“Here I come!”

Kwazhak launched his blade at her. Saya drew her scimitar to block it. The mere force of the sword knocked her back a few steps. He was shocked at the power, and attempted to tone down his attacks. But, if he made it easy, then it wouldn’t be the perfect final duel. Spinning in the air, his hair and hanfu twirled like a blossoming flower. He continued his onslaught, keeping up the offense with just his lone right arm.

“Why are you doing this?!” She shouted at him, waving her sword with two arms, “We aren’t supposed to fight!”

“It’s an Azu tradition, no? To resolve disputes, we duel.”

They aligned their positions onto each other, as if they were dancing in a ballroom. Cheng Ying lusted for more light, almost blinding both of them. The only way he could focus was to have the sword in his peripheral vision. Kwazhak’s sword did not sound like a sharp blade cutting through air, but rather an intense light vacuum dispersing the oxygen around it.

Their weapons clashed violently against each other, but neither would break. Unless a sword was stationary and the other delivered a robust cut onto the thin side, it was impossible to break another swordsman’s blade in battle. Even with the violent attacks, Saya was still on defense.

“Forty minutes remaining.”

Kwazhak needed to make sure to skin her wrist. But even in a dire situation, it required the utmost timing. He locked eyes with her, analyzing her every reaction, looking for an opening. He laughed; she read most of his moves even when disguised as feints.

Saya blocked a diagonal slash, moving her as she stayed upright by plunging her sword into the ground. She panted hard, but Kwazhak paid no mind.

“What are you fighting for?” Saya brought up her scimitar, rising up.

“Miss Saya, thank you for everything,” He responded, letting oxygen into his lungs. “If I hadn't met you during the rainy night in the Kurotari Hôtel, then I wouldn’t have known anything about Ayai Toya.”

“No, if I had listened to you back when we first met, things wouldn’t turn out like this…” Her voice shattered, the scimitar on guard.
“Incorrect. If you weren’t here, in this arena, in this city, we wouldn’t have saved anybody,” Kwazhak closed his eyes, forcing a smile in his fatigue. Then he opened them again.

“Huh?...”

He saw his chance. Kwazhak appeared before her. She began to lift her sword. The wrist. With a upward slash, Cheng Ying scraped the edge of her skin. Saya shrieked at the gash of blood pouring into her hands, but still firmly held on to the scimitar.

“Eyes up!”

Kwazhak discharged another series of blows, one after the other. Even in the face of it, her stance remained rigid as sandstone, her stance tight. Soon a retaliation pushed him back. He had been using the same moves his older brother had to beat him, however Saya still remained strong.

Every slash strained his body, his veins popped every second. A missed cut would smash open the ground, rupturing his arm. Kwazhak aimed Cheng Ying up high, and more swords materialized behind him, facing upward. They raced towards the barrier at high speeds, flying like sand in the wind.

They all shattered and fragmented as soon as they impacted it. The swords broke easily. In the fight of Izdaha versus Ashojan, Saya damaged the barrier with her scimitar, but now his swords did not. Then the thought drew in his mind, turning his disbelief into something else.

“Ayai Toya…” A smile came across his face, on the verge of cackling. “It appears I still have to fight thee, Saya.”

“Don’t do this,” Saya replied. Kwazhak met her sword with his, coming face to face.

“Tell Suruj I’m grateful he gave me the opportunity to journey to Tasdaha, if he had not been so caring for his Azu friend,” His eyes were sharp, which burned with such passion in them. The thrill of a battle consumed him with a crazed cackle.

“I don’t understand!” She broke free from the sword bind, and stepped backwards. Kwazhak spun into another pirouette, bringing Cheng Ying to his back. In one graceful swoop he performed a horizontal slash, as if he attempted to kill her. Of course, Kwazhak never planned to. He didn’t know what would happen if he used Cheng Ying to slice the barrier. Rather he didn’t know what would happen to him if the legendary sword broke.

“Twenty minutes remaining.”

Seeing Saya reminded him of his younger self, from when he could still feel the eastern wind, full of naïveté and energy. Back when he was shunned by the Laoyuang House, and ‘prince’ did not refer to him. Even until now, his family name remained behind his given one, having not heard the order ‘Laoyuang Kwazhak’ in his entire life until he stayed in Tasdaha.

Diligence, benevolence, and righteousness were the three virtues of the Laoyuang. However he did not possess any of these growing up. And yet in the end, he had achieved none in his eyes. Where was noblesse oblige?

“The timer will not stop for no one,” Kwazhak raised his sword at Saya. “Yet one must stop me. Regardless of the draw, the gold over my head far exceeds thine own.”

He stretched his body to the limit, as a thousand swords appeared overhead. Saya didn’t say a word. An entire arsenal of swords surrounded her, enough to gear an army. An infinite amount of blades all pointed in her direction. With one stroke, Kwazhak ended it all.

Kwazhak squeezed Cheng Ying’s handle, and the myriad of the Guizu Arcana unleashed. Everything collided at once, a sound so loud that it ruptured his ears. Dust scattered everywhere, leaving the audience unable to see, remaining silent. When Kwazhak heard the quiet footsteps, a smile came across his face.

“I haven’t trained thee for naught.”

An Azu scimitar impaled him. The blade came out his back. Sand particles revealing Saya’s path soon faded away. Kwazhak fell onto her shoulder, coughing out blood. The sword remained impaled in him. Cheng Ying dissipated gradually as the moon traveled out of view.

“Can you rest now?...” Her voice was soft and frail, letting them sit down on the floor. Soon she couldn’t wipe away the amount of tears falling down her cheeks.

“Yes… yes I can, Saya,” They hugged for a moment, as his life drained from him. “Fight along those whom one can trust. Fight so that one can live.”

All those pains, those torments, Kwazhak concluded that it wasn’t for naught. He was going to meet with L, Mr. Khouw, Ki Lanu, and the others again. Fleeting from this world, he met someone for whom he could take as a wife. Surely L and Mr. Khouw would be happy about that. Someone that remembered his mother. The more he thought about them, the blood from his heart kept on leaking a brilliant radiance. If Kwazhak believed in the old reincarnation myths, then he would choose to be reborn again as a Laoyuang. He was sure that his elder brother and father would forgive him.

Kwazhak closed his eyes to sleep.