Seldom is it okay to flee your ground without putting up a fight. It is the sign of a weak man to do so, and in this world, a weak man will perish before they have a chance to survive. However, if the prey has a goal in mind and fleeing at the sign of danger allows them to take ample steps in the right direction, then fleeing is advised.
I say this as I am running for my life along the outer ring of the island. To my left is a steep cliffside with nearly a one-hundred-meter fall, and behind me, the four aspirants are relentlessly pursuing.
Boom!
Another cannon fired, signaling the twenty-second death in the trial. The beautiful sound also marked the fifty-fifth minute of the trial. I just need to stall for five more minutes.
"Now!" one of the ambushers shouted.
I looked back, and a spear was cutting through the air. With a flick of my katana, I sent the spear tumbling into the ocean. That was the second weapon they had hurled at me, and both times my running speed slowed, allowing them to cut the distance between us in half.
I clenched my jaw, gaze not leaving the aspirants. All four men were as fast as I was. Three of them bore marks only from Ares—the God of War—while the leader, barking orders, bore a mark from Apollo as well as Ares.
I had no hope of evading them forever. Ares's abilities usually favor speed or strength buffs, but by then, my immortality would return.
"Now."
The leader roared again, and this time a longsword threatened to impale my lower back. The throw was well placed, forcing me to turn my whole body. I spun gracefully, swiping down with my katana, and the longsword clanked to the dirt.
I faced the four men head-on. My heart rate elevated and thumped repeatedly in my skull, but I wasn't going to give up.
The leader was the last one with a weapon. He thrusted first, his odachi aimed for my waist. I jumped backward to avoid its razor edge and simultaneously sliced through the finger of a lackey's outstretched hand. His screams filled the air.
From my right, hovering on the island's edge, another dove at my legs. My blade wouldn't reach him in time. Killing one was meaningless, so I maneuvered to the left, barely avoiding his grasp.
But that was a mistake. The others were waiting and tackled me to the ground with a loud thud.
Tick.
Tick.
They struggled for dominance, trying to pin my limbs to the ground. I resisted with all my power. Every second of defiance mattered.
I bit one of the lackeys and tore a chunk from his hand. His flesh tasted of poverty, and I spat it out into the eyes of the leader who sat on top of me, blade raised high.
"Hold him down!" he ordered, as he wiped his eyes clean.
"We're trying, but he's like a savage beast!"
The leader's hand shot to my forearm, pinning it. His blade was about to come down, but I shouted desperately.
"You cowards! Fight me honorably!"
They burst out laughing, just like I'd hoped.
"Fight you honorably?" the leader mused. "Did I hear you right? You want an honorable fight in this world? The clan leader was right—the Death God must be mad, and his teachings made you mad as well."
"I hadn't realized the clan leader of Ares wanted me dead." I spat blood at him, and he angrily blocked with his blade.
"Fuck your God."
He smirked.
"Goodbye, asshole."
Tick...
The blade penetrated my brain and killed me in one fell swoop.
***
I could feel myself existing, traveling through some inexplicable, endless expanse of darkness. It was cold and chilling, yet scorching and miserable, as if I were in Hell's waiting room.
Then a picture manifested in my mind. I was cuffed to a wooden chair in a dark room with a flickering light overhead. I was unconscious, and it seemed I had been seated there a while. Suddenly, a loud bell rang, and a chain wrapped itself tightly around my chest.
*Morthen Vire's first death. Shackle of Violence initiated. Shackle Description: Morthen Vire must kill in one strike. Any wounds Morthen Vire inflicts on an opponent that fail to end their life immediately will have no effect.*
*Congratulations, Morthen! Quest to earn a shackle progress, 1/2! Keep up the great work!*
It was the system's voice. My mind was foggy, but I was sure of that. The dark room vanished, and I momentarily returned to the endless darkness before light bled through.
"Collect his core."
I heard someone's wretched voice, and I opened my eyes. One of the lackeys was seated next to me, trying to find where to insert his blade.
I was alive. My immortality had returned.
Quickly and with caution, I felt around in the tall grass. My head ached where I had been stabbed, and I wasn't too keen on experiencing the pain of having my core removed.
I felt metal and quietly slid my hand to the hilt. Before the Ares aspirant knew what had happened, his body had slumped to the earth, dead.
I stood, pushed his body aside, and grabbed the severed head. The leader and his two remaining lackeys were observing the forest for any odd movements. I sprinted towards them, and the leader turned.
"What!" he screamed as I threw his friend's head in his direction. He swatted it to the side, but in that moment, I had already decapitated the remaining two unsuspecting lackeys and launched an attack on him.
My blade was inches from his throat. I felt power rush to his legs—his ability kicked in. He jumped sideways, faster than any natural movement.
I smirked.
My skill was second to none. I twisted my katana and thrust it straight through his chest. He collapsed, but as I pulled my blade free, there was no blood, no wound—nothing....My shackle.
From the look in his eyes, I could tell he somehow did not notice.
"Please spare me. I'll give you anything."
"No," I stared down at him, cold and unwavering. "Asking for mercy in this world...Ares' teachings must have made you mad."
Then I slashed my katana straight through his neck, and a cannon fired, signaling his death.