He straightened, rolling his shoulders once, and finally turned halfway—just enough for Cedric to catch the gleam of a single crimson eye burning through the darkness.
"I guess you've got a head good enough for this much," Draven said lightly. "You people really can't see past that, huh?"
The shadows at his feet **shifted**.
Not surged.
Not exploded.
They *answered*.
"But I never once said I was going to kill you with mana," Draven continued calmly. "That scratch on your neck?"
His gaze flicked—brief, precise—to the thin red line of blood.
"That was a taste. And you failed Perry badly." His voice hardened just a fraction. "That gives me all the confirmation I need."
Cedric's grip tightened.
Lightning flared—
—but the darkness didn't retreat.
It closed in.
Draven turned fully to face him.
Blood-stained.
Calm.
Eyes sharp with something far more dangerous than rage.
"I don't care about your nosiness spilling out of that damn mouth," Draven said evenly. "Your title. Your disgrace."
He shifted his stance—subtle, weightless.
Shadow folded around his legs.
"I just need you to do your best," he added quietly, "and stay on your toes."
The darkness rippled.
Draven's head tilted—then lifted.
The calm shattered.
A **wide, unhinged grin** split his face, teeth stained red beneath the shadows, his crimson eye burning with something feral and intensely personal. It wasn't rage.
It was anticipation.
"Oh—right," Draven said, voice suddenly light, almost amused. "There's one more thing."
The shadows around him **twitched**, tightening like muscles flexing beneath skin.
"You see," he went on, grin stretching wider as his eyes locked onto Cedric with manic focus, "I've been meaning to pay you back."
Cedric felt it then.
Not killing intent.
**Malice.**
"For every time you cut off my limbs," Draven continued casually, as if reciting a debt ledger, "every time I had to reattach them—"
He took a single step forward.
The darkness **jumped** with him.
"I'm going to return the favor."
Lightning exploded outward from Cedric in a violent burst as he dropped into a battle stance, armor crackling, mana roaring to life.
"Tch—!" Cedric snarled. "You think I'll let you—"
Draven vanished.
Not a blur.
Not speed.
**Absence.**
Cedric's eyes widened as instinct screamed—
Too late.
Pain detonated down his left arm as something **sheared clean through it**, lightning discharging wildly as blood sprayed into the dark. Cedric staggered back with a roar, teeth grinding as he spun—
Draven was already there.
Behind him.
Close enough that Cedric felt his breath.
"Don't die too damn quickly," Draven whispered, almost kindly.
The dagger flashed.
Cedric barely twisted in time—steel carving across his shoulder instead of his spine—lightning exploding as he forced distance, skidding across unseen ground, breathing heavy now, eyes blazing with fury and shock.
His arm—
Gone.
Clean.
Precise.
Not mana.
Not magic.
**Skill.**
"You—!" Cedric growled, pain and disbelief twisting together as lightning surged to cauterize the wound. "You think this makes you my equal?!"
Draven straightened slowly, rolling his wrist as blood dripped from the blade, grin never fading.
"No," he said simply.
The shadows rose higher around him, crawling up his legs like living armor.
"I think it makes this fair."
He shifted his stance again—looser now, predatory, every movement screaming control.
"And I'm not here to prove anything," Draven added, eyes gleaming with dark delight. "I'm only here to kill you—so let's make sure this doesn't **take my time**."
The darkness pressed in.
Lightning screamed.
Shadows answered.
Cedric moved first—rage and discipline colliding as thunder **detonated** beneath his feet. He launched forward in a blinding flash, lightning-wreathed blade carving a lethal arc meant to bisect Draven in a single decisive strike.
Draven met him head-on.
Both blades came up—one low, one high—**shadow folding around steel** as he stepped *into* the strike instead of away from it. The impact cracked the air, lightning exploding outward as darkness swallowed the excess force.
Steel met steel.
Shadow **bit** lightning.
Cedric snarled, pressing forward, mana roaring as he unleashed a relentless sequence of strikes—overhead cleaves, heart-piercing thrusts, feints layered with sudden bursts of speed. Each blow carried enough power to shatter borders.
Draven flowed through it.
He didn't block so much as **redirect**, turning Cedric's strength aside by inches, blades whispering past lightning-coated armor. His movements were compact, efficient—every step placed exactly where it needed to be, shadows snapping tight around his ankles as he *slid* between killing zones.
Lightning burst again—Cedric vanished and reappeared at Draven's flank—
—but Draven was already there.
A shadow-step snapped him forward, his left blade carving upward. Cedric twisted, barely avoiding disembowelment as sparks and shadow-motes scattered. The counter came instantly—Cedric's knee slammed forward, lightning surging—
Draven dropped, the strike passing over his head, and his right blade flashed.
Blood sprayed.
Cedric hissed as a line opened across his thigh, lightning flaring to cauterize it even as he spun away, teeth clenched.
"You—!" Cedric roared, swinging again, lightning thickening into crackling arcs that lashed outward like whips.
Draven crossed his blades.
Lightning and shadow **collided**.
The darkness detonated with thunder as Cedric lunged, lightning screaming along his blade in violent arcs. Draven met him head-on—both daggers flashing, his body slipping between strikes with inhuman fluidity.
Steel rang.
Lightning cracked.
Shadows tore and reformed.
Draven flowed through the storm.
He ducked beneath a horizontal slash, stepped inside Cedric's guard, blades carving upward—Cedric twisted, sparks exploding as lightning reinforced his armor just in time. Draven pivoted, heel skimming the ground, shadow snapping him aside as a retaliatory thrust burned past where his heart had been a breath earlier.
Cedric didn't relent.
Lightning erupted from his limbs as he pressed forward, every strike meant to *end*, not test. Draven answered with relentless pressure, cutting angles, forcing Cedric backward step by step, never allowing him time to stabilize.
Too close.
Too fast.
No rhythm to predict.
Cedric snarled and kicked off the ground, trying to create space—
Draven's arm snapped forward.
One blade **left his hand**.
Cedric's eyes widened a fraction as the dagger cut through the dark straight for his head, shadow clinging to its edge like a living thing.
He reacted instantly.
His head tilted—precise, trained—
The blade screamed past his cheek, slicing air and darkness alike.
—but Draven was already there.
Right in front of him.
Cedric didn't panic.
His grip tightened.
Lightning surged.
His hand snapped forward as he thrust his blade straight toward Draven's chest, lightning howling as it turned the weapon into a killing line of light.
Draven didn't stop.
Didn't dodge.
Didn't retreat.
He **bent**.
His body twisted just enough for the blade to miss his heart by a finger's width—and his hand snapped up.
Sparks **exploded**.
Draven's gloved palm slid along the lightning-wreathed blade, metal screaming against reinforced fabric as electricity detonated outward. The smell of ozone burned the air as his fingers tightened—
—and **stopped it**.
Cedric's eyes widened in disbelief as his blade was caught mid-thrust, lightning snapping wildly as it tried—and failed—to force its way free.
Draven's grip locked.
Close now.
Breath to breath.
Lightning and shadow snarling between them.
Cedric stared at his restrained weapon, then up at Draven's face.
That grin was still there.
Wild.
Focused.
Hungry.
"…Got you," Draven said softly.