The figure moved.
Fast.
One second he was standing fifteen feet away, the next he was right in front of Liam, his arm already swinging.
Liam barely had ti to react.
He shifted his weight to the right, tilting his body just enough that the knife sliced through empty air where his chest had been a mont before.
The figure didn’t stop. He pivoted on his left foot, spinning low and coming back with a horizontal slash aid at Liam’s ribs.
Liam brought his own knife up, blocking the attack.
Steel t steel with a sharp clang.
For a split second, they stood there. Blades pressed together. Close enough that Liam could see the figure’s eyes—cold, calm, unbothered.
Liam grinned. "You think I’m that easy?"
The figure’s lips curved into a smile.
And then sothing happened.
The force hit Liam like he’d been struck by a car.
It didn’t co from the blade.
His own knife jerked violently in his grip, wrenching his entire arm sideways.
The blade was still pressed against his, barely moving. But sothing invisible slamd into him from the side, lifting him clean off his feet.
Liam’s body flew backward.
The world tilted. His vision blurred.
He crashed into the concrete wall ten feet behind him with a sickening thud.
The impact knocked the air out of his lungs.
Pain exploded across his back and shoulders.
Cracks spiderwebbed out from where his body had hit, chunks of concrete breaking loose and scattering across the floor.
Liam dropped.
He hit the ground hard, landing on his side.
His knife clattered out of his hand, spinning across the floor before coming to rest a few feet away.
For a mont, he didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
His ears were ringing. His vision swam. Every breath felt like soone was stabbing him in the ribs.
’What... what the hell was that?’
The figure stood where he’d been before, watching calmly.
His knives hung loose at his sides.
He tilted his head slightly, studying Liam like he was a bug under a microscope.
"Is that it?" he said.
Liam didn’t respond. He was still trying to figure out if anything was broken.
His back scread. His ribs ached. But when he flexed his fingers, they moved. When he shifted his legs, they responded.
Nothing broken. Just badly bruised.
The figure sighed, lowering his knives slightly. "That’s a pity. I thought you’d be better than this. Guess you’re just another waste of ti."
He turned slightly, like he was already planning to leave.
And then Liam’s finger twitched.
Just once. A small movent against the concrete floor.
The figure stopped.
He turned his head back, looking down at Liam.
A slow smile spread across his face. "Oh? Not dead yet?"
Liam’s hand moved. Slowly. His fingers pressed flat against the floor, trembling from the effort.
He pushed.
His arm shook. His back protested. But he lifted himself up onto his hands and knees.
Blood dripped from his nose, hitting the concrete in small dark drops.
The figure’s smile widened. "Okay. I see you’re not done yet. That’s the spirit."
Liam didn’t answer. He just pushed himself up further, getting one foot under him, then the other.
He stood.
It took longer than it should have. His legs were unsteady. His vision still hadn’t fully cleared. But he stood.
He looked up at the figure, his breathing heavy, his eyes hard.
"I don’t know what you just did," Liam said, his voice rough. "But that’s not enough to kill ."
The figure tilted his head. "Really?"
’Why is he so shocked?’
"Yeah," Liam said. "I made a promise. To myself. And to that kid. I’m going to stop you."
The figure laughed. Not mocking. Genuinely amused. "That’s the spirit."
He raised his knives again, spinning one lazily in his hand. "Let’s go again, shall we?"
He raised his knives again, spinning one lazily in his hand. "Let’s go again, shall we?"
Liam reached down slowly and picked up the knife he’d dropped, his hand closing around the handle.
He didn’t move forward. Just stood there, watching.
The figure noticed. "Oh? Not attacking? Smart. You’re waiting to see what I’ll do."
He took a step forward.
Liam’s body tensed, ready.
The figure took another step. Then another.
And then he moved.
Fast.
In a blink, he closed the distance, appearing right in front of Liam, his knife driving toward Liam’s chest.
Liam’s eyes tracked the movent. He saw the knife coming—a straight thrust aid at his chest.
He shifted his weight to the left, preparing to sidestep.
His body moved. His feet started to shift.
And then the knife’s speed changed.
Like gravity itself had reversed, pulling the blade forward.
One mont it was moving at a normal speed, the next it was twice as fast.
Liam’s eyes widened.
’What—’
The blade connected.
It pierced his side, just below his ribs on the left. Not deep—Liam’s body had already started moving back on pure instinct, pulling away from the strike even as it landed.
But it still cut. Still drew blood.
Liam stumbled back three steps, his hand imdiately going to his side. Blood seeped between his fingers, warm and sticky.
’Shit, I was dodging that. I saw it coming. But then it just... sped up. How?’
He looked up at the figure, his breathing heavy.
The figure didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching Liam with those cold, calculating eyes. No pride. No gloating. Just observation.
’I can’t even dodge his attacks too that leaves with only one chance which is to actually attack’
Liam thought still feeling the pain shooting from where The figured had stab he then checked his hand stained with blood.
’I can’t dodge his attacks either—that leaves with only one option: go on the offensive,’ Liam thought, wincing as pain flared from where the figure had stabbed him.
He moved.
Fast.
Faster than ever.
He closed the distance in two long strides, his knife slashing toward the figure’s neck.
The figure leaned back, the blade missing by inches.
Liam didn’t stop. He spun, bringing the knife back around in a reverse slash.
The figure ducked under it.
Liam kept moving. He drove his knee up toward the figure’s stomach.
The figure sidestepped, his movents fluid and precise.
Liam landed and imdiately launched into another attack. Slash. Stab. Slash again.
The figure dodged each one, his feet moving smoothly across the concrete.
But Liam was relentless. He didn’t give the figure any space. Any ti to counter.
And then the figure moved.
He dropped one of his knives.
It hit the floor with a tallic clang.
Liam’s eyes flicked to it for just a split second.
The figure’s hand shot out, palm open catching Liam knife.
Liam’s eyes widened.
The figure had caught his knife.
Bare-handed.
Steel pressed against palm. No cut. No blood.
For a heartbeat, they stood frozen—Liam mid-strike, the figure’s hand wrapped around the blade.
Then the figure let go.
Liam’s body launched upward, still gripping the knife, like the weapon had been yanked by an invisible wire.
The force hit him from below this ti, like the ground itself had exploded under his feet.
Liam’s body launched upward and backward, spinning through the air.
He crashed into a stack of wooden crates against the far wall. The crates shattered on impact, splinters flying everywhere.
Liam hit the ground in a heap, wood fragnts raining down on him.
Pain exploded everywhere. His back. His shoulders. His legs.
He groaned, trying to push himself up.
’What the hell? He didn’t even touch . He just grabbed my knife and I went flying. How does that work?’
The figure picked up his fallen knife and walked forward slowly, his boots echoing against the concrete.
Liam forced himself to move. He rolled onto his side, then pushed up onto his hands and knees.
Blood dripped from a cut on his forehead, running down into his eye. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.
The figure stopped a few feet away, watching.
Liam stood. Slower this ti. His legs shook, but they held.
’Fuck. I might actually die here if I don’t pull so underhanded move like Shay said. There’s no way I can beat this guy fighting fair’
Liam dropped his knife deliberately. It clattered against the concrete.
The figure’s eyes tracked the movent. His expression shifted—surprise? Interest?.
"No weapon?" the figure said. "Bold choice."
He looked around quickly. Debris from the broken crates. Chunks of concrete from the wall.
A tal pipe lying near the corner.
An idea ford.
Liam kicked a piece of wood toward the figure.
Not hard. Just enough to get his attention.
The figure’s eyes tracked the movent. His blade flashed, splitting the wood in half before it could connect, then his focus returned to Liam.
Liam had moved.
He had sprinted forward, closing the distance fast.
The figure raised his knife, ready to counter.
But Liam didn’t attack high. He dropped low at the last second, sliding across the floor like a baseball player sliding into base.
The figure’s knife slashed through the air above him, missing completely.
Liam slid past the figure’s legs, ca up behind him, and spun.
His fist drove into the back of the figure’s knee.
The figure’s leg buckled slightly.
Liam pushed off the ground, rising fast, and drove his other fist into the figure’s kidney.
The figure grunted—the first real sound of pain he’d made.
Liam didn’t stop. He grabbed the figure’s shoulder, spun him around, and drove his fist into the figure’s jaw.
The punch connected clean.
The figure’s head snapped to the side.
Liam pulled back, breathing hard, his fist still raised.
The figure straightened slowly. He turned his head back to face Liam.
His expression hadn’t changed. No pain. No anger. Just that sa calm, unbothered look.
He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
No blood.
He looked at Liam, his eyes sharp.
And then, from sowhere in the distance, sirens wailed.
Loud and Getting closer by the second.
The figure’s eyes flicked toward the sound. His expression shifted slightly—annoyance, maybe.
"The fun ends here!"
He took a step back, then another, putting distance between himself and Liam.
Liam stayed where he was, his fist still raised, his breathing heavy.
The figure looked at him one last ti. "You’re more interesting than I thought. We’ll et again I’m sure about that."
And then he turned and ran.
Not toward the entrance. Toward the back of the building. Into the shadows.
Within seconds, he was gone.
Liam stood there for a mont, staring at the spot where the figure had disappeared.
Then his legs gave out.
He dropped to one knee, his hand pressed against the wound in his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping onto the floor.
His body was covered in cuts. His back ached. His ribs scread with every breath.
But he was alive.
’He has so kind of ability. Sothing that lets him control his attacks. Change them. I don’t know exactly how it works yet. But I know it’s there. And I know I can beat him next ti.’
The sirens were right outside now.
Liam closed his eyes and let his head drop.
’Next ti.’
User Comments
0 comments from readers