“Ah, so you have returned.” Pyrrhon said. “That’s cool. Let us continue this epic tale of Pyrrhon!

“So Pyrrhon trained with swordplay, becoming increasingly better as the seasons wore on.  His training was good, yet his trainer was a little harsh at times. Pyrrhon didn’t like swords as much, as his discovery of the bow made him feels more at home. The accuracy needed to hit a target, the strength required to pull the arrow back, the art of the arrow tips; it all was Pyrrhon’s type of style. Yet he had to persist with swords…”

And so begins part 3…

The year was up; all the snow and ice had melted from the biting frost of winters grip. The sun was out, shining brightly across the land and the flowers were blooming with the familiar sense of pink, red, and yellow. The sword master was known as Slan Ignis was going to fight his master whom had trained him for what seemed like decades. He was nervous, and who wouldn’t be if your very life depended on it? He didn’t see much of the village, nor the villagers he had lived in all his life with. They were guests in the kingdom, but it seemed to him they were on a forced holiday. Bokhim and Rumhel took to tend to the village. They must be lonely, and he wouldn’t be able to go back to them, either way. What happened with life?

Although Apollo was not present in the crowd, he did feel the same presence he felt when in that scared room four seasons ago. The people near the castle have rounded up in a big circle.

“Sorry to see you go kiddo.” said the sword master. And with that, both swordsmen were properly equipped, that is to say only swords were permitted, and there was no need to wait any longer. They walked calmly to each other, and so began the fight.

Slan took the first swing. Ignis took a side step to avoid the head attack and went in for a stab. Expertly, Slan took the swing of the first blow and used that to deflect the stab thrust and went to attack Ignis’ left arm, causing Slan to be on the attacking side for a moment. Ignis blocked this rather well, and blocked a few more blows to his legs and arms. The ringing sounds of the metal swords as they clashed echoed across the crowd.

Then Slan got to be more reckless. It seemed as if he was toying with the lad. He grinned and changed his tactics, becoming more acrobatic. Slashing now at the shoulders and at a faster speed, he took more elegance in his attacks than before, Ignis struggled to keep with the up coming attacks with just blocks. So he decided to go for an attack with his attack, but then Slan used a kick to throw him to the ground.

Lying on his back, he saw Slan smoothly swing his sword around in a fancy manner before going for a quick jab to his heart. Ignis rolled out of the way and got up in a quick motion. Ignis then went to attack, each blow missing as Slan ducked, leaned and weaved through his attack without a use for a sword. Despite all this, Ignis felt like he was doing well, but he learned as well as he did from that year of training, and began to use the full of his skill. Ignis instantly sped up his attacks with ease and nearly slashed an attack at Slan, who dodged the attack with only a cut on his tunic. There was a pause in the battle, as Slan looked at the cut on his tunic as if it were some rare insect or an unusually shaped stone. He grinned, a rather manic grin.

“How long were you holding out for?” Slan said quite excitedly. “This is going to be fun…”

The fight continued, with many meaningful clashes of sword as both went all out for the finishing blow. There were more cuts on tunics and some were even on the skin, but still they fought. Then, Slan did a rather impressive kick to Ignis’ hand as he was going for another stab, throwing the sword out of his hand. Slan spun round with this kick, and went to slice his opponents head off. Luckily, Ignis did not expect this, and bent over slightly as the force hit his hand, possibly breaking a finger. This caused the sword to cut a little bit of hair off the kids head. He was armless, defenceless, and hopeless. He couldn’t get to his sword in time, Slan could run faster than he could, and no doubt kill him in the process.

All that training, all that hope stored up that he might survive at least at the end of this, was all going to end. In the time he spend thinking about this, he could see Slan reposition with amazing agility, and went in for a stab. That set of movement seemed to last forever, as if he was seeing it in slow motion, every detail of the sword and the expression on Slan’s face seemed to be enhanced by the fear of death. As he looked into the blade of the sword, it seemed to prolong his life, even though it would take only a second for the sword to go through his heart, it would seem like a lifetime before that moment happened. He felt another lifetime go past as his normal one flashed before his eyes. The village, the trees, his family, the village was his family, no matter what people said. He was going to see it again, them again, with visits every now and then should Apollo let him. He wasn’t going to lose. No, he would not lose. This won’t be the end. It can’t be, it can’t! With amazing speed, Ignis was going to defect his sword attack with his hand, punch him, and grab his sword, and continue fighting.At least, that was the plan. Just as Slan was about to stab, an arrow went though his head. The whole crowd shrieked at the sudden attack. It was the most graphic thing Ignis ever saw. Blood trickled down his eyes as he fell forward on Ignis’ shoulders. He laid his body down gently, before looking to where the attacker was. He saw an archer on one of the rooks, who prepared another arrow and loosed it with lightening speed. They were two arrows loosed at once, hitting, and killing two different people. Ignis went for his bow to take him down, when he saw who the arrows had hit, perfectly in-between the eye: Korm and Lindrish who had been watching the fight for support.

The two things didn’t click in his mind. His family and death together didn’t make sense. It was almost like a dream, a terrible dream one would have when they couldn’t stop the terrible things from happening. To see them now, motionless, with blank eyes staring into the nothingness of death, not even being able to tell them he loved them or to say his goodbyes, was unreal. They would never talk again, never move, laugh, talk nor love ever again. They were gone. That was the truth of it all. They were gone. Ignis repeated the sentence in his head over and over. There were gone. Tears began to well up in his eyes uncontrollably, and began to weep. He wept and wept, until he felt a heavy object hit his head and blacked out.
 
Ignis woke up to a dark voice in a well lit cave. “Does he really care?” said a dark voice. Ignis looked around to see someone, who he knew to be the archer on the rook back in that kingdom. His first instincts were to run a knife through his chest, but there were three problems with that. He didn’t have his knife on him, he was so exhausted that he could barely raise his arms, and he was chained up by the foot, probably because this archer guy knew Ignis would try and run a knife through his chest.

He continued to talk. “I said, does he really care? Does he really give a damn about you?” He knew he was talking about Apollo. “Think about it now. He had his men kidnap your family so you could come all the way here, train you, and use you for his entertainment. Had they just left you alone, you would still have your normal life. If he cared, why didn’t he just leave you be?” There was a certain hint of anger in his voice. He continued. “And if he really did give a damn, why didn’t he stop those arrows from killing them? A God should have no trouble in stopping mortal made arrows. Apollo doesn’t care, that’s why. Because of his selfish act, they are dead. He killed them. And what did he tell you about starting a war? You, starting a war? If I wanted to laugh, I would need someone to tell me that.”

Ignis stirred up the strength to speak. “How did you know about that?”

“That Elder woman told me.” He replied.

“Didn’t Apollo say that some God-“

“Well, for what ever reason, either Apollo was lying, or it was his fault for believing in such nonsense that another God has told him.” His tone was harsh, but he calmed down somewhat and talked a little more seriously. “Listen, get some sleep, I’ll explain a little more in the morning. Also, drink this.” He gave Ignis a skin flask full of water, and Ignis took it and drank, if a little suspicious. To his logic, if he wanted to kill him, he would have don so already, but the thought of living with his turned his insides to spiky pains of rage, however, his mouth was very dry, and he couldn’t resist. He drank greedily. The water tasted a little funny, with an aftertaste of cherry and a burning side effect. Before he could think of how water could have an aftertaste of cherry and have a burning side effect, he fell into a deep sleep of odd visions of lava, green Jades and power. Nothing made sense, so much so he couldn’t remember how it went. He woke up surprisingly refreshed.

“Pyrrhon’s pain was great, as if a part of his heart were torn away, never to reunite. Pyrrhon didn’t have much choice in listening to what that archer guy had to say, so he listened. And what he heard was very, very interesting.” Pyrrhon seemed a little hung down. “Leave me. I’ll tell more later…”

And so ends part 3…