…Sunrot. A vile flower that could only be cultivated from the land of the Vaels, Vaelreach. Transparent and rose-shaped, it was harmless to every other being…except curses.
To a curse, Sunrot was a death sentence.
The flower secreted a tasteless and odourless nectar, the source of its vile name.
Once ingested, it began to corrode the cursed core. The source of a curse's attributes and the medium that allowed them to freely manipulate cursed energy. As the core deteriorated, the damage spread inward, inflaming organs and destabilising the body.
Incinerating them from the inside out, till they burned and turned to ash.
The Sunrot in Fredrick's body had diffused in his blood stream, and slowly it made its way to corrode his core. He could feel it in each swing, each parry and each time he raised the black blade to block. He was growing weaker.
For some of the nobles, the process started quicker. Their faces grimaced from the torturous torment that came with having their cores attacked mid battle.
They would barely last long.
The Vaels that still stood noticed their attackers change in temperament, and attacked with reignited fury.
Fredrick took a glance at his elder brother, the indifferent expression on his face was infuriating. It was clear that he had orchestrated their poisoning. The only thing they had consumed through their stay was the small rations of blood they brought along.
It was meant to sustain them, not quench their thirst.
The Vael leader attacked with re-established vigour, to him his opponent was already dead. All that remained was a battle against time.
The nobles who had dominated the battle from the onset began to struggle. Their strength was weakened and their morale…dead. They knew that whatever happened at this point, their death was inevitable.
One of them caught a glimpse of Fredrick's battle. His fur coat had long been dropped. He fought with intensity, leveraging on his opponents flaws to counter devastating strikes.
He could no longer dominate with brute force.
His face was paler than normal just like the rest of them, but his expression was calm and composed. The effects of the poison barely noticeable.
This performance caused the noble to strengthen his resolve, the short sword that he wielded dancing towards his opponent in a flurry of strikes. His opponent raised his double bladed battle axe and struck down. The noble slipped through the attack and slashed at his opponents blind spot.
The blade sliced through the radiant flesh and left a terrible gash that leaked golden blood. The Vael dropped to his knees, his opponent appeared behind him, and in one final thrust to the neck…ended his life.
The bravado of their comrade and the swift death of another vael, revived the dying morale of the nobles. The steely gaze of their blood red eyes locked on the enemy.
They knew their fate had already been decided, they would die.
But so would their enemies.
The thin sword danced gracefully, blocking one strike and parrying another. Fredrick's versatile use of the weapon and skill were what had kept him alive so far. The Vael leader was a cunning opponent, most of his strikes served as feints for more devastating blows.
Fredrick's hands began to tremble, his opponents strikes were relentless. Each one flowing into the next. While parrying a strike, the force of the attack sends the weapon flying out of his grasp.
The thin blade rattled on stone, he didn't summon it back. He dug his nails into his palm, causing a few drops of blood to flow through. The blood droplets swirled around his right palm before taking the shape of the black blade.
All of this happened in a single breath. He grasped the makeshift weapon and countered another strike.
The Vael leader snickered.
"Why delay the inevitable? Just drop dead already."
He had to admit that even though sunrot had greatly weakened and was still weakening his opponent, he couldn't find an opportunity to land a fatal blow. Fredrick was immensely skilled when it came to wielding a sword, his mastery of the weapons made them seem like just an extension of his limbs.
But skill couldn't make up for his lack of raw strength. The poison had finally gotten to his core. He staggered, a slight wave of nausea and pain washing over him. But it only lasted a second before he sprang back into action.
The makeshift copy of the thin blade slashed at the Vael leader's neck, his opponent bent low to dodge the weapon and at that moment Frederick smashed his knee into his face.
Golden blood flowed from his nose. The attack was fast, brutal and unexpected.
He staggered for a moment, his vision blurry. Fredrick, focused and calculated, saw the opening and took it.
The blood red blade was thrusted into the Vael leader's abdomen. The Vael leader noticed the attack a little too late and felt the pain spread through his body.
He gritted his teeth and brought the blue dagger down to break the blade, but the makeshift sword assumed its liquid form, swirled back to Fredrick's palm and reshaped as a blade. He clutched the open wound, golden blood seeping through the fabric of his clothes. His burning gaze rose from the wound and locked onto Fredrick—furious.
Fredrick took a stance, both hands gripping the sword's hilt with it's blade held up high. The poison had already corroded a part of his core, bringing him immense pain.
His mask of calm indifference didn't falter as he stared at the enemy.
At the end of it all, one of them was going to fall.