Blood and Legacy

The Duel Begins

The air was thick with tension.

Asvorn and Clement stood in the middle of the ruined village, their gazes locked. Around them, the fires from the battle still burned, casting long shadows over the broken ground.

The onlookers fell silent.

Lyara and Kaisel kept their distance, their eyes darting between the two warriors. Even Clement's men hesitated, sensing the gravity of what was about to happen.

A father.

A son.

A Deathmatch.

Clement cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders like a beast ready to pounce. The scar across his cheek stretched as he smirked.

"You think you can take me, boy?" His voice was casual, but his eyes gleamed with malice. "You're still weak. Still that same little brat hiding behind his mother's skirts."

Asvorn didn't respond.

His fingers curled into fists. His heartbeat was steady.

He had nothing to say.

Only one thing mattered now—winning.

Clement's smirk widened. "Fine, let's see if you've grown teeth."

And then—

He moved.

Clash of Blood and Steel

Clement exploded forward, his blade whistling through the air.

Asvorn barely had time to react.

CLANG!

He raised his sword just in time, their blades colliding with a shower of sparks.

The force behind Clement's strike sent him skidding backward.

Fast. Strong. Ruthless.

Clement wasn't just a gang leader. He was a killer.

Asvorn adjusted his stance. His muscles ached from the impact, but he held firm.

Clement grinned. "You're still standing? Not bad."

He lunged again.

This time, Asvorn dodged, pivoting to the side. He swung his blade, aiming for Clement's ribs—

But Clement blocked it effortlessly and retaliated with a brutal kick to Asvorn's stomach.

THUD!

Asvorn gasped as the air was knocked out of his lungs. He staggered, but Clement didn't let up.

A fist crashed into his jaw.

A knee struck his ribs.

Pain shot through him as he was sent flying, crashing into the dirt.

Lyara took a step forward, but Asvorn held up a hand, stopping her.

This was his fight.

He pushed himself up, wiping blood from his mouth.

Clement chuckled. "That all you got?"

Asvorn exhaled.

His body ached, but something inside him burned hotter.

He clenched his sword.

"I'm just getting started."

The Fight Intensifies

Asvorn charged, his sword blurring with speed.

Clement blocked, dodged, countered—but Asvorn kept attacking.

Each strike was faster. Sharper. Stronger.

Clement's smirk faded.

For the first time, he was on the defensive.

Asvorn feinted left, then spun right, his blade slicing across Clement's arm.

Blood splattered onto the ground.

Clement growled.

"So, you've improved…"

He stepped back, raising his sword.

"…But you're still not good enough."

Clement vanished.

Asvorn's eyes widened—

A blade was already at his throat.

Too fast!

Clement's knee slammed into his chest, sending him tumbling backward.

Then—

PAIN.

A deep gash tore across Asvorn's side.

He gasped, gripping his wound. Blood seeped between his fingers.

Clement stood over him, his sword dripping red.

"Do you feel it now?" His voice was low, mocking. "That difference in strength? This is what happens when a weakling challenges a king."

Asvorn gritted his teeth.

He tried to stand—

Clement's boot slammed onto his chest, pinning him down.

He couldn't move.

The blade hovered over his throat.

Lyara shouted.

"Asvorn!"

Clement ignored her.

"This is where it ends," he muttered. "You should've never come back."

The Will to Survive

No.

Not like this.

Asvorn refused to die.

Not to him.

Not before saving his mother.

His fingers twitched.

Then—

A surge of power.

Something awakened deep within him.

His vision sharpened. His pain dulled.

Clement's sword came down—

But this time, Asvorn caught it.

With his bare hand.

Clement's eyes widened.

"…What?"

Asvorn's grip tightened.

CRACK.

Clement's sword snapped in half.

The ground shook as Asvorn shoved Clement off of him.

He stood up.

Blood dripped from his wounds.

But his eyes burned with something new.

Clement scowled. "Tch… Looks like I underestimated you."

He tossed his broken sword aside and cracked his knuckles.

"No more playing around."

The Final Exchange

The two warriors charged.

Fists met steel.

Blades clashed.

Each impact sent shockwaves through the air.

Clement threw a brutal right hook—Asvorn dodged and countered with an elbow to his ribs.

Clement staggered, but recovered instantly, grabbing Asvorn's collar and driving his head into Asvorn's face.

Asvorn's vision blurred.

But he didn't stop.

With a roar, he lifted Clement off the ground and slammed him into the dirt.

Clement cursed.

He lashed out with a dagger, slicing Asvorn's shoulder—

Asvorn grunted.

But instead of retreating—

He grabbed Clement's wrist and twisted.

SNAP.

Clement screamed.

His dagger fell to the ground.

Asvorn wasted no time.

He spun, driving his knee into Clement's chest.

Then—

A final punch.

A thunderous impact echoed as Asvorn's fist collided with Clement's face.

Clement's body jerked.

Then—he collapsed.

Silence.

Then, a thud.

Clement lay there, unmoving.

The Aftermath

Asvorn staggered.

His body was broken. Bleeding.

But he had won.

Lyara and Kaisel rushed to his side, but he barely heard them.

His eyes locked onto his mother, still bound in ropes.

She was crying.

"Asvorn…"

He moved toward her, ignoring the pain, and cut her bindings.

She fell into his arms.

He held her tightly.

For the first time in years, he felt whole.