Day 4 - The Gunsmith's Gamble

[Corporal Light]

The gunner looked to his right, baring his teeth underneath his scarf at the assailant that stopped him.

The attacker held his broadsword as tightly as he possibly could, suspending the pickaxe in midair. Smokey tendrils enveloped his arms as his eyes locked with Ballad's. Ballad noticed instantly that the swordsman's eyes were completely white, and that every single bit of his body was covered in black smoke that rose through the air, only to disappear within several seconds of leaving his form. He was virtually unrecognizable as a human being, but it didn't take a genius to figure out who it was as soon as he screamed in rage, slicing his sword towards the gunsmith's abdomen.

The green man jumped back, feeling the blade shave off a portion of his coat as he went down onto one knee, the fabric fluttering down onto the bloody ground. The shadow man stepped back, raising his blade up to his head, pointing the tip of it towards his opponent. The wounded sharpshooter stood up, his mouth agape as he placed his left hand on his pickaxe, lifting it up into a more defensive position.

The duo stared at each other for a few moments, taking their time. Their eyes ran down each others bodies, watching for the slightest movement. They began to circle, each step drawing a breath from either one of the two. Eventually, a wide smile appeared on the ghost-like being in front of Ballad, which drew a cocked eyebrow from the coat-wearing man.

He sensed a whoosh of motion behind him, followed by yet another cut across his back. He roared, swiftly whirling his pickaxe around as he spun, clenching his teeth together in anticipation.

His weapon connected with flesh, sending the tactician tumbling into the ground.

With the literal backstabber out of the way, the former detainee leaped forward, narrowly dodging the shade's weapon as he thrust it forward. He spun around a few feet away, glaring murderously at the trickster. Nearly killed again by a surprise attack like that. With two back wounds, a bruised chest, and who knew what else, he was surprised he was still up and moving about. He braced himself for more images as his head throbbed, shaking his head furiously as he squeezed the brim of his nose.

"Hurts, doesn't it?! THAT'S THE PAIN YOU CAUSE EVERYONE ELSE!" The spectre roared, charging forward.

"FUCK YOU!" The detainee answered in kind, raising his pickaxe to block a diagonal cut from above. Acting fast, he pushed forward, forcing his assailant back. He stumbled forward, leaning back to avoid a slice from below before raising it again, catching the blade in the air. He dug his feet into the ground, sliding one back as the edge of the sword came dangerously close to his face, assisted through the help of the recurring images. He groaned, a look of fear slithering onto his face as he kept pushing upwards, the heft of his blade looking like it would snap at any moment. The hallucinations kept on reappearing, splitting his concentration constantly. He had no earthly idea how this... thing, whatever it was, was capable of such feats. But it was, and a wave of uncertainty flowed into his chest at that thought. His arms began to falter, even as his mind begged him to keep going. He had to win. He couldn't die. He wouldn't die.

"You're a failure, Ballad! You've been wrong about every single decision you've ever made in your life! You couldn't even INVENT a way to protect people! All it did was KILL, and you've simply CONTINUED THE KILLING!" The phantom shouted, lifting his blade up for one final strike.

And just like that, he felt reinvigorated.

As their weapons collided, the green man stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He raised his arms high until their weapons were almost perfectly vertical to the ground. A look of complete and utter shock appeared on the phantom's face, seeing the golden eyes of death itself stare into him. The green man thrust his head forward, slamming it into the being's face.

The swordsman staggered backwards, getting no chance to recover before the green man's pickaxe collided with his torso, sending him to the ground. He landed on his back, weakly swinging his sword towards his opponent.

Before he could even lift his arm, however, his opponent rammed his pickaxe into his chest.

The smoke started to clear as his life began to fade, his breathing becoming shallow as Ballad lifted his weapon, opening the wound back up. As the smoke faded, it revealed a form, now bleeding heavily from the middle of his chest. He wore black armor, and he looked old. His eyes peered up at Ballad's, using his last few breathes to apologize.

"I'm.... sorry.... I'm... so... sorry..." was all he could muster before Ballad shut him up.

The gunner raised his weapon once more, staring at the corpse of Agern. His eyes were as bright as the sun, and all was silent save for the crackling of fire behind him. He took a deep breath, slowly falling onto his knees as his energy finally failed him, but he did not care. He had succeeded. Once he recovered, he could continue it. Continue until everything was like this. Silent, with a fire in the background, and no one able to remove it again. No one able to cause any more chaos and death. He breathed again, smelling ash unusually close to him.

Opening his eyes, he noticed a silhouette shaped exactly like Agern. From the hair, to the eyes, to even the armor he wore. It was an exact copy, like a mirror. His eyes widened as it leaped forward, mental images enveloping his view before he collapsed onto the ground, the world turning black. His heart beat faster and faster as the pain in his head increased tenfold, overwhelming him completely.