Mumbling to himself, Myuk’s voice was barely audible, a stream of fragmented thoughts spilling from his lips. “I will never be looked down on again,” he repeated, the words an incantation, a mantra that resonated deep within him. He was no longer the boy who had cowered in the corners of his past. He had become something else—something stronger, forged in the fires of conflict and bloodshed.
The shield man, towering and imposing, leaned down to hear Myuk’s mumbling, a smirk playing on his lips, as if he found amusement in the situation. The mage woman and the warrior woman exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of mockery and contempt.
“He’s gone crazy with fear,” the mage woman laughed, her voice dripping with derision.
“Just kill him already,” the warrior woman added, her impatience evident, her grip tightening around her weapon.
The laughter echoed around Myuk, but the sound felt distant, like a memory fading into obscurity. He was lost in his thoughts, the shadows swirling around him, urging him to embrace the darkness that had become his ally. Myuk’s mind wandered to the countless times he had been looked down upon, dismissed as weak and insignificant. But those days were over. The power coursing through him was undeniable, and he relished the shift in the air, the way the tables had turned so dramatically.
Myuk looked at the shield man with menacing eyes and said, “Razor Wind.”
The shield man, still leaning in, caught the edge of Myuk’s last words. “Huh?” he said, curiosity piqued, his expression shifting from amusement to confusion.
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In that instant, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The forest around them seemed to darken, the trees casting long, twisted shadows that mirrored the darkness within Myuk. The once peaceful woods had become a theater of death, the air thick with the scent of blood and fear. Myuk’s eyes darkened, and the air around him surged with an energy that was palpable.
Before the shield man could react, his head was severed from his body with a swift, almost elegant motion. The Razor Wind sliced through the air with a sound like tearing flesh, leaving behind a spray of blood that painted the forest floor in crimson. The shock of it was instantaneous, and the laughter turned into a horrified gasp from the mage. The body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, a grim testament to the suddenness of Myuk’s transformation.
Screaming erupted from the mage woman, her voice high and piercing, a sound that shattered the uneasy stillness of the forest. She stumbled back, eyes wide with terror as she processed the brutality that had just unfolded before her.
The warrior woman, however, did not hesitate. With a fierce battle cry, she lunged at Myuk, sword raised, her determination unwavering even in the face of such horror. But Myuk was no longer the prey; he had become the predator.
With a flick of his wrist, he held out his hand, and said, “Razor Wind.” The air around the warrior woman thickened, and in a heartbeat, her limbs were severed from her body, the sword clattering to the ground beside her.
Her screams filled the air, a cacophony of pain and disbelief, as she fell to her knees, blood pooling around her. Myuk watched, detached, as the life drained from her eyes, the shadows swirling around him in a dark dance of victory.
He turned his gaze to the mage woman, who stood frozen in place, her face a mask of terror. The laughter had died on her lips, replaced by a primal fear that radiated from her very being.
As the mage woman stood paralyzed by fear, Myuk felt a cold satisfaction settle in his chest. He was no longer the boy who had been trampled by the world—he was something else now, something stronger and infinitely more dangerous. And with each life he took, that power grew, feeding the darkness that had become his closest ally.