When the door to the room roared open the solemn occupant found himself quickly rousing from the meditative daze for which he had surrendered his consciousness to hours earlier. Crimson eyes narrowed as their owner looked upon a small, waifish creature cautiously step forward. A bubbling growl attempted to rise up from the guardian's throat, but he ceased its emission; he didn't want to give away his presence too soon, seeing as it would stop him from learning everything he could about the individual which he would soon have to kill. 

It had been a long time since the warrior hound had seen any other living creature, as his duty to guard the treasure sealed away by his presence was one in which resulted in him being kept forever alone. The lack of windows within the musty interior enclosed around him prevented him from counting the days which had passed since he was first bound to the room for which he quietly stood, and though he was subconsciously pleased to finally be able to have a chance to fight someone, he couldn't help growling in rage that the waif would dare come into the sanctum in question. 

A snort of derision seeped out from the darknut's nose as he watched the blue eyed creature look around wildly as he stepped further into the room. By the looks of his torn and ragged green tunic it was obvious that the other had encountered more than his fair share of trouble along the way, and yet instead of allowing that thought to raise his opinion of the other, the metalclad dog found himself despising how weak the other was. He knew well the creatures of the tower, and they were nothing that any decent warrior should have had trouble dispatching, which meant that whoever this was must have gotten up to this area of the building due more to luck than skill. He would have spit in disgust, had his helmet not prevented him from doing as such. Regardless, when the pointy eared warrior centered his sights onto the towering canine the darknut quickly prepared himself for the battle to come. 

Moving to the center of the darkened room, his steps falling like thunder thanks to the bulky steel armor draped along his massive eight foot tall body, the darknut silently waited for the blonde to step up to him. Seeing as the door to the room was sealed by rods of iron, there would be no escape for the other until one of them lay dead. The knowledge of how easy a victory this would be for the warrior canine filled the metalclad dog's mind with a strong sense of pride, however said understanding quickly faded when the darknut suddenly sensed a strong warrior spirit rise up from the green tunic wearing creature. 

That...couldn't be right. 

A mask of befuddlement cast itself across the metalclad dog's face at this point, as he was sure that he hadn't sensed such furor from the other when he was tepidly entering into the room, and yet there was no denying the bloodlust within the bright blue eyes that looked up at him after turning away from the now sealed door. A tiny smile peeled itself along the edge of the darknut's lips. Perhaps the small one would be more of a challenge to him than he had first thought. 

That was fine. 

It was a good day to die, after all. 

Gripping the handle of his massive claymore just a little tighter within his gloved hands, the darknut readied himself for the battle to come by letting out a low growl of intimidation. His noisy ambience quickly set the blonde haired one on edge, as could be seen by the way the pale skinned warrior swiftly withdrew his own blade from where it swayed gently along the side of his hip. The darknut silently nodded as he looked at how the other held his sword. He was practiced in the art of combat, it seemed. Though his earlier persona spoke nothing of this, which in itself was odd, but no matter. Crimson eyes watched in silence as the dirt covered waif grabbed his meticulously crafted blue shield from where it was strapped along his back and then pulled himself forward towards the stone ring within the center of the room. 

How he would have liked to have sparred with the other before this, but alas, it wasn't to be. 

Turning the heavy metal to the side and then giving it several test swings to recenter his balance, the darknut pulled his massive bulk into a practiced fighting position while mentally preparing himself for whatever move the small one would think to make. 

Given his small stature, one would have assumed that the waif would have attempted to feint to either the left or the right in an effort to unbalance the darknut, yet this proved not to be the case, as the blonde sprung forward and then curled himself into the air.

The canine warrior growled in painful disbelief as his sturdy helmet was sliced free from his head as the length of the smaller one's blade bisected his face. Thankfully he only suffered a small headache from such a maneuver, however the sheer absurdity of what had happened made anger flood through the darknut's mind as he turned his massive form around just in time to watch the blonde land gracefully onto his booted feet. 

Snarling in annoyance at how casually his opponent had made that wild move seem, the darknut felt his mind grow hot as he lowered his claymore down and then swung it out into a practiced sweep. 

The shorter warrior turned around just in time to gasp at the sight of the blade racing towards his lightly clothed chest. 

It was an instinctual reaction born from years of training that made the pointy eared waif curl his own sword around to parry the strike aimed for him instead of a well throughout plan carefully crafted by a calm mind. This move proved to save the small one's life, as thanks to him blocking the incoming slash his body was allowed to stay in one piece insteading of being split in two, however the difference in raw strength between him and the darknut made it so that the blonde was thrown bodily into the wall behind him as a result of his countermeasure. 

The darknut let out a snort of satisfaction as he watched his opponent crash into the wall behind him. That the other bounced off of the well worn bricks like a rubber ball would have made him chuckle at any other point in time, but he was in no mood for mirth right now, given that the ringing in his tapered ears refused to stop. However, despite this, he didn't press his advantage with a charging leap of his own. He wanted the other warrior to stand on his feet before he killed him, since he was proving himself to be a worthy opponent instead of prey with which the metalclad canine would have hunted for sustenance. 

The blonde, having clearly not expected to be overtaken by such strength, took a moment to center his blurred vision, all the while breathing in a low, concentrated effort in order to calm the blood rushing wildly throughout his body. Once he was ready to return to the fight the smaller warrior stood up, adjusted his grip on his blade and then moved forward, shield at the ready, to pay the darknut back tenfold for his lucky strike. 

Ducking and weaving around one another, the darknut and blonde warrior danced around the room like practiced lovers as they swung their respective swords into one another's body. The darknut suffered a lot less damage than the small waif, as his well crafted armor made it so that the other's sword strikes aimed at his chest and torso bounced harmlessly off of his body. The blonde however was not so fortunate, as while his well decorated shield was able to block all of the strikes aimed at him, the mounting force which lay behind the darknut's attacks made it so that his stamina dwindled with every successful strike he was forced to endure. Sensing that he would be defeated if he didn't do something quick, the blond made a feint to the left, for which darknut easily fell for. This, in turn, allowed him to move around and see something which he should not have been privy to. 

The darknut cursed underneath his breath when the ties of his armor came flying off. That he wasn't pierced by the blade which had sheared clean the red ropes tying the handcrafted platemail together was something the warrior dog was quite thankful for, but he had very little time to enjoy the fact that he was still allowed to draw breath, as now his heavy metallic armor was slowly slipping free from his muscular canine body. Throwing one of his legs back in an effort to kick the smaller warrior away, the darknut chuckled darkly when his heel connected with something soft and squishy. Hearing the familiar sound of a body hitting the stone wall behind him, the dark brown hound shucked his now useless armor free from his naked chest. 

Of course he was naked underneath, because there was no chance that his armor would allow for him to comfortably wear anything else beneath it, especially given how long he had to stand silently within the room in question. The fact that the blonde warrior froze when looking upon his unclothed lower half after shakily getting up from off of the ground once again was not something that concerned the darknut, as he was more focused on thinking up a plan to skewer the other warrior rather than being amused by how wide those already big blue eyes became at the sight of his gargantuan genitals. 

Again the two of them began dancing about the room with their swords held firmly within their hands, only this time the darknut proved much more desperate as he wildly swung his blade out at the sweat and dirt covered waif. There was no need to try and hold himself back with polished moves or practiced positions, as with his armor gone one good sword slash to his chest or belly would be all it took to end him. It was because of this that the darknut threw every last drop of his strength into his arms in an effort to divide the pointy eared warrior in two. 

The blonde gasped in fright when one of the pillars within the room was literally split in half by the canine warrior following him charging forward at him.

He yelped in fear when his opponent slashed his sword down in between his legs after knocking him down with a well placed punch, just barely missing him by the tiniest of centimeters. 

The pointy eared warrior looked upon the other in awe as the darknut spun himself around like a leaf in the wind after jumping up into the air, only to then hammer his massive claymore down into the earth with the force of a falling thunder strike after kicking him away once again.

Over and over again the darknut performed a very graceful series of acrobatic maneuvers in order to try and force assure his victory, but in the end all of his attempts proved to be for naught, as upon countering his a desperate sword thrust with his shield, the blonde forced the darknut's hands to the side, thus leaving his vulnerable belly open.

The feeling of cold, hard metal piercing him echoed through the warrior canine's being at the same time the knowledge that he had lost met his mind. 

Slowly releasing his weapon from in between his shaky fingers, the dark brown hound let his knees drop to the ground in a sign of utter defeat. 

Crimson eyes looked upon the disheveled blonde with an almost disbelieving gaze before the canine bowed his head. Feeling himself coming apart at the seams was strangely haunting for the darknut, as though he had heard about what would happen to him once he was slain in battle, the actuality of feeling himself breaking apart from the inside out was one that he had no words to describe. It didn't matter in the end, because once the cracks in his seams reached his head he became nothing more than a puff of smoke on the wind.

His consciousness lingered however as what was left of his being rested within a large purple orb which rolled along the ground towards the blonde's booted feet. 

Floating within the center of nothingness was a queer feeling for the darknut, as he existed and yet didn't both at the same time. He was utterly powerless to move his body, as he had no extremities for which to control himself with, and yet he could still feel the warmth of the air within the stone room that he and the blonde waif had been fighting in. The sensation of the other picking him, or what was left of him up, was so odd, as he once again felt like a pup who was being carried around by the scruff of his neck by his sire. 

The feeling of the seal which kept the sacred chest he had been guarding coming apart was something to be expected, given that he needed to be alive for it to remain intact, but was he truly dead right now?