The Price of Courage

The tension in the room was palpable. On one side, they could hand over the medallion and leave with nothing; on the other, they could fight for it, but they knew they'd be dead in seconds.

"How many years has it been since you've fought without relying on your God's blessing?" Khaz said, his voice firm and challenging, without hesitation. "Let's go with a third option: me against you. If I can land even a single hit, you let us leave with the medallion. If I fail, you can kill me and take it for yourself."

Khaz's words made everyone freeze. Salen was the first to intervene, almost shouting.

"Stop being crazy, boss!" Salen exclaimed, his voice trembling with worry. "Even if you're good, this isn't just some street fight! He's... he's way out of our league!"

Willy was shaking, his knees knocking together, visibly terrified. Troy, on the other hand, was frantically looking around, trying to find a way to get everyone out of there as quickly as possible. The options seemed limited. Nero was in the corner of the room, desperately trying to open an escape route for the group through the ventilation system.

"If you're going to fight, I'll go with you," Gideon's voice rose, but there was uncertainty in it. "I'm not confident, but... I'll follow you to the end."

A deep, malicious laugh echoed through the room, as if the air around them had grown denser. Varian looked at the young men with a curious gaze, almost as if he were amused by their audacity.

"WELL, VERY WELL!" The laugh continued, reverberating unsettlingly. "It's been years since I've seen such courage! Very well, I'll accept your proposal, boy. Let me know your name."

Khaz stared at Varian with eyes burning with fury. "Cyrus. Remember it well, old man. I'm going to hit you and leave here with everything that's rightfully mine."

He took a step forward, defiant, his hand resting lightly on his blade. "Step back, Gideon. This is between him and me. Gather the others and wait for my signal to flee."

The tension in the room was palpable. Varian took a step forward, and the serpent tattooed on his arm seemed to come alive, writhing under his skin, as if ready to strike. The air around them seemed to thicken, the atmosphere charged with a menacing foreboding.

"Let's see what you've got, boy," Varian said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I won't use my divine abilities, nor my sword... Just my fists. Show me what you're worth."

Khaz felt the adrenaline surge. He knew he had no choice. He just needed one chance—one opening, one distraction. He didn't trust that Varian would let them go with the medallion, but it was all he had.

With a muffled shout, Khaz lunged forward with speed, his blade slicing through the air in a precise thrust. Varian, however, leaned to the side with impressive agility, letting the blade graze his tunic. He looked at Khaz with a mocking smile, as if he already knew what was coming next.

Khaz quickly retreated, frustration bubbling up inside him. His eyes narrowed, searching for an opening. He needed more than brute force—he needed a strategy.

"You're surprising me, boy," Varian said, his words almost taunting. "But let's see if you can reach me."

Varian advanced, his fists moving with terrifying speed. Khaz barely managed to dodge, feeling the cutting wind of Varian's punch pass right by his side. But then, a precise strike hit his stomach, making him double over in pain. He staggered back a few steps, spitting blood, and felt the metallic taste in his mouth.

"Boss!" Everyone shouted in unison.

Ezra was in the corner of the room, his hands moving swiftly as he tried to unlock the runic seal on the door, desperate to open an escape route for the group. But time was running out.

Khaz wiped the blood from his lips, his gaze hardening. "Not enough, old man," he growled with rising fury as he charged again.

Varian seemed to be enjoying himself. "Good, it seems the dog not only barks but also bites. Now it's my turn."

With a fluid and immense motion, Varian adjusted his stance and, with a precise punch, struck Khaz square in the chest. The impact was devastating, and Khaz was thrown backward, falling to his knees, gasping for air.

"You're good, kid," Varian said, watching him with a mix of respect and amusement. "But you're centuries away from landing a hit on me."

Khaz's strikes were becoming more frantic and unpredictable, like those of a cornered wolf. He landed a quick punch to the side of Varian's face, but the villain dodged with ease. Still, Khaz didn't back down. He knew time was running out. Each strike was another desperate attempt to find a flaw, to wear Varian down until an opening appeared.

But Varian didn't seem to tire. He delivered another blow, and Khaz, with quick reflexes, dodged to the side. The fight was now a deadly dance, the two moving with the precision of predators, each trying to outmaneuver the other.

Khaz was covered in bruises and blood, but still standing, his eyes burning with determination. He knew he couldn't stop. "It's not over yet. I've still got something for you."