Clink... Clank..

Two motionless men stood steadily, both in a fierce attacking stance; ready to strike at any single chance or moment. They wore magnificent chest amour: shiny chain mails glittering while it bathed gloriously in the bright rays of sunlight streaming gracefully from the enormous sun, deflecting them off to the wavering eyes of the opponent. Their well-crafted helmets took the shape of gruesome demons, terrifying monstrosities almost beyond human imagination, meant to frighten and distract enemies. Their muscular legs were safely protected with the most efficient of metals while wrapped loosely with iron chains that went clink clank with every pace.

Clink. Clank.

The song of death, they called it. For obvious reasons.

Most beautiful, yet most terrible of their attire was their katanas. Rare and devastating swords that had an everlasting thirst for blood. Widely respected everywhere, it had the dexterity and the bite to slice through tough armor and even human flesh and bone like pure butter in a sudden flash. Although it was always wiped clean to be devoid of blood, the real stains were permanent; it still reeked with the pungent stench of death lingering in the air encircling it.

Such irony, for a blade so beautiful to be so elegant yet so brutal.

Clink. Clank.

Faces remained stern as they shook their boots warily, giving rise to the dreaded Song of Death, as if they were taunting the other warrior to make the first move. Beads of sweat slid down both men’s faces as it drooped down their chins and then dripped towards the dusty ground.

Clink. Clank. Clink. Clank.

The rhythm picked up pace.

Both men gripped their katanas tightly and strode steadily in a circular motion. One warrior, wielding a magnificent katana that glowed a brilliant blue struck to the left, but the other man, who was wielding a glowing red katana, deflected off his blow powerfully. Blue staggered a few paces backwards, shocked by the strength of his opponent, and changed his strategy. He loosened his vice-like grip on his blade and began swirling it in all directions until it formed a fuzzy blur. Red tried to keep up with the pace and parry blow by blow, but once he swung left and blocked Blue’s katana thrust, Blue sliced to the right and slid pass Red’s shoulder, forming a small wound. Red, knowing he had to use a new strategy, treaded backwards to allow himself time to think. Blue didn’t pressurize him but also paced back, signaling a temporary neutral period for rest.

“So, “Blue Lighting” is really as fast as he is reputed to be! You have my regard.” Red laughed.

“Ah, but “Demon-Tongue” is twice as strong as he is thought to be. My regards go to you too.” Blue replied with a slight upwards curve of his lips.

Clink. Clank.

The song of death reminded them of the fact that only one of them would leave his fight alive, and they grew grim and serious once more.

Red gave a mighty strike to his right and did not halt his katana’s push forward even after Blue blocked the blow, forcing Blue to hold on to the block while Red, who had the advantage of strength, pushed on to drag Blue backwards. Blue leaped upwards to an unbelievable height and broke the connection of their katanas by creasing his block. Red, taking the chance, swung forward fiercely but sliced only the dusty air since Blue had already leaped a few meters up towards the sky and landed some distance away.

The lengthy space between them gave rise to another short period of rest.

Clink. Clank.

This was it. One way or another, the fight was going to end.

Red increased his monstrous vice-grip on his katana, and charged forward with his blade raised, bellowing a deafening war cry that shattered the eardrums of his opponent. Blue, however, put a hand on his scabbard while using the other to lift his katana steadily. He slowly closed his eyes, using his instincts to predict where Red was. Then, he got into a fighting stance, with one leg in front of the other, and slid his katana back into the scabbard, still holding on the hilt. As soon as he knew Red was in the correct position, his right arm, still holding the hilt of his katana, slid the blue blade out of its scabbard in a lighting-fast, curved, upward thrust.

From a spectator’s point of view, one would see two still figures. One had both hands gripping tightly around his raised katana and seemed to be charging forward. Behind him was another man, with one hand holding his scabbard and the other clutching the hilt of his blade, which was also raised upwards, as if it had just been unsheathed in a curved motion.

Then, the stillness broke, and Red slumped to the ground, with blood oozing out from him.

Clink. Clank.

Blue turned to gaze at him, victoriously.

“Today, I am the better man. Demon-Tongue.”

Red closed his eyelids and welcomed death that was already seeping into him and his vision. All he heard was the clink clank of the song of death from the footsteps of Blue, staggering away.

Blue careened a few steps until he fell wearily on his knees, clutching tightly a deep wound on his stomach. With perspiration all over him, he turned to stare at Red with a face of disbelief. Knowing that Red had also got the better of him, he sank to the dusty ground painfully, still clutching his stomach with incredulity. Death also forced its way into him, clouding his vision until he could do naught but hear.

Clink. Clank. Clink. Clank.

No one was playing the song of death, but it sang on.

Clink. Clank.

Clink. Clank.