Unfortunate

The entire place fell silent, the tension between the two men thick as smoke. Sulten Burak stood tall, his sabre glinting under the faint light, its edge keen enough to cut air itself. His grip was firm, his posture relaxed, but he was always ready to strike. Opposite him, Larry Dew crouched low, his monstrous form radiating unrelenting fury. His claws scraped the stone floor as his crimson eyes locked onto Burak, a predator sizing up prey.

Burak took a step forward, his movements smooth and deliberate, his sabre cutting a lazy arc in the air.

"You're powerful, I'll grant you that," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "But power without discipline is nothing but chaos. Let me show you what true skill looks like."

Larry responded with a guttural growl, his monstrous jaw curling into a wicked grin.

"Words won't save you, old man."

Without warning, he lunged, his massive form propelling forward with terrifying speed. His claws slashed through the air, aiming to rip Burak apart.

Burak moved like water, sidestepping the attack with inches to spare. His sabre flashed, striking out in a precise counter aimed at Larry's exposed side. The blade connected, a sharp metallic clang ringing out as it scraped against Larry's hardened skin. The strike left a faint gash, dark ichor seeping from the wound.

Larry roared in pain and frustration, spinning to lash out with a backhanded swipe. Burak ducked under the blow, his movements fluid and calculated, and stepped into Larry's guard. With a quick twist of his wrist, he drove the hilt of his sabre into Larry's chest, forcing the monster to stagger back.

"You're fast," Burak admitted, his breathing steady. "But you're predictable. That curse of yours makes you reckless."

Larry snarled, his claws digging into the ground as he steadied himself.

"I'll show you reckless!"

He leapt again, this time feinting with his right claw before bringing his left around in a vicious arc. Burak's eyes narrowed, reading the attack in an instant. He raised his sabre to parry, but Larry's monstrous strength forced the blade aside.

Burak turned, letting the momentum carry him away from the brunt of the attack, and retaliated with a quick slash aimed at Larry's knee. The blade bit deep, and Larry roared again, but the wound only seemed to fuel his rage. He swung wildly, each strike coming faster and harder, forcing Burak onto the defensive.

The Sulten's composure never wavered. He danced around Larry's attacks, his sabre flashing like lightning, each strike precise and purposeful. But with every passing second, the poison in his veins sapped his strength. His breathing grew heavier, his movements a fraction slower, and Larry noticed.

"You're slipping," Larry taunted, his voice a guttural rasp. "That poison's doing its job. You won't last much longer."

Burak's lips curled into a faint smirk.

"Perhaps. But I don't need much longer."

In a blur of motion, Burak closed the distance between them, his sabre a whirlwind of steel. He struck high, low, and everywhere in between, forcing Larry to retreat under the relentless assault. The monstrous man roared in frustration, his claws lashing out in a desperate attempt to turn the tide.

But then, Burak stumbled. It was barely a misstep, but it was enough. Larry seized the moment, lunging forward with all his strength. His claws raked across Burak's chest, tearing through fabric and drawing blood. The Sulten gritted his teeth, his sabre darting up to slash across Larry's arm in retaliation.

Both men staggered back, blood dripping onto the stone floor. Burak's chest heaved, his vision swimming as the poison tightened its grip. Larry, though wounded, grinned wickedly, sensing victory within his grasp.

"You're done," Larry growled, advancing slowly. "Give up and make it easier on yourself."

Burak wiped blood from his lip, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

"You underestimate me."

With a surge of will, Burak steadied himself and raised his sabre once more. His stance shifted, and the air around him seemed to change, his presence growing more intense. Larry hesitated for the first time, sensing the shift in the battle.

Burak surged forward, his movements a blur. His sabre cut through the air with deadly precision, each strike aimed to exploit Larry's weaknesses. Larry fought back with all his monstrous strength, but Burak's skill and resolve were unrelenting.

The clash of steel against claw echoed through the chamber as the two warriors pushed each other to their limits. Blood stained the ground, and the air was thick with the scent of sweat and iron.

As the fight wore on, both men knew they were nearing their breaking points. Burak's vision blurred, the poison threatening to drag him under. Larry's monstrous form began to falter, the curse's toll on his body becoming evident.

With one final, desperate attack, Burak feinted left and then struck with all his strength. His sabre found its mark, slicing deep into Larry's side. The monster howled in pain, staggering back, but before Burak could press his advantage, his strength gave out, and he dropped to one knee, coughing out blood.

Larry wasn't going to let this chance slip. He raised his sharp claw fast and precise. Sulten Burak could see the deadly claw aiming for him, but he could barely feel his arms, let alone raise them. He quickly moved his body to avoid hitting a vital point, but Larry Dew was well ahead of him. He used his claw to tear off one of Sulten Burak's legs to prevent him from going too far and evading him anymore.

"Shit," Sulten Burak cursed as fear suddenly gripped his heart. His life flashed right before his eyes, and in that moment—before he could fully relive it—Larry's large maw closed in on him, biting a large chunk of his head in that instant.

Silence reigned at that very moment. The monster that was Larry Dew immediately reverted back to his human form before collapsing.

At the City Gate

Fatima and her men were barely holding on, and most of them were dead. General Khalifa had also lost most of the men she was with. Only two were left, both of them clinging to life. But it was more than enough. At that moment, battering rams began to hit the gates as men had already started scaling the walls and entering the city.

"Dammit," Fatima cursed as their situation took a turn for the worse.

In that moment, General Zai spoke.

"If you leave now, we won't pursue you," she said.

Fatima stubbornly gritted her teeth. She was reluctant to leave, and General Zai could not help but admire the girl's resilience.

One of the men beside Fatima saw their current situation, dropped his sword, and began to flee. General Zai moved immediately from her spot, covering the distance in a second, and cut the man down.

"A soldier must always stay put until his commander moves," General Zai said.

"Now, what say you?" Zai asked Fatima.

Fatima was still reluctant, not knowing what to do.

Zai smiled and spoke.

"The prince," she said, making Fatima raise her brow.

"The prince is at Jubai. You can try and meet with him there. I hear he is the last hope for those still willing to fight. You can meet with him," General Zai said.

Fatima looked at her in confusion.

"Why are you telling me this?" Fatima asked.

"Well, I hate to see the fire in your eyes quenched too soon," Zai said.

"And also, it doesn't matter. Maybe you join hands with the prince, or not—the outcome will be the same. You will all lose, and Lord Jai will win," General Zai said.

"Now, leave before I change my mind."