Kenway - El Tiburon Kill

Moments later I’d been in pursuit, and followed Torres as far as his fort, where the trap had been sprung. At some point a decoy had taken Torres’s place. It was he who fell beneath my blade, and there, waiting for me beneath the walls of the fort, implacable, silent as ever, was El Tiburón.
You should have killed me when you had the chance, I thought. Because when on the last occasion he’d bested me it was a different Edward Kenway he’d met in battle; things had changed in the meantime – I had changed – and I had much to prove to him …
So if he’d hoped to beat me as easily as he had before he was disappointed. He came forward, feinting, then switching sides, but I anticipated the move, defended easily, hit him on the counter and opened a nick on his cheek.
There was no grunt of pain, not from El Tiburón. But in those cloudy eyes was just the merest hint, the tiniest glimmer, of something I hadn’t seen the last time we’d fought. Fear.
And that gave me a boost more than any shot of liquor, and once again I came forward with my blade flashing. He was forced on to the back foot, defending left and right, trying to find a weak spot in my attack but failing. Where were his guards?
He hadn’t summoned them, believing this would be an easy kill.
But how wrong he was, I thought as I pressed forward, dodged to my left and swiped backhanded with my blade, opening a gash in his tunic and a deep cut in his stomach that began gushing blood.
It slowed him down. It weakened him. I allowed him to come forward, pleased to see his sword strokes becoming more wild and haphazard as I carried on harrying him. Small but bloody strikes. Wearing him down.
He was slow now, his pain making him careless. Again I was able to drive forward with my cutlass, slash upwards with my hidden blade and twist it in his stomach. A mortal blow, surely?
His clothes were ragged and blood-stained. Blood from his stomach wound splattered to the ground, and he staggered with pain and exhaustion, looking at me mutely, but with all the agony of defeat in his eyes.
Until at last I put him down and he lay losing precious lifeblood, slowly dying in the heartless Havana sun. I crouched, blade to his throat, ready to plunge it up beneath his chin into his brain. End it quickly.
‘You humbled me once, and I took that hard lesson and I bettered myself …’ I told him. ‘Die knowing that for all our conflicts, you helped make a soldier out of a scoundrel.’
My blade made a moist squelching sound as I finished it.
‘Leave this life for a lasting peace, down among the dead,’ I told his corpse, and left.

Assassin’s Creed Black Flag, Chapter 64