promise of death

Zed exhaled slowly, then rose from his seat on the chariot. The dirt beneath his boots crunched softly as he stepped down, his movements measured, deliberate.

Then, without warning—

A second figure emerged beside him, as if materializing from the shadows.

Zed's copy.

Bathed in the cold glow of the moon, the masked entity stood motionless. Blood dripped from his fingers, his entire frame soaked in crimson. The eerie blue glow of his soul blade flickered like a hungry beast, pulsing with anticipation. His black Asura skull mask—twisted into a permanent grin—seemed almost amused by the scene before him.

The remaining bandits, what little of them were left, shifted uneasily. Some gripped their weapons tighter, others took an involuntary step back. Even Zander, who had convinced himself that Zed was the masked figure all along, felt his stomach churn.

"No… that's impossible. There's two of them?"

Roadie, however, did not waver. His fury burned too brightly to be dimmed by confusion. His breathing was ragged, his fingers twitching against the hilt of his blade. He was waiting, itching for an excuse to cut Zed down where he stood.

Then, Zed spoke.

"The royal guards and Edgar's men are three kilometers away," he said, his voice calm, almost indifferent. His sharp blue eyes scanned the battlefield, meeting Roadie's with an unsettling confidence. "They've already formed a perimeter around this area."

He lifted a single finger and pointed directly at Roadie.

"No one gets in. No one gets out."

Silence.

The wind howled through the trees, carrying the stench of blood and burnt flesh across the battlefield. The once-mighty bandits, now little more than battered corpses littering the dirt, stood frozen in fear. Some gripped their weapons out of sheer instinct, though their fingers trembled, their grips weak. Others had already dropped their blades, their spirits crushed beneath the weight of what they had just witnessed.

They had followed Roadie, believing him to be invincible. A force of nature.

But now, standing before them, coated in blood with his cracked red Asura skull mask, was a single man—no, a demon.

And he had slaughtered them like cattle.

A slow, deliberate motion.

Zed lowered his hand.

"You can have your duel," he said, his voice steady, emotionless. Each word cut through the cold night like steel. "Just like you wanted…."

The bandits held their breath.

Then, after a long pause, Zed's eyes sharpened.

"After all, even I want to kill you with my own hands."

A shiver ran through the men. His voice was eerily calm, yet beneath it lay something primal—a quiet promise of death.

Zed's copy, standing beside him, took a step closer. His bloodied cloak billowed slightly in the wind, the eerie glow of his blade casting flickering shadows across his face.

Leaning in, he whispered, "Will you keep your promise if I win?"

Zed turned to him, his icy blue eyes unreadable. For a moment, there was only silence, save for the crackling flames of the battlefield.

Then, with a sigh, Zed ran a hand through his hair. "Fine." His voice was measured, almost reluctant. "If you can kill him, then we won't go with Plan B."

The copy smirked beneath his mask. "Just the thing I wanted to hear."

Then, he raised his sword, letting the tip scrape against the dirt. A low, metallic shriek echoed as the blade hummed with a spectral blue glow, the energy of his very soul pulsating through it.

Across from him, Roadie stood tall.

His battered armor was dented, his face smeared with blood—none of it his own.

Even now, he looked unstoppable.

Roadie had been a legend long before this day. A Peak Ascended Rhu user, a warrior who tore through entire armies without breaking a sweat.

His name alone was enough to strike fear into the empire.

The moment the signal was given, Zed's copy vanished.

A blur of movement—faster than the human eye could track—launched forward, closing the distance between him and Roadie in an instant. The bandits barely had time to register the movement before the first strike landed.

CLANG!

Roadie barely managed to parry the downward slash, his arms jarring from the force of the impact. Sparks exploded from the clash of steel, and before he could retaliate, the masked figure was gone again.

SWOOSH!

A sudden weight behind him—too late!

Zed's copy reappeared behind Roadie, his sword already in motion.

SLASH!

Roadie staggered forward, barely dodging the deadly arc. His breathing grew ragged, his muscles burned, his mind raced.

Shit. He's fast.

The strikes came like a storm—fast, relentless, unpredictable. The very air cracked under the force of each collision. The masked figure was an executioner, his blade moving with deadly precision, each strike aimed at a vital point, each movement designed to kill.

Even Roadie, a Peak Ascendant-stage Rhu user, was being pushed back.

From the distance, Zed watched from his chariot, eyes cold and calculating.

Roadie is powerful—his Rhu reserves are monstrous, and his physical strength is absurd. But he's reckless. Predictable. His anger makes him waste energy unnecessarily.

His copy, however, was different. Controlled. Tactical. His movements were calculated, never wasting an inch of motion. Always aiming for the blind spots.

Even the bandits, once filled with blind loyalty, began to waver.

They had seen their leader crush warriors far stronger than this boy. And yet—he was struggling.

Some bandits instinctively took a step back, their grips loosening on their weapons. Doubt crept into their hearts.

Roadie grit his teeth.

I've fought monsters, entire armies… and I'm getting pushed back by a goddamn kid?

His grip tightened around his sword.

That ends now.

Zed's copy vanished again, his speed nearly breaking the sound barrier as he appeared above Roadie.

His blade came down in a deadly arc.

CLANG!

Roadie blocked.

But—it wasn't enough.

The impact sent him skidding backward, his boots carving deep trenches in the dirt.

Zed's copy landed, eyes narrowing beneath his half-broken mask.

He's tough. But in terms of speed, I win.

He tightened his grip on his sword.

As long as I keep moving and don't get caught, I can wear him down.

The moment he thought that—

Roadie smirked.

Caught you.

A single mistake.

A fraction of a second too slow.

Zed's copy had gone for a high kick to Roadie's face, aiming to break his stance. But just as his foot made contact—

Roadie's hand clamped down on his ankle.

And then—

BOOM!

With monstrous strength, Roadie smashed him into the ground, the impact creating a crater.

The earth shattered beneath them.

Blood sprayed from Zed's copy's mouth as the air was crushed from his lungs. His vision blurred from the sheer force of the blow.

Shit—!

Before Roadie could follow up, Zed's copy twisted his body at the last second, slipping free from the grip. He flashed backward, distancing himself.

Panting, he wiped the blood from his lips.

His arms trembled. His ribs ached.

Even after all of that, Roadie barely had a scratch on him.

Zed's voice rang in his head, cold and sharp.

That's enough. You can't beat him. Let's go with the second copy's plan. I can't have you suffer more.

Zed's copy breathed heavily, eyes burning with defiance.

No.

Zed frowned. Don't be stubborn. Just give up, and we can end this fast.

His copy clenched his fists.

I would rather die in this bastard's hands than let Copy Two's plan take action.

Silence.

Then, his copy continued.

Zed. Deep down, even you don't want to go through with Plan B. You want him to die before it comes to that, don't you?

Zed's jaw tightened.

His copy smirked. Thought so.

Zed exhaled sharply. Do what you want. I won't ask again.

His copy wiped the blood from his chin, eyes steeling with resolve.

Roadie laughed.

"That all you got?" He rolled his shoulders, smirking. "Come on. Entertain me more."

Zed's copy cracked his neck.

"You asked for it."

They clashed.

A flash of steel—

A deafening explosion—

Each impact shook the battlefield.

The force of their swords colliding sent shockwaves rippling outward, strong enough that even Edgar—three kilometers away—felt it.

The royal guard captain narrowed his eyes, his grip on his reins tightening as his horse grew uneasy.

"What the hell is happening out there…?" he muttered. "Who is fighting Roadie so intensely?"

Another shockwave—

Another deafening boom—

And then—

A break in Roadie's stance.

Zed's copy exploited it instantly.

WHAM!

A brutal uppercut kick landed beneath Roadie's chin.

For the first time, Roadie fell to his knees.

Silence.

Everyone watching—the bandits, the nobles, even Edgar's soldiers—froze in disbelief.

A kid had just forced a Peak Ascended-stage Rhu user to the ground.

A kid had just made a legend kneel.

For the first time, the bandits felt true fear.

Their weapons, already trembling in their hands, slipped from their grasps.

This wasn't supposed to be possible.

Their leader—the man they had followed, the monster they had feared—was being beaten by a boy in a broken mask.

A hushed murmur spread through the ranks.

Then, one bandit whispered, "H-he's not human…"

One by one, the will to fight crumbled.

Zander, watching from the sidelines, felt his heart hammer against his ribs.

His mind refused to accept what he was seeing.

This... this can't be happening.

The sight of their leader—a legend, a warrior who had torn through armies without breaking a sweat—brought to his knees by a mere child? It was absurd. Impossible.

Zander's hands clenched into fists. His breath came ragged, his body trembling as he fought to hold onto the last shred of hope.

No. Roadie wasn't done yet.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his voice to rise over the chaos.

"Roadie! Get up! You're the strongest! End this!"

A heavy silence followed.

Then—a deep breath.

And movement.

Roadie's fingers twitched.