Third and longest chapter! Thanks to future author at work for reviewing.
Enjoy!
Desperately, I lunged forward.
He dodged nimbly, and counterattacked.
After a few strikes and parries, I got an idea of his fighting style. Quick and flexible on defense, but stealthy on offense, like if you didn't keep moving, his blade would sneak its way to your undefended throat.
He was a good fighter and, I admit, a challenge.
I was going to kick his sorry butt.
I came at him with a swipe to the head. In a flash, he rolled smoothly to one side, came up kneeling, and returned with a side thrust.
Gritting my teeth, I slammed his blade away and slashed again, this time at his side.
He jumped back and I pressed forward.
I faked a jab at his head and dove at his chest.
He manuvered around me effortlessly and hacked downward.
Growling, I backed up as he advanced, not even breaking a sweat.
This was taking so much longer than I thought. I was expected back soon, with the head of this boy, back to Kronos as a spoil of war.
This guy wasn't cooperating.
He came at me with a swipe to the knee and I lept into the air, my senses opening up.
I was born to fight like this.
Again, I faked a slash at his head, but this time, I manuvered around his second strike and kicked his legs out from underneath him.
As I expected, he was back on his feet in a flash, but not completely focused.
He was flustered, disoriented, and not expecting my next move.
I ducked his blind lunge, and slashed the side of my blade across his cheek, satisfied by the sharp hiss, the burst of crimson blood, and the wince that followed.
Spinning my sword around, I slammed my hilt against the side of his head, successfully giving another wound, a good sized one that would start to bruise soon.
If he even lived that long.
This was my fatal flaw.
The one that would bring me down from a great victory.
And perhaps the one that caused my sister's death.
I had always told us that it was the gods, they had let her die and didn't care for us.
It was all their fault.
But was it all their mistake? I asked myself frequently.
This was it.
I was vain.
And I was distracted, lost in a sea of memories.
The whistle of a black iron blade streaking toward my throat brought me back.
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