The steely sound of swords clashing echoed through the room.

“Good opening, now really go at me!” The teacher called, grinned. The student swept his sword around the other’s centre of balance, pushing it down and out of the way. He tried going for a lunge, but was quickly pushed aside.

“You can do better than this. Get angry at me!” The teacher pushed him back into a corner, and then lightly jumped a few steps backwards, taunting him.

“Stop moving so quick, take it easy on me!” The student burst out, getting flustered. He tried a few clumsy slashes before moving back, uncertainly watching his opponent.

The teacher took this chance to make a move again, sending the student back into the corner. “You’ll never beat me at this rate,” he taunted. The teacher continued attacking and taunting the student, enticing him into getting enraged and attacking back with some ferocity. It worked.

The student struck back at his opponent; though none had a chance of getting through, he gave blow after blow to force him to block. The teacher fought back, his face getting red as he too felt instinct taking over. The student only had so much in him that anger and the element of surprise could add, and felt himself losing the edge. His arms grew weak, but he fueled his anger with the remembrance of what his teacher had been doing, and pushed on.

The swords met time and time again, lunges turned by parries, slashes blocked before reaching their targets. Each man was red-faced and panting from exertion, looking for a weakness in the other.

One of the men spotted an opening in his opponent after a particularly hard slash, and thrust at his side, reaching flesh and scoring a small wound near his waist. The opponent’s eyes widened at the pain, and reacted by instinct, thrusting through middle of the man’s chest.

“Teacher…” gasped the student, through a punctured lung. He fell to his knees and clutched at the open wound, staring up at his teacher with pained eyes.

The teacher’s face flashed through several emotions.

And finally…a cold resolve.

He raised his sword, still dripping with blood, and held it against his student’s neck. A single tear slid down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, and swung. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Author’s Note – I hope you enjoyed this! It’s one of my old stories, but I’m working on a longer one currently. Some new little story might sneak it’s way in sometime this week though!

Like the stories here so far? Needs more cheese? Let me know in the comments, or by clicking like if you liked it.

One thought on “Fury

  1. I love this one! You really should write more short stories like this.
    I’m looking forward to your longer ones too thou. 😀


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