#fidelacchius

As he walked outside, he squinted into the bright sun, wishing he owned a pair of sunglasses. The walk to the church felt like it took forever, and he saw an alley that might take him through a block instead of around it. As he walked down it, he heard a strange noise, somewhere between banging and chiming. As he turned the bend in the alley, he saw the craziest sight he'd ever witnessed.

A short, wiry-built man who looked like he was of Asian extraction was holding a sword, an honest-to-God katana, like in a samurai painting or movie. He was facing off against something large and bulky, with a huge greatsword of some kind of black metal, or was that...bone? He was about to say something, though what, he couldn't later recall.

The man must have glanced toward him or seen the creature notice him, because he lashed out with a strike at a speed that took Michael's breath away. Unfortunately, this meant that he switched places with the abomination he was fighting, putting it nearer Michael.

He could feel his heart thumping at his ribs like a hammer. He looked around for something, anything, to hide behind or use to defend himself. He found a half-brick and picked it up, nearly falling. The thing snorted, seemingly in disdain and took one stride toward him,bringing the blade toward him, obviously intending to split him nearly in half. Barely avoiding the swing, he threw everything he had into an uppercut at the thing's massive jaw. Pain exploded in his knuckles as the brick smashed, crumbling against the monster's face.

They stumbled apart, both of them roaring in pain. Michael crossed himself, wishing he'd found the church before this. If he died, he wanted to confess first. "God", he muttered through pain-clenched teeth, "I might see you soon. I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins, as I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell". That was all he was able to get through before the thing bellowed again. He knew it was going to charge.

That was when he got the shock of his life as the other man tossed him something. He instinctively put out his hand and grabbed it. A flash lit the alleyway as he screamed in the face of the creature and brought what he recognized as a broadsword around far enough to hack its descending arm off at the elbow. As it screamed, its momentum kept the charge going and it bowled him over. He thought it would stomp him to death, but it fell to his left, a sword blade sprouting from the thing's chest.

He stared as it fell to one side, the other fighter nimbly and smoothly unsheathing his sword from its back as he stepped in the opposite direction. He heard a clink then, as something hit the alleyway and rolled toward him. He automatically raised his left hand to grab it, but the swordsman-for that is undoubtedly what he was- stepped forward and picked it up with what looked like a handkerchief. 

Then he realized that his hand didn't hurt. He looked at it, and it was still clenched around the hilt of the sword. It didn't look broken at all. His knuckles weren't even skinned. 

He looked at the older man, who had cast an amused gaze on him. "What...what was that?", he asked, confused.