"Don't think much, just die!" Zico shouted, unleashing a hail of daggers that Mark dodged with ease. Mark jumped out of the sword rain and Zico appeared in front of him, his movements barely visible.
Mark jumped back, avoiding a fist aimed at his face, but was pushed back towards the sword rain, but nope back in. He watched as Zico approached him, a maniacal glint in his eye.
"Haha, you won't be ready for what's coming next," Mark stated, his voice low and confident.
"Wait, is the son of the God Slayer is now lying to save himself from death? Hahaha!" Zico laughed, his voice rising in pitch.
"I'm not joking around, bro. I'm not one to lie unnecessarily," Mark replied, his tone unwavering.
Zico stood a meter away, his eyes locked on Mark, who stared back with equal intensity. Zico raised his hand, and a flying dagger appeared from behind Mark. Mark caught it, and the dagger trembled in his hands before disappearing.
"Hope you can catch a thousand more!" Zico taunted, unleashing multiple daggers from behind Mark.
Mark lunged at Zico, avoiding some daggers while engaging in a blow for blow battle. Despite Zico's speed and strength, he seemed to lose focus as Mark dodged his daggers and fought back.
Mark leapt off Zico and landed behind him, avoiding the last two daggers by a hair's breadth. After getting behind Zico mark kicked out at Zico, but Zico latter spun around with lightning speed and stabbed Mark's leg, causing him to pull back in pain.
In the heat of the moment, Mark acted on instinct, still in pain he launched himself at Zico without thinking. But Zico dodged effortlessly by side stepping, and Mark found himself hurtling towards the sword rain. He entered the hail of swords, and the blades stabbed at him relentlessly, piercing almost every part of his body.
'Am I about to die?' Mark thought as the swords kept falling, stabbing him.
Zico watched with a mixture of disappointment and disdain as Mark was repeatedly stabbed by the sword rain. He turned around and began to walk away, his voice dripping with malice:
"I dread the fact that you didn't die at my hand. Your fate is far worse than a quick death"
Mark's strength finally gave out, and he blinked, his heavy eyelids closing like leaden curtains. His whole life flashed before his eyes in a scope of memories, and when the vision faded, he heard a familiar voice say:
"So this is all you could do with your freedom, son?" Mark's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the voice, it was his father's. He spun around, his eyes locking onto the man he had missed for so long. He embraced his father tightly, tears of joy streaming down his face.
They stood in a serene paradise, surrounded by trees spaced evenly apart like sentinels, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The ground beneath their feet was covered in a soft, emerald, green grass that felt like silk beneath their feet. The man wore a black shirt and black trousers, his eyes shining with warmth and love.
"Dad, I've missed you!" Mark exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Why are you crying, my handsome boy?" his mother's voice asked from behind his father, her tone gentle and soothing. Mark released his father and ran to his mother, embracing her tightly. As he held her, he felt a strange sensation, and when he looked down at himself, he saw that he was a five-year-old version of himself again!
'It must have been all a bad dream,' he thought, relief washing over him like a cool breeze.
"Ma, I had a terrible dream! I hated it, but..." he said, looking up at his mother with wide eyes.
She smiled and said, "Sorry, honey, you're a big boy now. You handled it." Her words were like a warm hug, enveloping him in comfort and reassurance.
She stood up, and Mark's gaze followed her, his eyes fixed on her leg. Suddenly, the scene shifted, and Mark found himself back in the traumatic memory he thought he had escaped. He was a child again, standing in a crowd of silent onlookers behind them, his mother and he held captive by two masked men.
In front of him, his father knelt, Mr Komi gesturing him to pick the katana lying on the ground. the image of him kneeling, defeated, was etched in Mark's mind. Mark clung to his mother's leg, desperation in his eyes as he looked up at her face. Her expression was sorrowful, her eyes filled with a deep sadness.
'No, why again?' Mark thought, his mind racing:
'I was just with Mom in paradise... I don't want to relive this bad dream!' But the scene seemed to play on, he felt pain and fear. He tried to speak but couldn't.
"Kill his wife," Mr. Komi said in a chilling, indifferent tone. Mark's heart raced with terror as he heard the words, his fear escalating to new heights.
The next second, blood splashed across his face, and his mother's head fell to the ground with a sickening thud. The men released their grip on her lifeless body, and she crumpled to the ground, headless. The gruesome scene was etched into Mark's mind, a traumatic memory that would haunt him forever.
Mark's tears began to stream to stream down his cheeks, falling from his eyes like rain, he couldn't do anything to stop this, he was helpless.
"Your child is the only thing left; pick up the sword, or he dies," Mr. Komi sneered. Mark's fear intensified, his heart racing with terror. Was he going to be killed?
"Sir, you just killed my wife, please let my son be. We have already repaid your family," his father pleaded, desperation in his voice.
Mr. Komi snarled, "Pathetic." With a swift motion, he picked up the katana and stabbed Mark's father. The blade transformed into a massive, purple, two-meter-long single-edged sword, piercing Mark's father's chest and pinning him to the ground.
"Then I'll abuse your son on your behalf," Mr. Komi taunted, his words dripping with cruelty.
More tears rolled down Mark's face, his fear and panic escalating.
'Dad, please save me... Don't die' he thought, his tears falling like a torrent.