Roses. Dark hedges. The flash of a sword. Grass.

Dark.

…

Light. The roses. A sword. Dark.

Light. Dark. Light. Dark.

It hurts.

Light.

Dark.

Vivian opened his eyes. Before him, a man hefted a sword high and swung it down. His vision spun around, and he struck the ground. Pain struck him for a moment, and then—

Dark.

Light again. He stepped out of the bushes, the thorns clawing at his dark clothes. Vivian’s eyes roved the scene, quickly taking everything in. Again, the man with the sword swung at him. My clippers are on the ground. That man with the sword is going to kill me. His fist clenched.

I need to kill him if I want to survive.

The bushes surrounded him again. A sword flashed.

Vivian charged forward. He shoulder-checked the man, and the man staggered backward. His arms spiraled, his sword flying wildly. To the left and the right, a woman and a man jumped forward.

Two more. Three total.

First, the swordsman.

Grabbing the swordsman’s shirt, Vivian threw his weight into him and threw him down, shoulder still pressed into the man’s chest. The air left the swordsman in a huff, and his arms flew out. The sword dropped from the man’s grip. Eyes wide, the swordsman jolted for his sword.

Shoving the man down with one hand, Vivian snatched up the sword with the other.

[Incompatible Tool] [Sword]

Critical rate locked at .01%. Weight increased 5x. Skill bonuses cannot be applied.

His hand struck the ground under the weight of the sword. What the fuck?

There’s no time. Focus. I need to survive!

Vivan grabbed the sword with both hands and dragged it over the man’s throat. He slammed it down. The weight of the suddenly-heavy sword carved through flesh and bone alike, and the man’s head rolled.

He tried to drag the sword up, but it weighed heavily in his hands, refusing to budge. The foreign hilt rubbed at his callouses, uncomfortable in his grip. Scowling, Vivian released it.

“Holy shit! Fuck!” the woman shouted.

“What the hell? He’s an NPC! He can’t fight!” the other man replied.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Obviously he can!”

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“Fuck! Did we proc a hidden boss or something?” the man asked.

Vivian’s eyes flashed left and right. Man. Woman. Which one first?

The woman raised her hand and murmured something. Fire swelled over her head. The man reached for one of the daggers strapped to his legs.

Vivian’s eyes fell on his clippers. He leaped for them, landed in a roll and snatched them up. The grip fell neatly into his hand. A thousand hours of clipping flowed through him, the tool practically an extension of his body.

[Compatible Tool] [Clippers]

No restrictions.

A fireball singed the grass inches behind him. A split second later, a dagger smashed into the earth.

He narrowed his eyes. Fire? In my garden? Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain these hedges? Don’t you dare go burning up my hard work! He darted toward the woman, his mind made up.

“Sandra!” the man shouted. A knife flew at Vivian’s back, whistling through the air.

Vivian twisted. The knife scraped by his neck and went spinning out of control toward the woman’s face. She raised her free hand defensively. The knife slashed through her palm and cheek, deflected off the bone beneath, and spun off into the darkness.

The woman’s face twisted. “James, what the fuck?”

“I—”

Vivian reached the woman. He thrust the clippers up, toward her solar plexus. She jumped back, slapping her book at his clippers. Her slap deflected his clippers, but he reached out with his other hand and grabbed her neck.

Silence the mages.

Huh? How do I know—

Now isn’t the time. I need to focus.

Vivian tightened his grip. Dropping her book, Sandra grabbed at his clippers with both hands, refusing to let him plunge them into her guts, but couldn’t stop him from strangling her. Her eyes locked onto something over his shoulder. A smirk played over her face.

In return, Vivian’s lips twisted into an unpleasant smile.

“Sandra!”

Vivian spun them both around, holding the woman out in front of himself. The rogue’s knife sliced into Sandra’s back. She let out a muffled cry, and blood leaked out from her lips.

James backed away, eyes wide. The bloody knife squelched out of her back. “Sandra, I… I didn’t…”

Vivian threw the mage down as she bled out. James faced him, raising his knife. His eyes blurred with tears and blazed with anger at the same time. “You--!”

“Let’s turn this PK into a TPK, huh?” Vivian said with a laugh, spinning the clippers in his hand.

“Wh—you… but… but you’re just an NPC!” James shouted, pointing a knife at Vivian.

“From my perspective, you’re just a murderer,” Vivian returned. He charged.

James scowled. He threw his knife at Vivian.

As expected. He’s a range-specc’d rogue. From behind his back, Vivian yanked out the mage’s book and copied her move, slapping the knife down with the thick leather tome. Two more knives hurtled at him. Again, he raised the book. Thud. Thud. Two knives stuck into the tome, thrumming into the pages.

James raised another knife.

Vivian threw the book at him. James flinched back. In that moment, Vivian closed the gap between them. Flicking his wrist, he opened the clippers, snatched the other handle of the clippers in midair, and thrust the open clippers at James’ neck.

Just like clipping roses. Vivian’s eyes narrowed.

Snip.

James tried to scream. Air whooshed out of the gash in the front of his throat. Blood splashed down his chest. Bubbles spilled from his neck as the blood caught in his lungs. Even as he fell to the ground, he drew out another knife.

Vivian stomped on James’ solar plexus. The air burst out the hole in his neck. His spine curled in pain, and he grabbed at his gashed neck.

Vivian shoved his hair back, letting out a deep sigh. “There. How do you like it, huh? Dying? Shitty, huh?”

James’ eyes rolled back. He thrashed a few more times, then went still.

Silence fell over the garden once more. Vivian looked at his clippers, then walked over to the mage girl and wiped the blades on her dress. Cotton does a better job cleaning blades than leather armor does.

Straightening, Vivian looked around, then licked his lips. His hands writhed nervously, and he adjusted the clippers three times before he finally felt comfortable with the way they sat in his belt. Bodies laid in all directions. The swordsman. The mage. The rogue. And… and… he bit his lip. Slowly, he turned, taking it all in. Dark-clothed body after dark-clothed body piled up under the bushes. Those shoulders… those hands… and that one, too. That one… He knelt. And this? Oh! My head! Haha! And that head, too! And that one! Wow! So many heads, and they’re all mine? Amazing!

Vivian paused, staring one of his own heads in its dead, flat eyes. He took a deep breath, then threw back his head and shouted, “Can anyone tell me what the fuck is happening?”