thief of fate-Chapter 98: Raine fights

the blood that clung to the stones and filled the cracks. Raine stood in a square that was once a field of championship, now turned into an open graveyard. His body stood upright, his sword tilted lightly, and his eyes did not see the corpses—they had surpassed them... searching.

Another Arkanis head flew off, crashing into a shattered wall, while his other hand crushed a foe’s rib before the scream could finish. Ten... fifteen... thirty? Raine no longer counted, or cared. This wasn’t a fight. It was a cleanup.

"The moves repeat... the gazes repeat... like they’re repeated copies of something trivial."

He whispered it to himself, not mockingly, but as if apologizing—to himself, to a body that memorized killing patterns more than warmth. He wasn’t in danger. He wasn’t fighting to survive. But to search... for a feeling.

He kicked an opponent in the chest, sending him crashing into his comrade, spun halfway, and released his sword in a sweeping arc that tore through three at once, then reclaimed his grip in the same motion. His style did not resemble a soldier’s. Not trained, nor defensive. But a dancer in a massacre.

"This isn’t enough."

The words formed in his thoughts like a scream in an empty room. Not for a reason, but because he was tired of silence. He had faced faster, smarter, fiercer before. These creatures? Beasts... but without awareness. Without personality.

Then... he felt it.

He stopped. It wasn’t a step. It wasn’t a roar. It was a scent.

The air changed.

Raine slowly turned his head, his eyes caught movement dozens of meters away, behind the collapsed buildings. A man... no, something larger than a man. Crawling on all fours at first, then rising as if it forgot it was ever human.

A body like a heap of flesh, growing with every bite it took from human corpses. Arkanis? Maybe... but different. It did not evoke anger or hatred or even sorrow. But disgust. And a strange paradox: Raine smiled.

"There you are."

He walked toward it. His steps slow—not out of laziness but respect. Approaching a beast he wasn’t sure was conscious, but his body responded... heartbeat rising. Muscles tensing. His soul preparing... and that was all he wanted.

The beast turned. Its jaw dripping with blood. Its left eye swollen, the right gleaming with a strange red glow, and its arms swelling with every bite. From its body sprouted oversized masses that resembled muscles but pulsed like hearts... or living livers.

Raine said, in an unexpected tone:

"Please... don’t be stupid."

The beast growled, crawled, then suddenly ran. The ground shook.

The collision hadn’t happened yet, but Raine leapt to the side, spun in the air, and drove his sword into the creature’s side. Blood splattered like a waterfall... burning. "Strange... like lava," Raine thought as he retreated.

"Painful? Doesn’t look like you noticed."

The beast didn’t scream. It turned toward him, extended an arm that had been previously struck but was now larger, as if it absorbed the pain and turned it into strength.

"It’s evolving. Its body grows with what it consumes. That’s new."

Raine smiled again, but with narrower eyes. Not admiration... pure excitement.

"Come on, you hungry thing."

And they clashed.

Raine descended from the air, having driven his sword into the creature’s side, but his eyes didn’t light with satisfaction. Blood splattered, yes, but the scream never came. No pain, no reaction except a stare.

"It doesn’t care?" he thought, stepping back.

The beast slowly turned, pulled the sword from its body as if it were a thorn caught in its rib, and threw it toward Raine—not like an enemy, but like a being that did not acknowledge damage.

"Its body isn’t like rock... no, it’s tougher."

Raine ran forward, short focused steps, kicked off the ground and launched a series of precise strikes: one to the chest, another to the neck, and a final to the beast’s knee. Nothing worked. The sword bounced off. Raine raised an eyebrow.

"You’re heavier... more than I expected."

A faint laugh came from the beast’s mouth. Not a roar... a laugh. Human-like.

Then, without warning, it moved.

A massive arm launched like a hammer. Raine barely saw it, and even then, didn’t dodge. He slid back. Useless. The blow clipped him from the side... and the result? Raine flew several meters before crashing into a crumbling wall, stones cracking around him.

He coughed blood. He didn’t smile.

"Heh... that was a real hit."

He raised his eyes, the beast approaching.

He said in a low voice, but clearly, like an echo born from the void:

"Fast... but not enough."

Raine froze.

"It... speaks?"

He slowly rose, wiping blood from his mouth. He looked into the creature’s eyes. No, not a beast. Eyes filled with awareness. Anger... no. Not even hatred. But... clarity.

"What’s your name?" Raine asked, his sword dripping with patience.

"Gulireth."

It said, then advanced.

The first step from Gulireth cracked the earth. The second sounded like a mountain collapsing. Raine let out a short laugh.

"Alright... Gulireth, show me what you’ve got."

And he charged.

Air shattered between them. Raine moved with blistering speed, ducked, spun, and slashed upward toward the lower jaw. A strike that would’ve killed any other Arkanis.

But Gulireth caught the blade with his hand.

The steel screamed.

Raine didn’t pull back. He turned his body and struck with his foot toward Gulireth’s knee. Like kicking a mountain. Pain shot through his thigh. He turned to see Gulireth’s other arm coming down. He jumped back. The blow struck the ground... and exploded.

Debris flew.

Raine backed away to catch his breath.

"His power... is unbelievable. I’ve never faced this."

But he didn’t retreat.

He smiled.

"This... is much better."

He returned to attack. A series of strikes, faster, smarter. He wasn’t just attacking—he was testing, searching for a weakness. But Gulireth’s body showed nothing. No weak point. Even the hits that landed left no mark.

Gulireth growled, grabbed Raine, lifted him, and slammed him hard into the ground.

Raine muffled his scream between his teeth, and when he stood up, his back was bleeding.

But his eyes... his eyes were shining.

"Every cell in me is screaming. Finally... something worth fighting."

He dashed again. No time for thought. Every move calculated, precise, but with a recklessness bordering on madness. He climbed Gulireth’s arm, spun around his neck, and aimed his sword toward the eye.

Gulireth moved with unnatural speed. He knocked him down.

But Raine was ready.

He stabbed his free hand into Gulireth’s neck, where a small ridge was left uncovered by the rocky skin.

Gulireth roared—not from pain, but as an acknowledgment.

"Finally... someone who doesn’t die quickly."

Raine stood, his sword on the ground, smiling with blood on his face:

"You’re not a monster. You’re a fighter."

Then he pointed at him.

"Fight me... like a man."

Gulireth suppressed a crude smile and raised his fist. Raine didn’t move. Didn’t dodge. He took it on his shoulder, and the ground beneath him burst.

But he didn’t fall.

He shoved forward with his shoulder, as if the blow gave him strength.

"I won’t run from pain. I want it."

Kicks, strikes, sword, fists. The ground trembled, and the sky watched.

In a moment, Gulireth grabbed Raine’s leg, lifted him, and slammed him into a crumbling wall. Again. Raine’s coat tore, blood covering his face... yet he laughed.

"Well done..."

Then, seizing a moment, he pulled a small dagger and plunged it into Gulireth’s eye.

A scream.

Gulireth dropped him.

Raine fell to the ground, his sword beside him, but he didn’t take it. He looked at Gulireth, whose steps trembled, blood dripping from his eye, yet still standing.

"You’re still standing?" Raine asked, with genuine admiration.

"And you?" Gulireth replied, clenching his fist.

Raine smiled, picked up his sword.

"Let’s finish this..."

And they charged at each other.

The blows collided in the center. The sword struck the arm, but the momentum was monstrous. Raine felt his bones scream, and his body flew like a rag doll. He crashed to the ground, then rolled, then collapsed on a pile of stones and blood.

He didn’t move.

His breaths were heavy, rapid, as if air had become fire.

His eyes half-closed, but the scene was clear... a dust cloud fading, and Gulireth approaching, slow steps, as if the earth made way for him.

"This pain... this weight... this real danger."

His thoughts seeped through the layers of pain, a mix of harsh realism and the madness he’d been suppressing since the start of the battle.

Gulireth stood above him.

His arm was covered in blood. His mouth half-open, drool dripping from the cracked corners of his lips.

He whispered in a deep voice:

"You’re strong... but you’re finished."

Then he bent down, slowly opening his mouth.

Fangs threatening. The heat of his breath like a primal hell.

But—

A laugh.

At first faint, like choking.

Then it rose. Not hesitant, but insane.

Raien’s laughter.

A sharp, unhinged laugh coming from a place no sane mind would know.

He opened his eyes, and there was a spark... something indescribable.

"Hahaha... oh god... you— you were really going to try and eat me?"

He burst out laughing again, his broken body shaking with it.

Gulirath stepped back half a pace—not out of fear, but... surprise.

Raien slowly sat up, his body groaning, but still laughing.

"I’m bleeding... can’t feel my right arm... and my ribs? I lost count of how many are broken."

Then he raised his head and looked straight at Gulirath.

That look... it wasn’t the gaze of a fighter.

But another beast.

A look of someone who walked into fire... and chose to stay.

"But... this? This is what I was looking for."

He stood.

With weight, with pain, but he stood.

His stance upright, though trembling. The sword on the ground, not yet held—he just stared at his opponent.

"You think I’m done? No, Gulirath... I haven’t even started."

His face smeared with blood. His disheveled hair clinging to his skin. His mouth bleeding from one side—but he smiled.

Gulirath muttered:

"You... you’re not normal."

Raien replied, with a grin that mixed madness and joy:

"I never was."

Then he grabbed his sword.

His fingers bleeding, yet he lifted it as if the weight vanished.

"Welcome... to my battle."

Silence.

A moment where even the wind stopped.

Then—Raine charged.