Jin stumbled through the sand, his chest heaving with every step. The sword in his hand was as heavy as a lead pipe, its weight pulling his arm down with each stride.
"Move faster," Minjae barked over his shoulder, scanning the horizon. His sword was still dripping with blood from the earlier skirmish.
"Where—" Jin gasped, his throat parched from the dry air. "Where are we even going?"
Minjae didn't answer. Instead, he pushed forward, leading Jin toward a small cluster of jagged rocks jutting out of the desert floor.
When they reached the rocks, Minjae shoved Jin behind them and crouched low. "Stay quiet," he ordered.
Jin collapsed against the stone, his legs trembling. His mind raced, replaying the chaos from earlier. The blood. The clash of steel. The hollow thud of bodies hitting the ground.
"This… this isn't right," Jin whispered to himself. He stared at the sword in his hand, his reflection distorted in the blade's curve. "Why isn't anyone yelling 'cut'?"
Minjae's sharp voice broke through his thoughts. "Get your head together. They'll be here any second."
"Who?" Jin's voice cracked.
Minjae glared at him. "The ones who want us dead." He unsheathed his sword again, crouching like a predator ready to strike.
Jin's stomach churned. Dead. The word felt too real, too final. This was supposed to be a scene. A set. He wasn't supposed to—
The sound of footsteps on sand froze him. Minjae held up a hand, motioning for silence. Jin clutched his sword tightly, his palms slick with sweat.
The first soldier appeared, his armor glinting in the sun. Minjae moved like lightning, his blade slicing through the air with precision. The soldier fell without a sound.
Another charged from the left, but Minjae was ready. He blocked the attack effortlessly and countered, his movements fluid and deadly.
Jin watched in horror, his own sword shaking in his hands. He wasn't an actor anymore. This wasn't choreography.
"Don't just stand there!" Minjae shouted, his voice snapping Jin back to reality.
A soldier lunged toward Jin, spear aimed for his chest. Jin scrambled backward, narrowly avoiding the attack. His heart pounded as he swung his sword wildly, missing the mark by a mile.
"Focus!" Minjae growled, stepping in to deflect the spear. He dispatched the attacker with a single blow before turning to Jin. "You want to live? Fight!"
The words hit Jin like a slap. He tightened his grip on the sword and turned as another soldier charged. This time, he swung with all his strength.
The blade connected.
The soldier crumpled to the ground, his blood staining the sand. Jin stared, his breathing ragged. His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat.
Minjae grabbed his arm, dragging him away. "No time for that. Move!"
They ran until the horizon swallowed the sound of battle. Minjae slowed, finally lowering his weapon.
Jin dropped to his knees, retching into the sand. "I… I killed him," he muttered, his voice barely audible.
Minjae glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "You survived."
Jin wiped his mouth, his hands still trembling. He couldn't tell what felt worse: the guilt of what he'd done or the terrifying truth that he might have to do it again.
For the first time, Jin realized that this wasn't a role he could fake his way through. If he wanted to live, he would have to become the soldier they thought he was.
And he had no idea how to begin.