Axel had prepared his mind, ready to face whatever monstrosity emerged. He was somehow ready for whatever horror it was.
But this—this was totally unexpected.
He stared blankly as the stickmen reached out, prying themselves out of the water, his mind struggling to adapt.
Axel shook his head and dashed forward, taking the initiative. Whatever they were, it was better not to let them get ready. He frowned at the thought—that goes against basic anime fight rules, but oh well.
He swung. The stickman threw a punch at his face.
Axel leaned back, the fist passing inches from his nose, a gust of wind brushing his hair. His blade sliced clean through the stickman's torso.
He steadied his stance as the creature's upper body slid down, splitting apart, no blood.
Axel darted to the next one, lopping its head off before it even emerged. One after another, he cut them down, getting closer to the man, building momentum—a wild grin curling on his face.
This is easier than I thought, he realized. Too easy, even. They're slow… or maybe I'm faster.
He even had time to glance at the man sitting calmly, eyes to the sky, almost oblivious to the chaos. If I can get him, it'll all be over, Axel thought, continuing his assault.
He split the last stickman's head, grinned, and lunged toward the man—then froze. The blade hovered just inches from the man's neck, his hand trembling. I can't guarantee killing him will get me out of here, he thought, trying to justify his hesitation.
The man looked at the katana, then at Axel.
"Why'd you stop?" he asked.
"For one, I don't know if killing you ends this or traps me here. I want to know what this is—what this katana is. You'll tell me, or else." Axel moved the sword closer.
"You're still on about that, huh? Well, since you insist—the sword's an Anima." The man muttered, leaning back lazily.
"Explaining would be a hassle," he added casually. "And it doesn't matter anyway. Killing me would let you escape."
Axel's brow creased. Anima? And why the hell is this bastard so calm? He pressed the blade closer until it grazed skin. Blood trickled down the edge.
"What is an Anima?" he demanded.
The man yawned, rubbed his eyes, then smirked. "Watch out," he muttered.
Axel's eyes widened. Wind brushed his hair, something fast was behind him, approaching, then impact.
He was launched forward, lungs emptied, body flipping before crashing into the ground and rolling.
Pain flared through every nerve. It felt like his bones had cracked. His ears rang. Vision blurred.
Axel groaned, forcing himself up on trembling legs. He shook his head, trying to clear his sight. Inhaling deeply, he caught the floral scent again. The pain dulled, no he forgot the pain, nothing left but the drive to fight.
Warm liquid rushed up his throat; blood spilled from his mouth. He wiped it away and grinned, wild-eyed, hair plastered to his face.
He looked up—the man's back still turned, stickmen approaching like shadows.
He grinned wider. I can do it. I just need to reach his back.
He sprinted forward, reckless and feral. The stickmen followed, dashing towards him.
He tilted sideways, dodging a punch that cut through the air. They pack a punch, but it's no use, if you can't touch me, he noted, spinning around, severing one in half before dashing to the next—parrying, slashing, weaving through blows, blood spilling from his lips.
He leapt, sword overhead, ready to cleave the man in two—when a fist slammed into his jaw, skull rattling. Before he could fly back, another caught his leg and smashed him into the ground with a sickening crack, flinging him away.
Axel tumbled across the floor, stopping several meters away, gasping, blood clouding his vision.
Yet strangely at that moment his mind cleared. What am I doing?
He'd been charging blindly, fighting like a madman. That wasn't him. The logical choice would've been to just return the katana. Yet something had been pushing him, amplifying his emotions, drowning out reason. The extra effect, he realized.
Now, as his head pounded, the haze lifted—and with it came the pain.
Excruciating, screaming pain, Axel screamed out.
He sat up slowly, wincing, abdomen burning, jaw throbbing. A metallic taste filled his mouth before he vomited blood, coughing violently.
He glanced at the man, still sitting, still calm, stickmen circling. Axel inhaled, the floral scent creeping in. Hatred bubbled up inside him as he stared. He had to kill him. The pain vanished completely.
Sh*t. Axel bit his tongue and covered his nose. That scent—it amplifies emotions or something, eyes widening with realization, or it suppresses everything else… even pain, it amplified my curiosity and sense of adventure, suppressing everything else, he realized.
He fumbled in his bag, holding his breath, and yanked out a dry handkerchief. Wrapping it around his nose, the scent dulled instantly.
"Hey!" Axel shouted. "You can have the katana! I surrender!"
No answer.
He stood slowly, hissing at the pain. "Did you hear me?!"
Silence. Then, the stickmen charged, running towards him.
Axel's stomach dropped. "Hey! I said you can have it!" he screamed, voice cracking.
They didn't stop.
Shit—he's really going to kill me.
His eyes widened.
The lead stickman lunged, arm cocked back. Axel dove, rolling toward the katana just as the punch smashed into the ground.
He grabbed the blade and raised it defensively. A kick landed a heartbeat later, sending him skidding back, blood spraying into the water.
He jammed the sword into the pool, the impact dragging him several more meters before he stopped.
Damn it, they're seriously strong. I have to get to him.
His gaze locked on the man, his only chance of survival was getting him to stop this thing.
They're strong but slow… and I'm broken, and worst of all they don't seem to feel anything, just dolls. He glanced around, stickmen everywhere, closing in.
He looked down at the sword. Help me out, buddy. His mind flashed back to that first meeting at the door.
He twisted the hilt, tilted the blade, trying to activate it, "Come on!" he shouted, but nothing happened. Worse, the stickmen were almost on him.
He turned and ran, clutching his side, katana dragging behind him. Even hurt, he was faster. Barely.
He spun, slashing low, one stickman toppled, its leg severed. He ran again, repeating the motion each time one got close, hacking through limbs, cutting bodies in half.
But he was slowing down. They weren't.
The only way out is through him.
Ironically, he realized he'd been running in a circle, drawing the stickmen away, the path between him and the man now unguarded.
Axel smirked, teeth bloodied, and charged. Katana raised high ready to end it.
But the wind picked up again, something was approaching again.
He ducked low, spun, and slashed upward—perfect timing. A stickman had materialized midair, arm swinging.
Axel's blade cleaved it in half.
Yet it was moving too slow, even for them.
Finally. His eyes flicked to the hilt—green light pulsed faintly.
Another stickman burst through the remains faster than the others, but Axel was faster now. He dodged, the stickman passing harmlessly, its momentum carrying it forward.
Axel spun, and drove toward the man.
I'm faster than everything here… or everything's slower, this is it.
He gritted his teeth, shouting aloud as the blade neared the man's neck.
Then—boom.
A heavy impact sent him flying again, meeting his jaw. Teeth clashed, air gone.
He spun in the air, over the man crashing in front of him, wheezing, blood pooling from his lips.
A splitting pain stabbed through his head, his vision fading into static.
I've done all I could, he thought weakly, unmoving, giving up.
But just once, even through the blur, he turned his head toward the man one last time.
And then, he noticed it, the man's eyes.