Haise Vs Avari

The silence stretched longer than it should have. Avari's question still hung in the air, untouched. Only the torch crackling behind him dared to make a sound. Haise's mouth was half-open, caught somewhere between a panicked answer and a full-on lie, but the words wouldn't come.

Karsen stepped in front of him before he could figure it out. His hand clamped over Haise's mouth, firm but not rough.

"We're from a nearby camp," Karsen said. "Sent to scout a lost supply caravan."

That was it. No story. No clever spin.

Haise blinked. He really said it. Just the truth, plain as dirt. Without bluff. Haise expected him to make something up, anything to buy a little space between them and the knight, but instead, Karsen just laid it down like a stone. The boldness of it almost made Haise laugh. Instead, he stayed still, the weight of the armored figure before them keeping every muscle frozen.

"You came unarmed?" the knight finally asked.

"We had weapons," Karsen said with a shrug. "Didn't keep 'em."

"Why not?"

"Goblins. ..A lot of them."

The quiet that followed pressed in on Haise. Not silence, just tension, heavy and sharp. He didn't need the knight to speak or move. He could feel the judgment already.

"Your story matches fragments we've gathered."

Haise didn't let the relief show. Not yet.

"But," Avari continued, "that caravan was under sealed imperial contract. I saw what was left. Burned. Stripped. Dumped like garbage."

He let that land. Didn't rush it.

"I want to know if either of you had anything to do with that."

Karsen let his hand drop from Haise's face. "No," he said. "We didn't touch it. Didn't start the fire. Didn't take anything. We showed up late. Figured we could salvage what the goblins missed."

The knight said nothing.

Then came a name.

"Was this Arno's doing?"

That question hit harder than anything else so far. Haise flinched. Karsen tensed like someone had pulled a wire tight between his shoulder blades. Even the soldiers behind the knight reacted. Just a subtle shift. But they heard it too.

Haise didn't think before speaking. "What if it was?"

Avari tilted his head slightly, the motion slow. "Then you should've said so earlier."

His tone shifted. Still hard, but less distant. Like they'd passed some kind of checkpoint neither of them saw.

"You'll assist us," he said. "Both of you will be under my protection until this operation's done."

Karsen squinted at him. "Just like that?"

"No," Avari replied. "Not just like that."

He turned and walked deeper into the ruins.

The other soldiers didn't speak. They stepped aside without being told, making a narrow path through rusted crates and low stone walls. One of them motioned with a slight nod. A signal. Follow.

They did.

Haise caught up to Karsen, voice low. "So we're working with him now?"

"Apparently."

Haise glanced at the back of the knight's armor. "You gonna explain how Arno knows a walking fortress in imperial gear?"

Karsen didn't look at him. "Nope."

Figures.

They passed under a crumbling archway, where vines had curled through old stone like veins. The hallway beyond had once been part of something grand, pillars with half-erased carvings, doorways that led to nothing, light filtering in from cracks overhead. Someone had turned this place into a field base. Tents crammed against walls, crates stacked three high, tools left where they fell. No order. Just survival.

Racks of mismatched weapons leaned against a central wall. None of them shined. None looked new. All carried the weight of use.

Avari stopped in the open space beyond. The kind of clearing meant for sparring or last stands.

He turned toward them, then gestured at the rack. "Pick."

Karsen didn't hesitate. He walked up, grabbed a longsword, and gave it a lazy test swing.

"I want to see if either of you are worth a damn."

Haise's pulse climbed. He looked at Karsen, at the way his grip adjusted slightly. A flicker of doubt sparked in Haise's chest.

What if the card got in the way? What if Karsen tried to hit him and something stopped it—some system rule he didn't understand yet? Would Avari notice? Would the whole thing glitch out?

It was too risky. If something weird happened in the middle of a swing, it'd blow everything open. They didn't know the rules, and Haise wasn't about to find them out the hard way.

"I'll go," Haise said.

Both of them turned to look at him. Haise walked forward, grabbed a sword from the rack, and raised it, not toward Karsen, but straight at Avari.

"Spar with me instead."

The knight tilted his head. "Why?"

Haise didn't think it through. "I want to see what the hype's about."

That earned a short snort from someone behind Avari. Karsen muttered, "Idiot." And honestly, maybe they were both right. Haise doubted anyone else here even knew what the word 'hype' meant.

Avari didn't answer. Not right away. He walked to the rack, chose a sword, and stepped into the center of the clearing.

"Very well."

Haise didn't expect a speech. Just the silence of two people with nothing left to say. He took one breath, wrapped both hands around the grip of his sword, and gave a short nod.

Avari moved.

No buildup. No aggression. Just a precise, measured thrust aimed straight for Haise's midsection. Quick, efficient. A strike meant to end the fight in one clean motion.

That was the plan.

Haise stepped into it.

His boots landed on the flat of the blade. It rocked under his weight, but Avari held it steady, which was exactly what Haise needed. He used the forward force to spring, launching himself up and over, using the knight's reach against him. His body twisted in the air. The point of his own blade angled down, just enough to aim for the narrow slit in the knight's helmet.

Not for damage. Not yet. But close enough to make it real.

Avari reacted fast. Too fast.

The blade dropped. Haise's feet lost their footing midair. Then came the gauntlet. Avari caught him clean in the ribs, turned the momentum, and sent him crashing to the ground with a controlled slam.

Haise rolled hard, the stone cold against his side, breath knocked out of him. His shoulder barked with pain. The sword slipped a few feet away, just out of reach. Avari didn't follow.

He just waited.

No taunts. No pressure. Just quiet, like this was part of some routine. Nothing personal.

Haise coughed and got up. His movements were stiff, but his eyes were tracking now, not just reacting. He watched the space between them. Watched the way Avari stood, centered and steady, like gravity worked harder for him than anyone else.

Haise adjusted his grip. A spark of something reckless pulled at him. The direct approach wasn't working, so maybe something dumber would. He angled his path toward the nearest wall.

Avari didn't stop him. He shifted slightly, just enough to reposition.

Haise ran. Two fast steps, then one foot hit the stone wall. He bounced off it, turning his body mid-leap. A kick came out with it, wide and fast, aimed toward Avari's helmet.

The knight caught him by the ankle.

The grip was like iron. Haise didn't even get to curse before his body flipped again, this time crashing into a stack of old crates behind him. The wood shattered around his back. Pain bloomed through his spine.

For a second, he didn't move. Just lay there, breathing dust and pain, letting his brain catch up.

This wasn't working. Not really.

He pulled himself up slowly, using the sword like a cane. Something about Avari was bugging him. The way the man moved. The way his gaze kept flicking toward the sword. Not him.

Just the blade.

Maybe that mattered.

Haise switched his grip. Reverse, low. The blade trailed behind him as he ran forward again, full sprint, feet crunching against the stone. Avari shifted, ready to meet him in kind. Blade up. A perfect stance with no mistakes.

Haise didn't swing.

He stabbed the sword into the floor and vaulted.

His body went airborne. Legs curled. He flipped forward, used the hilt as a hinge, and pushed himself up and over. For a second, he saw the top of Avari's helmet. The way his eyes were still focused on the sword pinned in the stone.

Too late.

Haise's boot clipped the edge of the visor.

Not enough to knock him over. But enough to knock something loose.

He landed hard. Knees hit first, then palms. His body lurched forward as he scrambled to move. But Avari was already there.

The knight grabbed him mid-push, flipped him over like a sack, and slammed him to the ground again. This time, it wasn't a toss.

It was a finish.

Cold steel tapped his throat.

Everything stopped.

Avari stood above him. Silent. Still.

Then, calmly:

"You're too creative for your own good."

The blade lifted.

Haise stayed down. Chest rising and falling fast. His ribs ached. His arms shook. But despite the pain, his mouth twitched.

"Thanks."

He meant it. Sort of.