Death Guns In Another World

The air inside Nyx’s inner world was already trembling from the aftershocks of their last clash. The pitch-black arena still shimmered faintly from where Alex’s final strike had fizzled against Nyx’s blade — and before the dust could settle, Nyx moved.

No words. No warning. Just a sudden, impossibly sharp step forward that shattered the silence like glass.

Alex barely registered her blur before his instincts screamed move! He twisted his torso just as her sword whistled past, the force alone ripping the air into a sharp current that stung his skin.

“Again?!” Alex’s grin was tight, almost feral. His muscles screamed from the last fight, but his heart was pounding with an addict’s need — the thrill of trying to bridge that impossible gap.

Nyx didn’t answer. Her eyes glowed in the void like distant stars — cold, sharp, and ancient — and in the next heartbeat she was upon him again.

Alex slid his right foot back, shifting into a low guard. His sword — a sleek black blade forged from Nyx’s own shadows — hummed as he infused it with mana. The moment Nyx’s next strike came, their blades clashed in a shower of black sparks, each one flickering like dying embers before being swallowed by the darkness.

Her form was flawless, her attacks flowing like water yet striking with the inevitability of falling stone. The pressure was suffocating; every swing of her sword forced Alex two steps back, every feint was a trap within a trap.

She’s reading me, he realized. Every movement he made, every twitch of his fingers — Nyx saw it before it happened.

His only choice was to break her rhythm.

Alex ducked under a horizontal slash, let her blade whistle past his hair, and pushed off the ground hard. The enhanced gravity in her inner world turned every leap into an effort that strained bone and tendon, but it also gave him weight in his strikes.

He came down with a vertical slash aimed at her head. Nyx didn’t even step back — she simply tilted her head, the blade missing her by a hair, before her elbow snapped forward into Alex’s chest.

The blow didn’t just hurt — it folded him. Air exploded from his lungs as he was launched backward, his boots scraping the shadowy floor before he skidded to a halt.

Alex’s breathing was ragged, but he didn’t hesitate. He tossed his sword into the air, catching it with his left hand while his right reached into his item space — pulling free a spear.

The instant the shaft touched his palm, he flooded it with mana. Dark runes along the length of the weapon lit up, and the air around the spearhead warped slightly from compressed energy.

Nyx’s eyes narrowed.

She came forward again, but this time Alex met her halfway, thrusting the spear in rapid, precise jabs. Each strike was a test — a probe to measure her timing.

She deflected the first with her sword, swayed around the second, and parried the third so hard the impact rattled his teeth. But on the fourth jab, he twisted his grip, turned the thrust into a sweep, and forced her to step back for the first time in the fight.

A flicker of satisfaction burned in his chest — immediately extinguished when Nyx blurred forward in response. Her sword danced in short arcs, testing his reach. Every parry sent vibrations up his arms until his shoulders burned.

Then Nyx’s free hand rose, fingers twitching. The gravity in the arena doubled in an instant.

Alex’s knees buckled. His spear tip dipped toward the ground.

Before he could fully recover, Nyx’s sword was already moving. She struck low, forcing him to hop backward, then came in high. He blocked, the impact driving him half a step deeper into the shadow floor.

She’s not holding back anymore.

Alex’s vision blurred for half a heartbeat — but he leaned into the challenge. Planting his spear butt into the ground, he vaulted forward with the extra momentum, twisting in midair and swapping to his bow mid-spin.

By the time his feet touched the floor again, he had already drawn back the string. A single arrow of compressed mana shimmered in the darkness.

He released.

The arrow screamed toward Nyx, slicing the air with such force that shockwaves rippled outwards. Nyx’s sword flashed, cleaving the projectile clean in half — but the arrow exploded into dozens of smaller bolts that came from every angle.

For the first time, Nyx raised her other hand fully, summoning a dome of shadow that absorbed the barrage.

Alex didn’t let her reset. He was already moving, sword back in hand, sprinting straight into the wall of shadows. His blade cut through the barrier with a rippling hiss, and in the next heartbeat, he was inside her guard.

Their swords met again — once, twice, three times — each collision a deafening crack of steel on steel.

She was still stronger. Still faster. But Alex’s strikes had changed — they carried intent, the kind of desperation that makes technique unpredictable.

Nyx pivoted on her heel, bringing her sword up for a perfect vertical counter — only to find Alex gone, sliding low under her swing. His blade came up in a rising arc aimed at her ribs.

It stopped inches short.

Her hand was on his wrist, her grip unyielding. In a blur, she wrenched the sword from his grasp and drove her knee into his midsection.

Alex staggered back, coughing — but his grin didn’t fade.

The next exchange wasn’t a duel — it was a storm. Nyx’s strikes blurred into one continuous flow, a seamless dance of destruction that forced Alex to block with his forearms, shoulders, even the flat of his blade when he could grab it back.

He lost count of the blows after fifty.

His arms shook. His legs felt like they were filled with molten lead. The only reason he was still standing was stubbornness — and the faint spark of excitement that came with surviving one more second against her.

Finally, Nyx’s sword swept sideways with a force that ripped his blade from his hands entirely.

Before he could recover, her sword was at his throat.

The arena was silent except for the ragged sound of Alex’s breathing.

Then, slowly, Nyx stepped back, lowering her weapon.

Alex let out a sharp laugh, half from exhaustion, half from exhilaration. “Still… not there yet, huh?”

Nyx’s gaze softened — just for a moment — before the throne room swallowed her form, leaving Alex alone in the void.