Arkhan paused, looking at the young hero. He saw in her the same burning passion he had possessed centuries ago. For a fleeting second, he felt a pang of something he hadn't felt in ages: regret. He raised his heavy blade.
"Do it," she whispered, looking up at him without fear, her eyes filled with tears of frustration. "Kill me."
Arkhan looked down at her, and then at his own hands, covered in the blood of countless battles. He realized that if he killed her, he would simply continue this cycle of endless war forever. He was tired. So very tired. Arkhan
Slowly, Arkhan drove his greatsword into the earth at his feet. The dark energy flared one last time and then went silent. He reached up and unlatched his heavy iron helmet, letting it fall to the ground. For the first time in centuries, the cool night wind hit his scarred, weary face.
"No," Arkhan said softly. "The world has had enough of conquerors." Arkhan paused, looking at the young hero
With a powerful overhead smash, Arkhan shattered her guard and sent her sprawling to the ground. Her sword flew from her grip, landing in the shallow river water. Arkhan stood over her, the dark energy of his blade crackling.
Arkhan surveyed the battlefield from the jagged cliffs of the Dragon’s Teeth. Below, his army of iron-clad legionnaires stood motionless, their shields reflecting the crimson glow of a dying sun. For centuries, he had lived by the blade, carving his name into the annals of history as the ultimate conqueror. He raised his heavy blade
They traded blows that illuminated the night. The girl was fast and driven by a desperate courage, but Arkhan was a master of a thousand wars. He deflected her strikes with brutal efficiency, slowly wearing her down.