The numbers are higher than planned. Still, with Daredevil here, their focus won't be entirely on me. Dwindling their numbers won't be too hard. My thought accelerated knowing that the fight to come, would be the most difficult one I've faced so far.
Thankfully, there's someone here to take some of the burden off my shoulders. From his movements, it's clear he's figured out my plan—but it's too late. The ninjas are only seconds away.
Daredevil tried to end this quickly, opening with a swift jab from his baton, likely to test my defense. Knowing the strike didn't carry enough force to harm me significantly, I decided to trade blows. His baton struck my left chest plate—the strongest part of my armor—while my left fist connected with his lower left abdomen, mostly hitting his abs. He was skilled enough to shift slightly, avoiding a direct kidney shot.
I followed up with a thrust aimed at his chest, but he was quick, raising his baton to block. The difference in our physical strength sent my arm flying back, leaving me exposed. He saw the opening and moved to capitalize, but I wasn't about to let that happen.
I timed it perfectly, my free hand snapping out to grab his baton just as he moved in. There was resistance, but I managed to lock onto it. In one swift motion, I spun, aiming an elbow at his head. He ducked, using my momentum to shove me back, forcing us into opposite positions.
The ninjas were closing in behind me, throwing shurikens. But thanks to my armor, they didn't even scratch me. I lunged at Daredevil, using the distraction to press the attack. I had the advantage now—the shurikens weren't a threat to me, but they were to him. A careless hit could kill him.
He tried to create distance, but I was faster, my speed enhanced by the "Well Fed" buff. Realizing he couldn't outrun me, he spun to face me, swinging his baton. I met it with my sword, simultaneously throwing a punch at his chest. He twisted his body, seamlessly dodging and using his free arm to push me back, leveraging my momentum.
Without his second baton, Daredevil couldn't land an effective blow, and the shurikens left him vulnerable. I took advantage of that, landing a solid elbow to his left pec. He grunted, but instead of retreating, he pressed forward, unfazed. Scraping his baton along the edge of my sword, he bypassed my guard and slammed his baton into my shoulder plate. The impact was powerful, using his momentum to amplify the strike. Even through my armor, I felt my shoulder rattle, the numbing sensation spreading down my arm.
But that didn't stop me. I followed through with my slash, grazing his neck—narrowly missing a fatal strike. His reflexes saved him, but the close call must have shaken him. Instead of continuing to confront me, he quickly retreated, likely wanting to retrieve his other baton, the tactical choice in this situation.
After exhausting their shuriken, the ninjas finally switched tactics, marching toward us with their ninjatos in hand. Watching their charge, I couldn't help but feel like Madara Uchiha facing the Alliance army.
Caught up in the moment, I muttered under my breath, "Let's dance."
Daredevil shot me a puzzled look, his usually stoic expression breaking. Seeing him react to the famous Madara Uchiha line was almost funny, but I didn't let it distract me. The first ninja reached my striking distance, and I was ready.
A swift slash met him. He raised his guard quickly, blocking my sword, but what he didn't know was that I wasn't limited to a sword and bow. During my time in the forest, I'd crafted a platinum axe for chopping wood, and that same axe cleaved into his gut, spilling his intestines and organs across my greaves. The wound was fatal, but death was still a ways off. His eyes twitched in pain, his hands desperately trying to push his organs back into his body.
I looked at him, knowing exactly what kind of torture he was enduring. The agony gripped every inch of him, his body doing everything in its power to stop the inevitable, but it wasn't enough. Blood drained quickly, and with it, his strength. He lacked the will to even end his own suffering. I wasn't going to help him either. I left him screaming, his cries filling the air like a twisted melody to the grim reaper, my foot resting on his open wound, a twisted smile spreading across my face.
The battlefield froze, the shock and disgust at my cruelty etched on everyone's faces. Even the stoic ninjas couldn't hide their horror. The calm precision they once had melted away, replaced by agitation and rage. They attacked with unbridled aggression, trading control for raw power.
Good. I reveled in their fury. Their anger would break their formation, and one by one, they'd fall like their tormented comrade.
The sick thoughts running through my head would've shaken most people, but my mind works differently when survival is on the line, especially under the influence of the Terrarian Mind. Inhuman or not, everything is fair game when it comes to staying alive.
A shout from behind broke my focus. "How could you do this?! This! This cruelty!" Daredevil's voice was filled with righteous anger, but I ignored it, advancing on the next ninja.
I severed his hand with a single stroke, followed by a brutal axe to his shoulder. Decapitating him was easy, but I knew a clean kill wouldn't break their morale.
Another ninja lunged at me; his sword aimed at my chest. I grabbed the dying ninja and threw his body into the path of the attack. His ally's sword pierced the corpse, and without hesitation, I stabbed through the dead body, my blade finding its mark in the living ninja's flesh.
After witnessing three of their comrades die so cruelly, the ninjas' fury only grew. But they weren't the only ones. Daredevil, too, was advancing on me, his movements charged with anger, like a bull ready to charge.
Perfect. Everything is falling into place. The scheme unfolding in my head played out exactly as I envisioned. All that remained was to overload their senses.
Sorry, I apologized silently, from the last vestiges of my humanity. What was about to happen would scar a righteous hero forever.
Facing attacks from both sides, I stayed calm, my eyes scanning the battlefield, memorizing every detail. I measured the timing carefully—Daredevil would be a second behind the nearest ninja. More than enough time for me to dispatch another one in the cruelest manner.
Inflicting grievous wounds and leaving my enemies to suffer wasn't just an act of sadism—it was strategic. The agonizing screams would flood the air, layering distractions on top of each other. No matter how sharp someone's senses were, the overwhelming noise would make focus nearly impossible.
One scream wouldn't do. But dozens? Just like the first ninja who faced me, the next one's fate was sealed. He slashed at me, and I countered, chopping down on his leg. Yet there was no sound of bones breaking—he'd learned from his comrades' mistakes and withdrew quickly, leaving me open to Daredevil's assault from behind.
Anticipating his attack, I tilted my body to the right. Daredevil's baton collided with the ninja's sword, shattering the guard and leaving an opening. I seized the moment, severing the ninja's arm in one swift strike.
A scream of pain escaped his lips, but I wasn't done. I finished what I started, bringing my weapon down again. This time, the sickening crunch of breaking bone echoed, followed by the grotesque sound of flesh tearing. The ninja's leg, shattered and useless, buckled under his weight. Gravity forced the jagged bone through the skin, protruding grotesquely.
The horrific sight added another layer of mental assault on my enemies. I saw it in Daredevil's eyes—the guilt weighed on him, breaking his resolve. No matter how strong his will, the self-blame gnawed at him, weakening him.
He faltered momentarily, but his fury reignited as more ninjas joined the fight. One managed to land a blow, leaving a deep scratch on my left shoulder plate, while another clashed against my axe. Daredevil swung with full force, aiming for my head.
I was surrounded. I quickly sent the axe back into my inventory, letting the ninja's blade fly toward my head. With both the blade and Daredevil's baton closing in, even with my helmet, I'd be knocked out cold. The only move was to duck.
As I ducked, I grabbed the arm of the ninja who'd scratched my shoulder plate, pulling him just enough to take the hit meant for me. His head met a gruesome fate, crushed by Daredevil's baton and pierced by the other ninja's blade. Death was instant, brain matter spewing everywhere—most of it trickling onto my helmet, while the rest flew toward Daredevil and the other ninja.
Utter horror flashed across Daredevil's face. He never expected his own attack would kill one of the ninjas. With a roar, he pushed forward, continuing his momentum to slam his baton into my helmet. The force was tremendous, sending me tumbling across the ground, my head spinning and my vision disoriented.
Still, I recovered—though barely. Stumbling like a drunk, my sight blurred, and my movements became sluggish.
While I struggled to regain my balance, my adversaries kept up their assault. Blocking some attacks took immense effort, and I managed to avoid fatal wounds. But many strikes still broke through, leaving deep scratches and dents in my armor.
Slowly, my defense became more solid, but it wasn't enough to hold off the relentless barrage, especially with two more ninjas joining the fray. Their coordinated strikes were gradually wearing me down.
As their attacks chipped away at my strength, I noticed subtle changes in their behavior. The remaining ninjas were starting to position themselves around Daredevil, likely preparing to backstab him once they deemed me too weak to continue.
When my breathing grew labored and I dropped to one knee, they shifted focus. The ninjas turned their blades toward Daredevil, seeking revenge for their fallen comrades.
But it wasn't going to be easy. Matt Murdock wasn't an idiot. He'd never trusted them for a second. Like the ninjas, he'd been using them to wear me down before confronting them.
Still, even a well-laid plan can fall apart. Daredevil had fallen into my trap. The agonizing screams around him were affecting his heightened senses, dulling his spatial awareness. His once-keen perception of the battlefield narrowed, and the ninjas slipped in, landing a few strikes across his body.
He was slowly losing ground, and it was only a matter of time before Daredevil went down. That would give me the time I needed to steadily reduce the ninjas' numbers.
Without hesitation, I summoned a healing potion. Just as I raised it to drink, a shuriken flew toward me, aiming to shatter the vial. Several ninjas also dashed at me, trying to prevent my recovery. Their effort was commendable, but without enough skill, it fell short.
I drank the potion, feeling clarity return to my mind. And then the slaughter began. With Daredevil tying up half the ninjas, the pressure on me lessened significantly, making it easier to deal with the rest.
The ninja who tried to stop me met a gruesome fate. I swung my sword with both hands, knocking his ninjato clear from his grip. Before he could react, I switched my weapon for the axe and buried it in his skull, splitting his head in two.
The killing didn't stop there. I shoved his body into another ninja, disrupting his vision and halting his movement. Maneuvering around the corpse, I spun with the axe, the blade digging deep into the next ninja's neck, severing his head cleanly.
Three more ninjas thrust their swords at me simultaneously, all aiming for the vulnerable gap in my helmet.
I met their attack head-on, summoning my sword and using it like a shield. The combined force pushed me back but didn't throw me off balance. With my footing steady, I summoned my axe in my right hand, swinging at the ninja to my right.
The blow met resistance, but before they could strike again, I ducked low and drove my sword into the center ninja.
His teammate, watching his back, managed to deflect my strike just in time, allowing the center ninja to escape unharmed. Relief flashed across his face—a fatal mistake.
I quickly unsummoned and resummoned my axe, phasing it through the rightward ninja's ninjato and capitalizing on the motion to deliver a deadly blow to the center ninja's chest, instantly killing him. With one down, the remaining ninjas became easy pickings.
They aimed to decapitate me, both swinging their blades at my neck. I raised my weapons to block, barely deflecting the first attempt. They didn't stop there—readying for another strike, this time more lethal. As they prepared their second swing, I acted.
I kicked the ninja to my right, sending him stumbling back, while simultaneously slashing at the leftward one with both weapons. He tried to block, but with my axe creating an opening, my sword pierced straight through his heart.
The remaining ninja attempted to sneak in a backstab, but I anticipated his move. Sidestepping quickly, I brought my axe down on his head, splitting his cranium in two.
With more than half of their numbers gone, I could feel the weight of their morale sinking to rock bottom, especially as their comrades' agonized cries filled the air. Those dealing with Daredevil had tried multiple times to stop my slaughter, but being locked in combat with him, they never made it in time. Each attempt was futile.
One ninja finally spotted an opening, breaking free to charge at me. But before he could close the distance, I notched an arrow, pulling the string back with deadly precision. The arrow whistled through the air, piercing straight into his skull. His body crumpled instantly, his lifeless eyes wide in shock as blood dripped from the gaping wound in his head.
I didn't stop there.
Arrow after arrow was let loose, each one reaping another life. With every pull of the string, I aimed not just for their bodies, but for the killing blows. One ninja tried to dodge, but my arrow buried itself into his throat, silencing his scream. Another collapsed as an arrow drove through his chest, skewering him to the ground.
The ninjas were already few in number, and as they attempted to rally, exhaustion and fear slowed their movements. They couldn't escape their fates—death by my arrows. One by one, they fell. The battlefield, once alive with the clash of steel and cries of battle, grew eerily silent.
The last few remaining tried to defend themselves, their movements sluggish and desperate, but it was futile. My arrows found them all, striking with lethal precision.
With little pressure and no distractions left, I eliminated the final ninjas with cold efficiency. The field was now littered with corpses, the sound of their death throes echoing in the wind.
Standing amidst the mountain of bodies, I saw Daredevil glaring at me. His voice was hoarse, filled with disbelief and anger. "Why?! Why did you kill them all?!"
I didn't respond, knowing that no explanation could justify my actions in his eyes. There was no forgiveness waiting for me. My path was paved in bloodshed. I am not a hero. I am a killer—a murderer of the greater evil.
My silence was the final straw, cementing us as enemies. For someone like Daredevil, who values life above all else, there's no forgiving a man who's killed nearly fifty people.
He charged at me with righteous determination—an admirable act, considering he was on the verge of collapse. With little effort, I knocked him out cold, watching him crumple to the crimson-stained dirt.
I turned to leave the battlefield when a sudden force slammed into me, too powerful for any ordinary human. I flew backward, crashing into a tree, the impact shattering my ribs. Pain shot through my chest as I coughed up blood, my vision blurring as I struggled to stay conscious.
Acting quickly, I downed a healing potion, the sharp pain easing as my ribs realigned and my strength returned. But then, through my hazy vision, I saw her.
Jessica Jones.
She stood over Daredevil, checking his pulse. But her expression wasn't one of sadness or guilt—it was frustration, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
"Dammit, Matt," she muttered under her breath. She glanced around, clearly aware of my presence but in no rush to strike. Her eyes scanned the area, looking for any more threats.
She slowly approached, eyes scrutinizing me, and leaned in to lift my helmet, likely to identify me. It was a mistake. With all my might, I slashed at her arm, severing a piece of flesh. She grunted in pain, but the expression in her eyes quickly turned to anger.
Without hesitation, Jessica swung a punch at me. I managed to tilt my head just in time, allowing the tree behind me to absorb the blow. The trunk shattered, sending splinters everywhere.
I tried to take advantage, pushing her arm down and attempting to pull her off balance. But her strength was overwhelming, and with a single motion, she flung me aside. Mid-air, I flipped and landed on my feet. Jessica was already charging again, her fist heading straight for my face.
This time, I barely managed to redirect her punch and followed up with an elbow to her side. She staggered slightly, but her superhuman durability absorbed most of the impact. Before I could react, she grabbed me by the shoulder and hurled me into the ground. I hit hard, the wind knocked out of me as I rolled to recover.
She's faster than I expected.
She lunged again, her full-body kick aimed at my ribs. I sidestepped at the last second, feeling the air shift with the force of the missed strike. Her foot slammed into the ground, cracking it beneath her.
But Jessica didn't give up. With renewed aggression, she unleashed a barrage of punches. I dodged most of them, watching closely, trying to learn her patterns. Her attacks were powerful but predictable—relying too much on strength, leaving herself open with each swing.
Still, she was adapting. One punch skimmed my shoulder, sending a jolt through my arm, numbing it momentarily. The next nearly connected with my face, and I had to backstep just in time. She wasn't invulnerable to tactics, but she was closing the gap in skill.
As I observed her movements, it became clear that she was starting to mix in feints—throwing off my rhythm. Her strikes were still powerful, but she was trying to catch me off guard, and one swing managed to graze my side, sending a surge of pain through my body.
I retaliated, slashing at her arm, leaving a deeper cut than before. But her endurance was impressive; she shrugged it off and came at me again. I knew I couldn't stand toe-to-toe with her for too long, so I focused on outmaneuvering her, evading her attacks while landing shallow cuts to slow her down.
Despite her raw strength, she struggled to keep up with my agility, her footwork still sloppy. I dodged another wide swing, sidestepping and delivering a swift slash across her leg. She flinched but didn't falter, immediately throwing a punch in return.
This time, I wasn't quick enough. Her fist connected with my chest, sending me flying backward. The impact rattled through my body, and I hit the ground hard, gasping for air.
But as she closed in, her movements became more aggressive, less controlled. Her frustration was mounting. I regained my footing, dodging her wild swings. She was powerful, but her endurance was starting to wear thin, and her strikes became less precise.
I took advantage of her growing impatience, sidestepping another heavy punch and slashing across her torso. Her skin was durable, but with enough cuts, I was wearing her down.
Finally, when she rushed me out of frustration, I slipped behind her and drove the butt of my sword into the back of her knee, sending her stumbling forward. She turned, ready to counter, but I had already moved out of her reach.
Both of us were battered, but the fight was tipping in my favor. I quickly summoned another healing potion, but this time, it wasn't as smooth. The constant use of this so-called miracle had started to wear me down. A sharp pain riddled my body, as if my cells were tearing apart while trying to heal. My body couldn't process the overwhelming surge of vitality, and nausea clawed at my throat, forcing me to gag.
I didn't resist the urge. I spat the potion's contents onto Jessica Jones' face, momentarily blinding her, and capitalizing on her discomfort. Disgust lingered at the back of my mind, but I pushed it aside. There was no room for hesitation.
Jessica grunted, trying to wipe the mess from her eyes. She was strong, but this temporary blindness gave me an opening. My grip tightened on the axe, and I moved swiftly.
With a powerful swing, I aimed for her side, the axe cleaving into her abdomen with sickening force. The blade dug deep, spilling blood as the wound gaped open, but Jessica didn't falter. She stood her ground, the pain fueling her resolve.
She retaliated with a wild punch, and I dodged, narrowly avoiding the blow. Her fist slammed into the tree behind me, the trunk splintering under the force of her strike. I took advantage of her overextension, swinging the axe again, this time at her shoulder. The heavy blade connected with a crunch, but Jessica refused to back down.
Despite the mounting injuries, she charged forward again. Her strength was undeniable, and I could feel the air shift with every swing of her fists. Her blows, however, were open, leaving her vulnerable. I parried her next attack with my sword, slicing across her arm. The cut was deep, but her resilience held strong, her movements relentless.
When she limped forward, attempting a powerful kick, I sidestepped and countered with another precise strike from my axe. This time, the blade tore through the muscle of her thigh, forcing her leg to buckle. Yet, even on one knee, she continued to fight.
She swung at me again, her fist connecting with my chest. The impact was solid, but my armor absorbed most of the blow. I stepped back, ready for her next move, my mind calm and steady, assessing every moment. Her attacks, while powerful, were growing slower, and I could see her strength waning.
I swung the axe once more, this time at her ribs. The blade bit deep, and blood sprayed as she stumbled backward, gasping for breath. Despite her injuries, she tried to push forward again, but her movements were sluggish, her body unable to keep up with her will.
Without hesitation, I brought the axe down again. The blade struck her back, forcing her to the ground. She collapsed into the dirt, her blood mixing with the soil.
Even then, she tried to push herself up. Her body trembled, arms shaking as she attempted to stand, but the damage was too much. Her strength was fading.
Calmly, I moved forward, delivering a final blow to ensure she stayed down. She collapsed, her body finally giving in, though the fire in her eyes still smoldered.
The battlefield fell silent, with only my breathing and the faint rustle of the wind to accompany me. Jessica lay motionless, just like the others.
As the danger faded, a wave of nausea surged within me, forcing bile up my throat. I retched, expelling the overabundance of vitality that still clawed at my insides, leaving me feeling momentarily relieved from the pain. I staggered to a tree and leaned against it, staring out at the consequences of my actions. Bodies, blood, carnage—all laid out before me.
I wanted to feel something. Guilt, regret—anything to break through the numbness. But as I stared at the pool of blood before me, I realized the truth. My fate was sealed.
I was becoming more like the Terrarian—destined to kill, no matter the cost, driven by a purpose I couldn't escape. A murderer of the greater evil, achieving it no matter the cost.
"Sorry, Matt Murdock. Sorry, Jessica Jones," I muttered under my breath, turning my back on the scene. Walking away was my final act of mercy. If I stayed any longer, I wasn't sure if I'd have the control to keep sparing them.
[Author Notes]: The chapter is a bit late, but I hope you like it. To be honest, I am not completely satisfied with its content. I'm posting it to get some feedback. Changes might be made when Chapter 6 is posted.