OLD-WORLD EXTRA

Chapter 21: Drunk II

The man's eyes widened in alarm as he swiftly evaded the attack, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow.

The sound of the knife slicing through the air echoed throughout the tense atmosphere.

Undeterred, Emir smoothly transitioned into a series of rapid slashes, aiming for his opponent's vulnerable limbs.

His knife whirled through the air, and the man danced on the edge of its danger, his instincts, and reflexes pushed to their limits as he deflected each strike with his blade.

The clash of metal reverberated through the space as Emir's knife met the man's in a symphony of sparks.

Emir aimed for precision, seeking to exploit any weakness in his opponent's defense, knowing that he couldn't overpower his adversary.

His strikes came from all angles, requiring the man to constantly shift and adapt to the onslaught.

His movements were swift as he maintained a predatory focus, always closing in the distance between them, never giving the man a chance to regroup, not a single moment of respite.

And the assassin, realizing the urgency of the situation, fought back with a mix of skill and desperation.

He constantly sidestepped, narrowly evading Emir's slashes, and retaliated with his swift counterattacks.

Emir's determination remained unshaken as he incorporated feints and subtle misdirections into his relentless assault. The sourc𝗲 of this content nov(𝒆l)bi((n))

His movements were fluid, seamlessly transitioning between offense and defense, always one step ahead of his opponent, as he initiated another attack after a subtle feint, launching a powerful overhead swing aimed at his adversary's head.

But his opponent was quick to react, raising his knife in a swift parry and deflecting Emir's strike with obvious experience.

Emir used that as momentum and launched another attack.

The clash of metal reverberated through the air as the two blades collided harder than ever before, their forces momentarily locked in a battle of strength.

'Shit!'

Emir, recognizing the need to break free, swiftly retracted his arm, evading further confrontation.

In a seamless motion, he transitioned into his usual quick slashes and lunges.

Yet, time and again, the man in front of him proved to be a formidable adversary, never letting an attack go through.

'How about this then?' Emir thought as he feigned a low stab, attempting to draw his opponent off balance, but his opponent saw through the ruse and sidestepped, narrowly evading the attack.

Emir then lunged forward with a powerful thrust, aiming for his opponent's chest, but his opponent deftly sidestepped, causing the blade to miss its mark by mere inches.

The tempo of their duel escalated, with the intensity of their clash increasing with each passing moment.

It was a dance of blades, their movements almost becoming a blur, hypnotic in a way, as they moved with incredible speed and agility.

As the fight wore on, Emir's frustration grew, but he refused to let it cloud his judgment.

He further adjusted his timing, angles, and the moments where he slowed down time, seeking the perfect opportunity to break through his opponent's defenses.

But his enemy remained steadfast as if they were met with a resolute wall of steel.

The clash had reached a point of equilibrium, a true battle of skill where neither combatant could gain the upper hand.

But, the intense and constant exchange of blows had taken its toll on both fighters.

The battle had now become a test of endurance and mental fortitude, as both fighters refused to yield.

Emir's rapid onslaught had tested his opponent's skill and stamina to their limits.

The cumulative effect of his relentless assault began to wear down the man's defenses, leaving him more vulnerable with each passing moment.

However, Emir couldn't ignore the toll the battle had taken on him as well.

Fatigue gnawed at his muscles, attempting to slow his movements and dull his reflexes.

It was long since he stopped using his TDS ability, which didn't help him much, as although he could see his opponent's moves, his body wasn't fast enough to counter them.

He knew that his window of opportunity was closing, and he needed to find a breakthrough before his energy waned.

Emir's frustration simmered further beneath the surface, but once again, he refused to let it consume him.

He knew that a single moment of weakness could cost him everything.

Determined to break through the impasse, he summoned every ounce of focus and skill he possessed as he searched for any weakness, any lapse in his opponent's defense that he could exploit.

And then, in a split-second decision, Emir astutely shifted his strategy, acutely aware that with his opponent's stamina waning, his decision-making would be affected.

Emir feinted a wide, powerful strike that would leave him vulnerable, drawing his opponent's attention towards his upper body.

And as his opponent instinctively parried, he swiftly changed his attack trajectory, redirecting his blade towards a lower, unguarded opening.

The element of surprise worked in Emir's favor.

His knife found its mark, grazing his opponent's lower body with a swift and decisive strike.

The man staggered back, momentarily thrown off balance by the unexpected turn of events.

'Got you now!'

With renewed vigor, Emir seized the opportunity.

He unleashed a flurry of strikes, capitalizing on his opponent's temporary vulnerability.

His blade danced through the air, finding its mark, as blow after blow rained down upon his opponent, overwhelming him with a relentless assault.

The man, reeling from each strike, struggled to defend himself.

His parries became desperate, his movements increasingly erratic.

But despite his valiant efforts, the cumulative effect of Emir's onslaught proved too much to bear.

And in a final surge of determination, Emir screamed:

"FUCK YOU!"

As he lunged at him one last time, his knife eventually found its mark, plunging deep into his adversary's lungs.

The man staggered backward, a mixture of shock and defeat etched across his face.

His grip on his knife loosened, and it clattered to the ground.

Emir pulled out his knife and kicked the man's chest, as he did to him.

The man fell to the ground hard, causing more blood to continue to flow out of his body, as his face slowly lost its color.

In a stutter, he voiced out, "S-so….it's true…"

Emir eyed him while breathing heavily, "What is? Who put you up to this?"

The man's eyes looked at him, his head unmoving.

"Y-you've made a big mistake..." He coughed out blood, struggling to breathe.

"You should've died, they-"

He couldn't continue talking, as blood began to foam at his mouth, choking him.

Emir silently walked to the dying man and raised his right foot high above his neck.

Crunch!

A sickening sound resounded, as his feet landed heavily on his enemy, crushing his throat.

He didn't care for his warning, whether it was true or not, he had bigger problems to deal with.

Sighing, Emir looked down at his weapon, now coated with the man's blood, and then up at the sky, feeling both relieved and victorious.

"You should've just answered my question... I would've asked you why me, but you were dying already, and yes, I shouldn't have killed you so quickly, it wasn't a smart idea, I might've even been able to save your life. However, I don't like people threatening me so I'm sorry, and well…. You wouldn't have answered anyway so it doesn't matter."

He crouched next to the dead body and continued,

"All I can do is cut off your head and give it to the association, so don't blame me for doing this, okay?" He said, in between breaths.

He pulled the man's hair back, preparing to cut his head as cleanly as possible.

With a shaking hand, he sliced off the man's head in a single swing and then wrapped it in the robes he took off from his headless body.

Emir knew that the Hunter Association would want to extract any information they could from his memories, so it was important to preserve the head as best as he could.

As he made his way to the association, he wondered who the man was and why he had attacked him.

'Was he a rogue hunter, or was he working for someone else? And if so, who?'

Those questions swirled around in his head as he walked through the empty streets, his heart still racing from the fight.

Minutes later, he reached the building and handed over the head to the receptionist.

She looked at him with a mixture of horror and respect, and he could tell that she knew exactly what he had been through.

"Thank you for your service, and if you require healing, please head to the medical center." She said quietly before turning and disappearing into the back rooms of the building.

Emir headed towards the medical center and paid for five old-world medical boxes, costing him 100,000 UC.

He swallowed down a few pills and then walked out of the building, heading back home.

But just as stepped into the open streets, he suddenly heard a loud noise coming from an alleyway.

He drew his knife and cautiously made his way towards the sound.

As Emir turned the corner, he was surprised to find a young boy, no more than fourteen years old, cowering in fear.

"Please don't hurt me." He said, tears streaming down his face.

Emir lowered his knife and approached him slowly.

"It's okay," he said softly.

"What's wrong?"

But instead of answering, the boy lunged at him with a knife, aiming straight at his gut.