'Don't duel.'
But—
'Fight to kill.'
And now I understand what he meant.
35's fighting style fit the theme of survival far more than mine.
Step.
He stepped closer, sword raised to strike again.
I lowered my sword and bent my knees.
If he fights like a beast…
Step.
He stepped into range.
Why can't I?
Step.
I stepped in and stabbed forward.
Swoosh.
He did the same.
Swoosh.
It felt as if we were in sync, stabbing at each other in the same moment.
And—
Shuk.
Shuk.
We both hit.
I ducked, making myself small as I stabbed.
But his blade pierced my shoulder.
He tried to sidestep while stabbing.
But I pierced his stomach as I ducked low.
Slrrt.
We tore our swords free and staggered back.
Drip.
Drops of blood stained the sand.
Drip.
Blood ran down my shoulder, and my left arm was nearly useless.
Drip.
His stomach wound wasn't deep—but enough to slow him.
Our eyes locked.
As we saw each other's wounds, we understood instinctively.
This wouldn't be a sword fight anymore—and it never was.
Because this is survival.
Step.
I stepped forward and slashed at his side.
Shing.
Swoosh.
While he stabbed at my throat.
I abandoned form.
I abandoned technique.
I abandoned self-preservation.
My head tilted aside to avoid his stab, and he threw his leg back as he twisted ninety degrees to evade my cut.
His blade grazed my cheek.
Drip.
Blood trickled down.
He couldn't fully avoid my slash, and I grazed his chest.
Both wounds were shallow.
But they were only the beginning.
It was strange.
We fought like wild animals—uncaring of injury.
But still…
Why?
Did it feel like I was smiling?
We pulled back and went at each other again.
I delivered a downward slash.
Shing.
He stabbed forward.
Shuk.
His blade pierced my left biceps.
Pain shot through me, but it didn't stop my slash.
And yet—
My strike was blocked.
Slrrsh.
Not by his sword, because that was piercing my arm.
But by his hand.
Drip.
He gripped my blade before it could hit him.
It must have hurt.
He was bleeding heavily.
But it was better than taking the full attack.
Our eyes locked in that standoff.
Then I saw it.
His lips curved slightly.
He was smiling.
I didn't know what my face looked like at that moment.
But I think—
I was smiling too.
Grip.
My numb left arm barely responded.
But it was enough.
I grabbed his blade with my free hand, just like he did.
Slrrsh.
He tried to pull back.
But I had locked it tight.
Each movement sliced deeper into my palm, blood ran down my wrist.
It hurt.
But I wouldn't let go.
Why?
Because he was mad.
My grip tightened.
Step.
I stepped forward, the tip of his sword digging deeper into my bicep. But at the same time, I shifted my weight and forced my blade down against his hand.
If he goes mad—
So will I.
I smiled as I pushed further.
'Let's see who breaks first.'
He drove his blade deeper into my arm after giving up on pulling back, while I pressed harder against his palm, cutting into skin.
We stayed locked like that for several seconds.
Until—
He gave in first.
His hand couldn't hold my blade anymore and slipped away.
Shing.
I immediately slashed across his arm and shoulder.
Slrrsh.
"Aghh!"
Splurt.
Blood sprayed from his left arm as he stumbled back.
Slrrt.
My hand released his blade, and he pulled his sword out of my arm as he retreated.
Drip.
Drip.
Blood dripped down from our wounds, painting the sand a murky brown.
His wounds were worse than mine.
While he pierced muscle, I sliced along his arm. Shallow—but bleeding heavily.
He would slow.
But it wouldn't kill him.
Haah.
Haah.
We stood several meters apart, catching our breaths.
I didn't return to a formal guarding stance and simply lifted the sword and stood ready.
Technique no longer mattered.
After regaining my breath, I stepped forward.
Step.
He raised his sword as I drew closer, and we clashed again.
Clang.
His horizontal slash was blocked as I lowered the sword to my side.
I pushed his sword away and stepped in, turning it into a diagonal slash.
Clang.
He blocked it, striking against my sword with a quick slash before turning his wrist, changing his grip, and stabbing forward.
Swoosh.
Step.
I stepped to the right and felt his blade graze my shoulder.
A shallow wound.
Nothing serious.
Step.
I widened the distance between us, and I prepared myself for the next attack.
Step.
Shing.
He advanced and went for a downward slash.
Step.
I took another step to the side and lifted my sword into a diagonal guard.
Clang.
His sword crashed into my guard, but I had adjusted my stance and lowered it slightly, letting his sword slide off my blade and to the ground.
Thud.
My wrist twisted, turning the sword before slashing at his sword arm.
Slrrsh.
He tried to dodge, but I still cut from triceps toward his shoulder.
"Aghh!"
The wound wasn't deep, but it was enough to weaken his attacks.
Step.
He stepped back after the strike and lifted his sword again, the blade trembled slightly.
Not much longer.
I readied myself before stepping forward again.
Swoosh.
My sword stabbed forward, aiming for his chest.
He reacted a breath too late and couldn't dodge anymore—so he swung downward.
Shing.
I aimed for his chest, but his counter forced me to shift the trajectory, and instead of his chest—
Shuk.
"Ghh!"
I stabbed his throat.
Clang.
His sword slid down my blade and stopped at its guard.
My eyes widened as I saw what I had done.
His eyes trembled as he looked down at the blade stuck in his throat.
A breath passed.
Then—
Thud.
His sword slipped from his hand, dropping to the ground.
Drip.
Blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth.
Step.
I stepped back as I realized what I had done.
But that was a mistake.
Slrrt.
The blade was pulled out of his throat as I stepped back, and blood burst out.
Spurt.
His mouth opened as if to speak something, but—
"Ghh!"
His words were drowned by blood.
It poured from his throat and mouth, soaking his skin crimson. Within seconds, the sand beneath him turned dark and muddy.
And while all that happened...
He just stood there.
Eyes wide.
Mouth open.
As if he couldn't grasp what was happening—
Yet felt every second of it.
Until—
His body slowly tilted backward.
Thud.
He fell.
The light in his eyes had faded.
I stood there, sword still raised in that same position as I watched him.
His fingers twitched once before they stilled.
His brown eyes darkened.
His chest stopped moving.
Thud.
The sword slipped out of my hand.
I didn't have the strength to hold it anymore.
Haah.
I breathed heavily, but my eyes never left him.
Hah.
I killed him.
Hah.
I only wanted to win.
Hah.
He didn't have to die.
Hah.
It wasn't exhaustion that made me breathe like this.
Panic.
I had a panic attack.
Hah.
I tried to steady myself, but every glance at his body made it worse.
Ha—
Boom.
The thundering of the drums finally snapped me out of it, and my head turned toward the noise.
Boom.
Haah.
My breathing evened again.
Then—
Came the noise.
"Yes!"
"That's my boy 29!"
"I told you he'd make it!"
"Pay me!"
The crowd stood up, roared, and cheered.
I had completely forgotten about them during the fight.
No.
I hadn't forgotten.
I just shut them out.
"Dear guests!"
A clear voice echoed through the arena, breaking my thoughts.
My eyes lifted toward the podium.
He stood there, leaning forward and gesturing toward me.
"The duel has ended in blood! What a spectacle! The winner is 29! A magnificent performance in our very first duel! Let's hear your applause for our young lamb!"
Clap.
He was the first to clap his hands.
The crowd followed.
CLAP.
CLAP.
CLAP.
The clapping sound of hundreds of hands echoed across the arena.
Under different circumstances—
I would have felt proud at the sight of so many people applauding me.
But right now—
There was only guilt.
Because I killed someone who could have lived.
And—
Hatred.
Because these people applauded the death of a young teen.
Haah.
I took a breath to calm myself.
Then turned and walked toward the metal gate.
'What a fucked up world.'