“And what will you do if I don’t?” the young man sneered, defiance blazing in his eyes.

“I’ll have no choice but to kill you,” I replied, my tone as frigid as ever. “So, what will it be? Die now, or live?” I asked, with a calmness that seemed to mock him.

Suddenly, he lunged at me. In that instant, something bizarre happened. The world seemed to slow down, and I could see everything—his velocity, the force behind his strike, the precise angle of his sword—all laid out before me like a twisted, mathematical prophecy.

Snapping back to reality, I dodged his attack effortlessly. He barely gave me a moment to catch my breath before swinging at me again, the tip of his blade slicing into my arm. Before he could land another blow, I retaliated, my own blade cutting across his chest—not enough to kill, but more than enough to send him a warning. Yet, instead of retreating, he snarled like a cornered beast, eyes blazing with unbridled rage.

He charged at me again, and this time, I deflected his attack with ease, striking him back with brutal precision. His eyes burned with murderous intent, as if he was ready to tear me apart right there and then. And then it happened—the impossible. The rune on his sword began to glow, a brilliant blue hue spreading across the blade.

My heart sank. “I-impossible,” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. The sword was awakening, but why now?

And then, like a cruel joke, it hit me. This had to be the original wielder of the sword from my story. Damn it! Of all the times, why now?

As the sword blazed with eerie light, the young man gritted his teeth, a wicked grin twisting his features. It was the kind of smile that would make even the bravest warrior hesitate. And I knew why. The sword had awakened, and with it, all the power it held. This wasn’t just any blade—it doubled the wielder’s stats, making even the weakest person a force to be reckoned with. And this young man? He was already dangerous. Now, his power was amplified beyond belief.

Damn my luck! I cursed inwardly. Why the hell would something like that exist? Then, as if to mock me further, I remembered: it was my creation. A weapon forged by my own hand in this twisted narrative. Why the hell had I made something so devastating?

He lunged at me again, and I barely managed to dodge. His movements were a blur, appearing and disappearing like a phantom. His strength, his speed—it was all enhanced beyond measure. And then, out of nowhere, he struck, his blade slicing deep into my shoulder, nearly severing my arm entirely.

“Fucking hell!” I snarled through clenched teeth, pain radiating through my body like fire.

The young man sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “What happened to killing me? Looks like you’re the one on death’s doorstep.”

“Don’t underestimate me, you little shit,” I growled, raising my sword with a defiant glare.

He scoffed, contempt in his gaze. “I almost took your arm off, and you still won’t back down? Fine, have it your way. Just remember, you chose this.”

He vanished, reappearing right in front of me, his sword swinging down with a speed that made my breath hitch. I felt the cold steel bite into my flesh, and before I could react, my arm was gone, severed cleanly from my body. Agony ripped through me, and I screamed, the pain almost unbearable.

“SHIT! SHIT!” I howled, clutching the bloody stump, the world spinning around me. If I didn’t end this now, I was done for. I pointed my sword at him, focusing every ounce of willpower I had left. With a roar, I charged at him. He dodged, his movements fluid and precise, and his blade lashed out again. But this time, I was ready.

I predicted his move, narrowly avoiding his strike as his sword buried itself in the ground. For a heartbeat, he was vulnerable. And that was all I needed.

In one swift, savage motion, I brought my sword down on his neck. The blade dug in, but didn’t cut through completely. He screamed, his eyes wide with shock and fury. I tightened my grip, blood and sweat stinging my eyes. With a final, desperate effort, I swung again, harder this time.

The blade sliced through, his head severed cleanly from his body. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc as his body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

I stumbled back, clutching the stump of my arm, the world around me blurring and tilting. I had done it. I had won. But as I stood there, blood dripping from my wounds, pain gnawing at the edges of my consciousness, I couldn’t help but wonder: what kind of victory was this, when the cost was so damn high? 

Everyone in the store was looking at me like I was prey, as if they could easily knock me off this mortal coil, especially after seeing the effect of the sword. Shit, I cursed. I had completely forgotten that there were other people here. Now they knew exactly why we were fighting over it. 

A man rushed toward the sword, but he was ruthlessly stabbed in the back by another spectator, who had the same greedy look as everyone else. Then all hell broke loose. Before anyone else could grab the sword, I snatched it and dashed out of the store. 

Then I heard it: “GET HIM!” A stampede of people chased me down. I turned into an alley, desperately searching for a place to hide. My heart pounded as I grabbed a pearl from my pocket, popping it into my mouth. I sat down and concentrated, letting my body absorb the pearl entirely. 

Then it happened. The bleeding from my stump stopped, and slowly, my severed arm began to regrow. But the process was excruciating, as if someone were twisting a sword in my gut while choking me with a scorching hot iron noose. I gritted my teeth, enduring the agony as my arm regenerated inch by inch.

Finally, my arm was fully restored. I flexed my fingers, relief washing over me, but I knew I wasn’t out of danger yet. I needed supplies, and fast.