Neymar stares at the blonde-haired giant with a strange thought running through him: gratitude. He looks down at the form between them, its black skin almost invisible lying in the blood-soaked earth around them. The only giveaway are the pure, white eyes staring up at him and the bluish liquid pouring from it still. Neymar stares up at kantos, their eyes fixated on each other, red on blue.

"This changes nothing," he says, his voice silky.

"I will be the only one to kill you," Kantos replies coolly.

"Ha! What makes you think this time will be any different from before? I put a blade through you with ease."

"We will see."

"Confidence, I like it. You have the balls of a bear, don't you?"

Kantos stays quiet, but his fingers twitch on the hilt of his sword. He clenches, readying himself for what is to come.

Neymar, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, tightens his grip. He throws down his shield, grabbing at the hilt on his other hip and pulls it free of its scabbard. A smooth rasp sings out as the tip of his short sword comes free and he stands ready with one in each hand. He twirls them, making them sing for all to hear. He blocks out the rest of the battle that rages on around them and stares at the hulking man who stands in his way, a man already thought dead to him.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

Kantos smiles all teeth with not a hint of mirth. "I am. Are you?" he asks, opening his hand.

Neymar pauses, his twin swords coming to a halt. "That... is a... brightstone."

The blue gemstone sparks to life in Kantos' hand, bathing him in soft, blue light. It broadens his grin into a malicious mask.

"How? You did not have that before, otherwise..."

"But I have it now." It brightens further, illuminating them both.

"We are even now then," Neymar replies with a smirk.

"No," Kantos says, his voice low. "Before, you were lucky. But now... I will kill you," he says through gritted teeth.

"We will see. We will see," he smirks again. He thrusts one of his swords into the ground, sinking it half a foot then reaches beneath his armour pulling out his own brightstone. It sparks to life in his hand bathing him in red. Their stones glowing together as the rest of the soldiers fight and watch in equal measure. "We will see who is better then." Neymar replaces his brightstone safely then pulls his sword free, flicks away the blood-soaked dirt then stands ready.

"You will die a peasants death," Kantos says, moving into a stance.

"And when will that be? You are not the one to beat me, that I promise."

"You will die. Now!" he bellows and charges forward.

Neymar braces, his fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt before the coming assault. He blinks as if in slow motion, he can see the beads of sweat running down Kantos' face, see his hair rippling out behind him and the way his boots thrust into the dirt beneath their feet. He can smell the stench of death mixed in with the something of hundreds of bodies crammed together in war. He is hounded by this beast of a man coming to kill him, and the only emotion running through him is excitement.

This will be fun. A real challenge this time.

He side-steps, parrying the first blow. It rings through the air as metal meets metal, and he skips off to the side out of reach. Kantos pivots, slashing back in the same movement, missing his neck by no more than an inch. Kantos steadies himself, moving into a stance once more.

Neymar attacks first this time. He rushes forward twisting his short swords in unison. Kantos parries the first two blows then jumps back a step but instantly charges forward, batting one then the other away before striking downward with two hands. Neymar, momentarily off-balance, recovers quickly, jumping back. He hears a tearing sound as the tip of the blade catches the gap between shoulder and neck.

Kantos smirks as he pulls his sword free of the ground. "Nearly."

"Barely touched me," Neymar replies after a quick glance. "You will have to do better than that," he spits.

"Ha!" Kantos scoffs before standing ready once more.

That was too close, I must focus. He cannot be the one to beat me.

Neymar moves before Kantos can. He darts forward, then at the last moment feints left before pivoting right. His blade rattles Kantos' side, then finds the blade of his broadsword creating sparks. They part and both jump out of distance, staring at one another, waiting for their opening.

Better. He may have a weakness there.

"You will have to try hard, King."

Neymar squeezes the smooth leather that wraps the hilts of his swords. He twirls them in his hands before plastering a smirk across his dirt-streaked face. He paces back and forth never taking his eyes from him, watching every little twitch and movement. He twirls once more before striding forwards. He feints left, then right and spins around, aiming at the big man's neck. Kantos parries the blow and strikes out towards Neymar's chest who bats it away and swings back with an underhanded thrust before stepping back as another monstrous swing misses him by a whisker.

They carry on with their back and forth, attacking, parrying and blocking. They thrust, kick and punch at each other, coming away with only scrapes and a few minor slashes. They stand staring at each other panting.

"Reprieve?" Neymar asks. He receives a small nod in recognition. Neymar thrusts one of his swords deep into the ground once more as he takes in the surroundings. Good, the army seems to be holding off the daemons, but this is taking too long. I need to finish this, but how?

"Enough," says Kantos. "Let us finish this."

With a smirk he doesn't quite feel, Neymar replies. "Very well." He grabs at the hilt, pulling it free in a single motion then readies into a stance. His feet braced for what is to come. He flips the sword in his left hand so the blade now sits along his vambrace, the sharpened edges to either side. With the hand, he reaches for his chest touching the sigil at his breast. He pauses there a moment as he sucks in the energy from his brightstone. It sparks to life beneath his armour making it glow. He releases a moment later and coughs, spluttering a crimson coloured vapour. He inhales deeply before readying his blade now pointing at Kantos. "Let us finish."

He twirls his sword in a rhythm, much like a song sung at his court before he watches Kantos sucking in the power from his stone. It makes his full body glow, but he notices that the big man does not cough, not even a hint. But he keeps composed, not letting anything slip. I should not have let him recuperate.

⛬

Kantos imitates the motion of the king, placing his left hand over the secret pocket in his jerkin where the brightstone lies. He focuses, letting himself be led by his emotions. He pulls in the energy, feeling it course through every part of himself, from the top of his head, infusing all the way down to his toes. By the Gods, that feels good. He braces himself for the coughing fit he had just witnessed but none came. Interesting, he wonders.

Then he braces as the king strides towards him, slashing out with his sword faster than before. He just manages to lift his sword in time, catching it on the flat of his blade. He returns the favour with a sweeping blow that misses, then follows up with a looping strike aimed at his head, but Neymar skips back out of distance. He pulls back, balancing himself, watching for his opportunity. He slows his breathing before moving into a stance.

Neymar strikes again. His blades sing as they twirl towards him. He moves side to side with the rhythm as they spin towards him, to kill him with their sharpened edges. He waits patiently, holding his breath for the very last moment then he swings.

He swings forward with the power of a man used to hard work, used to war. He swings it with the power of a brightstone. He steps sideways, twists and bats away the twin swords like kindling, throwing the king off balance and slapping the flat of his blade against his shoulders. He watches him skip a step, fall into a roll then pop up into a stance, ready to attack once more.

Kantos charges, his body infused with majical energy attempting to burst from him. He feints right, then left and right again before thrusting straight forward. The ferocity with which he attacks takes the king off guard, forcing him back a step as he parries, then has to side step as the blade continues onward towards his face. Kantos steps in, flicking his wrist as he tries to catch the king but has to treat as the springs back with a double thrust of his short swords.

He sucks in a breath coating his throat with a thin layer of dust, beginning to feel the effects of the battle. He watches as the king sucks in breath after breath stifling a cough as he braces himself with the tip of one sword.

He's not taking any more energy from the brightstone. There must be a limit to even their majic.

Watching the king, Kantos rests his broadsword against his shoulder waiting for him to attack once again. "Not all it's cracked up to be this majic then?"

"You have no idea," Neymar replies, lifting his swords to point at him. "Ready to di—

"My Lord!" a voice bellows from behind.

They both turn to see one of the king's elite's running towards them, his multi-plated armour darkened with a blue liquid, his short sword dragging along the ground a pace behind him.

"My Lord," he says stopping two paces from his king. "We have to pull back, Sire. the daemons... more daemons. They appeared out of nowhere. We must—"

"How many?" Neymar barks, cutting the soldier off.

"Including the ten or so that were left, maybe sixty. They seemed to materialise from thin air. They..."

The rest of the man's words disappear as Kantos weighs the options. Sixty Oskari! No, this is the end of us. Hundreds against ten? Maybe, but not sixty of those, things. He takes a step forward then pauses as he sees the soldier look his way. Aurora. I... love you. He turns, his focus on his men fighting valiantly around him. Aurora, I have to save them if I can.

"King?" he shouts. Neymar stiffens then turns to him. "As much as I would love to pierce that black heart of yours, we cannot survive the Oskari if we fight each other. We must... work together."

The king stares at him with a look of bewilderment slapped across his face. He blinks as he turns to face him fully. "What did you call them?"

"They are called Oskari, and very hard to kill as you can see. I can tell you about them if we survive this. It might be the only chance we have to continue this," he points at him.

The king licks his lips, "Very well. But after we send those things to Valour, we finish this."

"Agreed." Kantos turns and bellows, "Fall back, men!" His voice rings out for all to hear, the sound amplified somehow. Another trick? he wonders. "Stop fighting!" he roars as he steps towards a cluster of men fighting back and forth with one another. Striding the last few paces he swings upwards, clattering a pair of crossed swords almost knocking their holders to the ground. "I said, stop fighting!" he roars again, pushing them back. "We are to fight with the king's men. If we do not, we will all die. We have a common enemy this day. Do you understand?"

"Commander?" a voice asks.

Kantos turns to see Rickton, his face almost covered in crimson before he wipes at it with a gloved hand. "We must, Rickton. The Oskari have grown in number. We must fight together if we wish to survive."

With a reluctant nod, the captain motions to the men to fall back and form up. "We are with you, commander."

"Good," he nods in reply. "Tell the men to fortify their minds. They will need it."

"Stop!" bellows a voice behind him. "Danir," Kantos hears the king say. He turns to face Neymar as a man in his late thirties, taller and broader than the king rushes over. "Carry the message that we are to stop fighting the resistance."

"But, my Lord, we are—"

"Danir, listen." He looks over to where Kantos stands. "The Oskari are too many. They will kill us all. You have seen how they fight."

"Oskari?"

"The daemons, Danir. They are called Oskari. Never mind that. Tell the men that we fight with the resistance... to survive, that is all, understand?"

The man nods to his king, "Sire." Then he sprints away shouting orders.

The king watches before turning back to Kantos. "To survive?" he says, holding up one of his swords.

"To survive," he replies.

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