Rodgers, tired from his battle, looked into the eyes of the Iron Lantern.
And he noticed something.
He said to himself, his inner voice quiet, uncertain, Have his eyes always been that pale? He could not see anything but a great, large reflection of himself within those eyes. His own face stared back at him exhausted, bloody, broken. The reflection was not kind. It was not forgiving. It was simply... true.
At that moment, a great pillar of conviction in his heart shook itself.
His will stopped.
Just a bit.
This man who had challenged the freedom of the Iron Lantern now had no conviction to keep fighting.
"HAHAHA!"
The Iron Lantern laughed.
He was really tired his body shaking, his wounds pouring blood, his breath ragged and shallow. But yet he did not seem like that at all. His eyes were still bright. His smile was still wide. His will was still absolute.
Blood poured out from his mouth as he spoke.
"What is this, my rival?" His voice was weak, but it carried. "You lack conviction."
He took a step forward.
"You can't go on like this forever, can you?" He paused. "You know, there was always a large distinction between the both of us."
He smiled.
"You were called a talent." He touched his chest. "I was not even called anything."
He laughed again.
"But I don't care." His voice hardened. "Why, you may ask?"
He leaned forward.
"Because all of that is superficial." His eyes gleamed. "What matters is not the superficial."
He straightened.
"HAHAHA!"
He looked at Rodgers at the man who had killed him, who had judged him, who had come to witness his end.
"Hey, peerless talent..." His voice was soft, almost gentle. "...can you see now? Why you truly never reached the height of your power?"
He took another step forward.
"Why you built a cage around yourself?"
He stopped.
"It is because you lack the conviction to fight." His voice hardened. "And to be free."
He paused.
"You can never escape that cage."
He raised his hand.
"Try it one more time." He smiled. "Let me show you."
An angry expression showed on the face of Rodgers.
He rejected everything that the Iron Lantern had said. His face twisted. His eyes burned. His will the will that had carried him through the battle, through the storm, through the chaos surged.
He attacked him once again.
His body launched forward. His blade swung. His fury unleashed.
The Iron Lantern smiled.
"Wow." His voice was light, almost amused. "That attack you threw at me now..."
He moved his body flowing around the blade, twisting through the air, dodging the strike with effortless grace.
"...it had no path." He landed lightly. "It simply came at me."
He laughed.
"Heh." He tilted his head. "It seems your talent is working overtime."
He spread his arms.
"I never even thought that you would ever be able to do it."
He paused.
"To copy my martial arts."
Rodgers came again.
His blade swung from above a massive arc that should have cleaved the Iron Lantern in two. But then, all of a sudden, the blade curved. It changed direction mid-swing, coming at the Iron Lantern from the side, from an angle that should have been impossible.
The Iron Lantern was about to dodge the attack.
Then Rodgers dropped the blade.
His hand shot forward a one-inch punch to the Iron Lantern's gut, close-range, devastating, unexpected. The impact shook the Iron Lantern's body, forced the air from his lungs, staggered him backward.
Rodgers caught his blade as it was about to fall to the ground.
He went for a clean stab.
This stab was meant to cement everything. To once and for all kill him. To end the battle.
The Iron Lantern tanked the stab.
The blade pierced his shoulder cutting through flesh, grinding against bone, spraying blood across the deck. He did not fall. Did not scream. Did not yield.
He said to him, his voice calm despite the pain.
"How half-hearted of you."
He looked at Rodgers at the man who had finally landed a blow, who had finally drawn his blood, who had finally touched him.
"The reason why your attacks cannot reach me is really simple, actually."
He smiled.
"You lack conviction." His voice hardened. "An attack without conviction is even weaker than the fist of a child."
He raised his hand.
"Let me show you an attack with conviction."
He tightened up.
"WILL YOU NOW!"
In one punch, he blew away Rodgers.
His fist connected with Rodgers's chin an uppercut that lifted him off his feet, that sent him flying upward, that carried him higher and higher into the storm-dark sky.
The force was devastating.
Rodgers's body spun through the air his vision blurring, his thoughts scattering, his consciousness fading.
Then he fell.
His body crashed against the deck a heavy, final impact that shook the ship, that cracked the wood, that left him broken and still.
Rodgers's consciousness was fading.
He desperately tried to hang on. To not be knocked out. His fingers scrabbled at the wood. His eyes struggled to focus. His will refused to break.
But he was fading.
The Iron Lantern slowly walked up to him.
His body was exhausted. His wounds poured blood. His breath came in ragged gasps. But he walked. He moved. He approached.
As he did, he remembered the past.
A younger version of him and the Iron Lantern sat on a cliff near the seaside.
They were young carefree, innocent, alive. The sun was setting over the water, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold. The waves crashed against the rocks below. The wind whispered through the grass.
The young Iron Lantern spoke.
"Hey." His voice was quiet, almost shy. "What do you think is out there?"
The young Rodgers looked at him.
"Out where?"
The Iron Lantern pointed at the sea.
"Out there." He smiled. "Beyond the horizon."
Rodgers was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know." He looked at the water. "Probably more sea."
The Iron Lantern laughed.
"Yeah." He leaned back. "Probably."
They sat there in silence for a long moment.
Then the Iron Lantern spoke again.
"I want to go out there." His voice was soft, but certain. "I want to see what's beyond the horizon."
He looked at Rodgers.
"Do you want to come with me?"
The memory faded.
The Iron Lantern stood over Rodgers's fallen body, his eyes distant, his heart aching.
He said, as he recalled it, his voice barely a whisper.
"What beautiful times."
From then, it was like a warmth in his chest. He looked up as he saw the great stormy sky the one that could bring an end to everything in its path.
The Iron Lantern looked up.
Rodgers lay at his feet.
And the sea roared.