Scene 84 — "The Man Who Fought Like He Remembered Nothing"
The axe rose.
The sword followed.
Black steel drank the fading light.
The clearing seemed to tighten around the hunter.
His hesitation was gone.
Only purpose remained.
Kill.
The traveler stood motionless.
The Anchor burned beneath his cloak.
Hotter.
Hotter.
Warning.
The hunter exploded forward.
The earth cracked beneath his boots.
Axe descending.
Sword cutting from the side.
A perfect execution.
The traveler moved.
Not away.
Forward.
The axe missed.
The sword passed behind him.
For the first time—
he attacked.
His hand struck the hunter's wrist.
A simple movement.
Nothing dramatic.
A sharp impact.
A loud crack echoed through the clearing.
The hunter's fingers spasmed.
The sword almost slipped free.
Almost.
The hunter reacted instantly.
The axe reversed direction.
A brutal backswing aimed directly at the traveler's skull.
The traveler ducked.
Black steel screamed overhead.
An ancient pillar behind him shattered.
Stone exploded outward.
Fragments rained across the clearing.
The hunter never stopped.
The axe came again.
Then again.
Then again.
Relentless.
Every strike intended to kill.
Every strike heavy enough to destroy stone.
The traveler retreated.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he had to.
The hunter was stronger than expected.
Faster too.
The black weapons felt wrong.
Every swing carried a strange pressure.
A weight beyond metal.
The traveler noticed.
The hunter noticed him noticing.
And smiled.
For the first time.
A terrible smile.
"You feel it."
The axe descended.
The traveler sidestepped.
The ground ruptured.
The hunter laughed.
"You don't know what these are."
The traveler remained silent.
The hunter attacked again.
Faster.
More aggressive.
The black sword finally found its target.
Not the neck.
The shoulder.
The blade grazed him.
A shallow cut.
Nothing serious.
Yet the moment the steel touched skin—
the traveler froze.
For an instant.
A single instant.
The world around him distorted.
The forest vanished.
Darkness.
Endless darkness.
Then—
it was gone.
The clearing returned.
The hunter saw it happen.
His smile widened.
"There it is."
The traveler's eyes narrowed.
The hunter attacked immediately.
The axe roared toward his chest.
The traveler caught the wooden shaft.
The impact drove him backward several steps.
Earth tore beneath his boots.
The hunter pushed harder.
Trying to overpower him.
Trying to break him.
Trying to remove his head exactly as ordered.
The traveler's expression remained calm.
Yet something had changed.
The air around him felt wrong.
Subtly.
The leaves nearest him trembled.
Though there was no wind.
The hunter felt it.
His smile disappeared.
Something ancient whispered at the edge of instinct.
Danger.
For the first time—
the hunter became cautious.
A fatal mistake.
The traveler moved.
One step.
A twist.
His hand struck the hunter's elbow.
The joint bent the wrong way.
The axe slipped free.
The hunter staggered.
Shock flashed across his face.
Then—
the traveler struck again.
A single blow to the chest.
The hunter flew backward.
Not dramatically.
Not impossibly.
Just hard enough.
Hard enough to crash through a stone pillar.
The structure collapsed.
Dust exploded into the air.
Silence followed.
For a moment.
Then the hunter stood again.
Breathing heavily.
Blood at the corner of his mouth.
Yet smiling.
Still smiling.
Because he finally understood something.
"You don't know what you are."
The clearing became quiet.
The traveler's gaze sharpened.
The hunter lifted the black sword.
Pointing it directly at him.
"That's why they sent me first."
The words lingered.
Then—
another voice entered the clearing.
A voice filled with disbelief.
"No..."
Both men turned.
At the edge of the forest stood the old man.
Dust-covered.
Exhausted.
Late.
As always.
His eyes moved from the shattered pillars.
To the black weapons.
To the traveler.
And finally—
to the shallow cut upon the traveler's shoulder.
The old man's expression changed instantly.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For what that wound meant.
Because the moment he saw the black blade—
he recognized it.
Not the weapon.
The material.
Ancient records.
Destroyed archives.
Forgotten warnings.
All of them speaking of the same thing.
Steel forged to wound what should not be wounded.
The old man's heart sank.
The hunter noticed him.
And laughed.
A genuine laugh this time.
"You."
The hunter pointed his sword toward the old man.
"So that's why you've been following him."
The old man said nothing.
The hunter looked between them.
Understanding something.
Then his smile widened.
A dangerous smile.
Because suddenly—
he was no longer facing one problem.
He was facing two.
And somewhere beneath the traveler's cloak—
the Anchor became hotter than ever before.
Almost burning.
Almost awakening.
Almost remembering.