The pace of the clash intensified. Daren began using earth with greater aggression, repeatedly striking the ground to warp the area around him and create a sort of natural defense. He still hadn't landed a clean hit, but the uneven terrain was severely straining his opponent's already dwindling stamina. Thin cracks kept spreading across the ground around the battlefield, while the trees bent at unnatural angles.
The smoke continued to obscure Daren's vision, but it was no longer blinding him. The difference was subtle, yet I noticed that the amount in the air was gradually decreasing. It was only a matter of time before—
**COUGH COUGH COUGH**
Without warning, I started coughing. What's happening to me?
Then I saw Daren coughing uncontrollably as well, and I understood. The smoke wasn't thinning because Aron was tired—it was thinning because it was now inside our lungs.
"Daren, hurry the hell up!"
"No need to tell me!"
I didn't know how toxic his smoke was, but having it circulating through my body for too long definitely wouldn't end well.
Aron didn't attack during our exchange. I thought he was trying to catch us off guard, but then I saw him.
He was still partially concealed by the smoke, yet his breathing had grown much heavier, and his movements were becoming slower, easier to read.
Daren noticed it too, and his smile twisted into something almost sadistic. I hate this side of him.
"You're slowing down, old man."
The smoke answered with silence.
Aron attempted another strike from a blind spot, but this time Daren anticipated it. His foot slammed into the ground, and a ridge of earth erupted where the smoke was densest.
But there was nothing there.
"What the—?"
I realized immediately that Aron had shifted the smoke to fake his presence, convincing Daren—and me—that he was about to attack from that side. Instead, he struck from behind.
His body must have reached its limits, because despite the surprise blow, he couldn't end the fight. For a moment he lost his balance, as if dazed. Daren grunted in pain from the hit to his back. He turned and could have pursued him, but he was coughing again, giving the old man a brief moment to breathe—though he himself was now gasping heavily.
I kept coughing uncontrollably as well. This battle had proven more difficult than expected. I hadn't thought the smoke element could be so insidious…
Aron attacked again, but halfway through the motion he faltered and began coughing up blood. Then he turned toward me with a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
Yes, smoke was truly a troublesome opponent…
It was a shame my element was poison.
I hadn't moved until now to avoid drawing attention while I manipulated the poison in the air. I had simply been waiting for it to take effect.
Daren stepped forward heavily and carved an arc of fire toward Aron's torso. Aron managed to partially block it, but the impact forced him back several meters, and the slash still tore a deep wound into his side.
Blood trickled slowly down his worn clothes. There was no trace left of the man who had faced us minutes ago—only a dying beast.
Aron made one final, desperate attempt, forcing the smoke to close tightly around Daren in a denser cloud than before, clearing the rest of the clearing of its presence. For a moment, my companion's figure almost completely vanished.
Daren let out an irritated snort.
"Enough with these tricks. Just die already."
I didn't see him, but I heard him strike the ground with all his strength to activate the earth element again.
The ground exploded upward, tearing apart the cloud and throwing Aron off balance one last, fatal time.
Daren didn't hesitate. He charged at full speed and drove his flaming blade straight into the center of Aron's chest.
This time, he met no resistance.
The sound was dull, almost muffled. Fabric burned instantly, then flesh gave way beneath the heat of the flames.
The old man's body stiffened, and at the same moment, the smoke around him trembled.
Daren stood still, breathing heavily, his sword still embedded in Aron's chest.
The old man's eyes closed for a moment. Then they reopened.
But he wasn't looking at Daren.
He was looking past him. Toward the wagon.
For an instant, there was neither rage nor fear of death in his eyes. Only stubborn resolve.
His lips barely moved as he whispered words meant for someone who wasn't us.
"D… don't… be… arrogant… boy."
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade with a strength he should no longer have possessed—and he moved.
It wasn't a fast or precise strike, but Daren was too close, his sword still lodged in the old man's chest. He avoided a fatal blow—but not the strike itself.
Aron's blade snapped upward.
The tip pierced Daren's right eye before he could fully pull back.
Then the scream tore through the air.
"AAAAAAAAAHHH!"
Daren wrenched his sword from the old man's body and staggered back, one hand pressed against his face as blood seeped through his fingers.
Aron swayed.
When Daren pulled the sword free, the wound split fully open, and blood began pouring out, forming a red pool on the ground.
The smoke around him slowly began to fade. With each wisp that vanished, his life drew closer to its end.
He tried to take a step forward, but failed.
His knees gave out.
For a moment he remained kneeling, head bowed, blood dripping steadily onto the earth.
Then his body tilted forward and struck the ground with a dull thud.
There was no smoke left in the clearing.
Aron did not rise again.
I surveyed the surroundings in silence.
Only the crackling of a tree burning slowly and Daren's uneven breathing remained. I observed the marks left by the battle: the ground upheaved and fractured in multiple places, the grass reduced to blackened patches, and the surrounding trees either burned or leaned sideways, barely clinging to the soil with their roots.
I reached Daren within seconds.
"Stay still."
I pulled out a vial and poured it over his injured eye, then applied some to his less severe wounds as well.
His flesh sizzled at the contact, and Daren clenched his teeth. After a short while, the bleeding stopped—but when he lowered his hand from his eye, I saw it. The old man's final strike had left a scar running across it.
Daren blinked repeatedly, irritated.
"…My vision… it's worse."
I looked at him coldly.
"It was a diluted potion. Be grateful you got away with only a couple of scars."
At that point, Daren slowly turned toward the wagon, rage painted across his face, clearly searching for something to vent it on.
I could already imagine what he was thinking. I sighed.
"I'll dispose of the body. Do what you want—but don't kill them, and don't cripple them."
After hearing my words, a crooked, sadistic smile spread across his face.
"Relax. I'll take it slow."
As I turned and began walking toward the corpse, I heard the wagon door slam open violently behind me.