The sword slightly grazed past my cheek.
A shallow cut. Just skin.
But it was enough.
Enough for me to see red.
In that instant, everything slowed.
Their grins. Their eyes. Their ragged breath.
It was like time bent around the moment I accepted one truth—I am not their prey.
They are mine.
The man who lunged forward staggered mid-stride, confused by my lack of panic. His sword was heavy, too heavy for his thin wrist, and it wavered in the air for just a second too long.
I ducked.
My body moved on its own.
The momentum carried me forward — under his swing, and straight into his chest. I slammed my elbow right into his solar plexus, crack — he wheezed like a bag of flour collapsing, and I used his body as a shield as the second attacker came in from the right.
The thug didn't even have time to react before his partner's blade stabbed right into his ribs.
"Wh—?!"
I grabbed the hilt before he could pull it out and smashed my knee into his face — once, twice — and then twisted the blade sideways, breaking the thug's fingers with a snap of tendon and steel.
Two down.
Chaos.
The others finally realized this wasn't going to be the easy kill they were expecting.
Three came at once.
One from the left, two from the front. Weapons ready, eyes fierce.
I exhaled.
Let go of the sword.
And dove forward again — fast, low, like a beast.
I grabbed a handful of dirt from the street and flung it in the closest one's eyes. He screamed.
Used him as a springboard.
Jumped.
The other two swung wildly, expecting me to be on the ground — not flying over their heads.
I landed behind them.
Quick turn.
Palm strike to the neck — crunch.
Elbow to the chin — snap.
Foot to the back of the knee — crack.
Three more down.
By now, only the leader remained.
The man with the sickle on his back. His grin?
Gone.
"W-What the hell are you...?" he muttered, slowly backing away as I walked toward him — bloodstained, weaponless, unbothered.
I said nothing.
He drew his sickle with a clumsy jerk, trying to look fierce. But his eyes betrayed him.
He didn't see a boy anymore.
He saw something worse.
I walked closer, slow and steady.
He swung.
I caught his wrist mid-air.
Twisted.
He screamed, dropped the sickle.
I let go of him.
He stumbled backward, clutching his broken wrist, collapsing into the dirt.
Breathing heavy.
Crying.
I knelt beside him.
And for a moment, just stared into his eyes — the way prey looks at a predator and knows it's over.
"You picked the wrong person," I whispered.
"P-Please let me live!", he screamed as if crying.
Unexpectedly, it was more soothing than I imagined.
"Tsk tsk tsk. Is that how you beg for mercy? I don't sense any sincerity in it.", I said mockingly.
He immediately kneeled down, his large build making a thud sound as he kept his head on the ground, and begged.
"Please, I didn't know who you were. I have a family to feed, so please let me go!", he shouted again.
"Hmm~ I don't know about that...Well, first do one thing.", I said stepping on his head and pushing it further into the ground.
"Y-Yes! Yes, I will do anything, as you say.", he said, whimpering like a dog.
"Your other friends aren't dead yet. So~, you will kill them completely, chop their head off, and display them right here, on the weapons they used to threaten me.", I said, with the plan in my mind.
I paused for a second before continuing.
"Also, you have to write something below it. Just use their blood on the ground and write, YOU ARE NEXT."
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Author's Note:
Please comment down your thoughts.
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