Kain's notoriety continued to grow, whispers of the one-armed killer spreading like wildfire. From the death of the Silver Fang bandits to the slaughter of the elf, his name had become synonymous with bloodshed. No one knew his true story, only the carnage he left in his wake. Some called him the One-Armed Demon, others the One-Armed Swordsman, but regardless of the name, the terror he instilled was real.
Kain didn't care for the titles. His only focus was survival, and that meant dealing with anything—or anyone—that got in his way.
As Kain journeyed through the dense forest, a small group of adventurers came into view. They seemed harmless at first: a dwarf with an axe, a fire mage, and a swordsman who appeared to be their leader. Kain watched them from the shadows, his eyes narrowed, calculating every movement. The adventurers had a cart with them, packed with supplies, and seemed to be traveling with no particular urgency.
But something in Kain's gut told him that this group would become important. Maybe it was the way they carried themselves, their readiness for anything. He couldn't help but study them, hidden behind a thicket of trees and brush.
The mage, with his fiery temper, was the first to notice Kain. His eyes flicked in the direction of the rustling leaves. Without warning, a fireball shot from his hands, soaring toward Kain's hiding spot. Kain barely dodged, rolling to the side as the fireball exploded against the trees, setting them ablaze.
The adventurers immediately stopped, freezing as they saw Kain emerge from the smoke. The swordsman stepped forward, his voice calm but authoritative. "Who are you?" he demanded, gripping his sword. "Why are you following us?"
Kain stood motionless, the tension rising in the air. For a moment, he said nothing, his cold, emotionless eyes locking with the swordsman. He had no interest in fighting. Yet, this was not a decision he would make lightly. These adventurers could be a danger to him—he had to act fast.
"I don't want to fight," Kain finally spoke, his voice flat, almost hollow.
But the leader wasn't convinced. He took a step forward, still holding his sword. Kain knew he couldn't hesitate. He acted in a blink of an eye, throwing a dagger with pinpoint accuracy at the swordsman. The leader's eyes widened, but the dwarf quickly stepped in, his axe raised to block the attack.
"Don't be fooled by this one-armed brat!" the dwarf shouted.
The mage didn't hesitate either. He raised both hands, chanting a spell. A ball of fire erupted from his palms, blazing toward Kain. Kain gritted his teeth, calculating the trajectory of the attack. With a swift movement, he dodged the fireball, rolling into the shadows of the forest.
The adventurers were now on high alert, unsure of what to do. They all had the same thought: How could a one-armed brat be so fast? Kain's movements were impossible to follow, like a shadow slipping through the trees.
But the mage had made a fatal mistake—his back was exposed. Kain saw the opening, and like a predator, he moved. He rushed forward, drawing his sword, but before he could land the strike, the leader reacted. With a fast slash, the swordsman's blade cut through the air, slashing Kain across the chest. Kain staggered back, the wound burning with pain.
His vision blurred.
In that moment, Kain found himself surrounded by darkness. His mind was blank, but outside, his eyes—those emotionless eyes—stared coldly at the adventurers. They felt the fear in their bones as they saw him standing there, unmoving. It was as if he was no longer human, but something much darker.
The leader hesitated, his will faltering for the first time.
Kain had taken their fear and made it his own. His instincts kicked in.
He copied the leader's technique—the Fast Slash Sword—a move that had been so quick, so precise, that it had nearly killed him. Now, Kain wielded it like his own. He moved with incredible speed, slashing the mage down in an instant, the fire mage unable to react in time.
With deadly accuracy, Kain used his Shadow Fang Style, attacking all the vital points on the mage's body. The mage collapsed, paralyzed, gasping for breath.
The dwarf, filled with rage, charged at Kain, using a skill that enhanced his physical abilities temporarily. His axe swung down in a powerful arc, but Kain was already ahead. Using the mage's body as a shield, Kain blocked the attack and swiftly struck the dwarf's vital points, killing him in one fatal blow.
Kain kicked their bodies aside, standing tall, but his body trembled from exhaustion. His blade was stained with blood, and the stench of death filled the air.
His gaze then turned to the swordsman, the leader of this group. The leader had lost all will to fight, his body shaking as he stared at Kain, terror in his eyes.
Kain stepped forward slowly, his steps heavy, his presence suffocating. The swordsman couldn't move, couldn't lift his sword. He was defeated, not by the blade, but by fear itself.
As Kain closed the distance between them, the leader's head suddenly exploded in a burst of blood and bone. The sound echoed through the forest, and the head flew high into the air, disappearing into the trees.
Kain, now weak and drained from the fight, collapsed to his knees. His broken sword fell from his hand. He was exhausted, his body screaming for rest. He looked at the shattered blade, the weapon that had served him in battle.
Then, as his vision blurred further, Kain's body gave out, and he collapsed completely into the dirt. His blood, the blood of his enemies and his own, stained the ground.
To be continued...