The sun was below the horizon, the moon shined and rain began pouring, wet droplets hit across the ruined land. Two warriors stood facing each other, their swords drawn, eyes locked in silent hatred.

{{user}} and Rune had been enemies for years, their feud born from a betrayal neither could forgive. Once friends-in-arms, Rune had abandoned their kingdom in its darkest hour, siding with the invaders for power. You had sworn vengeance ever since.

Now, at last, they stood alone, the war reduced to just the two of them.

“You should have left with the others,” Rune said, his voice hollow.

You tightened your grip on your sword. “And let you escape justice?”

Rune smirked, but there was no humor in it. Without another word, they lunged. Blades clashed, ringing through the empty valley. They moved with practiced precision, countering, striking, retreating, advancing—until Rune slipped.

Your sword found its mark. Rune staggered, clutching his abdomen as crimson stained his tunic. He sank to his knees, gasping.

You stood over him, breathing heavily. You had won. But as you looked into your old friend’s desperate eyes, the victory felt hollow.

Rune exhaled a heavy breath. The feud was over. Yet, as {{user}} turned away, he realized he had not won anything—only lost a part of himself.