Beyond The Crimson Gate-Chapter 54: Team Leader

Ming’s knives paused mid-air.

She tried to move her weapons but her hands were still, unable to move them at all.

It was a terrifying, localized paralysis, a sensation as if the very air around her blades had turned to stone. They were simply unable to move.

Her mind raced, her body straining, but the ashen glow in Kale’s eyes held her fast.

The glow in Kale’s eyes died down and Ming was able to move again.

The release was so sudden she stumbled forward a half step, her offensive posture broken.

Kale, as ever, was ruthlessly efficient. He did not press a killing blow, but quickly swung his blade in a low, sweeping arc aimed at her legs.

It was a clean, tactical move designed to unbalance her, not to injure. Ming, her rhythm shattered, had to jump back to avoid it, conceding the ground she had just gained.

Seeing Ming’s forced retreat, Ian acted.

He was the anchor of their group, and his movements were always one step behind the flurry of the vanguard, but with immense consequence.

He twisted the handle of his warhammer, "Gatecrasher," and slammed its polished head into the ground.

A wave of blue, crackling energy erupted from the point of impact, traveling through the ground not towards the recovering Ming, but directly toward Felix, who had been using the distraction to find a clear shot.

Felix, his eyes narrowed in concentration, was forced to abandon his draw.

He jumped into the air, the blue energy passing harmlessly beneath his boots. But his discipline was formidable.

As he ascended, his movements were fluid, a single, practiced motion. He pulled out an arrow, fixed it into his bow, and aimed not at Kale, who was now engaging Ming again, but at Ian, the source of the disruptive shockwave.

The tip of the arrow took on a vicious golden glow, humming with concentrated power, and fired off with a sharp thrum.

Ian, having just wrenched his warhammer from the grounf, had no time for a sweeping defense.

With a sharp, metallic clack, the warhammer collapsed and reconfigured itself, the head flowing over his hands and forearms to form a pair of massive gauntlets.

He met the golden arrow not with a dodge, but with a defiant punch, aiming to smash it from the air.

The result was anything but clean. The arrow did not shatter. It pierced the center of the gauntlet.

It dug through the layers of enchanted steel, shedding golden sparks, its relentless momentum only spent when the arrowhead came to a stop a hair’s breadth from the skin of his knuckles.

A deep, resonant ache shot up Ian’s arm. He grunted, more in surprise than pain, staring at the arrow now permanently embedded in his primary weapon.

This was the opening Kale had been waiting for. The entire fight was a complex dance, and he had been reading its rhythm from the start.

While Felix was landing and Ian was momentarily stunned by the ruin of his gauntlet, Kale broke his engagement with Ming.

He feinted high, forcing her to cross her knives in a defensive parry, and then used the momentum to spin away from her.

He didn’t head for the disadvantaged Ian. Instead, he lunged toward Felix.

The archer had just touched down, his balance perfect, his hand already reaching for another arrow.

But he had expected Kale to press the attack on Ian. The sudden, direct assault took him completely by surprise.

"This ends, Felix," Kale said, his voice low and firm, carrying over the short distance.

Felix’s lip curled. "It should have ended a long time ago." He nocked an arrow, but it was a standard one, lacking the golden glow. He didn’t have the time. He loosed it, a swift shot aimed at Kale’s shoulder.

Kale’s eyes glowed ashen again and the world in his view slowed down.

He swung his blade to meet the shaft of the incoming arrow, shattering it into countless splinters.

Before Felix could even register the failure of his shot, Kale was inside his guard.

He dropped his shoulder and drove forward, not with the blade, but with his body, crashing into Felix and disrupting his stance.

As the archer staggered back, Kale reversed his grip on his sword and brought the heavy pommel around in a short, sharp arc.

It connected with Felix’s temple with a dull, carefully measured thud.

Felix’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious but not seriously harmed.

"Felix!" Ming cried out, her voice a mix of anger and concern. She charged Kale from behind, her knives a whirlwind of silver. "You didn’t have to do that!"

Kale turned, his expression grim. "Yes, I did. He would have kept fighting until one of us couldn’t." He met her assault, his longsword a blur of defensive parries.

Sparks flew as steel kissed steel. He was giving ground, reading her patterns, the familiar, flurry-like style he had sparred against a thousand times.

He saw the tell, the slight shift of her weight that preceded her favorite combination; a low sweep with "Whisper" followed by a high slash with "Murmur."

As she committed, Kale was already moving.

He dropped low, avoiding the high slash entirely, and used his free hand to grab her wrist, guiding the low sweep past his leg.

With her balance committed and her guard open, he rose, driving his shoulder into her chest. It wasn’t a brutal impact, but it was enough.

Ming gasped, the wind knocked from her lungs, and stumbled backward.

She tripped over the leg Ian had instinctively stuck out to break her fall, and the two of them tumbled to the ground in a heap.

Ming scrambled, but before she could rise, the world stilled.

The cold, unyielding point of Kale’s sword was leveled at her throat. She looked up, past the steel, into his face.

He wasn’t even breathing heavily. The ashen glow was gone from his eyes, replaced by a look of weary resolve.

Ian, from where he sat, looked from the sword at Ming’s throat to the unconscious form of Felix, and finally to the arrow still protruding from his gauntlet.

He let out a long, slow breath, the fight draining out of him. He raised his hands, the gesture one of surrender and acceptance.

"It’s over, Ming," Ian said, his voice calm. "He’s got us."

Ming held Kale’s gaze for a moment longer, a storm of frustration in her eyes, before it faded into resignation. She relaxed her grip, and her knives, "Whisper" and "Murmur," fell to the earth with a soft, final clink.

Kale slowly lowered his sword. He didn’t smile in triumph. He simply offered his free hand to Ming. She stared at it for a second, then took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

"You used us against each other," Ian stated, climbing to his feet and examining his ruined gauntlet. It wasn’t an accusation, but an observation.

"It was the only way to win without seriously hurting anyone," Kale replied, his gaze shifting to Felix. "He’s fine. He’ll have a headache, that’s all."

Ming rubbed her chest where his shoulder had connected. "You’re a real piece of work, you know that?"

"I know," Kale said, finally sheathing Farsight. "But we needed a leader. Not just a fighter."

The three of them stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the gentle wind and Felix’s steady breathing. The trial was over. The team had its leader.