The entire Powhatan village gathered as Helios and Kocoum stepped into the open space near the firepit. Warriors lined the edges, arms crossed, watching with unreadable expressions.
Some expected Kocoum to win easily.
Some wondered if this outsider had a real chance.
And others… simply wanted to see blood.
The rules were simple.
No tricks.
Only pure combat.
Chief Powhatan's voice carried through the night.
"This is a battle to test your strength, not to wound or kill. When one of you concedes or is unable to fight, it will be over."
Helios rolled his shoulders. Relaxed. Amused.
Kocoum remained rigid, still as stone, his spear gripped with absolute focus.
Let's see what you've got.
Powhatan raised his hand. "Begin."
Kocoum struck first.
He lunged forward in a single, fluid motion, spear thrusting toward Helios' chest.
Fast. Precise. Powerful.
But predictable.
Helios dodged, shifting just enough for the spear to miss, flowing like water.
Kocoum adjusted instantly, twisting the spear in his hands and swinging at Helios' ribs.
Helios leaned back and let the attack pass through empty air.
The watching warriors murmured.
Kocoum didn't hesitate. He pressed forward, attacking with measured aggression.
His movements were disciplined, practiced. Every strike followed a rhythm, a battle-tested form passed down through generations.
It was a masterful display of control.
Helios wasn't impressed.
Not because Kocoum was weak.
But because…
'I've fought Sephiroth. So many times that this is just underwhelming.'
Compared to that, this was barely a challenge.
He could end this whenever he wanted, but he didn't. After all, he needed to win a in manner that proved his strength to win over the tribe.
Instead, he danced through Kocoum's strikes, blocking only when necessary.
He decided to take this as an opportunity not to win.
To learn.
He still needed to create a fighting style for his spear and this was a good time to pick up some moves.
Every parry, every dodge, and every strike—Helios memorized Kocoum's patterns.
The way he shifted his feet before striking.
The way his grip tightened for a strong thrust.
The way his breathing changed before a sudden attack.
Helios analyzed him.
'Kocoum is strong. Precise. Disciplined. But he is predictable. A warrior trained for battle. Not for unpredictable fighters like me.'
Kocoum frowned, realizing something was off.
His attacks weren't landing and the young man in front of him was too relaxed.
Helios wasn't even trying to attack back.
The duel was one-sided—just not in the way Kocoum had expected.
And then—Helios moved.
With a shift in stance, he leaned forward for the first time.
Kocoum tensed.
Helios' smile widened. 'Let's end this.'
A scream tore through the night.
The duel stopped instantly.
Helios and Kocoum turned just in time to see shadows writhing at the edge of the village.
Dark shapes poured from the treeline, flickering with yellow eyes.
The Heartless had returned.
Only this time—they weren't mindless instinctual creatures.
They moved tactically, surrounding the village from multiple angles.
Helios' mind raced. 'This isn't random. Someone's controlling them. Ratcliffe.'
Powhatan barked orders, and warriors scrambled for their weapons.
Aqua and Skuld had already summoned their Keyblades, moving to intercept the first wave.
Kocoum turned, gripping his spear.
Helios watched him for a second. Then—he grinned.
"Well," he said, "Looks like we're fighting together now."
Kocoum scowled but didn't argue.
The first Heartless lunged.
A Nightfang Rabbit dashed forward, moving in erratic, unpredictable bursts.
Kocoum stepped in front of a villager, spear spinning as he impaled the creature mid-air.
Helios moved in a blur, sweeping behind him, kicking another Heartless into the dirt.
They didn't speak.
Didn't need to.
At this moment—they were two warriors who trusted each other to watch their back.
Fighting side by side.
Kocoum's spearwork was impeccable, each strike measured and deadly.
Helios was more erratic, more fluid, his movements faster than the Heartless could track.
Together, they tore through the attackers, protecting the village.
But Helios wasn't focused on the fight.
He was thinking.
Ratcliffe isn't just using the Heartless anymore.
He's commanding them.
That meant—
It was time for a visit.
The last of the Heartless faded into dark smoke.
The village stood, battered but not broken.
Kocoum lowered his spear, his gaze turning back to Helios.
The fight between them had been interrupted.
But something had changed.
Kocoum was still suspicious.
Still didn't trust him.
But now, at least, he respected him.
Powhatan stepped forward, eyes scanning the village. "We are safe for now. But these creatures will return."
Aqua nodded. "They will. And they'll be stronger."
Skuld looked to Helios, frowning.
He was too quiet.
She had seen how little energy he'd spent fighting and noticed how he studied Kocoum in their fight.
Now, he was standing there, clearly deep in thought.
She opened her mouth to ask—but then, Helios turned. "I need to step away for a while. Can you two handle things here while I'm gone?"
Skuld blinked. "What?"
Helios stretched his arms lazily. "Don't worry. I just need to check on something."
Aqua frowned. "Where are you going?"
Helios grinned and made a shushing gesture. "It's a secret."
And with that, he vanished into the forest.
The forest was eerily silent as Helios moved through the trees, the distant glow of torches from Jamestown flickering in the night.
He kept to the shadows, his movements silent, effortless.
Soon, he reached the edge of the settlement, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Ratcliffe's tent—large, excessive, fit for a man desperate to be seen as important.
Helios smirked. 'It would be bad if he ever saw my face.'
Luckily, he didn't need to be there physically to make an impression.
Standing on a high branch, hidden from view, he lifted his hand, summoning a small current of wind that curled around his fingers. "Aero..."
The spell shimmered faintly, and then—Helios spoke.
His voice was carried through the air, twisted by the wind, making it chilling, distorted—inhuman.
Inside the tent, Ratcliffe froze.
A cold, haunting whisper filled the space. "Ratcliffe."
The governor flinched, his wine goblet slipping from his fingers, spilling red liquid across the floor.
His breath hitched. He spun around, but there was no one there. "Who—who goes there?!"
The voice answered, slow, deliberate, and filled with icy amusement. "I am either your salvation… or your doom. The choice is yours."
Ratcliffe shuddered.
Something was here.
Something had come for him.
His fingers trembled as he reached for his sword.
Helios, still perched in the trees, smirked. 'Let's see how much greed outweighs fear.'