Arcadia's Ignoble Knight: The Sorceress of Ashtown

Death

The assassin rushed forward, using his shock as an opening, her body moving so fast she appeared as nothing more than a streak black and silver. It was only instinct that saved Caspian from having a pair of daggers stuck in his chest. He knocked her attacks aside, his blade clashing against both of hers, then backpedaled to put some distance between them.

"W-wait! Damn it, stop!"

But she didn't stop. She advanced on him again, her attacks increasing in ferocity, forcing Caspian to push his ragged body harder. Her strikes became faster, and Caspian's breathing grew even more labored as he struggled to keep up.

"Please! There's no more need for us to fight! Just surrender!"

His enemy said nothing. With her lips set in a grim line, her daggers wove an impenetrable barrier of death. Two blades seemed to become thirty in her hands. Every strike he blocked felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his sword. It wasn't just one single swing, however, but numerous swings within a single second. The accumulative force from consecutive swings, all within one second, was the same as if someone with the strength of a Gigantis-a giant from the country of Altruiste to the west-attacked with one swing.

I-if I don't do something...

Sweat stung Caspian's eyes, blurring his vision. Yet he continued to defend himself, his mind working furiously as he blocked the woman's blades.

... then I really will be killed by her!

Desperation fueling his body, Caspian rolled along the floor. The elf struck air. He leapt back to his feet. She turned around at the same time he did. She ran at Caspian as he thrust his sword forward. Her eyes widened, as did his. She tried to stop. Caspian's throat closed around the scream that attempted to bubble from his throat.

Blood dripped along his blade, coating it, covering it. Tainting it. It was everywhere. It spilled to the floor, creating a puddle that drenched his boots. His sword was buried in the elf's chest all the way up to the hilt.

"Why...?" Caspian could feel a tremor course through his body as he stared at the woman. Her eyes gazed back at him, blinking several times, as if she couldn't quite understand what was happening. "Why didn't you surrender? I would've... I could've protected you..."

The elf looked away from his blade and into his eyes. They were dimming. She was dying. Yet somehow, in spite of that, she managed to smile.

"You really are... naive, aren't you? But then, perhaps that is a good thing. Maybe... maybe you can do what Dranor and I couldn't. Perhaps you can be... the beacon of hope that we... that we tried to be..."

Backing away in shock, Caspian pulled his sword from her chest. The elf didn't make a sound as she fell onto her back, her head cracking against the carpeted floor. As her eyes dimmed and her breathing grew shallow, she whispered a single word, "D-Dranor..." and then she became still.

Caspian stared at the body with wide eyes. He had just killed her. She was dead. She was dead because he'd killed her. She was gone. Dead. No more. He'd snuffed her out like a candle. It was as if she'd never existed.

"Oh... oh, no..."

The world spun around in a dizzying blur. Caspian fell onto his hands and knees. Bile rose up in his throat, forcing him to clamp a hand over his mouth. Even so, some fluids still leaked from between his fingers. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of the now cooling corpse. It didn't work. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was his sword piercing her chest, of blood drenching the floor, of sightless eyes and a lifeless body and the knowledge that he'd killed someone.