Calm Confrontation

Before Issac could take a few steps, a sharp voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Hey, what are you doing!"

The voice belonged to Ron, the same guy who had caught him crossing the wall of fire earlier. His tone was accusatory, but the fear in his eyes betrayed him. Ron's gaze locked onto Issac's bloodied knuckles, and he visibly swallowed a mouthful of saliva, trying to mask his unease.

"What have you done to Hiruken?" Ron demanded, pointing the tip of his sword directly at Issac, the blade trembling ever so slightly in his grip.

Issac glanced at the blade before meeting Ron's gaze. "Me? You should be asking what that snake-skinned bastard was doing first," he said with a calm yet defiant tone, his eyes glinting with subtle irritation.

"Don't answer me with questions!" Ron barked, his voice rising in pitch. "Answer my fucking question, or I'll puncture your throat with this sword!"

The blade in Ron's hand began to emit a faint yellow hue, a sign of his sword energy being channeled. However, his shaky stance and sweaty grip betrayed his nervousness.

Issac sighed, his expression hardening. "I will answer you, but put the sword down first. I have no ill intentions. If I did, trust me—you wouldn't be able to stop me."

The weight of Issac's words made Ron falter for a moment. The confidence in Issac's tone, coupled with his calm demeanor, made Ron second-guess his decision. But he didn't lower his weapon just yet.

Issac observed him carefully, noting the slight quiver in Ron's hand and the sheen of sweat on his brow. *'He's nervous. Weak, too. I knew they'd be weaker than me, but I didn't expect this much of a gap,'* Issac mused silently.

His gaze swept over the other squad members who had gathered nearby, their postures tense and hesitant. *'Their captain is a literal beast in both strength and appearance. I assumed his subordinates would be somewhat formidable. Looks like I overestimated them. Right now, I could probably take on five guys like him without breaking a sweat.'*

His thoughts shifted back to Hiruken, the noble he had confronted earlier. *'And then there's that guy. A total disappointment. For someone of noble birth, he has absolutely no talent. Not even a shred of backbone. He'd probably piss himself if I got serious...'*

Issac's lips twitched in faint amusement as he thought to himself, *'I'm starting to sound like some medieval swordmaster, judging their worth like this.'*

Meanwhile, Ron's grip tightened on his sword. "Speak! What did you do to Hiruken?" he repeated, his voice straining with both fear and determination.

Issac snapped out of his thoughts and focused back on Ron, his expression unreadable. "I gave him exactly what he deserved," he replied calmly, a faint edge to his voice. "Nothing more, nothing less. Now, are we done? If not than go ahead ask me more."

For a moment, the air was thick with tension. Both of them sharing glances at eachother where Issac's look was filled with confidence and Ron's gaze was hesitant and anxious.

Suddenly, without warning, Ron lunged at Issac, closing the distance between them in a flash. His sword came up, the blade's edge glinting menacingly in the light, stopping just inches from Issac's throat.

"Get on your knees! NOW!" Ron barked, his voice filled with rage and an edge of desperation.

Startled, Issac instinctively stepped back, putting a small gap between himself and the blade. "Hey! What's your problem? Why are you getting so aggressive?" he asked, his tone sharp yet controlled, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

'What the hell is he doing? Did I say something that set him off?' Issac's thoughts raced as he tried to decipher Ron's sudden hostility.

"Sir Ron! You don't have to do this. Sir Arthur didn't do anything!" a voice broke through the tension. It was Ethan, one of the younger squad members, his tone shaky but pleading.

Ron whipped his head around to glare at Ethan. "What do you mean, Ethan? Is he threatening you? Don't worry—I'll get you out of his grasp now! This wretched demonic bastard!"

Issac blinked, completely taken aback. 'Demonic? What the hell is he spouting? Has he lost his mind because I beat his friend?

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Issac shot back, his voice laced with incredulity. He instinctively moved back another step, increasing the distance between them.

Ron's grip on his sword tightened, and his eyes burned with determination. "Get on your knees, or I'll make sure this sword pierces your throat!" he growled.

Issac clenched his fists, his patience wearing thin. "I'm warning you, Ron. Calm down before this gets ugly."

But Ron didn't listen. Instead, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air in a lethal arc aimed directly at Issac's neck.

In that split second, Issac's instincts took over. He ducked low, his body shifting fluidly to the left as the blade narrowly missed him. The sound of the sword cutting through empty air was sharp and unnerving.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Issac roared, spinning around to face Ron.

"I'm gonna kill you, you wretched demonic bastard! Rahhhhh!" Ron bellowed, his voice echoing through the clearing as he charged at Issac with recklessly without ceasing.

Issac sidestepped the wild swing, his movements fluid and precise. "What do you mean by demonic? You're not making any sense!" he shouted, still trying to reason with him.

Ron didn't respond—his bloodshot eyes were locked onto Issac, filled with a mix of rage and something unsettlingly primal. Without hesitation, Ron followed up with another flurry of attacks, each one more erratic and forceful than the last.

"Hey! You seriously want to kill me?!" Issac exclaimed, dodging again, his tone a mix of disbelief and frustration.

Ron's relentless assault continued, his sword slashing through the air with unrestrained fury. Issac, still unwilling to retaliate, weaved and ducked.

"Please stop! Sir Arthur didn't do anything! Don't attack him!" Ethan's desperate cry rang out, his voice breaking as he tried to intervene. But Ron paid no heed. His every move was driven by blind rage, his attacks uncoordinated but relentless.

"HAASSASHH!" Ron roared, swinging his sword in a powerful downward strike.

Issac narrowly dodged, the blade grazing past his shoulder. 'This bastard! I need a weapon—I can't keep dodging forever!' he thought, his patience wearing thin.

Seizing an opening, Issac darted to the side and grabbed the Moon Sword from Hiruken's discarded sheath. The weapon felt cold and balanced in his grip, its edge gleaming faintly in the light. He raised it in a defensive stance, his posture steady.

"Ron, sheath your sword," Issac warned firmly, his tone sharp and commanding. "I don't want to hurt you, but if you don't stop, I'll have no choice."

But Ron's only response was another incoherent roar, his rage seemingly beyond reason. He lunged at Issac again, his blade arcing toward him with deadly intent.

"Sheath your sword, Ron."

Just as Issac prepared to counter, a heavy, mature voice cut through the madness.

(End of Chapter)

*****

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