Even though Sam had successfully killed the archer, he didn't feel any sense of triumph or satisfaction. Instead, he was overcome with a gnawing discomfort, a deep unease that burrowed into his consciousness. The swiftness and ease with which he had taken a life disturbed him profoundly. It felt unnatural, like a violation of some unspoken moral code he wasn't even aware he held.

He tried to shake off the feeling, focusing on the immediate necessity of survival. If his mental breakdown right now, it's game over for him. The adrenaline still surged through his veins, a relentless tide that kept his sense sharp and his movement quick. Fortunately, due to his adrenaline, it provided a temporary counterbalance to the tremors that threatened to overtake his hands. Each heartbeat pounded in his ears, a reminder of the thin line between life and death he constantly walked.

But even as he moved, the image of the archer's lifeless body lingered in his mind. The archer had been a living, breathing person like him, a human. This realization weighed heavily on Sam, way more than he had anticipated. It feels like as if the act he just committed had carved a new, painful scar into his psyche.

Unfortunately, he couldn't afford to dwell on these thoughts, at least not now. He's still in danger and it's far from over. Though he tried to not thinking about it, the unease refused to fade entirely, like a persistent shadow lurking in the corners of his mind. It was a reminder that, no matter how skilled or efficient he became, taking a human life is not something he want to do, not now or ever if he can help it.

Though he felt like shit, Sam forcefully steeled his mind. He told himself this was an experience he needed to endure and grow from. Now that it had happened, he would use it to strengthen his mental fortitude.

*CLANG!*

The sounds of clashing sword reverberate through the air.

*Boom!*

Another fireball exploded nearby, missing its mark. Sam watched the mage’s movements like a hawk.

'Fucking hell! This warrior mage duo is tough!'

After killing the archer, Sam had tried to separate the mage and the warrior, hoping to fight each one individually. Unfortunately, their coordination was too tight, making it nearly impossible to divide them. Since separation didn’t work, Sam decided to face them head on, waiting for the right moment to break their balance.

The battle had raged on for about fifteen minutes, neither side willing to give an inch. At some point, Sam noticed the mage had stopped casting his disgustingly powerful fireballs, his mana seemed depleted. This was good news. Sam also observed the warrior's blade was beginning to show signs of wear, chips accumulating from their relentless clashes. Three more minutes passed, and finally, it happened.

*CRACK!*

Both swords shattered upon impact, leaving the warrior momentarily stunned. Sam seized the opportunity, lunging forward and striking the warrior with a powerful left hook.

*CRACK!*

The sound of breaking ribs echoed through the air. The warrior, unable to move from the shock and pain, stood like a helpless target. Sam unleashed a barrage of lethal strikes: a right uppercut to the jaw, a left jab to the throat, and a steep kick to the solar plexus, sending the warrior staggering backward. Sam lunged again, pummeling the man until the system notification rang in his head, confirming his opponent's death.

Ignoring the notification, Sam turned his attention to the mage. He drew his daggers and hurled them with all his strength.

*SWOOSHH!*

*SWOOSHH!*

*SWOOSHH!*

*SWOOSHH!*

*SWOOSHH!*

The daggers cut through the air with lethal precision. Most struck the mage’s chest and stomach, with one embedding itself in his heart. The mage collapsed, dead before he hit the ground.

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"Ha.. ha.... Ha...." Sam let out heavy breathing, showing the fatigue catching up to him.

Slumping down, he tried to control his breathing. As much as he wanted to rest, he knew there were still two missing enemies. His eyelids grew heavier as fatigue washed over him, and he lay down, closing his eyes.

Suddenly, he heard someone running toward him. Internally, he smiled.

'gotcha bitch!' he thought, springing to his feet and taking a battle stance. Two figures in dark blue cloaks approached with abnormal speed.

Sam struck out at the nearest rogue but missed completely, leaving himself wide open. The two rogues attacked with numerous slashes, their speed too fast for Sam to dodge every blow. He protected only his vital points.

*SWISH!*

*SWISH!*

*SWISH!*

Lacerations accumulated rapidly on his body. To an observer, he looked like a bloody mess, wounds visible everywhere. Sam tried to break their momentum but couldn’t land a single strike.

"ARGGHHHH!!!" Sam howled in frustration.

'Think! Think! Think! How do I get out of this situation? How do I win? Do I just simply accept my fate to die right here? No.. NO! I REFUSE!!"

Throughout his life Sam had harbored a seething contempt for the word "fate," he couldn't pinpoint when this hatred began but he understood its roots with clarity. To him, fate was no different than a tyrant who laid out the predestined path that he had spent his entire life defying, striving to carve his own destiny. He didn't know if his efforts had succeeded in altering the course set before him, but he had proven fate wrong on more than one occasion.

One experience in particular stood out in his mind. When Sam was nine years old, his parents were alarmed by a lingering illness that no medicine could cure. They decided to take him to the hospital for a check up to see what was wrong with him, when the results of the blood tests came out they were devastated. The doctor's words hit them like a sledgehammer, Sam's body was failing him and because of that he had only three years to live at most. Young Sam, blissfully ignorant of his dire prognosis continued to live his life with the innocent joy of a child.

During those three years his parents poured all their love into him, cherishing every single moment they could. Each passing day felt like a borrowed miracle. As the three year mark approached, they reached the depths of despair, dreading the inevitable loss of their son. Then one day, in the darkest hour, a miracle occurred. Sam defied the grim forecast and survived beyond the three years, seemingly healthy like any other normal children. Despite countless consultations with doctors, trips to hospitals, and even visits to eccentric soothsayers, none of them could offer their son a method to cure him. All of them said the same thing everytime they diagnose Sam, he's destined to die and there's no way to save him.

When their son received a miracle, they went to every hospital to ask what happened to Sam, did he just somehow get completely cured out of nowhere? So many questions linger on their minds, but unfortunately none could offer an explanation for his recovery. Sam had cheated fate.

At thirteen years old, Sam was thriving with his seemingly robust health. On one winter's night, his parents overcome with joy as they hugged him tight as if Sam will disappear if they didn't do so, their tears were a mix of relief and disbelief. Young Sam didn't really understand what was happening at this point in time, but later in his life, everything suddenly clicked in place.

Their happiness was unfortunately short lived when the world plunged into an emergency state due to the spreading of a deadly virus, the very said virus swept through his life like a silent swift sweep from the grim reaper scythe, claiming his parents life. The cruel twist of fate seemed almost too bitter and cold to bear.

Perhaps the world despised his happiness. Perhaps it was all a nightmarish illusion. Or perhaps it was fate's cruel jest, mocking him.

Despite this heart wrenching tragedy Sam refused to succumb, if he had defied fate once, he could do it again no matter how hard or crazy it sounds. He lived his life in a relentless struggle against the so called "fate," his whole being determined to prove that he could forge his own path. Many called him mad, a fool for challenging the immutable, but he didn't care. He had nothing to prove to them—only to himself.

Through his lifelong battle with fate Sam learned a valuable and crucial lesson, he realized that if events were set in stone and followed a predetermined path, they would inevitably become predictable, forming a discernable pattern. And pattern, no matter whether it's in a video game or even in sports, Sam knew it could be disrupted.

'Wait, pattern? How the fuck I didn't remember this?! All things in life had a certain pattern, even fighting is using a pattern!'

His mind calmed despite his body's rage. He began to control his fury, channeling it to his will. Though still under attack, his body, enveloped in a dark red aura, healed rapidly. The aura shifted to a calm cyan, accelerating his recovery.

The rogues exchanged bewildered glances. One rogue, aiming to slash Sam’s neck, found his target moving, avoiding the strike entirely. Sam saw the opening and punched with frightening speed, sending the rogue flying into a tree.

Though he succeeded on sending of the rogue flying, the chance he took to strike the guy is not a risk free choice since right now he got stabbed by a pair of daggers on his back. Fortunately it didn't hit any vital point, he's not really sure if he can heal his heart or not if it get stabbed, not that he want to find out about it right now.

Swiftly grabbing the rogue’s arms, Sam slammed him into the ground repeatedly.

*BOOM!*

*BOOM!*

*BOOM!*

*BOOM!*

*BOOM!*

As the notification rang in his head, confirming the rogue’s death, Sam let go. He turned to walk back to his camp, but an overwhelming fatigue overtook him. He collapsed onto the cold, hard ground, unconscious before he hit it.