Kaen’s eyes shot open and only caught a glimpse of the orange haired figure before his instincts took over, making him roll out of the bed as a large blade cleaved through where his neck had just rested. He went to draw the first of his swords only to have it knocked free and a smear of black driving a strike deep into his gut. Kaen could feel his spine crack as he was driven through the stonework of his home. His eyes began to shine, his semblance healing him as he slid across the frozen grass, rolling to his feet to face his foe. He would see the glimmering purple eyes mere moments before he was forced to roll to the side from another swing of the scythe before his face would meet with a hard impact of an expertly timed kick. As he flew twenty feet before impacting with the frozen ground, he heard a voice like a violin bow dragged across a wine glass. “You got good instincts, kid! And durable as hell! I feel like I could kick you around all day and you would just keep getting up!”


    As he took in the sight of the man, he could feel the chill of the grave. The man’s attire was all black to an almost comical degree and a shade so dark Kaen couldn’t even make out where any part of it began or ended which he suspected was the point. Even the cape that flowed over the man’s back felt more like the cloak of death itself. The man wielded a scythe with a vibrant red blade, as though it was glistening with fresh blood. He twirled his scythe around him in some form of deadly dance that seemed more like second nature than a conscious decision. The man’s violet eyes matched the dark tone of his cloak. His hair was as orange as the night sky as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. But the one thing that could not be mistaken was the glimmer of madness in his eyes. Hunger and violence dancing on the edge of every aspect of this man’s behavior.


    “They call me Dusk because I’m the last thing before it all goes dark. The very essence of the light dying in your eyes.” The man approached Kaen with a hunger for death so strong that Kaen could feel his heart freezing in his chest, his body fighting his every move. Despite this, he drew one of his short swords to try and go on the attack, only to have it kicked from his hand. As Kaen was punched in the throat, he found himself struggling for air and his body began to panic further, his hair beginning to faintly glow as he dove to the side to avoid a kick only to have the whirling blade of the scythe encircle his shoulder and pull him back in. “Wow! Durable and stupid as they come! Bronz was a shit teacher, apparently! No wonder he fucking died!” Kaen’s blood ran cold at Dusk’s words which just seemed to spur the man on as he continued to trap Kaen in a flurry of precise and vicious blows, “Fucking idiot raised a shit student but one hell of a punching bag. But that checks out! Dumbass gets his family killed and now you! You are a worthless student to a worthless-”


    Kaen couldn’t be sure how he did it, but he landed a blow on Dusk. A firm shot directly to the man’s sternum, and as the force pulled the man away, Dusk’s scythe stayed hooked on the handle of Kaen’s heavy blade, the only thing between him and Kaen’s neck. Dragging Kaen along with him, he could feel the leather and steel from its grip fighting the gleaming edge of the scythe that wanted his head more than anything. Dusk’s unyielding hold on his scythe, even after such a blow, allowed him to respond with a powerful kick aimed at Kaen’s head. Without a moment of fear or hesitation, Kaen lifted his right arm, a hidden blade sliding out of his sleeve as he did so. As flesh met steel, Kaen reached out with his left hand and grabbed Dusk’s throat, “Don’t you ever-”


    Kaen’s own retort was cut off by the shimmering and excited eyes of Dusk, like a dog being promised a walk, and it seemed Dusk was keen to test it. “That’s it! Perfect! Let’s keep this fun!”


    Kaen’s mind was blank of all thoughts but the flow of the battle and the lay of the land. As he watched Dusk’s moves it was becoming more and more clear how the man fought. While his scythe was dangerous and clearly his means of killing, it wasn’t the focus of his fight. The scythe was used for control, to prevent anyone from escaping his kicks and punches without risking death. Dusk’s eyes glimmered with sadistic glee every time flesh and bone collided. This was a man who lived for battle and dined on the kill. This was a monster in human form but worst of all… he could tell Dusk was holding back. Incomplete followthroughs and blows that seemed almost too eerily close to death blows. But he could feel it. With every passing second Dusk would get more and more daring, testing the limits of Kaen’s durability. Seeing how far he could push the boy’s abilities. A sadistic method aimed only at pushing Kaen to the edge of death for no other purpose than his own sick enjoyment.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Kaen felt a chill overtake him. Not one of fear. No. This chill numbed him to his core. This was just another monster bent on death and destruction. Just another beast to be killed for the sake of everyone else. His hair turned bright orange and his body shone with each strike that landed on him. Gripping the shaft of the scythe, he felt the agonizing power of each strike that Dusk was landing on the boy, each one intended to be a killing blow, but he didn’t care. He was going to end this. Tossing the man through the wall of his house, overturning the furnace and scattering its coals across the ground, Kaen drew his heavy blade as though it was just another long sword before charging in after Dusk.


    The sadistic warrior laughed at this new side to the boy and swung his scythe to pull Kaen back into the fight. Kaen met the scythe with his sword, allowing its weight to carry the strike to the side before using the momentum of the horizontal strike to jerk his own body. Leaping with the momentum, he aimed a kick for Dusk’s head which the experienced fighter avoided expertly. As Kaen landed, back facing Dusk, he pulled the blade from its resting position and shifted it to his shoulders only to feel the scythe sail past his ear and watch its tip arc over his shoulder. If Dusk had been a couple inches to the side the blade would have gone clean into Kaen’s head, but this observation wasn’t important in the moment. The fight was all that was important. Coiling all the power he had into his legs, Kaen leapt into the air pulling the scythe with him as he used its hook around his blade to wrench Dusk’s arm. Landing behind the man, he swung the heavy blade only to find Dusk using the weighed down Scythe like a pole to twirl out of the way and to try and circle behind Kaen to kick him in the spine. Following through on the swing, Kaen allowed the blade’s weight to pull him out of the way and did a similar maneuver to Dusk. And so on and on the deadly dance went. Two men using their weapons both as death dealing tools but also as mobile pieces of cover and angles of approach. Lost in the dance of battle. Kaen’s efforts would ultimately fail when his stamina would give out. His vision went black as he saw Dusk’s sadistically laughing face raising his scythe for what would likely be the last time.


    When Kaen would come to, the sun had already set. The morning had only just begun before the fight and now the day was done. He patted himself down, limbs still heavy from exhaustion… but he was still alive. He looked over and saw Dusk sitting by a campfire contently snacking away at what Kaen recognized was the Warg meat from his home. He tried to complain but as he sat up, a familiar searing headache overtook him. Dusk laughed at the sight and said, “You better get used to it! The fact that you can still walk is a better than average day for most in our line of work!” Kaen was visibly confused but this just spurred yet more cruel laughter before an envelope was thrown into his face. Kaen hated this man and wanted to demand answers from him personally, but when he recognized the hand writing on the envelope, he stopped. He opened it up and read the last words his mentor ever penned:


    Dear Iosis Albricht,


    I have a student that I would like to endorse for the Scarlett Order. I know that the Crimson Keep is usually rather full this time of year, but he has no family, no home in this village, and I have given him all the training that I can. He needs a chance to form friendships with those who know his pain. His loss. Who can help him to reach his full potential instead of slipping into darkness. I am not the one who can guide him to that. For the sake of our history, please, find what space you can for him and help him to find peace.


    Sincerely,


    Bronz the Phantom


    Kaen closed the letter and looked at the vicious man that threw it and began to process things. He asked, “So what was that? An initiation?” He had heard vaguely from Bronz about the Scarlett Order, but this ‘Dusk’ didn’t strike him as the kind of man they would normally boast about.


    Dusk laughed coldly, “Oh, yeah. For sure! I mean, anyone else would have just seen if you could do some basic sword moves and called it good. But me? I need to know if you are made of the right stuff! Do you know how many kids die in horrific ways every year because no one made sure they could handle it? I mean, almost everyone in the Scarlett Order is orphans. Losing your parents is absolutely the first step to becoming a hero one day. Even the founder herself was an orphan. So when they die, no one misses them!” He laughed as though he had told some great joke, but all Kaen could feel was disgust. What was wrong with this guy? Still, whatever was going on with this man, he was taking him where Bronz thought he could do something with his life. Kaen allowed that to sink in as he tried to process this alongside the cruelty of his traveling companion.