Sparks danced across the warehouse floor like wild fireflies.
Malcador's defense tightened. He tanked the hits, but the rhythm was off—David was forcing him to react, to endure, not control.
A right hook. Hard and clean.
It slammed into Malcador's side. His liver.
For the first time in years, he winced.
This mongrel...
How dare he.
Malcador's aura surged—his rage bleeding into the air like a crimson tide.
But David saw it. Saw the reaction. Saw the pain.
And it ignited him.
Keep going. Don't let up.
They believe in me. I must win.
His fists moved like they had minds of their own. Power flowed into every rune. His muscles burned, but his focus didn't waver.
Malcador's arms came in tight, protecting his head and upper torso.
So long as he doesn't strike the chin, he thought, I can weather this storm.
But David had no intention of stopping.
He left the rest if his body open.
David noted as Malcador shifted his defense.
I have to punch through his Aura. Its thick but I can do it.
This is more than a fight.
If I lose here, they don't just lose their future—we all lose to the rot they serve.
No more. I won't stop.
David's assault was relentless against the Black Knight.
David threw a punch at Malcador. Malcador saw it coming.
If I can see it, I can stop it. He thought as he muscles started to move as they had been honed to do.
David threw the punch, aiming straight for his torso, but it was blocked by Malcador.
Malcador let he internal manna flow into his arm, arcane power surged around his fist.
His arm glowed a deep blue and shot forward like cannon, aimed straight at David's face.
David powered his runes, just as the counter punch was about to land square on his face.
FUCK!. David screamed in his mind.
The punch grazing his face as it missed him.
Malcador pulled in his aura as he pulled back his punch, strengthening his whole body, he readied a follow up punch. He launched it forward faster this time.
David once again, switched, just before the fist was launched at him.
SHIT! THAT'S GONNA HURT. He thought as his mind raced to search for alternatives.
I gotta block.
He pulled in his arms.
"ARRRGGGG!!" David screamed as his hands took the full force of the crushing blow
I think my arm is broken.
Jenny and Walter had left the two inside and were now outside the crumbling warehouse
"I can feel the manna vibrating from out here" Jenny said as she deactivated her cloaking rune. I hope he's okay.
Her eyes flicked back to the rusted door they had come through.
If I go back now, I'll only get in his way. This is the best we can do
Walter looked around, scanning the area, shoulders heavy with tension "Jenny, we need to find another way in" He said "David is twice the fighter either of us are, he'll be okay".
He lied to himself again.
Maybe if I believe in him hard enough he will actually win.
Walters mind searched for any semblance of hope, that is all he can do to help his friend, is to hope that he wins.
The manna flared again, a shock wave rolling out across the stones beneath their feet.
Jenny suddenly grabbed Walter startling him as Jenny pulled his arm.
"I have got an idea" She almost screamed at Walter.
"The manna is messing up my head, now you want to kill my ears too"
"Sorry" She apologized hastily "I think there is another way to get into the basement of the warehouse"
"And how do you know that?" Walter grumbled.
"When we surveyed the area before stashing the parcel, there was a bulkhead door leading into the basement, you guys didn't see it because you were already inside"
Walter paused for a minute, processing Jenny's words.
"That'll get us the parcel," he muttered, "but not save David. How do we save him? He's going to burn out before he can win this fight. I know it—I've helped him fix, modify, tinker... you name it, I've done it to his runes."
He clenched his jaw.
That shock wave from earlier...
He's burning through too much manna. Once it runs out, his body won't hold. It'll give in.
Will he really win?
Walter asked himself again, but the lie he'd been telling—the belief he clung to—was slipping away, one breath at a time.
Jenny listened to Walter, he didn't need to say what was in his mind. "And you know very well that his runes will burn out before he wins this fight" Jenny sighed as she grasped the possibility of loosing her friend.
"The Knight only wants the parcel, we can trade him David's life for the pracel" Jenny paced back and forth as she thought out-loud, "Black knights live and die on honor, we can use that to secure Davids life, and ours"
"But what of our lives after this?" Walter asked her.
"I have an idea, Walter", she called him, "how good is your memory?"
Back inside the warehouse, manna shook as with every attack David launched at Malcador. The air crackled around them.
Malcador remained in his defensive posture, struggling to read his opponent. David's stance shifting attacks came from impossible angles—wild, unpredictable.
I need to calm down, Malcador told himself. There's always a pattern. A tell. A twitch before the blow. I'll find it.
David didn't let up.
He kept throwing punch after punch.
Kick, head butt, knee, Jab
Malcador through his aura absorbed them all
His punches are strong enough to break through my Aura. Malcador noted as he tanked the hits he couldn't block.
But not enough to inflict any real damage to me.
Malcador watched David's motions closely. Stance. Strike. Stance. Strike. And then—he saw
it.
He's switching faster than I can track... but not faster than I can read the result.
Malcador narrowed his eyes.
If I recognize the stance, I can predict the strike.
David dropped into a low stance—Malcador read the momentum instantly.
Low stance. That's either a rising uppercut... or a sweeping kick.
The kick came.
Malcador parried it easily. But didn't counter.
Another punch. Another parry. Another. Another.
Malcador didn't strike back. He didn't need to. He was reading David now. Slowly, thoroughly, piece by piece.
David's heart pounded.
He's toying with me...
He could feel Malcador loosening, his guard no longer desperate—just practiced, relaxed, superior.
David's desperation deepened. How is he doing this?
His thoughts tangled. He abandoned strategy.
This is Walter's job—he thinks. I punch.
He surged more manna into his runes. They whined and buzzed beneath his skin.
It'll burn me out... but I'll make it count.
He switched stances faster. Harder. Sparks danced at his heels.
Malcador barely blinked.
"Is this all you can do?" he sneered, swatting David's strikes aside like flies.
Then—David broke the pattern.
He began a high-kick. Malcador read it.
But mid-motion—David pushed off the other foot, runes flaring. His stance changed again— mid-kick.
Dropkick.
Malcador didn't see it coming.
The kick landed full to the face—crunching him into the wall.
David back-flipped midair, landing low and tense, like a beast on the hunt.
His Aura tanked most of it. One more.
The runes sparked wildly—overloaded. He poured everything in.
He launched again—like an arrow loosed. Malcador rose just in time to see him coming—
KNEE.
It smashed through his Aura and into Malcador's nose—blood exploded from the impact.
Malcador staggered.
David collapsed midair, body limp. His runes dimmed. The air settled. Sparks fell like dying stars.
His final thought as he hit the ground:
"I hope they're okay." Then—blackness.