The Rival I Never Meant to Make

Kain Rivel hunched over his cot, the dual axes dumped in a corner like cursed relics. His shack felt smaller, the walls closing in after yesterday's disastrous "hunt." Mya Seraphine's voice still echoed—"Rest well, Kain"—a promise he couldn't shake. She'd killed the boar, not him, but the villagers credited his clumsy axe swing, spinning tales of his "instinct." Worse, whispers of his "prowess" had spread beyond Rivermist. Travelers now lingered, gawking at the "axe hero." Kain wanted to disappear, but the axes—and Mya—kept him tethered.

A rumble outside snapped him upright. Hooves on dirt, voices shouting. He peeked through a crack in the wall. A figure rode into the square—tall, armored, a sword gleaming at his side. Golden hair caught the sun, and Kain's stomach dropped. "Leon Valtor," he whispered. The protagonist of The Blade of Eternity, here far too early. In the novel, Leon arrived in Chapter 10 to save Rivermist from bandits. Kain's wolf and boar "feats" must've drawn him sooner.

"Kain Rivel!" a villager yelled, banging on his door. "The hero's here! Wants to meet you!"

"No!" Kain hissed, clutching his chest as a cough flared. "I'm not meeting him!" But the door flew open, and Tobin dragged him out, axes and all.

"There he is!" Marta cried, waving at Leon. "Our axe master!"

Leon dismounted, his blue eyes narrowing as he scanned Kain—mud-streaked, coughing, the axes dangling awkwardly from his harness. "This is the one?" he asked, voice sharp. "The 'wolf slayer'?"

"Yes!" Tobin beamed, slapping Kain's back. The axes clattered, nearly tripping him. "And he flushed a boar for the swordmaster yesterday!"

"I didn't—" Kain started, but a cough cut him off. He straightened, wheezing. "It's a lie! I'm nobody!"

Leon's brow furrowed. "Nobody doesn't kill shadow wolves. Or hunt with Mya Seraphine." He stepped closer, towering over Kain. "Show me."

"Show you what?" Kain yelped, gripping an axe. It wobbled, slipping from his sweaty hands. "I can't fight! I can't—"

"He's modest!" Gorrin interrupted, hobbling forward. "Blocked her sword, too! A natural!"

Leon's jaw tightened. "Her sword?" He turned, spotting Mya leaning against a hut, her silver hair glinting. She smiled—not at Leon, but at Kain.

"Leon Valtor," she said, sauntering over. "You're early."

"And you're here," he shot back, hand on his hilt. "Training him?"

"He's worth it," she said, her voice silk and steel. She brushed past Leon, resting a hand on Kain's shoulder. "More than you know."

Kain flinched. "I'm not! Tell him I'm weak!" But her grip tightened, possessive, and Leon's eyes darkened.

"A rival," Leon muttered, glaring at Kain. "I don't share glory—or her."

"Rival?" Kain's voice cracked. "I don't want glory! Or her! Take her!"

Mya laughed, chilling and low. "Too late," she whispered, her breath on his ear. "You're mine."

Leon drew his sword, pointing it at Kain. "Prove it, then. Show me those axes."

Kain's blood ran cold. "Prove what? I'll die!" He raised an axe, arms shaking. "See? I can't—"

"Enough talk," Leon snapped, lunging. His blade arced, fast but controlled. Kain shrieked, swinging wildly. The axe clashed with Leon's sword, the jolt knocking him back. The second axe flew from his grip, embedding in a barrel. Leon paused, surprised, as Kain hit the ground, coughing violently.

The villagers erupted. "He parried the hero!"

"A match for Valtor!"

"No match!" Kain rasped, crawling away. "It slipped!"

Leon sheathed his sword, his glare icy. "Slipped or not, you're in my way." He turned to Mya. "Why him?"

"He's special," she said, kneeling beside Kain. She brushed dirt from his face, her touch cold. "You'll see."

"Special?" Leon spat. "He's a fraud. I'll prove it." He stormed off, mounting his horse. "We're not done, Rivel."

Kain slumped, the axes dragging at his hips. "Enemy of the protagonist," he thought, horrified. "I'm so dead." The villagers swarmed, praising his "stand" against Leon. Mya lingered, her smile predatory.

"You did well," she said, hauling him up. "He's jealous. Good."

"Jealous?" Kain wheezed. "He'll kill me! Fix this!"

"No," she said, her eyes gleaming. "I like this. You'll rise, Kain. With me."

"Rise to a grave!" he shouted, but she pulled him toward the square.

"Tomorrow," she said, "we train harder. He'll come back. Be ready."

"Ready for what?" he pleaded, the axes clanking. "I can't fight him!"

"You won't," she whispered, her grip tightening. "I'll keep you safe. Always."

The villagers cheered as Leon rode off, his silhouette a promise of trouble. Kain sank to his knees, coughing into his hands. "She's insane," he thought. "And now Leon hates me."

He glanced at the axes—symbols of his doom. "I need to run," he resolved, but Mya's shadow loomed, her presence inescapable. She wouldn't die—wouldn't let him die either—just trap him in this nightmare.

"Rest," she called, walking away. "You've made an enemy. I'll handle him."

Kain buried his face in his hands. The axes glinted, mocking him. Leon's grudge—and Mya's obsession—sealed his fate.