When I arrived at the venue, a sack was propped over my head, so I was unable to perceive where I was being led. I was escorted to a subterranean arena by men. As I descended a long stairwell, I imagined it was an underground arena. The air grew colder and damper with each step, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the walls. The muffled roars of a crowd grew louder, and my heart pounded in my chest.
Me: "Where am I?" I muttered, the sound of my own voice almost drowned out by the growing cacophony.
As I stepped into the ring, cheers erupted. The host introduced me as the shadow's son. A new trained assassin from The Head, a covert organization. The sack that had been concealing my head was subsequently removed. I hid my eyes with the cloak's sleeve. The spotlights were excessively bright, their intense beams cutting through the darkness. I explored my surroundings after my eyes adjusted. The stadium was bursting with spectators cheering and thirsting for blood. The smell of sweat, metal, and fear was overpowering.
Me: "This place... it's like a nightmare," I whispered to myself, trying to steady my racing heart.
The lights went out all of a sudden. It was pitch black, as if a law had been passed prohibiting all light from entering. As overpowering tension filled the air, all of the cheers faded away. In the background, sad dramatic music played, its haunting melody adding to the sense of dread. When the lights came back on, a feminine figure accompanied me in the ring. The cheers were louder than before. The person was attired similarly to me. She didn't move an inch from her initial position. She simply stood there like a rock, glaring at me.
Me: "Who is she?" I wondered, feeling a chill run down my spine.
When she stared at me, I felt my legs go boneless with blood lust. She seemed to be staring directly into my soul. Even the instructor's blood thirst seemed childish in front of her. Every fiber of my body pleaded at me to escape. I smacked myself in the face and clenched my dagger with every ounce of strength to shake the dreadful feeling away. I braced myself for battle.
Three people who declared themselves as The Head's leaders rose from their seats. They disguised themselves by wearing face masks. Everyone bowed their heads in respect. One of them proudly and briefly announced the match's regulations.
Leader: "The duel shall conclude when only one person remains alive. There will be just a single rule, and that is the fact that there will be no rules. Just fight until your jaws drop!" he exclaimed.
The audience applauded and cheered, their voices a deafening roar. Meanwhile, I was petrified. Then I saw why those who failed vanished. They succumbed in battle. If anyone had known about this, they would not have tried to advance, which is why the instructors condemned everyone who aroused suspicion.
Me: "I have to kill her to be with Catherine," I thought, shivers running down my spine. "But doesn't that mean Catherine also murdered someone?"
All of my negative thoughts seemed poised to fry my brain. I hit myself to bring myself back to reality. My inner turmoil was insignificant at the time. I had a greater predicament ahead of me. If I didn't kill that woman, she would not hesitate to slit my throat open. I didn't have a choice. To survive and be with Catherine, I had to kill her.
The bell rung to signal the commencement of the duel. My opponent charged at me with ferocity right away. She unleashed a volley of punches and kicks one after the other. I felt overwhelmed and responded forcefully. With barely an inch between us, I was narrowly avoiding the rapid and fluid assaults. Every strike she launched was aimed squarely at my key regions. She had no qualms about killing me. The odds were stacked against me. While my opponent bombarded me with murderous intent, I was simply playing defense, hesitant to take a life. The sound of our fight was punctuated by grunts, the clash of metal, and the cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd.
The spectators booed me for my cowardice. Their piercing gaze felt like hot needles in my back. I lost my balance when my footwork was thrown off by the boos from the audience. My opponent perceived this as a perfect opportunity and pulled a kunai from her sleeve, thrusting it towards my chest. I steadied myself with both hands and tried to kick her in the chin to knock her out. Which, of course, she gracefully avoided by stepping aside. This delivered me an opening to maneuver away from her claws.
Me: "I need to calm down," I told myself, closing my eyes for a moment. "I have to win this for Catherine."
It was now my turn to take the initiative in this conflict. I launched a dozen shuriken at her, but she effortlessly dodged them. Anyway, striking her was never my objective. I was hoping to distract her as I drew closer to her.
When I was close enough, I wielded my dagger to perform the specific technique I had learned throughout my two months of intense training. I referred to it as Blade Calling. It was a technique in which I would utilize all of my pent-up emotions to explode and pressure my opponent with lightning slashes and thrusts until they made an error and checkmate.
Even so, it was not enough to overcome her. At best, we were on equal footing. We traded blows neck to neck. Even the boisterous audience was silently observing the fight. Two combat masters clashing as if it was the last thing in the entire universe for them to do. It was quite a sight. During the fierce exchange, my opponent purposefully permitted one of my attacks to break past her solid formation. My dagger cut like butter through her chest. As she slumped on my chest, a crimson warm liquid poured out of the incision and down my hand. It left me perplexed. It was a rather simple move she could have deflected. So, why didn't she resist it? Did she intend to die?
Me: "Why didn't she block it?" I wondered, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
My guilty conscience pounced on me. A knot formed in my stomach. It was my first time murdering someone. I felt terrible, but I attempted to persuade myself that I was not to blame. I simply desired to live and be with my best friend. Destiny played a cruel prank on me, as if to mock me. The woman collapsed on the concrete floor. Her hood was revealed when she collapsed. My heart halted when I realized who she was. To me, the entire world appeared monochrome. Everywhere I looked, everyone seemed to be screaming obscenities at me. My legs abruptly grew weak. I knelt heavily on my knees. Streams of tears poured down my cheeks. I couldn't bring myself to believe it. Catherine was the woman who lay motionless on the floor?! Catherine, my only hope and attachment in this world, had been murdered by my own hands.
Me: "No... Catherine... What have I done?" I cried, my voice breaking.
The realization that I was alone in this brutal world hit me like a ton of bricks. There was a storm raging inside of me. My gloomy emotions drowned me. My heart was overflowing with regret, hatred, and loneliness. My eyes, like a mirror, reflected the cold and empty soul I had. I was entirely crushed. The crowd erupted in wild cheers for my victory. I was then promoted and given the title of assassin. I, on the other hand, saw it all as a mockery of my soul.
Me: "This is all a cruel joke," I thought, tears streaming down my face. "I've lost everything."
.