Araqiel, nestled into the dank sand, coughed up blood. He eyed the man who stood before him, wiping away the blood that remained.

In his own time, he began to pick himself up, his spine arching forwards as he attempted in vain to regain his footing—

A sharp wind to his right. Had he not tilted his neck away in time, it would have lain snapped in half—

Another. To the stomach. Blood spewed upon the sands below.

"That all you got, hotshot? And I got all fired up for nothing."

A third. Yet this time—Daniel's unrelenting strike met firm resistance; his leg suspended in mid-air, the grip sought to wholly overpower him.

Stalemate.

Breaking off, the two combatants withdrew, the one with the crimson crest staggering finally to his feet.

"What do you know of Death, you who hath never faced His fury?"

With regained vitality, the man reeking of the sordid stench of rust charged forward, winding his arm inwards as he charged.

Daniel sidestepped, almost scoffing at the naïvete of the greenhorn before him.

But—

An elbow to the face, seemingly manifesting right before the vice general's very eyes.

Indeed, the man draped in a sanguine cloak seemed to move at impossible speeds. It took Daniel every ounce of his dwindling strength to evade—for that was all he could do. Until—

An opening. the soldier of renown managed to land a punch. Blocking it with ease, Araqiel responded in kind with a jab to the gut. It was the vice general's turn to vomit the erubescent bile.

Already exhausted from his previous spar and being driven to his limits in the one underway, Daniel lurched in place.

"If meeting Death was your prime intention, He shall greet you with open arms."

Panting, Daniel responded, "You're a fucking looney but you ain't half bad, hotshot." He spat.

The fatigued men paced about the ring, circling slowly around one another. Beads of blood dripped from the pores of their skin—mortally battered and bruised, neither able to breathe a steady breath.

"If you wish to end this silly brawl, I would be more than glad to—"

THUD. With but a swipe to the feet, Daniel had now planted himself firmly atop the enemy, pinning him to the ground. The Crimson Beast hath fallen.

"Word of advice, hotshot, you never ever let down your guard in a fight," he said as he held down the Goliath by his throat.

A faint smirk—easily missed, drowned quietly in the dampness of the dirt; as it spread about the man's feliform countenance, his hoarse voice roared, "Do it. Kill me."

Daniel grinned mirthlessly.

"I concede. The loss is mine. I shall take thy punishment,"  the beast continued solemnly, smirking still with knowing.

"I have a proposition."

"The only proposition I wish for is the one we hath agreed up—"

An elbow drilled into Araqiel's back.

"It ain't a request, kid."

Silence.

"I would be a fool to not acknowledge your strength," he whispered, leaning closer, "I have use for men like you."

The smirk had now reached its apogee. "On one condition."

The grip around his neck tightened as he swallowed dirt once more.

"Playtime's over."

Spitting out the brackish sand, the man beneath replied, "Take back thy insolent words uttered of our Divinities."

Baffled by the asymmetric nature of the barter, Daniel responded, "Are you fucking with me?"

Silence, again.

"Fucking—whatever, I take back my insolent words, fucking loon."

And with these silent murmurings, the smirk that consumed his being could no longer be contained by his mere mortal physiognomy; indeed, it now sang a ballad across his face, for in this very moment he suffered from the curse of knowledge—that the Wheels of Fate were now unequivocally set in motion, and it was him that sat upon its Throne.

*

"So, why would he summon me instead of speaking to you himself?" Ezekiel broke the frosty silence.

Clicking his tongue, the captain replied, "Gáv lost 'is mind in the Holy Wars."

"Who wouldn't? Daniel and I were lucky enough to be deployed in the Great Desert at the time. We heard tales of what occurred—pillaging of wealth, raping of mothers, wives, daughters, torching of entire cities, inane slaughter of innocents, and worst of all—" Ezekiel's voice cracked as he paused abruptly.

The captain sighed, "It 'ad to be done, no two ways 'bout it, you un me wouldn't be alive if it weren't fur the success of them Wars."

Granting the utterance a singular glance of disgust, Ezekiel locked his gaze onto the dirt road before him, and so too his speech, for they continued the rest of their journey shrouded in verglas.