#1

The mercenaries corralled the villagers into the village square, their presence a silent but powerful threat. One by one, the villagers stumbled in, eyes filled with fear, clutching at their loved ones, unsure of what was about to happen. Blake stood in the middle of them, wrists bound, eyes burning with defiance.

The sharp clang of boots echoed through the square, signaling Ben’s approach. His towering figure cut through the crowd, commanding attention. The murmur of fearful villagers died down, replaced by a tense silence. Ben’s gaze swept over the villagers like a wolf assessing its prey.

Ben stepped forward, his voice calm but laced with authority. “Those of you who are willing to accept Major Kang’s rule step forward and sign the papers. The choice is yours.”

The moment felt suffocating. A handful of villagers exchanged worried glances, some taking hesitant steps forward. The tension thickened as others remained rooted in place.

Blake, bound but resolute, spat out his protest. “Ben! Why the hell are you going through with this? Just because Major Kang wants it, doesn’t mean you have to follow blindly!”

Ben stopped mid-stride, his back stiffening. Without turning around, he spoke, voice clipped. “What do you know, Blake? You’re just a kid. When you see an opportunity like this, you grab it.” He turned, eyes dark with cold determination. “Major Kang knew you’d resist. He didn’t even bother trying to convince you.”

Blake’s frustration boiled over. “So, what’s the plan, huh? Taking over the village you swore to protect? You’re no better than the terrorists we fought against.”

Ben’s expression darkened, but he offered no answer. Instead, he tossed the papers toward Blake, who knocked them to the ground with a sharp movement of his leg.

“To hell with your papers!” Blake growled. “You really think I’m going to sign something this twisted?”

Ben’s lip curled. “I expected nothing less from you. Just know you’ve run out of options. Your only chance is to beg Major Kang for mercy if you want to live to see the sunrise.” He stepped back, his gaze moving to the silent villagers. “As for the rest of you, those who haven’t signed yet... step forward now.”

To Ben’s surprise, no one moved. In fact, some villagers gravitated toward Blake, positioning themselves behind him as if seeking his protection. One villager spoke up, voice trembling but determined. “We won’t sign.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, flicking toward Blake with a mix of disbelief and dark amusement. “So, they’ve chosen you as their leader, Blake?” He chuckled, the sound low and menacing. “These people are following you into ruin. You might be brave, but bravery won’t save them.”

Blake squared his shoulders, locking eyes with Ben. “No, Ben. It’s you who’s leading them into ruin.”

Without further words, Ben gestured, and the mercenaries moved swiftly. They threw sacks over the villagers’ heads, not just any sacks, but ones laced with chemicals that quickly dulled their senses. The world around Blake went dark as he felt his strength ebb away, his body falling limp.

The next thing Blake knew, he was waking up in a dimly lit cell. His head throbbed as he sat up, glancing around to see other villagers slowly regaining consciousness. He rubbed his wrists, bruised from the bindings, and muttered, “This isn’t the village. We’re somewhere else...”

A voice broke the silence. “Young one, you’re awake already.” It was the village’s vice chief, his voice shaky yet resolute.

Blake nodded, rising to his feet. “aye” gazing at the villagers who looked in panic.

“But what I don’t get is why you all didn’t sign. You knew this would happen if you didn’t.”

The old man smiled faintly, his frail form leaning against the cell wall. “Because, Blake, you said it yourself—nothing good would come from signing. Even if some would get privileges, how long would that last? The food, shelter... In the end, they would strip us of everything. He said the village is already his, so we’d only be tenants.”

Blake scratched his head in frustration. “Geez, stop with the fancy words, old man. I get it. But what now?”

The vice chief chuckled weakly, despite the dire situation. “Who knew the village troublemaker would one day stand up for us all?”

Blake cringed at the thought. “Man, I’d rather you not remind me of that.”

#2

Blake leaned back against the icy wall, his thoughts racing. I need a way out of here. Glancing up at the ceiling, the smell is faint, but it still lingers. I can hear the gas hissing slightly above the cell. Sigh, This is going to cost us the longer we stay here. And who knows what breathing in more of this stuff will do to us?

He glanced at the others. “Anyone have anything on them, like a pin?” His voice was low but calm.

The villagers shook their heads in unison, one of them muttering, “They took everything from us before locking us in.”

Blake clicked his tongue in annoyance. Figures. His gaze drifted upwards. The only escape seemed to be a small vent high above them, but it was far out of reach. “Even if we could reach that vent, it’s too high.” He sighed.

One villager spoke up hesitantly, “Do you have any other ideas, Blake?”

Blake looked around, rubbing his temples. “I’m drawing a blank right now.” As he sank down to sit, he noticed a couple of villagers starting to cough. Then another.

Damn it, Blake thought, noticing the gas taking its toll. The effects are kicking in. I’ve been breathing shallowly since I saw the gas, but I didn’t warn them. If I had, they’d panic.

Standing up abruptly, he said, “Everyone, tear a piece of your cloth. Cover your noses with it, now!” His voice was firm but calm. The villagers hurriedly obeyed, ripping small strips of their clothing to protect themselves from the gas.

Blake sighed as they followed his orders. It’s just going to get worse the longer we stay here. Something tells me this gas is just a warm-up.

Frustrated, he scratched his head roughly. “Ow, what the—” His fingers brushed against something sharp lodged in his hair. Pulling it out, he squinted at the small object in his hand. “A pin?”

He stared at it in disbelief. “How did this even—? This isn’t even mine…”

One villager noticed the pin in Blake’s hand. “You found one! What now?”

Blake raised the pin, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Now, we break out of here.”

Without hesitation, Blake knelt by the lock, fiddling with it. “The team taught me a lot of things, but picking locks was always my favorite. You never know what’s waiting on the other side, you know?”

A soft click echoed in the cell as the door swung open. Blake stood up, grinning. “Though this time, I’m not curious at all”.

#3

The cell now unlocked, Blake cautiously led the way, his feet barely making a sound. “How many of us are there?” he whispered to the village Vice Chief. With a quick, appraising glance at the small group huddled together, the Vice Chief replied, “Ten in total.” His voice held steady, belying the anxiety that glinted in his eyes.

As Blake prepared to scout the area, he turned to address the others, his voice a fierce whisper. “You should all stay here. I’ll survey the surroundings and find an escape route.” The villagers exchanged uneasy glances but ultimately nodded in agreement. “Be careful, young one,” an older man added with concern.

Blake managed a strained smile before stalking down the shadowy hallway, his skin prickling with unease at the oppressive silence. “They brought us here but left no one guarding...” he mused, a frown creasing his brow. “Do they think we wouldn’t try to escape? No, that can’t be it...”

Upon returning, he wasted no time in updating the group. “Alright, listen up!” he began, his low voice tinged with urgency. “There are three possible ways out of here. The first one’s through the ceiling, but that’s heavily guarded from the outside and would only lead us back to the lion’s den. The second option is to find the building’s exit, but that’s not ideal either—we’re too large a group, and we’d be risking capture. Which leaves us with option three...” A wry grin spread across Blake’s face as the sweat trickled down the brows of the villagers who noticed his expression.

“This ‘option three’ is...?” the Vice Chief prompted, his tone apprehensive.

Blake’s grin widened. “Well, I initially considered the sewage system,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, ignoring the horrified gasps of the villagers. “But then I thought about my grandma. I wouldn’t want her going through that. Besides, you’re all old and need proper hygiene, so I found another route to replace that one.”

“Which is...?” a villager ventured, his eyes darting to the dimly lit corners of the cell as though expecting a hidden passageway to reveal itself.

Blake’s grin faded as he explained, “I’m guessing it’s a tunnel. I took a quick peek inside, and it seemed a lot safer than the sewers. My guess is that you’ll pick the tunnel, so that’s why I brought you here.” Kneeling, he slid his fingers under the edge of what appeared to be a trapdoor, cleverly concealed beneath a layer of dirt and debris.

With a glance over his shoulder, he added, “Get ready.” He waited until everyone had clambered safely down into the inky darkness before tossing a torch down after them. “You should all get going now,” he urged. “The sooner you reach the end, the better for me. I’ll join you once I’ve lured the guards away from their posts.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The Vice Chief held Blake’s gaze for a moment, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. “You’re too young to be taking such risks,” he cautioned, the torchlight casting eerie shadows on their faces. “Once this is over, you should leave this life behind. It’s only going to get worse for you if you continue down this path.” With a final nod, he turned and led the villagers away into the gloom.

Blake’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “Thanks for the advice, Vice Chief,” he murmured softly as their forms melted into the darkness. “But someone’s gotta do it.”

#4

Blake adopted a grave expression as he proceeded down the eerily silent corridor. Arrows marked on the walls indicated various routes, but the absence of enemies was unsettling. “Where are they?” he wondered, his voice a mere whisper that echoed in the stillness.

As Blake reached a T-junction, he halted abruptly. Blake halted abruptly at the T-junction, feeling a shiver down his spine as he realized that there had been enemies, but someone had dealt with all of them. “Something’s not right,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze darting around warily.

“I can hear your breathing,” Blake called out into the oppressive darkness. “You can come out now.”

A figure emerged from the shadows, a smirk playing on their lips. “Your ears are still as sharp as always, Blake.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the intruder. “Mori... Did you come to stop me?”

Mori’s smirk widened, their voice tinged with challenge. “I’ll answer all your questions if you can defeat me in a one-on-one battle.”

Blake’s grip tightened around the knife Mori handed him, the cold steel familiar in his palm. He knew this fight wasn’t just about winning; it was about survival. Mori, the best hand-to-hand combatant among the mercenaries, circled him with a predator’s grace, their eyes gleaming with confidence.

“Still as cocky as ever, huh?” Blake muttered, shifting into his fighting stance. His legs, more reliable than his arms, tensed in anticipation.

Mori chuckled softly. “You’ve always relied on those legs and those Knifes of yours. Let’s see how well they hold up this time.”

With a swift, sudden movement, Mori lunged, aiming a jab at Blake’s midsection. Blake deflected the strike with his knife, twisting his body and sending a sharp kick toward Mori’s ribs. Mori dodged, countering with a rapid punch to Blake’s shoulder that sent him staggering back.

“Your reflexes are sharp,” Mori remarked, eyes glinting, “but you’re still predictable.”

Blake grinned, wiping the blood from his lip. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

He spun on his heel, launching a feint to the left with his knife. Mori, expecting the move, shifted to block, but Blake’s real attack came from below—a powerful sweep kick aimed at Mori’s legs. Mori lost balance for a split second, but it was enough. Blake closed the distance, bringing his knife down toward Mori’s exposed side.

Mori managed to block the strike at the last second, their arm bracing against the knife. “Not bad,” Mori grunted, pushing back. “But this fight isn’t over.”

Blake smirked, his breath steady. “It will be.”

Blake and Mori circled each other, the air between them charged with tension. Sweat beaded on Blake’s forehead, but his grip on the knife never wavered. He knew Mori’s strength—one well-placed punch could break bones, if not worse—but Mori wasn’t underestimating Blake’s speed and precision with a blade, either.

Mori struck first, launching a powerful punch aimed at Blake’s ribs. Blake barely avoided the full brunt of the impact, the force grazing his side, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his body. Blake retaliated quickly, slashing his knife in a wide arc, aiming for Mori’s torso. Mori stepped back, narrowly avoiding the blade, but the distance between them was shrinking.

“You’re getting slower,” Blake taunted, breathing heavily, though his eyes stayed sharp, calculating.

Mori grinned through the strain. “Or maybe you’re just pushing your luck.”

They clashed again, this time with more ferocity. Mori threw a flurry of punches, and Blake dodged as many as he could, using his knife to parry and counterattack. But Mori’s blows were relentless, each one coming dangerously close. A fist collided with Blake’s forearm, numbing his grip, and the knife flew from his hand, clattering against the stone floor.

Blake’s heart pounded, but instead of retreating, he shifted to his true strength—his legs. Mori closed in, fists ready to end the fight with a single decisive blow. But Blake moved swiftly, a blur of motion. He leaped up, planting his hand on Mori’s shoulder for balance, and kicked out, sending a powerful strike to Mori’s jaw. Mori staggered back, but recovered quickly, retaliating with a wild haymaker.

Blake ducked, sliding low and sweeping Mori’s legs out from under him with a spinning kick. Mori hit the ground hard but rolled quickly to his feet, shaking off the impact.

“You’re not bad without the knife, but—” Mori charged again, swinging with everything he had.

Blake met him halfway, blocking the punch with his forearm, though the force rattled his bones. He gritted his teeth and sprang off the balls of his feet, sending a sharp kick into Mori’s stomach. Mori stumbled back, winded, but still standing.

Battered and breathing heavily, neither of the two fighters were willing to give in. Mori lunged, aiming a finishing blow, but Blake dodged just in time, sending another kick straight to Mori’s side. This time, Mori fell to one knee, the strain showing.

Blake moved in fast, grabbing his fallen knife from the floor and pressing the blade lightly against Mori’s throat. His voice was hoarse, ragged. “Yield.”

Mori, gasping for breath, grinned despite the defeat. “You got me. Well fought.”

Blake took a step back, lowering the knife. His legs trembled, and he could feel the toll the battle had taken on him. Victory was his, but the cost had been high. Both fighters were beaten, and bruised, but Blake stood victorious, his heart still racing.

“You’re stronger than I thought,” Mori said, slowly rising to his feet. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you next time.”

Blake nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Well, I believe you have a question to answer”.

#5

Back story: The one standing in front of me now is Mori. He was like a brother to me, despite the four-year gap between us. Among all the mercenaries, Mori was the youngest after me. We helped each other out.

The camp buzzed with activity, as usual. Mercenaries swapped stories and shared a laugh or two, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. A typical scene, like a group of soldiers in between missions.

Blake at 10:

Perched on a low-hanging tree branch, Blake was eavesdropping, as usual. His small frame hidden in the foliage, he listened intently to two nearby mercenaries chatting about the latest mission.

“Major Kang and Squad 1 really outdid themselves,” said one mercenary.

Blake’s face lit up, and he quickly jotted down notes in his small diary. “Amazing, Major Kang did that? The Squad 1 really are no joke,” he muttered to himself.

The conversation continued as the other mercenary chimed in. “I heard they rescued a long-lost member during that mission. Some captive.”

“No way! A captive? How could anyone get away with taking one of our own?”

A Mercenary shrugged. “Not just any member—he was a former Squad 1 member himself. He helped wrap up the mission.”

One of the mercenaries scratched his head. “Who was it?”

Before the first could respond, a sharp crack echoed through the air. Blake, who had leaned too far forward, tumbled from his hiding spot and crashed into the ground with a thud.

“Ahh!” Blake quickly scrambled to his feet, trying to maintain his dignity. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear! I was just, uh, sleeping and fell!”

The mercenaries exchanged amused looks. “Right, kid. Just be careful next time.”

As they walked away, Blake sighed in relief but also in frustration. “Just when it was getting interesting,” he mumbled. “I wonder who the Squad 1 member is… maybe I could learn from him too.”

Major Kang’s Return

Moments later, a van pulled up, dust swirling in its wake. Blake’s eyes lit up. It was Major Kang and Squad 1. He quickly joined the other mercenaries, celebrating the success of the mission. However, his attention quickly shifted to an unfamiliar face stepping out of the van—a figure whose presence immediately commanded attention.

“That must be him,” Blake whispered to himself, “the former Squad 1 member.”

The man scanned the crowd, his sharp eyes searching for something—or someone. Blake felt an odd sensation, like the man had noticed his gaze. He quickly averted his eyes, feeling a wave of excitement and unease.

Training continued as usual for most, but Blake, having already mastered knife combat, had finished early. He had earned the nickname “Blade Dancer” for the way he wielded knives with an almost graceful rhythm, as if dancing through the air.

Suddenly, the usual chatter and clatter of the training ground fell silent. The air grew tense as a figure emerged from the shadows. Blake, sensing something was off, looked up from his resting spot.

The figure stepped forward, his gaze locked on Blake.

“So,” the voice was sharp, “you’re the one they call Blade Dancer.”

Blake blinked, startled. He glanced left, then right, as if searching for an escape route. “Who, me? Uh… nope. Sorry, wrong person.”

The figure’s cold stare was filled with killer intent. Blake’s instincts screamed danger. “This guy… he’s really trying to kill me,” he thought, muscles tensing.

But then, as quickly as the tension had appeared, it vanished. The figure’s face broke into a lighthearted smile, one that seemed too relaxed for the deadly aura that had just filled the air moments ago.

“I’m Mori. Nice to meet you,” he said casually. “Sorry if I scared you.”

Blake was dumbfounded. “What the…? Is this guy for real?” He couldn’t reconcile the two personalities—one moment Mori looked like he wanted to kill him, and now he was acting like they were best friends.

Behind them, the other mercenaries murmured in anticipation. “Looks like we’ve got an interesting match-up today,” one said. “The first of multiple personalities vs the one that dances with the Blade”

#6

The mercenaries dispersed, their voices echoing down the corridor. “What the hell, that was totally one-sided,” one of them muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Blake lay on the ground, gasping for breath, his body aching from the intense fight. Mori stood over him, calm as ever, and stretched out a hand. “You’re quite weak and strong at the same time,” he remarked.

Blake glared at Mori, rejecting his hand as he pushed himself up, groaning in pain. “Cut the crap. That’s exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it? Stop playing dumb.”

Mori smiled, his tone light. “Major Kang asked me to test your strength. Based on my evaluation... you’re just too weak.”

Fury burned in Blake’s chest at the word “weak.” He clenched his fists. “Just because you’re stronger doesn’t mean you can look down on other people!”

Mori chuckled, now more playful than menacing, laughing loudly as if Blake’s anger amused him. Blake stood there, dumbfounded. “This guy is clearly out of his mind,” he thought. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to help my grandma.”

After finishing his laugh, Mori called after him with a mocking tone. “Did I make you angry, kiddo?”

Blake froze, the word “kiddo” sending a wave of irritation through him. “Who the hell did you just call a kid, you stupid psychopath?” he snapped. “One second, you’re all killer intent, the next, you’re laughing like a maniac. You’re the biggest weirdo I’ve ever met.”

“Alright, alright, my bad.” Mori waved off Blake’s anger with a grin. “Let me make things clear. I was held hostage, but now I’m back. How that happened doesn’t concern you. Major Kang wanted me to test you out, to see if I’ve still got my edge. But I’ll be honest—you’re strong with a knife. Without it, you’re weaker.”

Blake stared, a little taken aback, as Mori continued, his tone more serious now. “Your punches are weak, but your legs? They’re much stronger. You rely too much on your hands when you should be using your legs in combat.”

Mori leaned in. “You still interested in dedicating six months to a year to training? I can’t teach you much more, but I know someone who can.”

Blake’s eyes lit up. “So I can start new training?” His excitement bubbled over. “Thanks, Psycho!” he teased.

Mori smirked, half-amused, half-annoyed. “Yeah, you’re welcome. Wait, who are you calling a psycho, you short-staff?He retorted with humor, and the two of them shared a laugh".

Back to the Present

Blake, still catching his breath, glared at Mori. “Don’t you dare run away from my questions? You promised you’d answer them if I won.”

Mori groaned, sounding exhausted. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk. But can I sleep for an hour first?”

“Shut the hell up and start talking, you weirdo!” Blake shot back, his frustration boiling over.

Opening one eye lazily, Mori grinned. “Weirdo? I’m pretty sure it’s the short-staffs that are the weirdos. You guys need to use your extra feet just to see the world properly.”

Blake rolled his eyes as Mori’s laughter filled the air. They continued throwing insults back and forth, their voices echoing through the empty corridor.