As Ram's footsteps faded into the distance, Mando widened his stance and raised his massive sword in a defensive guard. Both hands gripped the hilt—left forward, right back—the weight perfectly balanced in his practiced hold.
The forest was unnaturally silent. Even the insects and night birds had stilled, as if the whole world held its breath.
Come out, demon. I'm ready for you, Mando thought, eyes sweeping the shadows with the discipline of a hunter.
Without warning, something blurred from his right—a streak of pale, twisted flesh moving with impossible speed. The strike came for his chest.
Reflex answered reflex. Mando swung his oversized blade to intercept. Metal met flesh with a sound like thunder. The force rattled his bones, but the sword held. Thin cracks spiderwebbed along its surface as the blow reverberated up his arms.
The demon recoiled, staring at its smoking limb where pale flesh had charred black.
Silver inlay, Mando realized grimly, shifting his grip to bear more weight with his right hand. The old stories were true.
A laugh slithered through the clearing—neither human nor animal, vibrating directly inside Mando's skull. It came from everywhere at once.
"You still managed to laugh after what you did to my companion!" Mando shouted into the dark, fury flaring. His grip adjusted, blade angled, ready. Show yourself, monster.
A voice answered from the left. Smooth, almost pleasant—more unnerving than a growl.
"What do I care? He tasted awful anyway."
The words froze Mando's blood.
"But since you blocked my strike…" The voice teased, and something small dropped at his feet. Red beans glistened wetly in the moonlight. Blood pearls. Victims' essence crystallized.
"Eat them," the demon coaxed, amusement in its tone. "You'll grow strong. Don't you want that?"
Mando sneered. "I don't need strength like that. I need to kill you." His knuckles whitened on the hilt as his other hand brushed his pouch. His family's faces filled his mind. For them. Everything for them.
A figure stepped into the moonlight. At first, a handsome youth. Then, skin split, jaw unhinged, eyes sinking and swelling into bulbous orbs that fractured the light. Rows of needle-teeth gleamed.
"If you can," it snarled, extending a claw in mock invitation.
It vanished.
Mando was already moving. His left hand scattered silver powder in a circle, forming a faint, shimmering barrier. Old hunter's trick. Please work.
The demon lunged from behind. Its claw reached for his spine, a barbed whip for his throat. But the silver burned like fire. The monster shrieked.
Now.
Mando pivoted, swinging with all his strength. The blade sang through the air toward its midsection.
But the demon twisted unnaturally, dodging, and its spear-like limb drove deep into Mando's stomach.
Agony exploded through him. Blood gushed, hot and metallic in his mouth. Too fast… too slow…
The demon reappeared on a branch, crouching like a gargoyle. It licked his blood from its limb with a grotesque tongue.
"What now, human?" it taunted.
Mando dropped to one knee, clutching his wound with his left hand, his sword firm in the right. His breaths came ragged, his beard dark with blood. I'm dying. But not yet.
He whispered, "It seems my time has come." His wife's smile and son's face filled his mind, a balm against the pain. Despite everything, he smiled.
The demon flinched at the sight. "Why are you smiling?!"
Mando's eyes burned. His roar split the night.
"WHY AM I SMILING?!"
He surged forward, slamming his sword into the tree. Wood splintered. The trunk toppled. The demon tumbled.
Even mortally wounded, Mando moved like a storm. He dropped his sword, seized the demon's limb with his silver gauntlet. Flesh sizzled. He punched its eye with bone-cracking force. Black ichor sprayed, burning his skin.
The demon shrieked, driving another dagger-limb into his wound, but Mando locked it in both arms, holding it fast.
"You're not going anywhere," he gasped. Blood bubbled at his lips, but his grip was iron. "You're staying here!"
The eastern sky lightened. Dawn crept through the trees.
The demon thrashed in panic. "Let me go! The sunlight!"
Mando held tighter. His vision tunneled, but his will blazed.
The golden rays pierced the canopy. Smoke hissed from the demon's flesh. Its screams turned from fury to terror.
"Stop! Please!" it begged.
Mando whispered, "Too late."
The rising sun consumed it. Flesh blistered, crumbled, scattered to ash.
Mando collapsed, staring up at the glowing leaves overhead. Beautiful. At least I see the sunrise… one last time.
The patrol found him minutes later, silver ring unbroken, demon reduced to dust.
"He killed it. Alone," the captain murmured in awe.
Ram pushed forward, tears streaming, gripping his brother's cold hand.
"You did it," he whispered. "You kept your promise. The city is safe."
"And that," Sol declared, voice filling the training hall, "is a hero who gave everything to protect his people."
He stood tall, scarred face severe, hand resting on a sword that had tasted real battle.
"My name is Sol. From today, I am your teacher. Do you understand, future swordsmen?"
"YES, SIR!" the recruits roared.
"The path of the sword is not for glory, nor fame, nor wealth," Sol continued. His gaze swept the class, lingering on young Aelar. "The true swordsman fights for others. Like Mando. A hero who asked for nothing, and gave everything."