Blades clashed. The smell of sweat filled the air. Two men's' hands gripped their swords as they interlocked in a tense duel. Blood slicked their bodies and streaked across the hard marble floor. Their loose white tunics, the fabric stained red in more places than not, hung loosely on their shoulders, both filled with their share of holes. The two stood in a large, circular arena-like room with six tall pillars equally spaced around the outer wall, two matching double doors located on opposite sides of two high arching windows. The high domed ceiling held a giant window of colored bits of glass at its peak, projecting many hues on the fighters below. Beautiful colored tapestries depicting battles that had escaped history books covered the bare walls. The only sound was each dueler's heavy breathing and the clash of steel. The two that fought were not enemies but a teacher and apprentice, the older man trying his hardest to best his young learner. This was not an instructional match, but a duel to the death.
The elder showed looks of horror on his face, but not because he did not hold the advantage, but because all of his Brothers had already fallen to the young apprentice's sword. His fear-filled face was outlined by a thick jaw covered in a short white beard. The matching hair on his head seemed even whiter when contrasted with his tan leathery skin and dark eyes. His single bladed sword matched that of his apprentice, a curved sword of unbreakable metal that never needed sharpened. The elder's blade gleamed, showing a perfect reflection of the movement around it, but the younger's blade showed a slightly darker hue to the metal it was made of. The twin blades moved in similar sword forms as each used thrusts and parries that they both knew very well.
The learner recoiled from a surprisingly strong blow from his opponent's sword. He quickly brought his own sword down towards the elder's side only to be blocked. With a twist of his sword, the learner moved the elder's blade to the side and jabbed at his left leg, but once again his sword clanked off the other. The learner's blade moved in an upward movement to find his opponent's head but it was not there and he quickly flipped his sword to his back to defend the incoming slice.
As the stalemate continued, the look of determination on the learner's face hardened. He had made it this far and was not about to give up now. His thick brow creased and his squinted green eyes looked for a hole in his teacher's defenses. His short, brown hair circled around the sides and back of his head under longer hair that he kept out of his eyes with a thin leather cord. Beads of sweat and blood dripped off the tip of his pointed nose and off the bottom of his shaven chin. Hatred filled his body as he was driven by the bloodlust that pulsed through his entire being. The battle drew on with neither gaining the upper hand.
"What have you done to my Brothers?" the elder finally spoke through gritted teeth.
Images flashed through the apprentice's head. A severed head. A melted corpse. An exploded skull. He was not ashamed of what he had done. More images now; he saw many other helpless victims who met death with the looks of surprise still carved upon their faces. He felt little remorse for those who stood in his way. When pride is allied with hostility, all reason is denied. He must do what was needed to complete his final plan. One man stood in the way of him fulfilling the prophecy. No, his prophecy! Something he had kept secret for too long. Something he had been told a long time ago.
"You would not understand. I must do this!" he answered back, careful not to lose his concentration. He had to end this, it was taking too long. He narrowed his focus and locked blades with his master. Each drew in towards each other forcing themselves closer, blades still pressed together. Their bodies neared each other's until their foreheads almost touched. Each stared deeper into each other's eyes, a look of disgust covering both their faces.
Finally the elder spoke, "Then you truly are lost," a look of pure sadness appearing on his face, "It does not end as I thought it would." The younger's face hardened until it could have been carved from stone. As they used what seemed to be the last of their strength to push each other's swords away, both stumbled back a few paces. The elder hunched over, hands on his knees, as to not waste his energy standing, panting as he gulped breaths of air. But as he peered up, he saw his apprentice standing, arms raised outstretched with his sword in one hand above his head. He wore a smirk as he muttered something that was unintelligible to his elder.
All six pillars shattered at once as if made of the most fragile glass. Tiny shrapnel flew in every direction as the elder threw his open hands up to protect his face, sword clattering to the floor. Pieces of rock pelted him from every side, seeming to pierce his flesh. He thrashed as his whole body was racked with pain from the explosion. He dropped to his knees as his last unstained parts of his clothing became drenched with blood. The crimson liquid poured from his whole body as if all of his sweat had been replaced with blood. He tried to fight it as he finally slumped to the floor in too much physical pain to go on. His body twitched as his breath came in short liquid wheezes. He heard nothing as the last bit of rubble settled and he used his last efforts to tilt his head to see what had become of his apprentice.
He still stood with his arms raised as if he had never been touched. Upon closer looks, it seemed as if he was surrounded by an invisible barrier; not one piece of rock lay within three paces of his feet. The younger's face was unchanged as he lifted it toward the sky. The elder followed his glare, in time to see the colored glass ceiling, in a million pieces, plummeting toward where he lay. His hoarse yell was barely distinguishable over the deep laugh of the other man. His mouth still curved upward in that evil grin. He was not finished yet, this was only the beginning.