Fight II

Aiden's gaze hardened. He drew the Reaper Scythe, its ethereal blade glowing ominously. "I'm not here to trade insults. Every second you waste makes this worse for you."

The commander's confidence wavered as the scythe's aura brushed against him, its energy draining the strength from his already battered body. He gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his forehead.

"You won't get anything from me," he spat. "Do your worst. I've faced torment far beyond anything you can imagine."

"Maybe," Aiden replied, his voice low. "But there's always someone stronger, and trust me—you don't want to find out what happens when we lose our patience."

Before Aiden could press further, Rick entered the clearing, his steps brisk. His usual composed demeanor was tinged with urgency.

"Aiden," Rick said, his voice sharp. "We have a problem."

Aiden turned, his eyes narrowing. "What is it?"