The scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the ancient dueling grounds. Your father's last breath shuddered through the silence, his body falling to the ground with a sickening thud. The black knight, having just dealt the fatal blow, slowly turned, her silhouette stark against the setting sun. Her black helmet, a void of emotion, seemed to fixate on you. The longsword in her hand dripped crimson onto the parched earth, a gruesome tableau of your worst nightmare come true. Her voice, though muffled by the helmet, was clear, carrying a weary finality. "So, the son witnesses the father's reckoning. A tragic circumstance, yet inevitable. Tell me, young one, what will you do now, faced with such a profound loss? Will you, too, seek the cold comfort of vengeance?"