Struggling to ascend the various paths after crossing the small mass of trees at the mountain's base, Tristan soon arrived at the base of the cliff that was his training area.
He remained too injured and in pain to go up that steep path, so he simply stood before the huge mass of earth, after which he turned to face the world around him, unsheathing his sword.
He seemed mad and his actions alerted his followers who hid in small bushes around, some were still on their way.
"You should come out already. I can practically smell you." He called out, wielding his weapon with both hands. He understood his situation perfectly. He even found it ironic and funny. The chances of leaving alive were as slim as having the ability to defy gravity. Zero.
Due to his words, five figures made themselves known and they each drew their swords, pointing them at his bandaged figure.
"Black attires… you lack creativity," Tristan mocked them even if he felt trepidation creep up his chest. He was in the worse possible condition to handle that many men.
"We have been sent by one of your many enemies to eliminate you. For you have stepped on the toes of the privilege and spilled the wine of the exalted You-" One of the black-clothed men stepped forward, speaking.
"That sounds cheesy," Tristan interrupted him, revealing a ridiculing smile, he hid his growing worry well, but in the process annoyed his executioners. Or assassinators.
"Do you have any last words?" The man asked, entering a stance. The three others did the same.
Tristan fell silent for a bit, unhappy that they would move straight to the point that quickly.
"The bastard from the Urtal family; Den, sent you here right? Ior also allowed this. The coward he has always been," Tristan scanned the men before him, he found no real way of overpowering them. Not in that state at least.
"Are those your last words?" The man questioned, ready to put the boy to rest. A shame.
"No…" Tristan suddenly dropped his shoulders lowering his sword and his head alike. That event startled those men, but they did not lower their guard.
Tristan suddenly dropped his blade and stepped back.
"Don't make it painful. I'm already in a lot of pain as is." He explained, raising his palms and putting them on the back of his head.
Needless to say, those men could only wonder what was going on. He was known to always fight, but now he made himself completely vulnerable.
Hesitation appeared in their minds, but he frowned and kicked his sword away, toward them. The man at the forefront glanced at his teammates before picking up the blade and tossing it to one of the four.
"You have made a wise decision," the individual commented, nodding.
Tristan snorted, going to his knees. He also lowered his head unsure of whether or not he would be beheaded or simply stabbed through the heart. He imagined the former to be less painful.
Holding his sword close to his chest, while its tip pointed at the sky, the black-clothed man walked forward, finding Tristan's attitude toward death respectable.
"Even if no one hears of you, I will spread the rumor that you died a truly honorable death," the man spoke, looming above a kneeling Tristan who now had his arms strangely folded on his stomach.
The leader of the assassins saw nothing wrong In the young man's posture as he came to Tristan's side, aiming for his neck.
Taking a deep breath he prepared himself for a powerful swing capable of removing the boy's head at once when Tristan abruptly moved.
Believing he was unarmed, the man wondered what the boy planned to do when sharp pain slammed into his consciousness, and to his shock, Tristan had stabbed him in the gut with a curved blade.
Stunned, and in pain, the man let go of his blade which Tristan caught, twisting the dagger in his killer's gut. The last thing the man saw was the young man's satisfied smirk.
In quick succession to what had happened, Tristan bolted, leaving his position even before the man dropped dead.
Opening his barely healed wounds, he sprinted toward the four men. The distance between them and he was about 5m, yet he reached there quickly enough to slide towards and past his first target, swinging his blade at his leg.
Tristan's swing detached the man's left leg from the rest of his body.
His movement had been swift. His attack precise. The young man had managed to eliminate two men in less than twenty seconds. Unfortunately, he wouldn't get any easy kills again.
Arriving at a certain distance from the third target, Tristan's eyes sharpened as he caught sight of a speeding object.
Rolling in time, he dodged the speeding arrow aimed at him. A tad bit stunned as to how the person could pinpoint his position even in that low light he straightened his sword to enter a high guard before charging at the three men who now banded together.
"Two down. Two men down!" One of the three yelled at the others while Tristan dashed toward them.
He understood how difficult it was to fight a group of three, but he was ready to do anything, death was at the door after all.
Gritting his teeth even if every movement caused pain, Tristan's heart rate increased in speed as adrenaline gushed into his blood system from his brain allowing the pain he felt to reduce in intensity, thereby pushing him to his peak.
With swift leg movements and calculative eyes, Tristan arrived before the trio and swung his sword horizontally at all three. He did so with such force that it generated an evident wind rush, unfortunately, it wasn't enough to help his situation.
Having raised their blades to parry the singular but wide-ranged attack the three men took a step back, inwardly marveling at his power.
Still, one of the three swung their sword, and it struck him on the arm. It wasn't capable of delivering too much damage since the swing had been frantic. Having a tall young man rush toward them like a wild beast put the fear of death in them.
Tristan ignored that injury to push forward, crashing into one of the three and beginning to roll away,
In those moments, he managed to stab the man three times. He had let go of his stolen sword, however, leaving him a bit defenseless. He considered it worthwhile since another man had been eliminated.