He continued walking around, each step echoing softly in the oppressive darkness. His senses were on high alert, every fiber of his being attuned to the slightest change in his surroundings.
The silence was deafening, amplifying the sound of his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. It was unsettling; sound seemed to be muffled somehow in this place. It was weird not to detect other creatures moving from afar. Sure, he could hear his own heartbeat, steps, and even strikes, but everything besides the sound he himself made or caused seemed to be tuned off.
Just as he was ruminating over his thoughts, he suddenly sensed it again—a faint ripple in his sensory field. He froze, focusing intently. The movement of the object stopped, hanging in the air like a suspended threat. He could feel the familiar shape—it was a sword.
It was strange, as the creatures always moved to attack, but this one remained static. The feeling was unsettling, the stillness contrasting sharply with the chaotic battles he had faced so far. His shoulder throbbed with pain, a constant reminder of his vulnerability. He was not at his peak, and this promised to be the final confrontation.
Based on the height at which the sword was held, now more distinct in his sensory field, he could tell the opponent was taller this time, somewhere around his own height.
After some time, and noting the opponent did not take the first step, he decided to move closer. But just as he took the first step, the sword quickly moved and then came straight at him.
He reacted instinctively, raising his own blade to parry the incoming strike. The force of the collision reverberated through his injured shoulder, sending a jolt of pain down his arm. He gritted his teeth, pushing back against the opponent's sword, creating an opening for a counterattack.
He stepped to the side, executing a swift riposte aimed at the creature's midsection. The opponent deflected the blow with a precise downward block, forcing him to retreat a step. The creature advanced, its movements calculated and deliberate, unlike the frantic attacks he had faced before.
The enemy’s sword came at him in a fluid arc, aimed at his left side. Alonso pivoted on his heel, bringing his blade up to intercept. The swords clashed, and he felt the impact travel through his body. Using the momentum, he twisted his wrist and redirected the opponent’s blade downward, then followed with a thrust toward its exposed flank.
The creature sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the thrust, and countered with a horizontal slash aimed at his torso. He dropped his weight, ducking under the blade, and then surged upward with an upward cut. The creature leaped back, the tip of his sword grazing its chest.
Their movements were a deadly dance, each anticipating the other's next move. Alonso's senses were on overdrive, his EM perception mapping out every shift and change in the creature’s stance. He noted a slight hesitation in its movements, particularly in its left arm, mirroring his own injury but seemingly worse. It was odd, but he decided to use it to his advantage.
He targeted the weakness, launching a series of rapid strikes aimed at overwhelming the creature’s defenses. The clang of metal echoed in the dark room as the creature parried and blocked each attack with precision, but it was notable it was having a hard time maintaining its guard due to the weakened arm. The movements of its sword were slower and less controlled, and its blocks were often off-balance. But Alonso was relentless.
The creature retaliated with a powerful overhead strike. Alonso sidestepped, bringing his sword up to deflect the blow, then spun on his heel to deliver a backhand slash. He felt the blade connect with what he guessed was the creature’s side.
The enemy staggered but quickly regained its footing. Alonso could only 'see' the creature through the distortions in his sensory field, the ripples made by its sword. It was a silent dance of death, where each move was anticipated not by sound or sight, but by the subtle waves in his EM domain.
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Another ripple—this time from the left. Alonso pivoted sharply, his sword intercepting the creature’s next strike. The vibrations from the clash traveled up his blade, and he could sense the force behind the attack. With a grunt of effort, he pushed the creature’s sword aside and aimed a thrust at its midsection, only to have it deflected once more. The creature countered with a sweeping horizontal slash, which Alonso ducked under, rolling to the side and coming up in a crouch, his sword at the ready.
The ripples indicated the creature was repositioning, likely preparing for another powerful strike. Alonso didn’t give it the chance. He lunged forward, his blade leading the way. He felt the sword connect, slicing through the creature's defenses. The enemy recoiled, and Alonso pressed his advantage, delivering a series of rapid, precise strikes. Each hit sent a new pattern of ripples through his sensory field, mapping out the creature’s faltering movements.
The creature attempted another overhead strike, but Alonso was faster. He sidestepped, then brought his sword down in a powerful arc, aiming for what he guessed was the creature's shoulder. The blade cut deep, and for the first time, he felt a significant disruption in the ripples—a telling sign of the creature’s weakening state. But this time, he also sensed a sort of resistance he had never felt before, like striking bones. Until now, the creatures had been rather weak in body defense, weaker than humans at least.
'The movement of the sword, the injured shoulder, the bigger room, the feeling of the bone...'
He couldn’t get distracted now and pushed his insecurities to the back of his mind. He had to survive, and for that, he had to win. Yet, a nagging thought gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. Could this creature be…
"What are you?!" he shouted suddenly.
No answer came back, only the silence of the room. But of course, any sound not made by him would never reach him.
His sword, however, did not stop moving. He couldn’t afford to falter. His life was on the line. Steeling himself, he spun on his heel, executing a perfect follow-through that severed the creature’s sword arm. The limb fell away, and the creature staggered back, its defense shattered.
"What are you?!" he shouted again, knowing that no sound would come back. He shouted again for himself, not for it.
He was desperate for it to be just a thought, a misconception. But as he shouted, his sword did not stop. It could not stop.
After the slightest hesitation, and holding the sword tighter than he needed, he thrust into the position he had mapped out as it's chest, driving the blade deep. The resistance was there again, confirming his earlier sense of striking bones. A grim realization settled over him, but he couldn't afford to stop now.
"What are you?!" he shouted once again, but his voice was now lower. He wished it was not true but… every detail was there. Every calculated movement, every sense was amplified several times. He was no fool. All he could do was pray and try to fool himself.
With a trembling hand, he drove his sword deeper. And that was it. It stopped moving.
The lights came on.
His eyes were momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness. His sword fell with a clang to the floor, landing next to the dark red blood. He had caught a glimpse of the lifeless body, but he didn't look again, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. He didn't look down. He couldn’t.
He stayed there kneeling. His shoulder throbbed with pain, his arms were bruised and tired, his legs had no strength left. But his heart... his heart was pounding. It hurt.
"Why? What do you want?!!!" he shouted, letting all the rage and anguish spill from his voice. But nothing came back. Only silence.
The pain in his body was nothing compared to the torment in his mind. He couldn’t bring himself to look at what lay on the ground before him. The realization of what he had done weighed on him, crushing his spirit.
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. The room, now brightly lit, seemed to mock him with its sterile, indifferent walls. His breath came in ragged gasps, each exhale carrying a sob. His entire body trembled with the weight of what he had done, of what he had been forced to do.
"What… what do you want from me?!" he tried to scream, but the sobbing choked his voice, and it came out as a whisper, breaking. The words echoed in the empty room, unanswered. His tears fell freely, splashing onto the cold floor.
The tears continued to flow, his body shaking with each sob. He remained there, unable to move, unable to think of anything beyond the unbearable weight of his actions. The lights were on, but he felt lost in darkness.