Friedroth’s halberd slashes shuddered Geruke’s arms. One of the Templaga fought with a claymore, but the other with a two-handed war hammer, splattering shards of steel up in the air and away from Geruke’s two blades. Jogging backwards, his heart hammered his sternum as he flicked his sword at the blurring weapons that smothered his vision and periphery.

After slamming away a war hammer, his sabatons slipped across stone. He tripped over a rock and stumbled backwards. Friedroth smiled and leapt at Geruke, swinging his blurring halberd towards his nec-

Shards of wood burst above and onto Geruke and the Templaga as he swung his blades at Friedroth’s halberd, slicing it in two. The halberd blade dropped to the grass and the other two Templaga continued battering him backwards.

Friedroth picked up the severed halberd; Geruke didn’t cut it close enough to the blade. There was enough of the shaft left to handle, so Friedroth gripped it with one hand and pulled out a short-sword with the other. He ran up to them to join the other two Templaga.

Whilst Friedroth wasn’t there, Geruke didn’t jog backwards; he stepped backwards. His arms didn’t shudder from the parries; they shivered. So he rushed at them, abandoning all defense. He refused to squander the opportunity to attack whilst their captain’s absence weakened them.

Geruke ducked and slid across the grass, letting a blade fly over his head and hiss across the tip of his helmet. The soldier, with the war hammer, swung her hammer down at him. Geruke swung his swords at the shaft of her war hammer, the blades scissoring the wood. He could already see splinters and shards of wood sprinkling from the deepening c-

She yanked the war hammer away from Geruke’s swords and swung back down to slam it against his blades. The sprinkling of metal shards obscured the sprinkling of wood as one of Geruke’s blades shattered. Only with the other sword was he able to slam the hammer away from his nose.

Dashing backwards, he chucked the broken sword at the soldier’s face, but she dashed away from it; not ducking - not wanting to take any chances. As they dashed, Geruke rushed them again, short-sword gripped in both hands. Friedroth zoomed in front of them and blocked Geruke’s blade with the one-handed halberd and short-sword scissored together.

The other two Templaga hurried to his sides and swung their weapons. Geruke couldn’t pull his sword backwards; the halberd’s hook and the sword scissored together and hooked his blade into place. Blurring hammers and swords devoured both sides of his periph-

Geruke ducked, hissing his blade down and out of the halberd’s hook. A soldier swung her hammer above his head, and the other thrust his claymore. Severing extended arms at the elbow, Geruke’s blade passed through flesh and bone in a high arc. A claymore fled the hands of severed arms. Geruke jumped to his feet from a crouch and spun, thrusting the momentum of his previous swing into the next slash that sliced across the neck of the claymore-wielding soldier. He tumbled to the grass, spraying blood.

Two left.

The two of them sweat, panted, and scowled as they rammed him back with their weapons. Finally, their arrogance broke. While it brought Geruke pride, it also pressured him backwards much harder than before. They got serious. In order to exploit such emotions, he pulled a hand away from his short sword to parry and jab with one.

Geruke chuckled as they twitched and grimaced. His arm shook and wobbled as their strikes hardened. More shards of steel splattered into the air. But their eyes focused on his sword and upper body, wanting to get past that defense in order to make him regret his arrogance. They were ignorant of what his spare hand did.

It fell to his belt and gripped the hilt of a dagger. Yanking it out, he threw it at Friedroth. It whooshed through the air, shot straight towards his eye, and through the helmet’s sli-

It bounced off the helmet as Friedroth swerved his head to the side. The dagger spun in the air and fell onto the grass beside them. Dirt splashed it as the two of them rushed past it to continue ramming Geruke backwards.

His back crashed against bark and he glanced around himself to see that they pushed him to the trees near the lake. They spread away from each other to corner him against the tree and battered him against it. A soldier’s war hammer banged against his armour like a gong, denting it, and Friedroth sliced cuts cross the gaps in his armour, soaking his gambeson with blood.

Geruke glanced down at a branch that had an equal height to his waist. Friedroth thrust his short-sword towards the gap in his helmet, and the other soldier swung her hammer at the back of Geruke’s kn-

Geruke leapt over the hammer and let Friedroth’s blade point hiss past the side of his breastplate as he jumped onto the branch he glanced at. As soon as his sabatons scraped bark, he dashed off it and over the two Templaga. Sliding across the grass, he landed and spun, slashing his blade at them as they both turned to pa-

Slicing through wood, Geruke chopped the war hammer in two.

However, the two pieces were too big. She snatched the hammer with one hand before it fell and swung it down at the gap in Geruke’s helmet. He flicked his sword back up to par-

Shattered steel splashed his face from the impact, and the hammer continued swinging towards his face. He ducked to dodge and rolled backwards. As soon as he got to his feet, he dashed backwards. He faked a throw of his broken blade at Friedroth and instead threw it at the woman, but she ducked and the broken blade crunched into wood.

Both of Geruke’s hands wrapped around the hilt of his claymore. He drew it from its sheathe as the soldier strangled the broken shaft of her war hammer with one hand and whipped a short sword out of a scabbard that hung by her belt with the other. She and Friedroth rushed at him. Geruke flicked his claymore around his field of vision. Sparks flashed all around him.

Sweat stampeded across his skin. Blood soaked his gambeson and clung to his body. Panting, his arms shook and his knees trembled as he dashed backwards. His back slammed against bark again. Shuddering his heart, their four weapons devoured his vision and-

Geruke ducked and slashed at the Templaga woman’s legs. Her knees buckled as they disconnected from their shins and calfs in a spray of gore. She screa-

Rising to a stand, he severed her head, showering the trees with blood and flesh.

One left.

As the steel helmet thudded on the grass and rattled against the skull that lied within, Friedroth wrinkled his skin with a scowl, yelled, and leapt at Geruke. The slashes, thrusts and swings of his halberd and short sword battered Geruke backwards. The confines of the trees left his sight, but his sabatons began slipping on soaked gravel and tripping over beds of loose rocks.

Friedroth pressured him down to the lake.

The closer Friedroth shoved Geruke to the lake, the more awkward his footwork and the harder it was to dodge and parry.

He had to end the fight immediately, or else there was no hope.

Geruke rushed at Friedroth and thrust his shoulder towards him. The halberd smashed against his pauldron, denting it and piercing his shoulder with pain. Swinging his claymore at Friedroth’s neck, Geruke took one hand away from the hilt and reached for his belt to grab a dagger, expecting his enemy to parry. Friedroth’s sword rose and Geruke was correct. He strangled the hilt of a dagger with his spare hand and thrust it towards-

Friedroth sliced Geruke’s wrist with his short sword and swerved his head to the side, letting Geruke’s dagger hiss across his helmet. Geruke’s claymore dropped to the floor as his grip weakened, and his fingers dropped, following gravity and the blood that dripped across his arm and pattered the grass.

Geruke dropped his dagger, crouched and reached for his claymor-

Friedroth flung his foot at the sword, kicking it away and into the lake. Geruke reached for the dagger and grabbed i-

Friedroth swung his halberd at his wrist. Gasping, Geruke yanked his hand down and away from the halber-

Geruke yelled as Friedroth kicked his hand, sending pain rushing through it. His grip loosened, the dagger fled from his grasp to rattle on the grass. Dashing backwards and up to his feet, he dodged the slash of Friedroth’s sword.

Water splashed as Geruke stepped into the lake. His dashing away from Friedroth turned to a trudge. Geruke tripped and Friedroth swung his weapons at Geruke’s neck. He slammed his feet into the gravel underneath the water and solidified his footing enough to crouch and let Friedroth’s weapons scraped across the top of his helmet. Geruke reached for a dagge-

Belting out a deep and gravelly laugh, Friedroth yanked his weapons down, twirled them, and slammed the pommels against Geruke’s temple.

His helmet flew off his head to splash into the water along with his body.

Blood that dribbled from his mouth and dripped down his head spread across the lake like ink. Friedroth leapt at Geruke, slamming his feet on both sides of his body. He rose his two weapons into the air to thrust down towards Geruke’s clearly exposed neck, gleaming in the sunset.