Kante's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a predatory thrill.
"I didn't realize you were this good,"
He mocked, taking a step forward as he loosened his grip on the whip.
"Alright, let's make this a little more… interesting. Show me what you've got."
Uche watched intently, his gaze unwavering as Kante slowly twisted the whip in his hand. The whip's end curled back on itself, shifting and reshaping, transforming in a way Uche couldn't quite comprehend. In mere seconds, the almost invisible weapon was gone, replaced by a pair of sleek, long swords with dark brown hilts, gleaming with a sinister edge.
Uche's eyes widened briefly.
'How?'
Without waiting to unravel the mystery, Uche lunged forward, swinging his chain whip with all his might, hoping to strike before Kante could get a solid grip on his new weapons. But Kante was faster. With a casual flick of his wrist, he raised one sword and sliced through the tip of the chain like it was nothing but paper, the severed links clattering to the floor. In one fluid motion, he thrust the second sword towards Uche's stomach.
Instinct saved Uche; he managed to step back just in time, narrowly avoiding a blow that could have gutted him. He pulled back, gripping his whip tighter, but Kante gave him no reprieve. The madman advanced, his movements as fluid as a dancer's, every step precise, every motion poised. Uche swung his chain whip in a wild attempt to halt his approach, the heavy metal links slicing through the air.
But Kante sliced through each length of the whip with ease, inching ever closer. Bit by bit, Uche's weapon dwindled, and he knew he was running out of options. If Kante destroyed the whip entirely, he'd be left defenseless. With a burst of desperation, he withdrew what remained of the chain and charged, abandoning caution. He swung his fist toward Kante's head, using the chain wrapped around his hand like a makeshift gauntlet.
Kante dodged by a fraction of an inch, letting the punch sail past. He responded instantly, bringing his sword up in a diagonal arc that slashed across Uche's chest. Blood sprayed as the blade made contact, slicing through flesh with a sting that tore a cry from Uche's throat. But Kante wasn't done. Swiftly, he sidestepped, moving behind Uche and carving another gash across his back before landing a brutal kick to his spine, sending him crashing into the operating table and scattering instruments across the floor.
Uche staggered to his feet, but his movements were slow and unsteady. He tried to ignore the pain radiating from his chest and back, but it was sharper than anything he'd ever experienced. Almost as if he's a newbie to pain.
Kante leaned against the wall, laughing, his voice low and sinister.
"What's wrong?"
He taunted.
"Don't tell me that's all you've got. I know you're better than this. Come on, show me what you're really made of, bring it on."
Uche forced himself upright, locking his gaze on Kante. The pain was overwhelming, but he pushed it down, eyes narrowing as he analyzed Snowflake's every move.
When Kante charged again, his sword raised for a killing blow, Uche waited, standing his ground until the last possible moment. At the final second, he dived to the side, narrowly dodging the blade, then rolled behind Kante and threw a punch, his chain-wrapped fist aimed at the back of his head.
But Kante's reflexes were as deadly as his blades. He twisted around, his sword arcing in a perfect 90-degree slash, meeting Uche's punch head-on. The blade shattered the chain around Uche's fist before slicing into his knuckles, drawing blood.
Uche stumbled back, dazed and stunned, barely registering Kante's mocking laugh before a swift kick landed squarely in his chest, sending him reeling across the room.
"Argh!"
Uche groaned, clutching his stomach as he staggered to his feet, his mind racing. Just as he steadied himself, he noticed something odd—a sickening realization that made his heart pound. He looked down at his hand, bleeding profusely, then shifted his gaze to his chest. Both wounds were still bleeding heavily.
Normally, he'd have begun to heal by now, his body knitting itself back together in moments. But this time, his injuries remained, blood flowing freely.
'Why isn't my body healing?'
The thought struck him like a hammer. He hadn't paid attention before, assuming the familiar bloody tendrils of healing would soon stitch his wounds closed. But now, looking at his still-bleeding chest and hand, he felt a jolt of panic.
He glared at Kante's sword, realization dawning on him. It must be the sword. Somehow, the blade had the power to nullify his healing. First, it had transformed from a whip into a pair of swords, then it had sliced through his chain like butter, and now—now it was blocking his body's natural ability to heal.
And for the first time since Uche knew fear, he truly felt it today.
Kante must have noticed the fear in Uche's eyes because his smirk deepened.
"You remember how I told you earlier that my grandfather wiped out his own family, and how he passed his legacy down to my father."
He said, his tone almost gleeful. He held up one of the sword, its blade glinting ominously.
"Well, this is the legendary weapon he used to cut down every members of his family with a single strike. And he passed down this weapon to my father with his own legacy."
Kante took a step closer, the tip of his sword pointing directly at Uche's heart.
"But do you know what, this weapon was forged with our bloodline's curse, infusing it with a power that nothing in this world can resist—No flesh can heal from its wounds. No defense can withstand its edge, it can cut through earth itself, its blade as sharp as heaven."
He chuckled darkly.
"It's as if heaven itself forged it to ensure my family's curse lives on."
Uche's heart pounded as he struggled to comprehend the gravity of Kante's words.
'If even my body can't heal from his attacks... then this fight is more dangerous than I thought.'
"I'm going to carve you up slowly,"
Kante said, taking another step forward, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
"Piece by piece, you'll feel every part of you break. You'll die slowly, and by the time I'm done, no one will recognize you."
He raised his sword, preparing for another strike, but just as he lunged, a sudden noise pierced the room—a loud metallic whine, followed by a sharp, piercing whistle. Uche barely had time to react as something shot through the door, a dark blur streaking toward Kante's face.
Kante's instincts kicked in, and he dived to the side, rolling under the crumbled operating table, completely avoiding the object.
Then looking up from under the table, a bullet hole could be seen on the door, and a split second later, the door was sent flying back and coming in were several figures, clad in black.