POV: Atlas

I rushed at Akir and swung my weapon diagonally at his left shoulder, aiming to cut him from shoulder to waist. His right hand was injured, so he could only use his left to defend. All I had to do was put all my power into this strike.

I just had to hope that he wasn't fast enough to dodge. I had seen how he fought. His reaction speed and body control were through the roof, but he now had wounds all over his body and a bolt in his shoulder. He had most likely not even slept in over a day, there was no way that he wasn't tired. In addition, if I was able to make the fight one of hand-to-hand combat, I would surely win.

My sword got closer and closer, but Akir didn't seem to try to dodge. He just brought his dagger up to block the swing, but there was no way he could block it. Seeing his movement, I fully committed to the swing.

Just as the sword was just centimeters away from hitting him, he shifted to the left and tilted his dagger, causing the trajectory of my broadsword to change. In the end, I just grazed him a little, perhaps shaving some of his facial hair in the process.

'It's over, isn't it?' I thought as I saw Akir avoid my swing. 'Wait, where is his dagger?' I thought, as I suddenly noticed that he didn't have his dagger in his left hand.

I couldn't stop my momentum and watched as Akir prepared his attack.

'What is he?' A pointless thought ran through my head when I felt a gentle touch on the left side of my torso. No, not a touch. More like a slight push. In the next moment, however, what felt like a gentle push at first suddenly transformed into a not-so-gentle push. Simply put, it felt like I had been hit by a train.

The push, combined with my momentum that was moving towards Akir sent me flying. I lost grip of my broadsword and flew in the air for a while before tumbling onto the ground with a series of loud thumps.

'What the hell?' I asked inside my head in confusion and desperation as sharp pain radiated on the left side of my torso. Some of my ribs had probably been broken just now.

I was now certainly going to die. It was just a matter of how and when. Wait, that's how it's always been. We humans ignore our death until it's right at our doorstep, and my death has now come in the form of that humanoid creative with dull gray eyes that had shined with ecstasy just a few minutes before.

I tried to get up, but my legs and arms ached like never before.

'Fuck this, I thought in frustration from not even being able to stand up. 'I'm not going to be some kind of toy for this psychopath to play with.'

I looked around for something sharp before remembering something. 'Oh, right, the soul weapons disappear once their owner dies.'

I sighed and gave up trying to look for the weapons of my group members. Of course there were the knives that were at the dining table, but the table was pretty far, and I couldn't walk.

"Here," Akir said, before there was a sound that resembled metal hitting stone.

After I turned my head to where the sound came from, I noticed that Akir had thrown his dagger at me.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked with a sneer.

"Do what you want," Akir said with his usual cold voice.

I was really getting sick of that non-caring voice.

"You want me to commit suicide?" I asked, prying for his motive.

"I didn't say that."

"But you meant it, didn't you?"

"..."

'What an asshole,' I thought as I picked up the dagger.

"Is this what you want?" I asked as I put the dagger against my throat. "Huh, is it? Say something!" I yelled, but he just kept walking slowly towards me. "What are you doing this for? Is this some kind of experiment?"

"No, nothing like that." Akir answered.

"Then what is the point of this?" I asked, but Akir didn't answer and started talking about something else.

"Some people in this situation would stand up and try to fight. Those people would be deemed strong because of their perseverance. A good example is that cutlass wielder. He came at me again and again, even though I could see the fear in his eyes. He was on the verge of death in each one of our exchanges, but he still managed to get up and fight someone unbeatable." Akir spoke calmly as he kept walking slowly towards me.

"Unbeatable." I laughed out loud. "You think you're some kind of god?"

"To you, I am. As of right now, I hold all the power in your world. I decide if you live or die. Your life is completely in my hands."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked as I moved the blade closer to my neck and made a small cut that immediately started leaking blood.

"Yes." Akir answered shortly.

"And why is th-" I was about to ask Akir a question but got interrupted.

"Then there are the ones who don't fight back," Akir continued his speech. "The ones who put the dagger to their throats. Those types of people can be separated into two categories: the ones who are bluffing and the ones who are not. Which one are you?" Akir finished his sentence and stopped 2 meters from me, looking down at me.

"You really like hearing your own voice, don't you? You're just a spoiled brat from Stalebridge. You think you're better than others because your parents are wealthy."

"My beliefs have nothing to do with wealth. And besides, I don't have parents. Unlike you, I've had to pave my own way. Also, your parents are wealthy, aren't they, so what makes you capable of trying to criticize others for that?"

"They're not really wealthy, but I've always had everything I wanted."

"Hah, right. Now, answer me. What type are you? The former or the latter? Well, maybe that's a pointless question. You're obviously the former."

"Nah, I'm the third type," I said and threw the dagger at Akir's chest, straight into where his heart was.

Disappointingly, when the dagger was about to hit, it just dematerialized.

Akir swept his hand over his chest a few times and then looked me in the eyes. "There is no third type."

He had cancelled the summons on his weapon when it was about to hit him. He even did it with no effort. It seemed like he had predicted it. I had been bluffing. I just couldn't bring myself to commit suicide.

"Tch. Well, what now? You just gonna kill me yourse—" I was about to ask when I was assaulted once again.

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'Ouch.' I thought as I was kicked across the room like a football. I hit the floor multiple times on my journey towards the white wall of the preparation room. After a while, I hit the wall with a loud thump.

I slid down the wall into a sitting position and struggled to breathe for a moment.

Then I let out a laugh and spit some blood out of my mouth. "You make no sense. What are you even doing this for?" I asked Akir who was again slowly walking towards me.

"Neither do you."

"What do you mean?"

"You could have killed your whole squad by yourself, so why didn't you?"

"How?"

"Simple, you could have manipulated the cutlass wielder to kill them with you, and then you could have killed him as well."

"Hah, that did cross my mind, but it was too risky."

"No, it wasn't. You're lying to yourself."

"Haha, you think you know everything, don't you?"

"I do. Including the fact that you spared those five idiots to keep company with you, so that you wouldn't get lonely."

"What are you talking about?" I asked in an amused manner.

"I'm telling the truth. You're afraid of being alone. You need people to constantly praise you to feel good about yourself because deep down you're an insecure, fragile, weak, pathetic child," Akir said as he arrived in front of me.

Again, he was looking down at me. Who did he think he was talking to?

I mustered up the courage to speak up. "Then you did it because you fear being with people, huh?"

"Hah, are you trying to turn my logic against me?" Akir asked, as if amused by the thinking of a small child. "I did it because it was the best thing to do. The people were getting killed by the monsters, making their evolution potential disappear, so I had to take that potential from them before before others did. It has nothing to do with childish reasons."

I opened my mouth and was about to spit out something. Anything that would have convinced me to believe I did things right but saw the corpses of my comrades in the background and shut my mouth. If I had made the right choice, I wouldn't have been in this situation.

"Come on now, say something. Entertain me for the rest of your pathetic life." Akir said as his expression distorted. He proceeded to wait for an answer that never came. "Come on," Akir said as he took me by the throat and lifted me up with his left hand.

My oxygen supply was cut off, but I didn't care enough to do anything.

"I thought you were stronger than this, Atlas," Akir said, throwing me onto the floor.

I hit the floor bluntly and started coughing uncontrollably. It was only after almost ten seconds that I was able to stop. But even then, I really had no more motivation.

That was until I processed what Akir had said just now. 'I thought you were stronger than this.'

I bit my teeth together so hard that I could hear as they grated against each other and chipped tiny bits and pieces off of each other.

I jumped to my feet despite the pain and prepared myself. Akir snorted as he watched me enter a painful fighting stance before doing the same.

Right now, we were probably the strongest humans ever.

I cried out as I rushed forward and threw a kick at Akir's head. He blocked it but didn't counter. A merciful act, perhaps, but one that led to an experience of a lifetime. As we exchanged attacks with one another, we shared a history.

Our strikes told a story. One of two boys growing up, getting stronger, and discovering the value of that strength. We had both trained our bodies to their maximum capabilities. Our techniques fit together like the components of a triad.

That was, until they didn't.

Akir ducked under a head kick of mine, but it wasn't a normal ducking movement. While he avoided my kick, he also turned his lowered body and performed a sweep kick.

I knew of such a kick being popular in karate but had thought it to be pretty useless because I never really saw one that seemed effective in any way. Akir's sweep kick was something else entirely, though. Fast, flowing, and precise. It was flawless.

It turned out I had been living a delusion for the past minute. Akir was just playing. Matching his style to mine in order to make the fight competitive.

I fell to the ground but was able to recover from the shock fairly quickly and attempted to get up. Then Akir's knee hit the side of my head.

After that, I felt a hazy sensation of a weight being placed on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Then there was an impact on my left cheek, and some teeth were knocked loose. It happened again and again.

As I was getting continuously hit, I began to wonder if this was how the people I beat up to satiate my hunger for violence felt. This feeling of worthlessness was the worst thing I had ever felt in my entire life. I couldn't feel sorry for myself, though, as I had inflicted this same pain on many others.

Akir had seen right through me. I was just a child, too spoiled to understand the struggles of others. I deserved this pain, but I still didn't want to die.

'What if I can redeem myself? If I beg, will Akir show mercy?' I contemplated in a dream-like state of mind that was getting interrupted every few seconds.

I couldn't think straight, but I didn't really need to. Right now, I am serving the purpose of a punching bag. Akir and I didn't know much about each other. We hadn't even spoken to each other before this day. The winner of this fight was irrelevant when it came to the conclusion. In any case, the winner would have done this to the loser. That was the type of animal we were. We saw everything weaker than us as just something we could control or take our anger out on. There was nothing good in this world for people like us besides a sick, twisted feeling of pleasure that faded before long, leaving us to crash down into a land of emptiness.

In a sense, I was happy that I would be leaving this place this soon because the one who would stay would surely experience an insurmountable amount of suffering, leading to his inevitable, miserable death.

And as for that question about mercy, this wasn't like one of those tournaments. There were no rules. There was no sportsmanship. No hugging after a bloody battle. Only life and death. Just suffering and darkness.

And so, the answer was clear.

A resounding "hell no".