Interlude 56: Defeating the Self (II)

If one day you were old, exhausted, and unarmed, how would you defeat a beast in the prime of its life, brimming with ambition?

Lion El'Jonson was trying to find the answer.

A tremendous force struck him head-on, effortlessly knocking him to the ground. The Lion rolled through the sand in a wretched state, trying to rise, only to take another heavy kick and tumble straight down the dune.

Scalding sand clung to his skin, mixed with sweat and blood. The already glaring sunlight now made his vision swim even more violently. The Lion said nothing as he propped himself up on his elbows and slowly climbed to his feet.

And his enemy? He did not press his advantage, merely standing where he was with the same old arrogance.

"What are you planning to fight me with, old man?" he asked slowly. "That broken stick?"

He raised a hand, lifting the mud-caked wooden stick before his eyes to inspect it for a moment. Then he casually tossed it away, and it planted itself precisely at the Lion's feet.

"To be honest, I almost pity you. Look at yourself. Even the most pathetic among us would never end up like you—"

As he spoke, his expression abruptly shifted to disgust. He paused for several seconds before finally spitting out a single word.

"—a failure."

A failure?

The Lion lowered his head and swallowed the blood rising in his throat from that kick. He reached behind himself and pulled out the wooden stick before him. Ignoring the dizziness washing over him, he gripped it with both hands and held it across his body as though it were a sword.

His enemy unexpectedly did not mock him further. Instead, his smile faded, and with a solemn expression, he drew a longsword hanging at