Kendrick ran and ran, fully aware that he had already pushed himself to his limit, yet he continued onward, desperate to survive.
His fragile legs bore the burden, despite feeling as though they might snap at any moment. Kendrick's breathing grew even more ragged, his throat parched. Every step became excruciating.
Exhausted, Kendrick failed to notice the tree branch ahead and tripped, falling headfirst into the dirt.
Struggling to stand, it seemed almost futile. His body gave way before his mind could break. Kendrick gripped the earth and pounded it in frustration.
The pain was unbearable.
Kendrick tried to rise again but tumbled to the ground once more. Time was running out; he had to escape. He couldn't fail the old man's wish. If he didn't get up and run, the assassins would catch him and end his life.
Summoning every last ounce of strength, Kendrick screamed in agony.
"Arrrgghh!"
Kendrick's bones made strange noises, but he ignored them, pushing forward even with broken bones. His screams echoed through the silent forest.
His mind began to waver, the thought of giving up creeping in.
"Why am I pushing so hard? I could hide and rest. Why am I struggling for my life?"
But his determination held firm.
"GET UP!"
Even with a shattered body, Kendrick persisted in trying to stand.
There were moments when he thought, "It doesn't matter anymore." But occasionally, the fire of determination in his eyes burned brightly, urging him onward.
"AAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!!!"
After an hour of relentless struggle, Kendrick finally managed to stand. Without a moment's rest, he started running again, unaware of the extent of his own determination.
***
A wide grin appeared on the old man's face from the darkness. Before the assassins could sense his presence, their heads had already rolled on the ground.
In the expansive darkness that stretched into the horizon, the old man panted in secret, fighting to catch his breath. Poison was slowly invading his body, but he couldn't give up. Not yet.
Many enemies remained. Faltering now would mean the young man's capture and death.
"Fate truly despises me."
The old man tightened his grip on his daggers and disappeared into the darkness again.
The enemies weren't fools. As their numbers dwindled, they decided to reveal their positions to each other, even at the risk of exposing themselves.
The old man, however, wouldn't fall for such an obvious trap. He memorized their locations and strategized.
"There are still ten of them. They're revealing their positions, so it was definitely a trap..."
What should he do?
The old man could either assassinate them from a distance and constantly change locations or confront them head-on, fighting until death took him. The latter was the riskiest choice, but the former had its dangers too. If he failed to escape quickly, he'd either escape wounded or be fatally pierced.
So, why not choose the riskiest option, the one the enemy least expected?
The old man readied his daggers and leaped forward. His steps were so light they made almost no sound, as if he had merged with the forest itself.
Crickets and cicadas filled the night with their sounds. No signs of an imminent attack. That was the most unsettling aspect.
Despite being skilled in stealth, the old man seemed even better than them. They couldn't feel his presence or hear his breath.
Although their plan was to lure him into revealing his location, they didn't truly expect him to confront them directly. Even for professionals, facing the enemy head-on was unthinkable. So, as soon as the old man exposed himself while trying to eliminate one of them, they would strike in unison, eliminating him.