Instantly, the two men dashed forward, their knives held close to their sides, eyes locked onto me with a predatory focus. They moved with unnerving synchronization, closing the distance rapidly until they were only a few steps away. The first one leaned forward, his muscles coiling like a spring, and thrust his knife toward me. I bent at the hip, narrowly dodging the blade, feeling the sharp rush of air as it sliced through the space where I had been a moment before. I pivoted on my foot, preparing to launch a kick aimed at his midsection, but I caught a movement in the corner of my eye. The second man was mirroring his partner's move, his knife poised to strike. I aborted my kick and leapt back, narrowly evading the second thrust. The two of them moved with a practiced efficiency, seamlessly covering each other’s attacks and creating a formidable barrier. They were skilled and coordinated, a lethal combination. If they're gonna play like that, I'll have to rely on quick, precise attacks to whittle them down. I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline heighten my senses. Every muscle in my body tensed in this battle of life and death. I have a move for you...
The two men shuffled their knives in a display of showmanship, clearly trying to rattle me. Their movements were almost hypnotic, the blades flashing in the sunlight. Behind them stood another man, dressed in red, holding no weapon and watching intently. Why is he not going in? Before I could ponder further, the first man dashed in, swinging his blade with relentless aggression. He swiped perpendicular to my throat, and I leaned back, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp edge. His partner soared from above with a downward slice aimed at my shoulder. I reclined back once again, and his knife got stuck in the floor for a moment.
Seeing my chance, I stamped on his hand that held the blade, feeling the bones crunch under my heel. He groaned in pain, his offensive halting for a few precious moments. The other man, relentless in his attack, thrust his blade forward, forcing me to back up even further. The man in red remained motionless, his eyes never leaving the skirmish. His calm demeanor amidst was unsettling. First, I had to deal with the immediate danger. These two were skilled, but they had yet to see the full extent of my abilities.
He shook his hand, wincing as he recovered, and slowly stood up. With a determined glare, he handed his knife to his compatriot and raised his hands in a boxing stance. His injured hand, now serving as a defensive and rolling guard, hinted at his experience. Southpaw? The knife-wielding man, now emboldened, slashed at me wildly, each swing a desperate attempt to land a single cut. I dodged and weaved, fluidly and masterfully, but after a few moments, he managed to land a few shallow cuts that barely broke the skin. To even land a cut... knives are his specialty. He thrust his knife again, the blade aimed directly at my chest. This time, I saw the move coming. As his arm fully extended, I grasped his wrist with a firm grip, feeling the tendons and muscles strain beneath my fingers.
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Hashigana Style: Wrist Fracture
- When an enemy with a knife thrusts it, at the end of their thrust, grasp their wrist with your opposite hand. Twist their wrist with all your might to break it. You must be somewhat stronger than the other person for this to work.
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I broke his wrist with a swift, brutal twist, and he dropped his knife, the blade clanging against the ground. Despite his injury, his eyes remained defiant. Without hesitation, he switched his remaining knife into a reverse grip and sliced outwardly at my neck again. I leaned back, narrowly avoiding the blade, and delivered a heavy front kick to his knee. The bone snapped audibly, and he tripped over himself, collapsing to the ground. He's basically done for. The other man, undeterred by his partner's downfall, leaped into the air like a fool, attempting a superman punch. I sidestepped his wild attack with ease, his fist whizzing past me. As I rolled back, I scooped up the dropped knife, feeling its reassuring weight in my hand. I'm now armed, and this fight became infinitely easier. The man yelled in anger, his face contorting with rage, and started throwing jabs in rapid succession. His movements were frenzied. Nothing above instinct. He threw a left diagonal straight, a punch easy to counter. I saw the opening.
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Hashigana Style Ultimate Technique: Overturning Heaven
- When an enemy throws a diagonal straight, turn and place your shoulder under their body, raising them to the sky. Throw them down onto their back, and thrust your shoulder into their chest as you fall with them.
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With my right hand, I quickly pierced his abdomen with the knife, the blade sinking deep with a swift, almost imperceptible motion. The knife steepened into him, yet he didn't notice it, the speed of the strike numbing the initial pain. I ducked under his arm, and then surged upward, hoisting him into the sky for a throw reminiscent of Judo. His body arced through the air before crashing down onto the ground with a wallop. Falling with him, I launched myself, coming down hard with my shoulder driving into his chest like a battering ram. Placing my palms onto the ground, I propelled myself off of him, surveying the large indent in the dirt I had made. He lay there, heaving from the pressure, his body convulsing uncontrollably. His eyes rolled back as he passed out from the excruciating pain, his breath becoming shallow. He would die shortly. Now, there's only one left.
I glanced over at the last man, a knife expert who now sat motionless. Despite the fire of determination still flickering in his eyes, he was immobilized by a severe knee injury. I walked past him, retrieving the knife he had used earlier. The man, clothed in red, fell to his knees, his spirit breaking as he looked down at the ground. Or perhaps he was gazing into the abyss, for Hell was surely his destination. In a weak, trembling tone, he pleaded, "Please... forgive me." Hm... God does say to forgive your enemies. Turn the other cheek and all that. I'll be kind and just send you to the hospital.
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Hashigana Style: Ascending Hammer
- When an enemy is on their knees in a weak and pitiable manner, deliver a raising kick to their chin, knocking them out quickly.
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I charged a kick up behind me, drawing my leg back as if I were about to kick a soccer ball with all my might. With a powerful extension, I hammered my foot straight into his chin, the impact sending his head snapping backward violently. The force of the blow was enough to make him faint immediately, his body crumpling to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. I sighed, my breath coming in heavy, labored gasps. That took a fair amount of my stamina. As I stood there, trying to catch my breath, I heard the distant hum of a car engine. Oh, God forbid... more of them? The car approached like a bolt of lightning, screeching to a halt with a dramatic drift. My heart skipped a beat. That's... Damon's car? It could just be the same type of car, I told myself, trying to calm my racing thoughts. The door of the car swung open, and out stepped a figure. My eyes widened as the man inside revealed himself. It was... Damon?
Jumping out of the car, my eyes widened as I took in the scene of carnage before me. He already beat them all!? That's my master for you. Oren, still catching his breath, called out, "That's you, right Damon?" I responded quickly, striding up to him. "Yes, it's me. I got a new haircut. I drove here as fast as I could to warn and help... but you already took care of it." Oren eyed me skeptically. "You're wearing black clothes like them. Why?" I anticipated his concerns and answered, "I'm in their little cult to gather evidence and destroy it from the inside. They want you taken care of. But fear not, for I have a plan. We use these assholes' blood to fake a picture of you beat up. You got cut a little bit, so it would make sense. I take credit for it and tell them you won't be a problem, getting them off your back. Then I will get a promotion and finally meet my second target, Allison." Oren absorbed the information, his brow furrowed in thought for a few seconds. Finally, he nodded. "Sure, sure... I'll just close my eyes and lay on the ground in pain, and you pour some of these guys' blood on me. Okay, let's do it. Get your phone out."
He lay down on the coarse dirt, mimicking the pose of a defeated man, eyes squeezed shut in feigned agony. I quickly moved to the fallen cultists, dipping my fingers in their blood. Carefully, I splattered some on Oren's face and clothes, making it look as convincing as possible. He already has cuts, so it's plenty believable. Pulling out my phone, I snapped several pictures from different angles, capturing the scene perfectly. "Alright," I said, reviewing the photos. "this should do it. I'll send these to the cult and let them think you're out of the picture. Stay safe, Oren. This will buy us some time." Oren got up and asked, "Well, I'm good now, right?" I nodded, reassuring him. "Yes, no one will hurt you." He brushed some dirt off his clothes and sighed, "My wife will, though. Ugh, whatever... I'm going to get someone I know to clean this up and cover these deaths. I'm going for now." He turned and walked off toward his house, leaving the chaotic scene behind. I walked back to my car, the adrenaline slowly wearing off. As soon as I got into the driver's seat, a text notification pinged on my phone. The text read; "Wow, I didn't expect you to be able to do it. We'll cover up the deaths and give them an honorable ritual. Head back here, Allison, one of our 'Prophets', wants to meet you."
I chuckled to myself. Haha... hahaha... I turned the key in the ignition and peeled off, the tires screeching. What an idiot, wanting to meet me. I'll play the part of a devoted lover just long enough to make her vanity my weapon.