I opened my eyes, and the desert stretched before me like a sea of solid fire—an ocean of sand that seemed to breathe with every wave of heat. The sun burned above my head with the cruel patience of a judge who accepts no pleas, and the air was a furnace that licked my lungs with invisible flames.
Each step was a monumental effort; my body sweated with the stubbornness of one who still refuses defeat. There, amid that scorching vastness, I saw him. Him. The human shadow that had witnessed my brother's death—the presence that now mocked my pain. His blindfolded eyes did nothing to hide his power; he had learned to see beyond what flesh allows.
Without warning, he advanced toward me. Not as a man, but as the contained force of a storm—the kind that approaches in silence only to devour everything in its path. I didn't hesitate. I ran toward him, feeling every muscle burn, every nerve vibrate with the fury that pierced through me like lightning.
Each step lifted clouds of sand that swirled around me like an omen of destruction. When I reached him, I unleashed my first kick with every ounce of strength I had left; his face snapped back as if struck by a projectile—but he didn't fall.
His reflexes were impossible, supernatural. He pressed his hands into the sand and flipped backward, regaining distance, circling me with the calm of a predator savoring its prey's anxiety. I knew what he was doing—preparing something. I could feel it in the vibration of the ground, in the electricity running through the air, in the silences that screamed.
And then I saw it. His arm was bleeding, and with that blood he drew a perfect circle—a seal pulsing with an ancient, malignant glow. My heart froze; I recognized that light, that technique. I had felt it before—the kind that seems torn from the myths themselves. The laughter that burst from his throat wasn't merely a sound—it was an echo that shook the entire desert, a chant of madness embracing death as its lover.
From his arm emerged the hilt of a sword—an enormous blade that seemed to drink in the sunlight and return it as a spectrum of shadows and fire. Every fiber of his being screamed destruction; every inch of his newfound power was a direct challenge to my existence.
My breathing became a thread; my vision flickered between light and shadow. I knew I couldn't retreat. With a single gesture, I summoned my Dragon Shield—a wall of magic that gleamed with the intensity of a slumbering dragon, ready to awaken.
I raised it before me—a bastion of hope forged from the rage and pain coursing through me. The old katana was left behind; my justice would now be forged with the sword that had taken my brother's life. I held it firmly, feeling the wood and steel as extensions of my own body. The sand cracked beneath my feet as I advanced, and the air trembled with each pounding heartbeat.
The first attack came like a contained roar. His sword fell with the violence of a meteor; my shield held—but barely—vibrating as if it might shatter at any moment.
His laughter echoed in my ears as he struck relentlessly, a torrent of steel pushing me to the edge. My muscles burned; every block drained my strength, every impact made the magic sustaining the Dragon Shield fizzle and evaporate like water on hot stone.
I moved like a dancer on a stage of death—every step measured, every spin calculated, searching for the smallest opening. He attacked with poetic fury—his movements fluid, perfect, as if every slash were written in a poem of blood and fire.
Then—a moment opened. His sword got caught in my shield, a titanic clash that made the surrounding sand quake like a miniature earthquake. I saw my chance and didn't hesitate. I drove my brother's sword toward his arm, grazing flesh and bone in a strike meant to kill.
But it wasn't enough. His smile didn't fade. With a motion that defied all logic, he freed his sword and returned the blow, multiplied by divine wrath—by the strength of a god tired of waiting. His blade plunged into my shield, cracking it, and the magic that sustained my defense exploded in flashes of blue light and black fire. I felt my mana drain in a whirlwind that threatened to rip my soul from my body.
Pain became music; every wound a drum marking the rhythm of battle. My body trembled, every step a pure act of will. I knew I couldn't last much longer.
My eyes narrowed as I decided to risk everything. I left the shield behind, half-buried in the hot sand, and gripped my sword with both hands. I ran toward him, my heart pounding like a hammer striking iron. He ran too, and the air between us vibrated like tightened strings ready to snap.
The distance vanished, and when we met, our blades pierced through both bodies in a suspended instant—a breath containing centuries of history and death. My blade sliced his neck; his cut through my chest. I felt the steel sink in, and the world seemed to freeze for a second—an eternal heartbeat where only we existed, and the echo of our fury.
The silence that followed was absolute. My breathing turned ragged, mingling with the desert's heat and the scent of fresh blood. Victory was there—but its taste was bitter, tainted by the physical pain coursing through every fiber of my being. I fell to my knees first, then forward, into the sand that received me with the indifference of the world.
My vision blurred; the sky became a faint blue stain, the sand an ocean of light and shadow moving to the rhythm of my weary heart. My ears barely caught the murmur of my own blood—a silent river telling me I had survived, but paid the highest price.
And then the voice came. Soft, like a warm echo in the desert's cold desolation:
"Brother… get up. Give me your hand. Come on… they're waiting for us."
I wanted to see his face, but my eyelids were heavy; the sunlight filtered through like fractured glass. I extended my hand—a reflex—and found it covered in blood. Reality struck harder than any blade: everything had happened, everything was done, and my body was about to collapse under the weight of my own survival.
Consciousness whispered the truth I already knew—cold, piercing, inevitable:
"Damn it… I think my heart took… just a little damage."