharp ring echoed as their blades clashed—Aamon's speed left shallow cuts across Allesio's body in the blink of an eye.
"Dark Magic: Resistance!"
A black aura surrounded Allesio, dulling the pain of his wounds.
"Still standing, huh?" Aamon said, impressed.
Both were out of mana. Both were bleeding. Their eyes locked in mutual exhaustion.
They dropped their magic and fought as ordinary swordsmen. Blade against blade. Grit against grit. The dark energy was gone, but the hatred remained.
Eventually, Allesio's resistance magic faded. His knees gave in, and he dropped to the ground. Seeing an opening, Aamon rushed to strike—
—but Allesio struck first. A small needle pierced Aamon's leg.
Aamon flinched. "What… what did you just do?"
"Apodynamosi Poison," Allesio said quietly.
Aamon's eyes widened. "That's…"
Apodynamosi—a rare, deadly poison. It weakens the victim's body, gradually shutting down the internal organs and infecting the blood, Death follows within hours.
Aamon smiled bitterly. "Never thought you would use this on me…"
"You'll die soon enough," Allesio replied, not with anger—just sadness.
"No finishing blow?" Aamon asked, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Are you pitying me now?"
"You made your choices. And now you pay for them," Allesio said, his voice calm but hollow.
Aamon slumped to one knee. "So tell me… why now? After all these years, why kill me? How long have you known it was me—the one who ordered the assassins that day?"
Allesio looked down, expression heavy. "I've always known. Back then… I knew everything. And I know Father knew too."
Aamon exhaled. "Then let me tell you the whole truth." Said with a smirk