“So you’ve finally realized, huh.”
A voice pierces the silence of night. Two men stand facing eachother in the eastern Ravennan plains. There was no one in sight, it was just another normal night for the average Ravennan. The two man stood under the bright moon, staring at eachother with a disdainful look. The first man, facing north, wore a deep blue musketeer hat with the iconic white feathers, and underneath it was his hair, colored in a mixed shade of red and black. He had a scar running through his right eye, and had a thick black beard. He wore a deep blue jacket, black gloves, paired with black pants and brown boots. The second man wore a similar musketeer hat, but colored with black instead, and his hair matched the other man’s, black hair with a shade of red focused on the right, and a bit more spiky. His face was covered by a black mask, with only holes from which his eyes could see through. His eyes were bloody red, with a fearful stance that would make weaklings tremble. He wore a pirate captains clothes with a large black cape draped on his back. He wore long pants and thick boots, all in black.
There’s something eerily odd about the two. Something similar despite their opposite morals, they parallel eachother.
“It’s been a long time friend,” the masked man bellowed. Even beneath the mask, the other man could tell he was smiling. “Mikhail Kuznetsov, famed Grand Navy Commodore! All that glory and fame you get – nothing but a reminder of disgust and hate.”
The other man, named Mikhail, said nothing.
“Well, former Grand Navy Commodore, that is. Your name has been disgraced by your comrades, who claim to serve the people of the war seas, and uphold peace. And how successful were they? Look at me, I’m standing right in front of you.”
Mikhail remains silent.
“Your name has been forgotten, friend. Only I know yours now.”
“And only I remember yours. Phrixus,” Mikhail finally blurted out.
Phrixus smirked. Mikhail kept his hand on his Sabre, sheathed on his waist.
“You are trying to tear down the thing you have worked so hard to establish, hm? I know that for a fact. Ironic. Standing up to tyranny? How bold of you to do so.”
“It’s the least I could do.”
Mikhail suddenly drew his Sabre and pointed it at Phrixus’ throat. The dim moonlight danced on the silver blade, a blade once painted by the blood of pirates, but now merchants and marines as well.
“Stop wasting my time,” Mikhail said with a serious tone, “tell me why you’re here, and what you want.”
Phrixus held both of his hands in the air, jokingly, “chill, bro, I don’t want to fight.”
“What, you’re scared?”
“I think that sentence suits you more. I wouldn’t be alive here today if you did your job.”
Mikhail’s eyes flashed red, “what do you want?”
“You and I have the same goal. To see the grand navy destroyed and burn in flames.”
“Same goals, different morals, different methods. We are not the same.”
“What different methods? Huh? Your hands run with blood, and so do mine, quite literally. I’m willing to bet you killed at least twice the amount of people than I did.”
“I kill them for justice.”
“Good motive, still murder.”
“Then how do you justify yours?”
“I don’t need justification, it’s my job and I do it properly.”
“Then you should’ve joined the Syndicate and rot and die. The world would be a better place without you.”
“Where’s the fun in that? Taking orders from higher ups you’ve always loathed? There’s a price to pay for living a life under someone.”
The words hit like a thorn piercing Mikhail’s heart. He stepped back, shocked, and Phrixus leapt at him, launching a barrage of blazing punches, then producing a powerful kick from his leg, coated in iron. Mikhail is sent flying, but he lands and hurls a slash towards Phrixus, who easily dodges it.
Phrixus tosses several red daggers at Mikhail, who deflects it with his Sabre and leaps forward, sending another slash that passes by Phxirus. He retaliates by leaping in the air, then crashing down, smashing the ground with his leg and creating a large shockwave. But Mikhail saw this coming. He dodges it and switches to his traista, and when Phrixus raises his head after smashing, Mikhail hurls the traista at him, piercing through his body. Phrixus coughs out a puddle of blood. “Let this be a reminder for you,” Mikhail utters, barely catching his breath, “stay out of my business and my actions.” He unleashes a yellow blast, sending Phrixus upward, then another flash sends him crashing towards a rock, seriously injuring him.
“Ah……” Phrixus slowly gets up, bleeding and panting. “I just love the smell of blood,” He mocks, wiping the blood off his head with his hand.
“Remember…… your actions have consequences, my friend,” Phrixus laughs sinisterly. Mikhail slowly gets up, sweating from his efforts, clutching his bleeding stomach with his hand. “Both of us were far ahead of them. Those foolish, arrogant garbage. We saw past their ignorance, but we are not to warn them. I just want to see them punished for their actions, and then…… then I’ll fit in my role, as the judge…… and executioner. Heh.”
Mikhail charges his Sabre, preparing for another attack, but Phrixus boasts, “perhaps we’ll meet again, and one day…… one day our fates will be sealed.” Phrixus propels himself into the air, leaping towards Mount Caesar as Mikhail stands watching helplessly, knowing chasing him is futile.
A cold breeze rushes past the lone warrior, a past in ruins, a name he cast aside, a blade stained with blood.