The War(2)

--- Finn's POV ---

The clang of spear on sword resonates through me, carrying with it a sense of unease. My fellow Familia members share wary glances, unable to grasp our foes' strength.

These enemies should be outmatched from what my senses are telling me, yet they meet our strikes with ease. Some power distorts our senses, masking their true level. Or so logic suggests. But uncertainty gnaws at me as my thumb is still aching.

"Finn Deimne," a rough, female voice snarls, "My brothers warned of you, but I worried for nothing."

I survey the chaos, resolved to fight with all I have. To falter now would betray my title as Captain of the Loki Familia.

"We know Orario's reputation," she continues. "Our attack proves we do not fear you. Our Lords have granted us blessings beyond your pathetic Familia. Remember the name Three, for I will kill you today."

Her words send a chill through me. She moves to strike, but I deflect the blow, my mind racing. Could it be...

Our blades lock, her eyes burning with contempt. This "Three" wields strength exceeding her stature. I break the deadlock and unleash a flurry of strikes. She parries each, unfazed.

I feint left then pivot right, spear finding flesh. She recoils with a savage grin. "Not bad, Finn. But it will take more than that."

Darkness spreads from her wound, healing it. What magic is this? She lashes out, inky tendrils grabbing my ankle. I slash through them, rolling away.

The corruption courses through her, warping the air. She will not stop until one of us lies dead. I steady my nerves and charge. Our weapons meet in a frenzied dance. She fights with relentless fury, but my experience gives me the edge-

"Overrated," Three hisses, her scornful gaze meeting mine.

I break the deadlock, pivoting into a relentless assault. She parries the flurry, unfazed, as if my blows are nothing. Her rough voice echoes with dark promises.

"Our lords' gifts outshine your pathetic Familia."

What power could this be? Unease wars with resolve. I must unveil the truth.

Her sword blurs, aiming for my ribs. I deflect it barely, the force numbing my arm. Again she strikes, corralling me. I see her strategy - she intends to overwhelm me.

I will not yield. With a feint, I create space to regroup. But she pursues, a predator toying with prey.

Her blade dances, hungers. I counter, seeking openings. She leaves no quarter, no margin for error. Already my body aches, my breaths ragged.

In close quarters, her true speed reveals itself. I am hard-pressed to match it. A slice grazes my shoulder, hot blood weeping down.

I ignore the wound, ignoring the pain. My focus narrows to this moment. I anticipate her next strike, pivoting away. In her overextension, I see my chance.

My spear thrusts forward. She twists, but too slow - the point tears through armor and into flesh. A ragged cry escapes her. The wound is not mortal, yet victory thrums in my veins.

Defiance and hatred burn in her eyes I can barely see through the mask. She presses the attack, heedless of her injury. Her onslaught drives me back step by bloody step.

I defend desperately, spear barely turning aside her frenzied strikes. Any respite is fleeting before the next assault. She fights with wild abandon, determined to end me.

My wounds multiply as her blade finds its marks. Blood slicks my grip, my moves slowing. I cannot keep this pace.

In her berserker fury, her guard drops for an instant. I seize the chance, my spear's haft cracking her jaw, sending her reeling. Without hesitation, I take my distance to recover.

She spits blood, cursing me. But she makes no move to follow. For now, we are at an impasse. I do not fool myself - this is merely the first bout.

"I didn't want to go this far, but you leave me no choice." Three's voice strains as inky darkness engulfs her body.

I tighten my grip, spear at the ready. But my back is slick with cold sweat - this foe's power dwarfs my own.

Too late, I realize the extent of her strength. With blistering speed, her darkened fist rockets forth. I twist desperately, but connect it does.

The force of the blow steals my breath. Ribs fracture on impact as I'm propelled backwards by its sheer might. The world blurs.

I collide with the unforgiving wall, the stone cracking under the pressure. Agony lances through me as I slump to the ground. The tang of iron fills my mouth as crimson splatters the earth.

From the ground, I watch Three approach, almost as if she is an executioner coming to claim her prize. I failed to anticipate their true capabilities. But I cannot fall here. I still didn't complete my mission...

Bracing against the pain, I rise unsteadily. Three is nearly upon me. In this moment of desperation, Ren's words return to me.

"Imbue your spear with everything you are," he had said. Cryptic then, but clarity dawns on me now.

I close my eyes, visualizing the light flowing into my spear. My hopes, dreams, resolve - all focus into its shining point.

Three rockets forward, darkness swirling. In this instant, time slows. I see her stance, and I know my spear will find its mark.

With a ragged cry, I lunge with all my might. Light blazes from the spear as it pierces her shoulder. Howling in pain and outrage, Three staggers back, darkness flickering.

But fury still smolders in her eyes. Her body twists, sword arcing towards my exposed neck for a final blow.

Its razor edge kisses my skin, a hair's breadth from ending me. Is this how it ends?

"Nice one, Finn." Ren's voice rings out as his hand spears through Three's back in a spray of crimson. His fingers burst from her chest, clutching her still-beating heart.

Her eyes go wide in disbelief before the light fades from them. She collapses in a heap, her sword falling from her limp fingers...

---

Author's Note:

For this chapter, I tried a completely different style I had in mind for a while. Tell me what you think!