Kale and Alden stood their ground, steel ringing against steel. Sweat dripped from both fighters, mingling with the mist that clung to the clearing like a suffocating shroud.
Knowledge clashed with knowledge—their weapons guided by insights gleaned through desperation and determination. Each strike carried weight—not just of physical force, but of purpose, intent, and secrets yet unspoken.
•---•
Alden's mastery over the sword was nothing short of remarkable. Every swing, every step, every parry was executed with calculated efficiency. Kale couldn't help but marvel at it, even as he fought for his life. Amazing, Kale thought grimly. Even at such a young age, this guy is already a hunter—and a skilled swordsman at that.
But one question lingered in his mind, gnawing at him like an open wound:
What's his deal with the flower?
The golden threads shimmering in Kale's vision pulsed faintly around Alden, offering fragments of insight into his movements. Yet they revealed no answers about his motives. Frustration simmered beneath Kale's calm exterior.
•---•
For Alden, the fight was grueling. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him—not just from the duel, but from everything leading up to this moment. Running from the monster had drained him physically and mentally. He could still hear the distant clash between the elder and the mist-shrouded creature—a battle so monstrous it shook the very earth beneath them.
That fight wasn't over yet.
The howls of the beast echoed faintly through the forest, accompanied by the deafening crashes of combat. The elder's presence should have been reassuring, but Alden knew better than to hope for rescue. This was his fight now.
He gritted his teeth, shifting his stance slightly to compensate for his fatigue. His arms burned, his legs felt like lead, but he refused to falter. Not here. Not when he was so close.
•---•
Despite his exhaustion, Alden noticed something peculiar about Kale. Locked in combat, their blades grinding together, Alden finally voiced what had been nagging at him since the start of the duel.
"What's up with your skill?" Alden demanded, his tone sharp despite the strain evident in his voice. "You're only supposed to have basic insights right now. How are you keeping up with me—a trained swordsman who's spent months honing his craft?"
His words hung in the air, cutting through the rhythm of their exchange.
Kale didn't answer immediately. Instead, he twisted his spear free from Alden's blade, sidestepping a swift counterattack before resuming his defensive stance. His movements were fluid, almost unnatural, guided by the golden threads of the Ocean of Knowledge shimmering in his vision.
While Alden relied on years of training, Kale trusted the instincts granted to him by his active seeking state.
•---•
Kale's advantage lay in adaptability. The Ocean guided his every move—his strikes precise, his blocks timely, his footwork steady. Yet there was a glaring flaw: he lacked formal training. Without proper stances, breathing techniques, or advanced knowledge of combat, Kale relied purely on raw instinct and fragments of insight.
Still, it was enough. For now, he could hold his own against Alden's refined skill.
The two continued exchanging blows, neither willing to yield. Their weapons flashed under the moonlight, each strike resonating with tension and intent. Both men were tired—muscles screaming, breaths ragged—but neither gave an inch.
The Moon Bloom flower loomed silently nearby, its glow casting an eerie light over the battlefield. As if sensing the conflict unfolding before it, the petals shimmered faintly, releasing tiny motes of star-like dust into the air.
•---•
With a sudden thrust, Kale pulled back, putting distance between himself and Alden. Both fighters paused, chests heaving as they caught their breath. The world seemed to stop around them—the mist frozen in place, the distant howls muted. Only the unspoken tension between the two seekers remained alive.
Kale locked eyes with Alden, his expression unreadable. "What's your intention?" he asked, his voice low but firm. "Why do you want the flower?"
Alden hesitated, gripping his sword tightly. His gaze flickered briefly toward the glowing bloom before returning to Kale. Suspicion clouded his features.
"Why does it matter?" Alden shot back, his voice laced with irritation. "It's none of your concern."
"It matters," Kale countered, narrowing his eyes. "Because I'm not letting you take it without knowing why."
Alden scoffed, shaking his head. "And what makes you think you deserve answers after all this? After following me, questioning me, doubting me?"
Kale took a step forward, his grip tightening on his spear. "Because I've earned them," he said coldly. "Do I not deserve answers after being used, lied to, and betrayed?"
The accusation hit Alden like a punch to the gut. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, guilt flickered across his face—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"My reasons are my own," Alden replied coolly, raising his sword once more.
"And mine?" Kale countered, his voice rising slightly. "Do I not deserve answers after risking my life for someone who never intended to save theirs for me?"
The air grew heavier, charged with unspoken words and unresolved anger. Both seekers eyed each other warily, their weapons poised for another exchange.
Then, without warning, Alden lunged again, shouting, "Enough talking!"
Steel met steel once more, the sound echoing through the clearing like thunder. The duel resumed, their movements faster, sharper—born of desperation and resolve. Neither would back down. Not here. Not now.
•---•
Above them, the moon reached its zenith, bathing the mountain in silvery radiance. Its glow intensified, illuminating the battlefield with an almost divine brilliance. The Moon Bloom flower pulsed faintly in response, its petals unfurling further as if reaching toward the heavens.
Threads of golden light swirled erratically, mirroring the chaos of the fight. Some threads stretched toward Alden, others toward Kale—but none offered clarity. Only tension. Only uncertainty.
As the battle raged on, a single thought echoed in Kale's mind:
This isn't just about survival anymore.
It was about truth. About trust. And about proving—to himself, to Alden, to the world—that he was more than the Empty Vessel they called him.
The fight was far from over.