Stepping into the bustling courtyard, Zuol-Ki navigated through the sect members going about their daily routines until he spotted Jeok-Myung, lost in his training. His movements were fluid and lethal, a mesmerizing dance of deadly intent. Zuol-Ki approached, catching his attention with a discreet cough.
Jeok-Myung's sharp gaze immediately snapped to him, his movements coming to a halt. "Zuol-Ki," he greeted, surprise flitting across his features.
"I wanted to discuss the upcoming mission," Zuol-Ki began. His companion's gaze hardened, yet he remained silent, allowing Zuol-Ki to continue.
Finding the right words was a challenge, but eventually, Zuol-Ki managed to ask the question that had been haunting him. "Do you have a master in another sect, Jeok-Myung?"
The color drained from Jeok-Myung's face as if he'd seen a specter. He stepped backward, the training sword slipping from his grasp, its echo reverberating in the courtyard. Silence prevailed for a heart-stopping moment.
Then, the familiar hum of the system filled Zuol-Ki's ears, and a screen materialized before him.
"[Please select an option:]"
▶ [Reassure Jeok-Myung you mean no harm]
▶ [Confront Jeok-Myung about his reaction]
▶ [Immediately attack Jeok-Myung]
Driven by instinct and mistrust, Zuol-Ki chose the third option.
▶ [Immediately attack Jeok-Myung]
The moment the screen vanished, Zuol-Ki moved with a swiftness that surprised even himself. He swept his leg out in an arc, attempting to knock Jeok-Myung off balance. But his adversary was no novice. With a swift leap, he avoided the attack, landing deftly a few feet away.
Jeok-Myung's face was a mask of cold fury as he retrieved his dropped weapon. In a flash, he launched himself at Zuol-Ki, who barely managed to block the incoming attack with his own blade.
The clashing steel echoed in the otherwise silent courtyard. Zuol-Ki held his own, parrying, dodging, and countering with all his might. But Jeok-Myung's relentless onslaught wore him down, slowly but surely.
A feint to the left had Zuol-Ki moving in the opposite direction. Seizing the opportunity, Jeok-Myung landed a swift kick to his midriff, sending him sprawling backward. Before he could regain his footing, Jeok-Myung was upon him, his sword pointed at Zuol-Ki's throat.
Jeok-Myung dethroned Zuol-Ki, pinning him on the ground, the cold steel of his blade threatening to pierce his skin. He leaned in closer, his voice hushed and deadly. "Don't worry, I will just say that you died in our spar accidentally."
That was the moment the system's screen appeared again, dangling a sliver of hope before the disarmed and defeated Zuol-Ki.
"[Please select an option:]"
▶ [Surrender and accept your fate]
▶ [Attempt a sneak attack at Jeok-Myung's weak point]
▶ [Bargain for your life]
With Jeok-Myung's blade poised at his throat, the threat of imminent death never seemed more real. Zuol-Ki's heart pounded wildly in his chest, his eyes darting between the blade and the options that glowed on the ethereal screen before him.
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The countdown began, and each tick felt like an eternity. It was now or never.
Choosing, ▶ [Attempt a sneak attack at Jeok-Myung's weak point]
The screen dissipated, and time resumed its relentless march.
With one hand, he feigned surrender, reaching out to the blade at his neck. Simultaneously, his other hand snaked towards Jeok-Myung's exposed midsection. In the time it took for surprise to register on Jeok-Myung's face, Zuol-Ki struck, his palm slamming into the unsuspecting man's abdomen with all the force he could muster.
Jeok-Myung gasped, reeling backward from the force of the attack, his grip on his weapon momentarily faltering. This was Zuol-Ki's chance, the fleeting window of opportunity he'd gambled his life on.
With a swift, fluid motion, he rolled to his feet, snatched up his own weapon, and charged. Jeok-Myung barely had time to recover and raise his blade in defense. A clash of steel rang out as their blades met, the intensity of their wills sparking in the brief collision.
The fight raged on, each blow pushing the fighters to their limits. Sweat trickled down Zuol-Ki's face, blurring his vision, but he did not dare wipe it off. Every move, every breath, every thought was dedicated to the battle before him. But just as he deflected another savage strike from Jeok-Myung, another ethereal screen appeared.
"[Please select an option:]"
▶ [Continue fighting Jeok-Myung one-on-one]
▶ ["Master Strategist, help me!"]
▶ [Appeal to Jeok-Myung's sense of camaraderie]
Zuol-Ki almost snorted. 'Fuck it, why not?'
▶ ["Master Strategist, help me!"]
Time unfroze, and Zuol-Ki found the words spilling from his mouth. "Master Strategist!" he yelled, much to his surprise. "Little help here, please?"
Jeok-Myung paused, his gaze flicking to where the strategist would have been, had he not been completely absent from this battle. His confusion was Zuol-Ki's golden opportunity. Exploiting the moment of distraction, he lunged forward, aiming his sword for the unprotected expanse of Jeok-Myung's neck.
The laughter that Zuol-Ki had been holding back erupted as he took in Jeok-Myung's dumbstruck expression. "Gotcha, fucker," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
His blade sunk into the soft flesh of Jeok-Myung's neck, a satisfying warmth blooming from his hands to his heart. The satisfaction was short-lived, however, as Jeok-Myung's shocked gaze morphed into a cruel smirk.
"Fool," Jeok-Myung hissed through clenched teeth, his voice gurgling with his own blood. His hands shot out, snaking around Zuol-Ki's wrist, and with a surprising burst of energy, twisted.
Zuol-Ki cried out, the pain sending a shockwave through his system. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor. The surprise left him reeling, providing Jeok-Myung just enough time to pull away, his hand pressing against the seeping wound on his neck.
"Didn't think you had the balls, Zuol-Ki," Jeok-Myung gasped, staggering back. He cast a swift, scathing glance at the discarded weapon. "Won't be enough to save you, though."
Before Zuol-Ki could recover, Jeok-Myung lunged, his body fueled by a wild desperation. But as their bodies collided, a screen flickered into existence once again before Zuol-Ki.
"[Please select an option:]"
▶ [Try to disarm Jeok-Myung]
▶ [Attempt to evade Jeok-Myung's attacks]
▶ [Call out for anyone's help]
Time seemed to freeze again as Zuol-Ki's mind raced. As he stared at the options, he couldn't help but let out a ragged laugh. "Well, fuck, this is a real shitty day, isn't it?" he muttered to himself, and reached out to select his next choice.
▶ [Try to disarm Jeok-Myung]
As Zuol-Ki reached out for the option to disarm Jeok-Myung, the world around him seemed to lurch back into motion. He didn't know what he hoped for - perhaps that the options would give him the upper hand.
Yet as he pushed against Jeok-Myung, trying to aim for his weapon, the universe seemed to laugh in his face. Jeok-Myung's blade crashed down upon him in a flurry of desperate movements. Each attack was wild, unpredictable, yet honed with an instinctual aim to kill. His own attempt to disarm Jeok-Myung only seemed to fan the fires of his desperate rage.
"Damn it, fucker!" Zuol-Ki cursed through gritted teeth as he narrowly avoided a lethal thrust. "I thought you wanted a fair fight!"
Jeok-Myung's only response was a grim chuckle, tainted with a bitter hint of irony. "Fair doesn't exist in war, Zuol-Ki. And you have declared war."
As the realization of his impending doom began to sink in, another ethereal screen flickered into existence.
"[Please select an option:]"
▶ [Plead for mercy]
▶ [Continue fighting]
▶ [Try to escape]
Zuol-Ki's gaze flickered between the merciless sneer on Jeok-Myung's face and the ephemeral options floating before him. He couldn't help but chuckle, the sound echoing eerily around the silent training hall. "Well, shit... I guess I really have fucked myself over this time, haven't I?" With those words, he reached out for his next choice.