"There is no need to play the hero," the Champion declared, as he studied Nam'ill's dark form.

"I don't understand how you can possibly say something like that," Nam'ill remarked, taking a step forward with a bolt of lightning to illuminate him. He had his sword in front of him. It was clearly an attempt to hide the fear within. Laughable.

The Champion scanned the area around him swiftly. All the guards were scattered; they were no longer organized or representing an audience. He wasn't sure if they were waiting to strike him down as a mob, or if they were just stricken in fear at what they had just witnessed. No matter the option, death would come to them all in the end. Time was the only variable.

"You wish to die a very foolish way," the Champion spoke, with a hint of disappointment in his monotone voice. He could hear Nam'ill's approaching footsteps, which were slowly closing in on him. "It will be for no cause at all. You will accomplish nothing; it will just be running into your death. Aimlessly. Purposelessly."

"You must be slain before any more chaos can consume this land more than what you have already created," Nam'ill said, doing his best to keep his voice firm and steady, despite how his body quaked. "It cannot continue. This era will bring nothing but misery and death, and you want it to happen." He took his steps cautiously as the distance closed between the two. Either of them could lunge at any moment. "I thought you wanted peace, Champ. Isn't your dream about becoming this grand hero to save the land? About childish unity and prosperity among all?"

"It is already being realized," the Champion whispered, while his right gauntlet twitched unnoticeably beside him. He finally shifted his gaze over to Nam'ill, who was once again illuminated by brief light. "You are meant to be at my side. As my ally. A friend. Somebody to see through that my vision becomes reality—"

"You only yearn for destruction and suffering, beast!" Nam'ill interrupted, lunging forward to swing his sword in an uppercut fashion by his side. The blade was already heavy weight in the air, like it were cutting through it.

"This is not how you want to die," the Champion advised. Before Nam'ill could connect with the swing, the Champion thrust his left palm out for his sword to fly right to it—seconds later, he brought it to his side for a decisive block. One-handed, he maintained a cool guard as Nam'ill struggled to push in further.

"I will end this chaos until my last breath," Nam'ill said, through heavy breaths.

With a flash of lightning, the Champion could see the knight leaning forward to put all of his weight into the offensive maneuver. He was so small compared to how the Champion was standing. A pathetic thief to a noble guard, like a desperate robbery with surprise as the only chance at success.

"Stand down before you inflict the worst suffering possible," the Champion requested. "It doesn't have to be for the sake of yourself, but it very well has to be for Shimmer."

"She will end you if I fail," Nam'ill sneered, still trying to break his enemy's guard.

"We are all on the same side," the Champion stated, his heart racing. He was unsure of why this was happening. Why Nam'ill and Shimmer would not stand by him. They were once together as good companions. Why had it come to this?

"Your side is something nobody will ever take," Nam'ill remarked, then loosened his push. "Even if you force them to, they will never submit!"

He withdrew his sword only to ram his shoulder right into the center of the Champion's blade. The two stumbled back as the temporarily dazed Champion recovered his footing. Moments after, he was forced to block yet another swing from Nam'ill. Metal furiously clashed in the air with the Champion only holding his ground. He blocked all swings deftly, leaving his right gauntlet hanging loosely at his side. If the time came, it would be let free.

"Shimmer cannot be harmed like this!" he exclaimed, doubt surging into his mind about killing Nam'ill like he were another obstacle in his path. "Your death will be selfish! Do not do it for your sake, even if you believe all this nonsense to be true—"

"My blood will be on your hands, and she will know it!" Nam'ill snapped, wildly bringing his sword over his shoulder and swinging diagonally. The immense strength forced the Champion to step back. He could feel the heat from all the blows with smoke as one of the products.

"Stand down now before it is too late," the Champion spoke, though it was more of a plea at this point.

"You could never change, something I knew at the very start," Nam'ill hissed, thrusting his sword forward at the Champion's midsection; however, it was feinted in an instant. The Champion could not react in time as his left leg numbed. His once poised state now wavered—he could not keep his balance.

"I have changed accordingly to heroic standards." He batted away a nimble swing from Nam'ill, then swung his sword to his side. "I am the peak of a hero. Nothing will stand in my way. Good will never be defeated. All dreams and fantasies will be reality—tomorrow will be today."

The Champion brought his right gauntlet into focus, clenching it for a tongue of black flames to squeeze out of the entrapped space. 

"Either friend or foe, there shall be no obstacles," he continued, and rushed forward with his right gauntlet prepared for a fatal jab. When he swung, Nam'ill held up his sword just in time to keep his head. Somehow, his sword remained intact even with scorching flames eating at it.

"I will save you from this dark path, for it is what a good friend would do," Nam'ill promised, already exhausted and weary, before swiping the Champion's blazing gauntlet aside and horizontally swinging.

You have wanted me dead from the start, the Champion thought, as his right gauntlet hungrily grabbed onto the blade to stop it dead in its tracks. You're nothing of a good friend. You've even left Shimmer to die, and now you poison her mind with your venom.

He kept Nam'ill's sword frozen with his right gauntlet, bringing his sword up for a kill.

No longer will she suffer.

Like an executioner to a helpless target, the Champion swung right at Nam'ill's head; however, he was stopped midair. Slow seconds in utter darkness passed before lightning could reveal the new obstacle. When it did, his heart dropped.

Nam'ill's right gauntlet seized his blade, his fingers hardening their grip over it with a black fire arising.

"You will not continue any longer," he spoke clearly, and then wrestled his sword out of the Champion's distracted hold. He was already preparing for a swift thrust at the chest. "Have your rest. You were not meant for such a role as this."

Nam'ill thrust his sword forward with a fierce scream in pursuit. Time seemed to slow as the Champion could not remove his gaze off the gauntlet trapping his sword. His eyes beneath his visor gleamed in that very black light. He did not know if it was fear or wonder that another had a gift only he thought he possessed.

If only Nam'ill had used it when the two were about to tear each other's heads off, only to be saved by Shimmer. That would've been the duel of the lifetime, but did it matter? It was here now. The most glorious and thrilling fight he could ever hope of participating in. Of winning.

Just before the blade could penetrate his chest, the Champion slammed his sword right out of Nam'ill's gauntlet to knock it down. Seizing the opportunity, he swung his right gauntlet at Nam'ill, who somehow recovered in time to dodge it.

The Champion retrieved his raging gauntlet as his visor darted directly over to his prey. The crack of thunder and a dazzling lightning bolt moments later widened the smile on his face. His heart raced increasingly by the second. The thrill of the hunt. The thrill of a duel in which his opponent was worthy. He had never fought anybody that lasted more than a few minutes. Anybody that proved to be a challenge.

He didn't know if he liked a challenge more than worthless prey. Then again, Nam'ill was one of the most irritable jesters he wished to rid of. That tipped the balance quite unfairly.

You should've backed down when you had the chance! the Champion thought, silently laughing as he stormed over to Nam'ill and swung his sword from over his shoulder.

Nam'ill blocked it just in time with thunder in close company. The audience pleaser. It would be the duel of the ages. Make it enjoyable. Make it entertaining. Then die!

In a bout of excitement, the Champion swung his sword from a wide angle, then jabbed with his right gauntlet seconds later. When both were blocked by their respective counterparts, he headbutted Nam'ill right in the helmet to see him stumble back.

You can't run forever...

The Champion caught up to his prey and hooked with his right gauntlet. Again, Nam'ill blocked it with his arm, though the Champion had already swung his sword right at his enemy's hip.

First blood had been struck. It was as easy as that.

"Damn it..." Nam'ill breathed, grasping his bleeding hip and attempting to retreat. He was on the outer edge of the ring where the dark shadows of guards were quickly fleeing to make room. But a dead end would arise soon. There always was one.

With his vision consumed in nothing but thrill and hunger, the Champion lifted his sword across his shoulder and lashed out. It was blocked. He swung again. Blocked. Nam'ill could do nothing but retreat and block, for it was all that wounded prey could do. Exhaustion would triumph eventually.

"I gave you mercy, but you so rudely ignored it," the Champion said, and angrily hacked at Nam'ill with more strength than usual. This time, his prey yelped in agony as he almost fell over at the impact.

"Let her be... spare her..." Nam'ill pleaded hoarsely, which made the Champion's immense smile disappear.

"You think I will lay a finger upon her?" the Champion asked, as rage settled in. He punched Nam'ill's sword, hearing some of the blade break. With a flash of light, he could see the individual scorched shards fly like a mirror had just been shattered.

"Take this land as you may... but leave her in peace..." Nam'ill continued, his breathing ragged. Blood from his hip was already squeezing through his protective gauntlet trying to stop it.

Nam'ill could think a lot of things, but that? It was wrong. There was no way the knight was thinking clearly. Not at all! The Champion had shown from the moment the three had joined up that he would never kill Shimmer. Even the most idiotic fool could see that.

But Nam'ill couldn't?

"You are the one bringing great harm to Shimmer," the Champion snapped, thrusting a burning finger at Nam'ill. "You do these things without even thinking of what effect it has on her. Like she doesn't even exist in your mind." He withdrew his finger in disgust. "I thought you were her protector! But all along, you have just left her time and time again. You abandon her out of sheer selfishness. You are—"

"I had to or else I would be weak!" Nam'ill exclaimed, then howled and hunched over. He was still holding onto his sword with one hand, like it was for dear life. "I couldn't come to her that weak... I had to show her I could protect her from anything and everything." He lifted his helmet up, which was coated in rain and ash from the earlier blows. "She's the only thing I have, and I can't lose her..."

He coughed and lost his grip on his sword. As it fell on the ground, he too dropped on his knees. Blood was quickly growing at his side where he had been stabbed.

The Champion gazed down at the knight, his anger subsiding with his sword and gauntlet falling back. Dread filled his heart as remorse consumed his mind. There was no barely any time left.

"You've done all of this just for her?" he asked quietly.

Nam'ill fell into a wheezing fit as he was forced to lean over the ground with a gauntlet pressed on it. It sounded like whimpering.

"I only want to see her smiling and happy... and never afraid of anything," he replied. When he tried to sit upright, he grunted in agony; however, he was able to shakily bring his focus up to the shadow dominating him. "It seems it has done more harm than good. That if I just stayed, everything would've turned out alright..." He bent over and unleashed a piercing cough that ruptured the downpour around him.

"It's finished, isn't it, Champ?" he guessed, not even bringing his gaze up like last time. "Time has run out. I've failed. Everything I've tried to do... it's just a mistake..." He hunched down even further as his gauntlet upon the ground struggled for balance. "I've done nothing right... and whenever I try to make up for it, it's just another mistake—"

The loud roar of thunder silenced the knight. The Champion cast his gaze up to see a lightning bolt in the distance. The storm was leaving, though it was still in everybody's hearts. It always would be, anyway.

"Promise me, Champ..." Nam'ill began, only to fall into another coughing fit. When he recovered, after almost falling flat on the floor, he was shaking on all of his limbs. "Promise me you'll tell her about what I've said. Tell her everything... and spare her. Obliterate everything and everybody, but give mercy to her... I beg of you..."

Heavy rain filled the Champion's ears as he slowly flattened his focus to where he could see the now-clear environment around him. All the guards had left by now. There was nobody. The audience had disappeared in thin air.

"This was avoidable," the Champion spoke gravely, seeing the patches of dark clouds light up in some places with chains of lightning and rumbling thunder. "You could've done nothing and still be alive. You could leave this place and go back to Shimmer. The two of you would be a part of the thriving Realm, a new era." Even in the abysmal darkness, he could see a vision of utmost clarity and light. Like he were in the heavens and embracing the sun itself; however, he lowered his gaze and came back to harsh gloominess and misery. "You had your chance. I gave you it, but you denied it. Tell me why, if it's the last thing you say."

Nam'ill chuckled weakly as his bloody gauntlet left his wounded side.

"There can never be paradise in this world," he remarked. "You think of the impossible. Unity and peace are a childish fantasy. It'll never be accomplished." He had the nerve to bring his helmet upward, with a lightning bolt to illuminate all the blood, rain, and ash on it. "Especially when beings like you roam the land and practice nothing but violence and brutal killing."

The Champion stared at Nam'ill through the rumbles of thunder in the distance. He clenched his right gauntlet in anger and hardened his hold over his sword.

"There is no peace and unity without such violence and killing," the Champion declared, one of the only sentences he could say in utmost confidence. He stalked over to Nam'ill, who was watching him approach helplessly, though he showed nothing remotely close to resisting. It was as if he had accepted his death.

"We can... always talk... and compromise..." Nam'ill said, but his voice had already fallen to a dying whisper—but still, he had the sheer bravery to keep his gaze trained on the Champion. It was uncanny how much spirit was left inside of an already dead man.

"Not when it's all lies and betrayal," the Champion decided, and when he towered above Nam'ill like the towering colossus he was from the very beginning, he lifted his sword high above him with both hands gripping the handle.

"It's you... that's betraying all of us—"

Nam'ill could barely speak the last word as his voice came to nothing. His head immediately fell down as did his whole body. A flash of light illuminated the bloody sword that impaled his corpse straight into the ground. The Champion was unable to even see himself retrieving the weapon anytime soon as a voice invaded his mind ruthlessly:

Nam'ill!

A newfound weight pressed down against his soul, which made him grip his helmet by both sides. His vision began to descend into absolute darkness. All touch on the environment around him had been lost.

Hearing Shimmer's cry had fractured a part of him, something he had not taken notice of in what felt like eternities. But it was now here right before his eyes.