#1act

echoing the stillness of the stark ranges around, the two warriors stand armed, restrained and ready.. the years of training and disciplined battle did well to conceal their enraged souls; they stood motionless, blank and distant stares locked in, each measuring, gauging and defiant.. 

with the quest for revenge within his reach, the younger warrior draws a deep breath to realign his focus; the bloodied images of his slain family and village start fading away and his mind returns to the zero. neither has any advantage of light, terrain or shelter, it will be a quick battle and he will have to strike first.. letting out another deep breath he wrings his sword harder, feeling the blood rush through his arms and resonate within the blade.. 

at the other end, his enemy stands unmoving, his tall heaving frame becoming more menacing with each breath. without warning, the young warrior changes his stance, and the old man's stoic face breaks into a cheeky half smile.. letting his opponent know full well that he has him now, he continues standing motionless allowing the mind games to start wreaking havoc.. 

unfazed the young warrior leaps into action, his sword hungry to pierce his enemy's chest.. easily reading the telegraphed attack, the old man parries it with ease.. noting his opponents speed; he continues blocking the onslaught whilst letting the young warrior charge forward and then he steps away altogether ensuring that the young man looses his footing and comes crashing to the ground..

the young warrior is still fallen and jolted when another sharp sensation explodes through his back, his brain and finally his heart. the old man pulls out his sword from his opponents back; using his foot as leverage, he kicks over the fallen warrior, knowing full well that the battle is now over.. the young warrior lays dying, blood rushing out from all his orifices, his bloodied eyes look up to see his enemy standing before him one last time.. 

he could've said something to ease his opponents passing into the afterlife, some hollow platitude or simply the truth, 'you weren't ready'.. instead he wipes his drenched blade against his dead opponents garb. sheathing his sword he turns away and begins his solitary walk...