Derrin didn't hesitate to vault over the nearest tent. With the Valencians serving as a distraction, no one would notice him until he struck. Landing on the edge of the clearing, he could finally make out the figures of his opponents. The area he had entered held a dozen or more pirates.
In the center of it all was their leader.
Rushing the man head-on would be foolish, with all of the pirates around. So, he paused his mad attack. The pirates were already rising and staring towards the sounds of gunfire.
"You imbecils!" The man roared, "We're under attack! Move it! All of you, move your asses now!"
The pirates all began reaching for their weapons. None of them noticed as the first of their fellows went missing. His blood smear pooled behind the fallen log. His companion turned and blinked in surprise at his missing friend. He found his lost friend a moment later in darkness.
Derrin didn't make any other hasty moves and retreated into the night. Killing off all the weaker pirates didn't help him accomplish his goal. He needed to eliminate their leader. That was the only way he could claim success.
The pirates began flocking towards the direction of the Valencians. He hoped they were doing fine. There would be a lot of enemies bearing down on them. The leader stepped forward to follow his companions at the same moment Derrin moved.
He moved across the clearing in two quick strides. His blade whirled downwards. The pirate's innate senses kicked in at the last moment.
Had it been any other man, they would likely have lost their arm. However, this pirate seemed to have sensed his approach far quicker. He sidestepped the strike and swung his fist back at Derrin's face. The blow caught him off guard, and he leaped sideways, barely managing to remain on his feet.
"You!" He snarled, "I have heard all about you!"
Derrin didn't stop his assault with banter. That was Red's thing. He much preferred to leave his enemy dead before they got a chance to shout ugly words.
He lashed out. His blade aimed at a downward strike across the man's chest. It wasn't anything special. Instead, he wanted to draw out his opponent and see what his enemy was capable of before truly going all out.
His blade fell and missed. That wasn't surprising. Despite this, Derrin retreated a pace. He hadn't missed his aim, nor had the pirate dodged. However, his strike still fell short.
The pirate laughed, "I never expected to be the one to run into you. I am certainly glad that I did. Without a mistblade, you might as well bear your neck to me, fool Montrelan."
Derrin frowned, not because the man's taunt got to him. On the contrary, it was the man's actions that made him hesitant. The man seemed to possess some sort of metal manipulation. It was hard to tell exactly, but it was the only thing that made sense.
He was in a bad spot. He was likely the only person on the island who used a true blade. He was the only one truly susceptible to the man's power.
A deep orange glow revolved around the man's hand as a glowing long sword manifested itself. His frown deepened. So the man wasn't even from Valencia. He should have guessed after hearing his strange manner of speech. The pirate would be using Gaelic fighting styles from his homesea.
Everything about this situation put him at a disadvantage, and none of it mattered. All that mattered was the pirate's death.
Derrin rushed forward to meet the pirate. The man grinned and struck back. Unlike his own style, the pirate utilized a rough, unpolished technique. It contained some of the central elements based in Gaelic, but none of them were truly mastered. Each strike was madder than the last. The man didn't even fight like he was using a sword.
Despite this, Derrin was losing. It was a given after all. He could be as skilled as he wanted, but if he couldn't even anticipate where his own weapon would land, then there was no hope. Each blow by the pirate came closer and closer to landing fatally. At one point, he was forced to retreat entirely.
"Cowardly cowardly swordsman. I thought they taught you better in Montrel."
"Isn't this strange pirate. Neither of us is from here, and yet we are fighting for the same things."
The pirate scoffed, "Enough talk. You killed Toran…I thought you would be better. How you managed to get through his skin with these measly skills I'll never understand."
"It will be hard to ask that without a throat, won't it?"
Snarling, the pirate rushed him. Anticipating the strike, Derrin dove to the side. As he rolled to his feet, he brought up his blade to parry the strike he knew was coming. Instead, a foot crashed into his chest, and he was sent hurtling backward. His back struck a tent, and he was sent rolling over the cursed cloth contraption.
He groaned and pushed himself upwards. The pirate's kick should have collided with his blade, but his blade hadn't ended up in the position he wanted. His ribs ached, and if not for his enhanced strength, they would likely be cracked if not broken entirely. It was clear that the nature of this fight needed to change. His blade, his one true weapon, was simply not reliable against this opponent.
Derrin thought back to his discussions with Red over the last few days. He had been trying to give his friend advice on how to use his strange illusion blade. That talk had given him some ideas of his own. It was hard to consider solutions beyond simple swordfighting, though. He was a swordsman to his core after all.
However, the pirate's recent attack had given him the idea he needed.
Leaping over the tent, he readied himself for another engagement. The pirate smirked at him and obliged. The man rushed forward and raised his sword. Orange light lit his face as the weapon came crashing down. Derrin didn't attempt to parry, nor did he attempt to dodge. Dodging an opponent as relentless as this one was a futile endeavor.
Instead, he dropped his blade. The pirate had been readying his manipulation to prevent a parry. He had not been prepared for the weapon to clunk against the soil. Derrin drove his fist into the man's abdomen with enough force to bring down a tree. The pirate shot backward like a cannonball.
His blade flickered out as he shattered a fallen log and disappeared into the dark. Derrin grabbed his blade and tossed it across the clearing. He rushed forward after the weapon. Just as he expected, the pirate rose and struck out towards the incoming metal. Without proper bearings, he had fully relied on his senses.
His powers, the very source of his strength, had betrayed him in the end.
Derrin slammed his fist into the man's throat from the side with an audible crunch. The man gasped and coughed up blood. Before he had a chance to recover, Derrin brought the pirate's face down into his knee. His nose shattered with a snap, and the man dropped like a sack.
Reaching down, Derrin retrieved his blade, "Despite all your talk, this is all you amounted to in the end, it seems."
He drove the weapon through the pirate's back. Despite everything that had happened, the man still had the bearing to prevent the strike from directly piercing his heart. However, it wasn't enough to prevent the fatal blow.
The pirate died to the very metal he governed.