2412, Crescin 8, Jyda

Rhys slashed at a half-blood with his stolen sword. Blood sprayed, coating his face and the front of his robe.

That morning, the ice sprites looked at him like he's mad when he refused armor. He's not familiar with the ice sprite armor and he doubted he could fight well with those strapped to every crook of him. So he resorted to weaving magic into his beige robes. The ice sprites were spooked at this so much they asked him to add more protection on theirs.

That's how he ended up feeling tired as he waded into battle.

They had been fighting for an indefinite amount of time now. Rhys's sword arm grew heavy but he pushed his muscles to stab harder, slash harder. The Generals issued an order that they were to take back the upper floors as the enemy now encamped inside the Ice Capital. The Grand Marshal wasn't pleased so she decided to send almost half of the army to battle.

It was a bold move.

At the first half of the battle, with their usual tactics against fairies with different synnavaimis, the ice sprites seemed to be winning. That was over an hour ago. Now, they were slowly being driven back into a wall. The remaining ice sprites with Rhys were doing their best to drive back the enemy away from them

It was mostly sprites today, courtesy of the Cardovian army. Now that Rhys noticed it, it seemed like the Synketros had turned tail and vanished from sight. That's good. The Ice Capital has had enough to deal with Cardovia alone.

Marin was nowhere to be found on the battlefield but Rhys could spot Kymalin Iaro just fine. The banshee was busy cackling as she summoned spirit after spirit of departed fairies in the room and using them to attack their comrades.

It's a freak show. Banshees were a whole other kind of creepy.

Rhys's grip on his sword tightened as his fists clenched. Kymalin Iaro it was, then. He yelled as he charged, scything any enemy who dared cross his path. The ice sprites repeated his roar and began hacking away at the Cardovians with renewed vigor. It wouldn't be too long before reinforcements arrive. A few men could make a huge difference.

Rhys leaped over a corpse whose spirit had long ago rejoined the battle. Did the spirit fancy being brought back on the very field it died? Could Rhys somehow convince them to turn against a banshee? He tried.

"Hey, man!" he yelled at a certain spirit wearing a torn Cardovic leather coat much like Kymalin's. "Do you like what you're doing? You're being controlled!"

"RAAAAAAAAH," came the reply.

Rhys dodged and slashed with his sword. The metal just passed through where the spirit's legs would have been. Before he could realize what happened, something solid slammed into his jaw. He stumbled backward; his balance was thrown out of the window. His sword flew out of his hand and he tripped against a corpse that's missing an arm and a leg.

He rolled out of the way as the spirit slammed its fist to the spot on the floor where his face had been. A grunt rumbled low his throat as he parried and blocked the spirit's fists and kicks. He did his best to roll and cover his head. Some punches hit him a little too hard that he was sure one of his organs was doomed.

Something flashed in his eye and he lashed out to grab a foot aimed at his face. It's poised to do him in but not quite yet. His fingers closed around a green-tinged ankle. His eyes widened. Oh, so that's how it worked.

Rhys braced himself against the floor and with all his strength, brought the spirit down with him. The thick ice cracked at the spirit's impact. He cast a weaving shield atop the spirit to hold him in place. The spirit clawed against the magical bonds Rhys had trapped him under. It was no use. It's a magical bond meant to entrap the intangible. For the record, Rhys was good with the intangible.

Rhys retrieved his sword a few distance away, punching a stomach or two. He made it back in time to plunge the sword into the spirit's chest. The dying howl as the spirit dissipated in green smoke was enough to keep him awake at night.

"Ingenious," a voice made Rhys turn around just in time for a dodge a fist hurtling towards his jaw. He parried a sword made of some kind of ivory and pressed hard when he and Kymalin Iaro crossed swords. The famed banshee smiled, her crooked teeth enough to scare the heavens out of Rhys. "Care to dance with me?" Kymalin purred.

Rhys didn't reply. If it's a dance he wanted, he would just crash a Valkalin party in Helinfirth. That family was known to throw parties every other day. He could do a mean raltz if he wanted to.

Kymalin bared her teeth, keeping her offense against Rhys strong and heavy. "Such a shame," a manic grin spread to her lips. "I've always wanted to dance before impaling someone."

"That's not going to be me," Rhys muttered.

Kymalin hummed. "We'll see."

Kymalin drew back and Rhys lunged. Their swords crossed again. Sparks flew. She swept her leg from underneath Rhys, her shin hitting the back of his knees. He gritted his teeth as he let himself fall before he slashed his sword past Kymalin's legs.

Warm blood surprised him as it splashed to his face. A creature this insane apparently had the same blood as all of them. Kymalin stumbled away, hissing from the wound grazing both of her shins. Rhys had cut through the fabric as well, giving him a perfect view of how pale the banshee's skin was. It was...deathly.

"Ah, an equal," Kymalin swayed but she remained upright. If possible, her grin showed more teeth as it grew wider. "Hardly anyone could match me these days because I killed them all."

"Go home, witch," Rhys spat as he staggered up. His side hurt and probably other parts on his body he didn't even know the name of. Ah, he didn't have that much time before he keel over and start sleeping.

Kymalin licked the blood that sprouted from her split lip. Had she bitten down on it? "You first, lint," she lowered her sword..

Rhys screamed as he charged again. The world around him faded as he and Kymalin traded blows, trying to outsmart each other by playing dirtier than the other's last move. Rhys had never felt so wild with swinging his sword. He felt that Kymalin had never felt more joy in hearing her sword clash against the sword of another.

What a crazy woman.

Rhys was vaguely aware of the fighting that went on around him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kymalin's spirits pick off ice sprites that attempted to take them down. He passed several corpses, all mangled in their own fatal ways. His soles crunched against ice shards. How much longer could he take this? ONly the gods knew the answer to that.

Kymalin swung a little too strong and he barely parried it in time. He drew back, catching his breath. The banshee didn't even give him a second to do so when she bared down against him. Her sword flashed against this floor's dimming light as she swung her sword against Rhys's over and over. Her laugh echoed off the walls in horrifying shrieks.

"Tired, are you?" she crooned, her yellow eyes bright and sparkling like the afternoon sun. It's terrifying as it was refreshing.

Rhys grunted as he blocked another of Kymalin's strong blows. Their swords' contact sent a flurry of vibrations up his arms and into his chest. Oh, he's going to have one hell of a muscle ache tomorrow.

That was if he could make it.

Kymalin came at him, reducing Rhys to merely parrying and defending to stay alive. He didn't want to admit it but Kymalin Iaro was one hell of a swordswoman. One of the best he's ever fought. It would be a shame to lose now.

"Don't worry about losing, darling," Kymalin said, her tone still gentle and purring even though sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped to the side of her face. Apparently, Rhys put up a good fight too. Rhys took this chance of distraction and launched an attack of his own. Kymalin's eyes flashed and she grabbed the blade of Rhys's sword. What—

Kymalin's foot dug into his stomach even before he knew what she was doing. Something went back out of his throat as he tumbled to the floor. His sword clattered somewhere. Damn, the woman could whip ass. His vision blurred as the wind got knocked out of his lungs. He lay on the ground, wheezing. He was very well aware of the chaos around him. Did...did the lights just go dim? Why? Nobody told him about the lights going dim.

Kymalin's lamp-like eyes floated to his blurry vision. "Ah, still got a fight left in you, boy?" she snickered. "Thankfully, I'm just a distraction. Thank you for letting us enact your own plan to you."

Rhys's eyes widened. No—

Kymalin smiled, her crooked teeth looked like they helped the banshee eat children during meal times. He searched for his sword, for anything, to at least hurt her before she went. "See you in the afterlife," she blew him a kiss before vanishing into a plume of dark shadows.

That's when the ice beneath him cracked and shattered.