Chapter 6
The air thickened.
The battle between Steel and Ronan had reached its climax.
Each combatant stared into the other's eyes, ready to pounce.
Then, a loud explosion shook the ground—
Steel charged at Ronan, throwing a heavy right hook.
Ronan simply stepped back, avoiding it with ease.
"Good try," Ronan said, flashing a deranged smile.
"But there are rules to combat, you see."
He continued, his voice dripping with madness:
"First—know your distance. It's important to understand the space between opponents."
In a flash, Ronan slashed at Steel.
Steel tried to step back but was a fraction too slow—
A shallow cut appeared across his cheek.
Ronan casually wiped the blood from his blade with a finger, then licked it.
"Delicious," he murmured.
Disgust twisted Steel's face.
He rushed at Ronan, throwing a flurry of blows, but Ronan dodged them with minimal movement.
"Where was I? Ah, yes," Ronan said, dancing away.
"The distance between you and your opponent determines the reach of an attack. Knowing it is vital to decide when—and how—to strike."
As he spoke, Ronan launched a sudden vertical slash.
But Steel didn't dodge—
He ducked low, as if expecting it, and closed the gap.
Steel drove a brutal sucker punch straight into Ronan's stomach, sending him flying backward and kicking up a cloud of dust.
From within the dust, Ronan reappeared, one hand gripping his abdomen where he had blocked Steel's blow.
Shaking his hand, he grinned wildly.
"Ohhh, what a good student! My little plaything—show me more!" Ronan shouted, charging Steel with a wide, horizontal slash.
Steel sidestepped to block, but mid-swing, the blade curved, shifting into a vertical slash aimed at his belly.
Steel barely managed to leap back—
But not without a long, bleeding cut across his abdomen.
"Your instincts really are lovely," Ronan laughed, letting the blood drip slowly from his sword.
"Now—lesson two: Observation."
Without warning, Ronan rushed Steel, unleashing a barrage of slashes.
Each strike seemed almost impossible to dodge—
It was as if Ronan could predict Steel's every move.
"You see, the muscles are the architects of movement," Ronan explained between strikes.
"Before you act, your muscles speak. If you observe them carefully, you can predict the next attack."
Each slash landed—
Not deep enough to kill, but enough to shred Steel's body and inflict excruciating pain.
As each slash riddled Steel's body, a miracle happened — or so it seemed.
Steel caught Ronan's hand mid-swing, stopping the slash cold.
With a powerful heave, he flung Ronan away.
Ronan twisted midair, performing a beautiful backflip before landing softly, almost elegantly, on the ground.
"Looks like you understand Rule Two. Beautiful," Ronan said, his grin widening.
"Now for Rule Three—precision, control, power, and speed. Understand these, for they are the foundation of every attack."
As the words left his mouth, Ronan moved.
This attack was different from all the others—
A true bringer of death.
Steel, battered and bloodied, refused to give in.
He summoned every ounce of strength he had left, pouring it all into one final, desperate punch.
For some reason time seemed to move slow as each landed and with a devastating boom the sand clears with steel on the floor and ronan standing on top of him
"Well I guess this is goodbye my little toy" Ronan spoke giving a devastating slash again to end Steel
The air thickened.
The battle between Steel and Ronan had reached its climax.
Each combatant stared into the other's eyes, ready to pounce.
Then—a loud explosion shook the ground.
Steel charged at Ronan, throwing a heavy right hook.
Ronan simply stepped back, avoiding it with ease.
"Good try," Ronan said, flashing a deranged smile.
"But there are rules to combat, you see."
His voice dripped with madness as he continued:
"First—know your distance. Understand the space between opponents."
In a flash, Ronan slashed at Steel.
Steel tried to step back—but was a fraction too slow.
A shallow cut appeared across his cheek.
Ronan casually wiped the blood from his blade with a finger—and licked it.
"Delicious," he murmured.
Disgust twisted Steel's face.
He rushed forward, throwing a flurry of blows, but Ronan dodged with minimal movement.
"Where was I? Ah, yes," Ronan said, dancing away.
"The distance between you and your opponent determines the reach of an attack. Knowing it is vital to decide when—and how—to strike."
As he spoke, Ronan launched a sudden vertical slash.
Steel didn't dodge—
He ducked low, anticipating it, and closed the gap.
A brutal sucker punch exploded into Ronan's stomach, sending him flying backward, kicking up a cloud of dust.
From within the haze, Ronan reappeared, one hand clutching his abdomen where he'd blocked the blow.
Shaking his hand, he grinned wildly.
"Ohhh, what a good student! My little plaything—show me more!" Ronan shouted, charging Steel with a wide horizontal slash.
Steel sidestepped to block—but mid-swing, Ronan curved the blade, shifting into a vertical strike aimed at Steel's belly.
Steel barely leaped back—
But not without earning a long, bleeding gash across his abdomen.
"Your instincts really are lovely," Ronan laughed, letting the blood drip slowly from his sword.
"Now—lesson two: Observation."
Without warning, Ronan rushed him again, unleashing a barrage of slashes.
Each strike came faster than the last—almost impossible to dodge.
It was as if Ronan could predict every move Steel made.
"You see, the muscles are the architects of movement," Ronan explained between strikes.
"Before you act, your muscles speak. If you observe them carefully... you can predict everything."
Slash after slash tore at Steel's flesh—not deep enough to kill, but enough to shred and torment.
Yet, in the heart of that merciless storm—
Steel moved.
With a roar, he caught Ronan's wrist mid-swing, stopping the blade cold.
Summoning every ounce of strength, he flung Ronan away.
Ronan twisted through the air, flipping beautifully before landing softly, elegantly, on the ground.
"Looks like you understand Rule Two. Beautiful," Ronan said, his grin stretching wider.
"Now for Rule Three—Precision, Control, Power, and Speed."
As the words left his lips, Ronan moved.
This strike was different.
It carried death itself.
Steel, battered and bloodied, refused to yield.
He summoned everything he had left—pain, rage, defiance—and hurled himself forward with one final, desperate punch.
For a moment, time seemed to slow.
The world dulled to silence.
Their fists collided in a devastating explosion.
When the dust cleared—
Steel lay sprawled across the ground, unmoving.
Above him stood Ronan, victorious.
Ronan raised his blade high, his expression filled with cruel delight.
"Well, I guess this is goodbye, my little toy," he whispered.
And with a final, merciless slash—
He brought the blade down to end Steel.