Chapter 2: Last Stand in the Depths
The silence in the underground cavern stretched like a taut wire, broken only by the steady drip of water from the shadowed ceiling above. Yush stood facing the four assassins, his pale face a mask of grim determination despite the blood that continued to seep from his wounds.
His hand moved to his spatial ring, and in one fluid motion, he drew forth a gleaming sword. The blade caught what little light filtered down from above, casting dancing reflections on the cavern walls.
"If I'm going down," Yush declared, his voice echoing in the vast chamber, "I'm taking at least one of you with me."
Without hesitation, he charged forward.
The assassins spread out with practiced precision, their movements synchronized after years of working together. Assassin 4, their de facto leader in this underground tomb, let out a cold laugh.
"I suppose that illusion spell drained the last of your mana," he sneered, twirling his dagger with casual menace. "Do you even know how to wield that sword, Young Master? Or is it just another pretty ornament from daddy's collection?"
Two assassins moved as one, launching their attack simultaneously. One dove low, aiming his blade at Yush's already wounded thigh, while the other leaped high, his dagger seeking the young Hussein's throat.
Yush's response was swift but desperate. He jumped, his wounded leg screaming in protest as he evaded the low strike. At the same time, he brought his sword up in a desperate parry, deflecting the dagger aimed at his head. The clash of metal on metal rang through the cavern like a bell.
But the assassins' coordination was flawless. Even as Yush dealt with the first two attacks, Assassin 6 was already in motion, his blade cutting through the air toward Yush's heart with lethal precision.
Too fast! Yush's eyes widened as he realized the trap. He threw himself backward, the dagger missing his heart by mere inches. The razor-sharp edge sliced through his shirt, drawing a thin line of blood across his chest.
He landed hard, his wounded thigh buckling, but there was no time to recover. The fourth assassin was already behind him, moving like a shadow. Yush sensed the attack more than saw it and threw himself into a desperate backflip, his body moving on pure instinct.
Almost. Almost fast enough.
The dagger caught him across the triceps, opening a deep gash that sent fresh blood cascading down his arm. Yush landed in a crouch, breathing heavily, his vision blurring at the edges.
I can't keep this up, he realized. They're too coordinated, too experienced. And I'm already half-dead.
The assassins circled him like wolves, their movements patient and predatory. They knew they had him. It was just a matter of time.
But Yush Hussein had not survived this long by accepting defeat easily. His hand moved to his spatial ring once more, this time withdrawing a small crystal vial filled with liquid that seemed to glow with its own inner fire.
"A healing potion won't save you now," Assassin 5 taunted. "You're bleeding from too many wounds."
Yush looked at the vial, then at the assassins surrounding him. His father's voice echoed in his memory: "Sometimes, Young Master, victory requires sacrifice. The question is: what are you willing to lose to win?"
Taking a deep breath, Yush uncorked the vial and downed its contents in one desperate gulp.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. His aura, which had been flickering weakly around him like a dying candle, suddenly blazed to life. The power of a sword apprentice was consumed by something far greater—the burning, dangerous strength of a sword warrior.
"What kind of potion did he take?" Assassin 7 exclaimed, his voice cracking with shock. "His aura just spiked to that of a sword warrior! It's on par with the group leader's!"
Assassin 4's eyes narrowed as he studied Yush's transformation. The young man stood straighter now, his sword held with new confidence, but there was something wrong with the picture. The glow around him was too bright, too intense. It reminded him of a candle burning at both ends.
"Are you stupid?" he snapped at his companion. "Whatever he took is burning his life force to boost his power. He won't last long. We just need to wear him down and let his own magic kill him."
But even as he spoke, Assassin 4 felt a chill run down his spine. The wounded boy who had been stumbling moments before now radiated an aura of deadly intent that made the very air in the cavern feel heavy and oppressive.
The four assassins attacked from all directions, their coordination perfect, their intent murderous. But they were no longer facing the same desperate, wounded boy they had cornered minutes before.
I can't take them all at once, Yush thought, his enhanced senses tracking each assassin's movement with crystalline clarity. But I don't need to. I'll take them down one by one.
As the assassins closed in, Yush made his choice. Instead of trying to defend from their coordinated assault, he launched himself toward Assassin 7, his sword cutting through the air in a silver arc.
The assassin tried to block, bringing his dagger up to intercept the blade, but Yush's enhanced strength overwhelmed his defense. The sword sliced clean through the assassin's shoulder, severing his arm in a spray of blood and bone.
Assassin 7's scream echoed through the cavern as he stumbled backward, clutching the stump where his arm had been. Yush pressed his advantage, raising his sword for the killing blow, when Assassin 5's blade slashed across his elbow.
The wound was shallow but enough to disrupt his attack. The other assassins quickly retreated, pulling their injured comrade back while maintaining their defensive formation.
Damn their teamwork, Yush thought as he watched them regroup. Even with his enhanced power, their years of coordination were working against him. They gave him no opening, no chance to isolate another target.
The one-armed assassin writhed in agony, blood gushing from his wound and pooling on the cavern floor. But his remaining companions pressed their attack relentlessly, giving Yush no time to capitalize on their reduced numbers.
Their coordination was flawless, honed by countless missions together. One would attack high while another went low. When Yush moved to counter one, another would strike from his blind spot. Despite his newly heightened aura, Yush found himself constantly on the defensive.
Power without control is just destruction, his father had once told him. The rapid increase in his abilities meant little if he couldn't match their tactical expertise.
Suddenly, Yush broke away from the melee, sprinting toward the narrow tunnel that led out of the cavern. The assassins, realizing his intention to escape, abandoned their careful formation and rushed after him.
Perfect, Yush thought as he heard their footsteps pounding behind him. Come to me.
Assassin 6, the fastest of the remaining three, caught up first. His dagger thrust forward, aimed at Yush's back, when the young Hussein suddenly spun around.
The assassin's eyes widened in shock as he realized he had been baited. His momentum carried him forward, directly onto Yush's waiting blade. The sword punched through his heart with a wet sound, the tip emerging from his back in a spray of crimson.
"Impossible," the assassin whispered, looking down at the steel protruding from his chest. His attempt to block had been futile—Yush's enhanced strength had simply overpowered his defense.
His comrades could only watch in horror as he collapsed, lifeless, at Yush's feet.
Two down. Two to go.
Yush yanked his sword free and charged at the injured, one-armed assassin. The man was weakened, vulnerable—an easy target. But the remaining able-bodied assassin stepped protectively in front of his wounded comrade, his daggers weaving a defensive pattern in the air.
Just as Yush was about to engage them, he staggered. A violent coughing fit seized him, and blood sprayed from his lips to splatter on the cavern floor. The life-burning potion was exacting its price.
Now's our chance! The two remaining assassins saw the opening and dashed forward, their blades seeking Yush's vitals.
They were so focused on their wounded prey that they never saw the trap closing around them.
"Sword Art of Death: First Form," Yush whispered, his voice barely audible in the cavern's depths.
The assassins were so close they could taste victory, their daggers inches from Yush's throat, when the world seemed to slow around them. There was a flash of silver, a sound like silk being torn, and then...
Their heads rolled off their shoulders, severed so cleanly that for a moment, their bodies continued moving forward before collapsing in boneless heaps.
Yush stood among the carnage, his sword dripping crimson, his breathing labored. His father's teachings echoed in his mind: "Let others come to you; use bait if necessary." He had used himself as bait, allowing them to believe he was helpless, and they had fallen for it completely.
Three down, he thought, swaying on his feet. One to go.
A cold sensation pressed against his neck—the kiss of a dagger's edge.
"I never imagined you'd learn a sword art," came a voice from behind him, rough with pain and loss of blood. "Especially while focusing on magic. Your reputation said you were just a spoiled noble's son who played at being a mage."
It was the one-armed assassin, Assassin 7, somehow still standing despite his grievous wound. His remaining hand held a dagger steady against Yush's throat, though Yush could feel the tremor in the man's grip.
"But it doesn't matter now," the assassin continued, his breath hot against Yush's ear. "You're finished. All that power, all that skill, and you're going to die with a slit throat like any common—"
His words died in a gurgle of blood. He looked down in shock to see Yush's sword protruding from his own stomach, the blade having punched clean through his body.
But the same blade had also pierced Yush's stomach. The young Hussein had driven his sword backward through his own body to reach his enemy.
"You're insane," the assassin gasped, blood pouring from his mouth. "To kill me, you pierced your own stomach."
Yush's voice was growing weak, but there was a note of grim satisfaction in it. "It doesn't matter. I burned my life force into aura. I was going to die anyway."
They stood there for a moment, connected by steel and mutual destruction, two warriors who had pushed themselves beyond the limits of human endurance.
"Can you at least tell me," Yush asked, his voice barely a whisper, "who ordered my death?"
The assassin's eyes were glazing over, but he managed to speak. "I don't know... The group leader, Patrick, should know. He's the one who... who took the contract..."
With those words, the assassin closed his eyes and embraced death, his body sliding off Yush's sword to crumple on the cavern floor.
"I see..." Yush murmured, looking around at the four corpses that littered the underground chamber. His legs finally gave out, and he collapsed beside his fallen enemies, his own blood mixing with theirs on the ancient stone.
The cavern fell silent once more, save for the eternal dripping of water from above. In the darkness, the heir to the Hussein legacy closed his eyes, his strength finally, completely spent.
But even in defeat, he had won a pyrrhic victory. Four professional assassins would never leave this cave. The question now was whether anyone would ever find their bodies—or his—in this hidden tomb beneath the Bosque Forest.
Above, Patrick and his remaining men waited at the forest's exit, unaware that their carefully laid plans had just crumbled to dust in the depths below.