Josh Cruise sprinted down the cracked, debris-filled street, his heart pounding in his chest. Behind him, Lauri and William struggled to keep up, dodging overturned cars and avoiding patches of scorched earth where battles had raged minutes earlier. The aftermath of their fight with Wagner was still fresh in their minds, but they had no time to rest. Somewhere ahead, another threat loomed—a figure they could barely see through the thick smoke rising from the smoldering city.

  "Josh, slow down!" Lauri called out, her voice tense. "You don't even know what's up there!"

  Josh didn't answer. He could feel something pulling him forward, an urgency that he couldn't explain. His grip tightened on the hilt of his mystical sword, the blade glinting under the dim light. He didn't know what they were running towards, but he knew they had to get there fast.

  William glanced at Lauri, his expression grim. "We've gotta keep up. Whatever's ahead, it isn't gonna be good."

  They rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. In the clearing ahead, a man stood over a crumpled body. The man was tall and slender, dressed in a dark suit and tie, his hair slicked back in a way that seemed almost old-fashioned. Smoke curled from a cigarette perched on his lips, and his face was calm, almost serene, despite the chaos around him.

  Josh recognized him immediately—Vlad Ivanov. The best swordsman in the world, known for his unmatched skill with a karabela. Josh's eyes flicked to the sword at Vlad's side, a beautifully crafted, curved blade with a distinctive handle.

  Vlad looked down at the body at his feet—a man who seemed to have been caught in an explosion. Smoke still rose from his charred clothes, and his limbs were twisted at unnatural angles. A bomb ability, Josh guessed. Someone who could have blown the whole block apart if they hadn't been stopped.

  "Stay back," William warned, sensing the danger. "That's Vlad. He's... different."

  But Josh didn't listen. He saw the man's body, the way Vlad stood over him so calmly, and a rush of anger and fear surged through him. Without thinking, he charged forward, raising his sword.

  "Hey!" Josh shouted. "Get away from him!"

  Vlad turned his head slightly, glancing at Josh with a bored expression. He didn't move, didn't react. He simply watched as Josh closed the distance, his sword raised high.

  "Josh, no!" Lauri screamed, but it was too late.

  Vlad sighed softly, as if inconvenienced. With a swift motion, he flicked his cigarette away and drew his karabela. The sword moved so quickly it was a blur, catching the light in a flash of silver.

  Before Josh could even swing, Vlad stepped forward and delivered a sharp kick to Josh's chest. The force of the blow was immense, like being hit by a truck. Josh felt his breath leave his lungs in an instant as he was hurled back through the air, slamming into a brick wall with a bone-rattling impact.

  Josh crumpled to the ground, pain radiating through his body. He struggled to breathe, gasping for air. His vision blurred, and he could barely make out Lauri rushing towards him, screaming his name.

  "Josh!" she cried. "Josh, are you okay?"

  Vlad stood still, his face impassive. He flicked a speck of ash from his sleeve, his sword still drawn, the blade held at a relaxed angle. "You should not have done that," he said calmly, his voice carrying a faint Eastern European accent. "Now I am afraid I might have to kill you."

  Josh struggled to his feet, wincing at the pain in his ribs. He managed a defiant grin, even though his vision was swimming. "Yeah... well, maybe you should have kicked harder," he croaked.

  Vlad's lips twitched, almost like a smile. "Perhaps," he replied. "But I don't like to break things before I know what they are worth."

  Lauri reached Josh, grabbing his arm to steady him. "Josh, what were you thinking?" she whispered urgently. "We can't just rush in like that! He's dangerous—he's... different."

  Josh nodded, his breath ragged. "I know... I know. But we can't just let him stand there like he owns the place."

  William stepped up beside them, his face grim. "This guy's no joke. If he's here, it means trouble. And he's not just skilled; he's... something else. Something not right."

  Vlad watched them calmly, his expression unchanged. "I am sorry," he said again, almost genuinely this time. "But I have my orders, and you are in my way. I hope you understand... it is nothing personal."

  Josh squared his shoulders, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest. "Well, it feels personal."

  Vlad sighed once more, raising his sword slightly. "Then I suppose there is nothing left to discuss."

  The three of them stood ready, knowing they were outmatched but unwilling to back down. The tension hung thick in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

  Vlad's eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened on his sword. "This will not end well for you," he said quietly.

  And with that, he lunged forward.

  Vlad's sword glinted in the dim light as he raised it, preparing to deliver the fatal blow to Josh. The sharp edge shimmered menacingly, and the tension in the air was almost palpable. Josh could barely move, his body still recovering from the brutal knee strike. Lauri's eyes widened in horror, and William's fists clenched at his sides. They were powerless to stop what was about to happen.

  Just as Vlad's sword began its descent, Lojan Mackimee, ever the unpredictable ally, leapt into the fray. With a sudden burst of energy, he intercepted Vlad's strike, his body absorbing the impact as he cracked a grin.

  "Hey, Vlad! Did I miss something important?" Lojan quipped, his tone light despite the situation. He was completely unharmed, his immortality ensuring that the sword's edge had no effect on him. He stood up with a chuckle, dusting himself off. "You might need to try a bit harder than that."

  Vlad's eyes narrowed slightly in frustration, but he took a step back, his sword lowered. He seemed momentarily thrown off by Lojan's nonchalance. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl around him as he watched Lojan with a mix of irritation and curiosity.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Very well," Vlad said, his voice carrying a note of resignation. "I will deal with you later."

  Turning his attention back to Josh, Vlad's expression hardened once more. "But first, let me speak my story. You should understand why I am here. Why I fight."

  Josh, still on his knees, looked up at Vlad with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Lauri and William watched intently, their own emotions a turbulent storm of worry and sympathy.

  "After the war ended," Vlad began, his voice heavy with the weight of his memories, "my country, Yervania, was no more. Reduced to rubble. I returned home in the same car as my friend's casket. It was a long, silent journey, broken only by the sound of my own thoughts and the occasional sobs from the other mourners."

  The scene seemed to shift, the surroundings blurring into a memory as Vlad spoke. "When we arrived, I saw the grieving families, the women wailing for their lost ones. The mother of my friend... I remember her voice. She cried for her 'baby boy.' It was a sound that tore at my very soul."

  Vlad paused, his eyes distant. "I was a boy who had lost everything—his family, his home, his innocence. I had to walk past the mother of the deceased, her cries piercing the silence, her grief echoing through the air. I walked back to the car, unable to offer comfort, unable to even speak."

  He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke swirling around him. "What do you think that does to a boy?" he asked quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. "To see his world crumble, to hear the cries of those who had lost everything while he stood there, powerless to change a single thing."

  The cigarette dangled from his lips as he looked at Josh, his eyes reflecting a lifetime of pain and loss. "It changes him," Vlad continued, his voice growing softer. "It makes him question everything he has ever known. It turns him into someone who fights not because he wants to, but because he has no other choice."

  The night air was thick with the weight of Vlad's words. Josh, Lauri, and William remained silent, each absorbed in their own thoughts. The gravity of Vlad's past was undeniable, and it cast a long shadow over the present conflict.

  Vlad's gaze shifted to Josh, his expression inscrutable. "You may think you understand pain, but until you have walked in my shoes, you cannot truly know it. Until you have faced what I have faced, you cannot grasp the depth of my resolve."

  The atmosphere was thick with tension as Vlad Ivanov stood, his sword now cast aside, glaring at William Dangerfield. William had casually flicked the blade away using his metal manipulation, the sword clattering to the ground far from its former owner. Vlad's frustration was palpable, but he remained silent, his anger barely contained.

  William folded his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know," he said, his tone carrying a hint of satisfaction, "I could have ended this fight at any moment. But I've got a better idea."

  Lauri, standing close to Josh, glanced nervously between the two men. Josh was still on his knees, catching his breath. William's voice was steady as he continued, "I've got a deal for you, Vlad. Teach Josh here how to fight with a sword properly, and you'll get fifty million dollars. That's a lot more than you'd get from this pointless fight."

  Vlad's eyes narrowed. "And why should I accept this deal?"

  William's expression hardened slightly. "Because it's better than wasting time here. Besides, you've got your own reasons for wanting that money, don't you?"

  Vlad's gaze flickered momentarily, revealing a hint of vulnerability. He took a deep breath, then nodded begrudgingly. "Fine. I'll teach him. But don't think this changes anything. I still want that money, and I still intend to get it."

  Josh, still catching his breath, looked up at Vlad with a mix of apprehension and hope. "Thank you," he managed to say, his voice hoarse.

  William patted Josh on the shoulder. "Don't thank me yet. You've got a lot to learn. And you better take it seriously if you want to survive the rest of this lottery."

  As Vlad approached Josh, his expression softened slightly, though he remained stern. "Let's get started. You've got a lot of ground to cover."

  Josh nodded, standing with renewed determination. Lauri, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and concern. Her feelings for Vlad had only grown stronger through their shared moments, and she hoped that this new arrangement would help everyone involved.

  William turned his attention to Lauri, offering a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," he said. "Vlad may be tough, but he's a damn good teacher. Just make sure Josh is ready for anything."

  Lauri smiled back, though her concern for Josh was evident. "I'll do my best."

  The scene shifted to a training ground where Vlad and Josh began their lessons. The once tense atmosphere was replaced by the rhythmic clash of swords and the grunts of exertion. Vlad was a meticulous instructor, his movements precise and efficient as he guided Josh through the basics.

  Josh struggled at first, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. But under Vlad's stern yet patient guidance, he began to improve. Each swing of the sword, each parry and thrust, was met with Vlad's critical eye and occasional encouragement.

  As the training continued, Vlad couldn't help but reflect on the irony of the situation. He was teaching someone how to wield a sword, a skill that had once been his only means of survival. Now, it was a means to an end—a step toward the money he so desperately needed.

  The chapter ended with Vlad and Josh practicing under the fading light of the day. The clashing swords created a rhythmic echo in the quiet surroundings, a stark contrast to the earlier tension.

  Vlad's voice, though still stern, carried a note of something approaching camaraderie. "You're getting better," he said, though his tone remained gruff. "But remember, this isn't just about swinging a sword. It's about surviving. And survival means more than just fighting—it means thinking."

  Josh nodded, sweat streaming down his face. "I understand. I'll do whatever it takes."

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the training ground, Vlad's final words lingered in the air. "Good. Because in this world, you can't afford to be powerless."

  Josh felt the sting of sweat in his eyes as he struggled to keep up with Vlad's movements. The training ground was hot and unforgiving, a patch of uneven dirt scattered with rocks and debris. Vlad's instructions were precise, almost cold. He moved with the fluidity of a dancer and the deadliness of a predator, while Josh clumsily attempted to mirror him, his feet awkwardly stumbling through the motions.

  "Focus, Josh!" Vlad barked, sidestepping one of Josh's swings with effortless grace. "Your footwork is sloppy. You're leaving yourself wide open."

  Josh's breathing was heavy, his hands trembling around the hilt of the mystical sword his father had left him. He swung again, putting all his weight into the strike, but Vlad parried it with ease, barely exerting himself.

  "No, no, no!" Vlad snapped, knocking Josh's sword hand aside with a flick of his wrist. "You're too tense. A good swordsman flows like water—always moving, always adapting. Right now, you're fighting like a stone."

  Josh's frustration boiled over, and he swung harder, a desperate attempt to prove himself. Vlad sighed, ducking under the blade and stepping behind Josh in a single, fluid motion. Before Josh could even react, Vlad had the sword out of his hands and pointed at his throat.

  "You see?" Vlad said calmly. "No control. No discipline. You're relying on strength when you should be relying on skill."

  Josh panted, his face flushed with effort and embarrassment. "I'm trying!" he protested, his voice edged with frustration. "This sword... it's heavy, and it feels wrong in my hand."

  Vlad's eyes narrowed, and he looked at the mystical sword, its blade shimmering with an otherworldly light. "That's because it doesn't belong to you... not yet."

  Josh's heart sank. He looked at the sword, the last piece of his father he had left. "What do you mean?" he asked, a tinge of fear in his voice.

  Vlad exhaled sharply, his gaze never leaving Josh's. "A sword must fit its user," he began, "like an extension of their body. Your father's sword is special—it has a power and a purpose all its own. But you, Josh, you're not ready for it. Not yet."

  Without warning, Vlad yanked the sword from Josh's grip. The loss of the weight made Josh stumble, almost falling over. He watched helplessly as Vlad walked away, holding the sword with an almost casual ease. "I'll keep this safe until you've earned the right to wield it," Vlad stated firmly.

  Josh's eyes widened. "No! Give it back!" He rushed toward Vlad, but Vlad simply sidestepped him, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

  "Enough," Vlad said sternly. "This is for your own good. You need to learn from the ground up, not rely on some enchanted blade to save you. Until you understand that, you'll never be a real swordsman."

  Josh sat up, dusting himself off, anger and humiliation surging through him. "So what am I supposed to do?" he snapped. "Fight with nothing?"

  Vlad's expression softened, just a fraction. He reached behind his back and pulled out an old, rusty sword. The blade was chipped and tarnished, its grip worn and cracked. He tossed it to Josh, who caught it awkwardly. "You'll fight with this," Vlad said. "An old, worthless piece of metal. And you'll learn that it's not the sword that makes the fighter—it's the skill behind it."

  Josh stared at the rusty sword in disbelief. "This... this thing is a joke!" he protested.

  Vlad's lips curled into a small smile. "Exactly. But you'll learn. Start from scratch, understand the basics, and when I deem you ready, I'll return your father's sword to you. Until then, this is what you'll use."

  Josh looked down at the rusted blade, feeling a mix of resentment and determination. He gripped the hilt tightly, feeling the roughness against his palms. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll do it."

  Vlad nodded. "Good. Now, again. This time, try not to trip over your own feet."

  Josh took a deep breath, the weight of the old sword feeling alien in his hands. He set his stance, his eyes locking onto Vlad's. This was just the beginning—a long, arduous road to becoming the swordsman he needed to be. He would earn back his father's sword... no matter what it took.

  The sun began to set behind them, casting long shadows across the training ground as Josh readied himself for the next round, determination burning in his eyes.

  To be continued...