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“As long as you keep your word in the end, I agree.” The captain flipped the finely crafted weapon in front of him twice, then behind him in a circular motion.

There were no more common folk, no mortals watching from the ramparts to overlook the two Saints as they engaged in a battle of skills, of talents, of wits.

Save for one.

Because there, on the Silver Balcony, West caught sight of her garnet braid from afar. It was hard to miss, after all. She was white-knuckled, but she was glued to that spot in the veranda as she witnessed them circling each other. He almost imperceptibly dipped his head at her, silently asking her to stay put while he handled this. If Crimson understood what he asked, she made no sign of it.

But she didn’t move, either.

“If I win, will you tell me why Red Lyric is so important to you?” War questioned as he feinted right, only to go left. West was ready and waiting for him, used to his tricks. He parried, striking hard and true.

“No.” He responded and slashed upwards in a fluid way. “Because it’s none of your concern. Nor was it part of the bargain.”

The bloodthirsty immortal adjusted out of the attack, but the tip of his sword caught in his tunic and sliced through a thread. It fluttered to the ground, forgotten and unimportant.

“If I didn’t know better, I might say that you’re infatuated with my most esteemed warrior.” He cut through the air thrice, swiping and aiming for West’s chest. Three precise movements that had him fumbling back before the knives took a chunk out of him. “Have you switched sides at last?”

West thrusted forward, only to hit nothing. “Then you don’t. And no, but you don’t need to think about my levels of attraction, either.”

He knew he could challenge the Warrior, and potentially even win. But the viewer from the balcony created a nervousaura around him that was hard to ignore, almost impossible to brush off.

“I don’t what?” War dodged a second set of moves with ease that only belonged to the immortal known and praised for his killing talents and blood spilling thrill.

“Know better.” He grunted as War’s knife ripped through his left bicep and through his bronzed skin. It would heal by morning, but it still hurt like a bitch in the meantime. “I’m only doing what I’ve always done.”

The Saint took advantage of that, slashing towards him with unrefined strength. “Which is what?”

“Protect us, and the sake of the Empire.” He jumped out of the way as his blood hit the sand. He swore even within the crimson liquid, he saw stars exploding.

Little bursts of white that rapidly collided with others, creating nebula’s of undefined power.

“Always the best of us, thelittle Star. No matter what, you never could be anything other than a righteouspain in my ass.” He stepped back and avoided a hit to his large gut. His feet dragged along the sand as he rounded West.

“What’s the point of never doing anything good, in a life that never ends? I understand the need for chaos, the want for mischief and the desire for upheaval when it provides a certain style of entertainment to a bunch of bored immortals, but still.” He struck, hitting metal with metal. “There’s more to living forever than creating a terrible world for those behind us. For those who have to live in it for a short period of time.”

A clash sounded.

War hit him hard then, sending him flying back into the wall. Acrackrang out into the empty space, and West grimaced as pain lanced his entire form. He groaned as he rose from theground, a hand braced in the golden sand as he pushed upwards. He managed to get on his feet before the slam of a knife came down, only inches from where he’d just been.

He rubbed at his ribs but pulled away just in time to brace his weight against an attack. West pushed everything he had into it, and he could feel the pulse of his skin beneath his clothes. It didn’t matter how much of a glamour Dream set upon him, it could never truly hide what he was underneath.

An eternal, forever glowing star.

He gritted his teeth as his feet were shoved back further and further, pressing him flat against the railing and between War’s hair-ridden chest. The blades slowly angled downwards with every inch lost, and he was struggling to keep it up. The steel would bite into him soon, but at least Crimson would be free of this horrible life and Altivar wouldn’t be able to figure her out.

He could handle a life in the ring, if it came down to that. It wasn’t like any of the humans could kill him, after all.

War hefted all his sheer size into the blow, adding even more pressure to it than West could handle. His sword slipped from the crossing of steel and he ducked just in time before War slammed the knives into his tanned throat. He spun out of the way, scuffing through the sand as he flipped back around to face the giant.

“Close call.” He chuckled with a carnage laced laugh. “I almost had you there.”

“Almost, being the key world.” West playfully winked, hoping for the male to see nothing but red and that he could use it to his advantage. “You’ll have to move faster than that if you aim to catch me.”

“Brave words, for someone who’s losing.” He growled, a slight snarl in the back end as he charged. West was ready, prepared for it even. He met him blow for blow, shoving off each assaultwith a grunt of pain from the leftover torment that rippled over his ribcage.

Yet he didn’t back down, nor did he give in.

“Am I losing?” He tsked, “And here I thought I was winning.”