Misunderstood Extra in a Twisted Tale

Kain Rivel stood at Rivermist's eastern edge, the dual axes dangling from his harness, their chipped blades catching the morning's gray light. His coughs rasped, his chest ached from the last fight—Liana's retreat still fresh—but he'd sent her packing, her harem bravado broken. Mya Seraphine lingered beside him, her silver hair streaked with dirt, violet eyes locked on him, love, pride, that wild spark he couldn't dodge. Her kiss, her damn "yours alone," burned in his chest, and he hated how it anchored him.

"More clowns," he muttered, kicking a rock. A cough doubled him over, but he straightened, glaring at the axes. "Leon's circus never quits."

Mya's smile flashed, sharp, warm. "Never quits," she echoed, stepping closer. Her hand brushed his shoulder, light, fierce, and Kain glared, shoving it off, but not fast.

"Knock it off!" he rasped, coughing. Her touch, damn it, sparked him, but he shook it away, peering east. The horn from last night echoed—hooves thundered—four riders burst from the trees, gold armor glinting. A woman's voice rang, "For Valtor's honor!" Not Liana or Sera—Vera, the archer, red hair wild, bow nocked.

Kain roared, charging, fierce, the axe swinging, wild, rough. "Honor?" he barked, coughing, axe crashing against her bow. Wood splintered, the jolt rattling him, but he shoved, grinning raggedly. "Your clown king's a joke!"

Vera's eyes blazed, rage, insult. "Joke?" she spat, drawing another arrow—swift, deadly. "You'll bleed, fraud!"

Kain dove, coughing, the arrow whizzing past—bandits lunged, spears thrusting. Mya darted, her sword flashing, a scout fell, pierced, and she turned to Kain, eyes gleaming. "Bleed?" she teased, stepping close. "Not today."

"Damn right!" he growled, coughing, swinging at Vera. The axe grazed her arm, something flickered in his grip, a surge, and she yelped, horse rearing. "One's plenty!"

Vera rallied, firing—Kain ducked, coughing—the axe arcing up. It clipped her bowstring, snapping it, that flicker pulsed, and she cursed, bolting, eyes wide.

The bandits surged, spears taking another rider. Mya's laugh, wild, fierce, rang as she slashed a third scout's reins—the horse bolted, rider tumbling into dirt.

Kain stood, coughing, axes steady, grinning. "Run!" he rasped, coughing, watching Vera flee. "Tell your harem lord I'm still here!"

Mya sheathed her sword, stepping close, too close. "Still here," she said, her smile fierce, loving. "You broke her." Her hand brushed his face, quick, warm. "Mine."

"Yours?" He swatted her off, but not far. A cough flared, but he held her gaze, defiant, tangled. "I'm me!"

"You're both," she whispered, her lips near his ear. "I love you, no harem could touch that."

Kain froze, heat surging, rage, want, damn it. "Love?" he rasped, shoving her back, slow. "You're nuts!" Her closeness, her steel and roses scent, messed with him, and he gripped the axe tighter. "Back off!"

She didn't, her smile softened, fingers tracing his jaw, possessive, gentle. "Nuts for you," she said, her voice a vow. "You hate his harem, I love that."

"Hate it?" He scoffed, coughing, stepping back, glaring. "It's a fool's game! Leon's a peacock!" But her words, her faith, gnawed at him, and he turned away, axes dragging, mind spinning. That surge, faint now, itched in his arms—what was it?

The square stirred, bandits hauling loot, broken bows, gold scraps. The leader jogged up, grinning, blood on his spear. "Boss! Smashed 'em again! What's next?"

"Next?" Kain rasped, slamming the axe onto a stump, it stuck, wobbling, and coughed, steadying himself. "Rest! I'm not your warlord!"

The leader laughed, saluting. "Aye, boss! You're a beast, took that archer down!"

"Beast?" Kain growled, yanking the axe free, coughing. "She ran! Call it straight!" But the bandits cheered, hauling gear, chanting his name, and he shook his head, gritting through the coughs. "Idiots."

Mya lingered, her smile fierce, loving. "They see it," she said, her voice low. "That edge, my Kain."

"Your Kain?" He spun, axe raised, coughing, defiant. "I'm not your damn pet!" Her look, pride, love, hit him, and he faltered, why'd she cut so deep?

"No pet," she said, soft, fierce. "Mine." She grabbed his wrist, gentle, unyielding, pulling him close. "You're better than his harem, than him."

Kain stiffened, her touch burning, her pulse syncing with his. "Better?" he rasped, shoving her back, not far. "I'm a wreck! He's got flash, I've got guts!" A cough flared, but he stood tall, axes glinting, will blazing.

"Guts?" Her laugh rang, bright, dangerous. "I'd take your guts over his shine." She stepped closer, her lips hovering, fierce, tempting. "You're enough."

"Enough?" He growled, coughing, but didn't pull away, not yet. "I don't need…" A shout broke through, "Kain!" Tobin, panting, sprinting up. "West! Riders, gold again!"

Kain tensed, coughing, spinning, Mya's hand on her hilt. "West?" he rasped, glaring at the horizon. "Leon's obsessed!"

"His harem," Mya said, her smile sharp, amused. "They'll die for him." She stepped beside him, shoulder brushing his, warm, steady. "Ready?"

"Ready?" He hefted both axes, coughing, grinning raggedly. "Let's gut 'em!" He barked, "West! Move!" bandits rallying, spears up.

Hooves thundered, three riders, gold flashing, a woman's voice, "For Valtor!" Liana's back, blonde hair wild, sword high, relentless.

Kain roared, charging, the axe swinging, wild, fierce. Liana slashed, he ducked, coughing, the blade clashing, sparks flew. The jolt hit, that surge flickered, his arm burned, and he shoved, hard, her horse stumbling.

"Peacock trash!" he rasped, coughing, swinging again. The axe dented her armor, stronger now, and she yelped, reeling back.

Mya's sword flashed, one rider fell, her laugh wild. "Trash!" she shouted, turning to Kain, pride blazing. "You're mine!"

"Mine?" He growled, coughing, the last rider bolting, axes steady. "I'm me!"

Liana fled, cursing, "He'll end you!"

"End?" Kain rasped, coughing, standing tall. "Bring it!" Bandits cheered, spears high.

He sank to a knee, coughing, axes thudding, chest heaving. "Done," he muttered, grinning, ragged. "No harem tops this!"

Mya knelt, her hand on his face, gentle, fierce. "This," she whispered, love raw. "Enough." She kissed him, hard, Kain shoved her off, coughing, glaring.

"Warn me!" he barked, voice shaky, he'd leaned in, damn it. "Crazy!"

"Crazy," she laughed, bright, standing, hand near. "Yours, alone."

He glared, coughing, axes glinting, rising. "Alone," he muttered, smirking, turning west. "Damn right."

A horn, south, Kain tensed, coughing, ready. "Again?" he growled, Mya's sword out, eyes locked, fierce, loving.

"Again," she said, a vow. "Together?"

He coughed, nodding, axes up. "My way, hit 'em!" charging, her beside him, gritty, no harem, just them.