Travis moved mana down to his legs, feeling the surge of power in his muscles. In a split second, he was already outside the carriage, the world blurring as he sprinted away, leaving the chaos behind. The cold night air hit his face, but the adrenaline fueled him forward, his heart racing.
Back inside the carriage, Mike’s gaze was fixed on the head of his fallen comrade, now rolling lifelessly on the floor. A cold chill ran down his spine, and his chest tightened with panic. The men around him were equally stunned, eyes wide, breath shallow. Mike’s mind scrambled to catch up with the situation.
"What are you doing?! Go get him!!" Mike shouted, his voice sharp and frantic. His men snapped out of their stupor, nodding quickly before rushing toward the carriage’s door.
They flung themselves out of the carriage, their feet pounding the earth as they chased after Travis. Light orbs flickered into existence, soaring ahead like glowing birds, guiding them through the darkened forest. The soft hum of their magic echoed in the silence before the orbs caught up to Travis, illuminating his figure in the distance.
Travis glanced back and saw them gaining on him. He felt a surge of resolve wash over him, the fight boiling in his blood.
‘I don’t think running away is the best choice right now,’ Travis thought, his mind racing. He could feel their power, and though they were a threat in numbers, they felt weak compared to his own strength. His smirk grew, and in a single motion, he stopped and turned, ready to face them head-on.
His grip tightened around the sword, the cold steel now pulsing with his mana, and he charged back at them. The massacre was about to begin.
The first man lunged at him with a brutal punch aimed at his gut. Travis saw the attack coming, barely a threat in his eyes, and sidestepped with fluid precision. With a swift horizontal slice of his blade, he cut through the man's hand, the sharp steel tearing through flesh like paper. The man screamed in agony, his grip loosened. Without hesitation, Travis adjusted his stance, using the momentum of the sword’s movement to bring it down onto another man. In a seamless motion, the man’s head was severed, falling clean off his shoulders, blood spraying in an arc.
The chaos only fueled Travis, and he didn’t stop. He pressed forward, cutting down the next man before he even had a chance to react. The man froze in disbelief as Travis appeared in front of him, his sword glinting in the moonlight. With a single stroke, Travis cleaved the man’s torso in half, the two pieces falling apart with a sickening thud.
‘Good thing I learned how to control the things my sword can cut,’ Travis thought, his grin widening as he dispatched the next man with brutal efficiency. His blade sang through the air, cutting through his next target with a quick, clean slice. The man’s body collapsed in two, split clean down the middle.
Three down. Travis was moving faster now, the rhythm of battle taking over. He sprinted toward the next man, grabbed his arm, and yanked him in close. Without giving him a moment to struggle, Travis sliced down, his sword cleaving the man’s body in half like it was nothing. The man fell, his blood splattering across the ground as he collapsed.
Five down. Five left.
Each strike was faster than the last, Travis weaving through the group with deadly precision. His footfalls were a blur, his blade a whirlwind of destruction. Each man barely had time to react before Travis tore through them. One by one, they fell—victims to his unrelenting speed and lethal skill.
As the last man fell to the ground, his blood staining the earth, Travis stood among the bodies. The forest was silent again, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the breeze. He looked down at the lifeless forms, his chest heaving with exertion. His lips curled into a bright smile, not of regret or satisfaction, but of exhilaration.
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He wasn’t laughing because he had killed them. He was laughing because he was having fun. The thrill of the fight, the surge of power, the way everything seemed to slow down when he moved—it was addicting.
His smirk never faded as he wiped his blade clean, looking around at the carnage he had wrought. It was just another step on his journey, another hurdle overcome. And the best part? He didn’t even break a sweat.
Travis turned back, ready to sheath his sword, but just as his blade was nearing its scabbard, a sharp whistle cut through the air. A gust of wind followed, and he instinctively dropped to the side, narrowly avoiding the arrow that shot past him with lightning speed. It flew so close that the tip grazed the fabric of his cloak, making him frown in annoyance.
He stood upright and turned to see Mike emerging from the shadows, his figure slowly becoming visible under the glow of the light orbs. Mike was standing tall, his eyes seething with rage. In his hands was a sleek, well-crafted bow, but it wasn’t just any bow. The arrows he held were made of pure wind, swirling with an ethereal, razor-sharp energy.
“You killed all my men... and now I’ll kill you,” Mike’s voice was a growl, filled with venom and fury. His grip on the bow tightened, his body trembling with suppressed anger.
Travis didn’t flinch. His expression remained a blank slate, devoid of any emotion as he held his sword firmly, both hands gripping the hilt. His stance was unwavering, as if he had already accepted whatever was coming next.
‘My body reacted on its own there... not sure if I’ll be able to do it again. But I’ll try,’ he thought, his mind focused and calm as he steeled himself for the next move.
Without warning, Travis surged forward, his body leaving a slight dent in the ground where he had stood just moments before. His speed was a blur, a streak of motion as he closed the distance between him and Mike with frightening velocity.
Mike’s eyes widened, but he didn’t hesitate. He fired the first wind arrow at Travis, the arrow cutting through the air like a blade of air itself. Travis’ ears rang with the sound of the projectile, his heightened senses taking over. He heard the rush of the wind just before it reached him, and with a quick step to the side, he avoided the attack.
The next arrow came swiftly, aimed at his chest. With a swift twist of his body, Travis slid beneath the wind-crafted missile, the force of it pushing air into his face, but he was already beyond it. The remaining arrows came too fast for him to track with his eyes, but his ears—his senses—became his guide. His body twisted and dodged effortlessly, sidestepping those that were poorly aimed and using his intuition to avoid the rest.
His pulse raced as he neared Mike, who was now pulling a dagger from his belt, eyes filled with panic. The moment Mike’s weapon left its sheath, Travis saw an opening. Mike’s desperation showed in the way his hands trembled. He was ready for a block, but it didn’t come. The slash that Mike expected from Travis never arrived. Instead, the air around Mike grew unbearably hot, a scorching wave of heat surrounding his back.
The flames from Travis' blade licked at Mike’s skin just before the sword sliced down with terrifying precision. The scorching heat burned through the air as it made contact, searing the very fabric of Mike’s arm. The sword didn’t just cut through—it cauterized the wound as it passed, the fire from the blade incinerating everything in its path. Mike’s arm was severed in a single, fluid motion, the smell of charred flesh filling the air.
“Ahhhhh!!!” Mike’s scream echoed through the night, his knees buckling as the intense pain radiated through his body. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to clutch the stump where his arm had once been, but before he could react, Travis was already on him.
Travis moved with inhuman speed, the fire still crackling around his blade. Without a single moment of hesitation, he slashed his sword again, this time across Mike’s neck. The blade sliced through the air, cutting cleanly through flesh and bone, the sound of it sharp and final. In an instant, Mike’s head was separated from his shoulders, and his body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The light orbs flickered as the last echoes of Mike’s screams faded into the night. Travis stood over the fallen body, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he wiped the blood from his blade, the heat from his sword still sizzling in the cool night air. The fight was over. And for Travis, the thrill of it was only beginning.
"Nothing is going to stand in my way. Not even the lives of people," Travis muttered to himself, his gaze sweeping over the carnage scattered around him.
The bodies lay twisted and broken, blood pooling in the dirt, the scene nothing short of a nightmare. His words were cold, detached—like a promise to himself that nothing, no matter how horrific, would halt his progress.
But as his eyes lingered on the mangled bodies, a wave of nausea rose in his throat. His stomach twisted, a heavy feeling settling in his gut as the scent of blood and burning flesh filled the air. His breath quickened, and before he could even prepare himself, his body betrayed him. He dropped to his knees, hands pressed against the ground, and he vomited. The bile burned as it surged up from his stomach, splattering the dirt beneath him.
‘That’s not to say I’ll ever get used to this...’ he thought, a grimace forming on his face. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the weight of his own weakness, the aftereffects of the violence still pulsing in his body. 'Fuck... I should just walk with my eyes closed.'
Despite his words, Travis couldn't shake the grim reality of what he'd just done. The violence, the bloodshed—it was a part of the path he had chosen. But that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. He took a deep breath, stood up, and forced his gaze back to the bodies. This was the price of his journey, the cost of power and survival. There was no turning back now.
TO BE CONTINUED