The Art of Divide and Conquer

The forest seemed alive with the pounding footsteps of three determined students, their breathing heavy as they sprinted through the underbrush. Joon-ho and Hyun-ae flanked each other instinctively, their assassin instincts guiding their movements, while Tae-young trailed slightly behind, his pride fueling his resolve to catch up.

Ahead, Instructor Dong-soo moved like a shadow, his steps silent yet swift as he wove through the thick trees. He could feel their persistence, the weight of their determination pressing closer. But a small smile played on his lips. This was the moment he thrived on—the edge of a hunt, where every decision was a gamble between brilliance and disaster.

"They're getting bolder," Instructor Dong-soo muttered to himself, adjusting his pace. "Time to remind them what it means to truly think like an assassin."

The key to survival wasn't just running—it was control. He needed to lead them, dictate the terms of the chase, and most importantly, sow chaos. But doing so required finesse. He had declared he wouldn't run away, and his pride as an instructor demanded he honor his word. If this was a fight to the finish, then he would deliver one they would never forget.

Suddenly, he pivoted sharply, cutting through a dense patch of undergrowth. His eyes darted to the terrain ahead, quickly analyzing every slope, tree, and obstacle. He needed a natural funnel, a point where the terrain would split them up.

"There," he whispered, spotting a narrow pass framed by two large boulders. "Perfect."

Behind him, Joon-ho caught the faint rustle of movement and signalled to Hyun-ae.

"He's cutting through!" he hissed, picking up his pace.

Hyun-ae nodded, her sharp eyes catching the faint glimmer of Instructor Dong-soo's blade in the distance.

"Stay close," she replied. "We can't let him disappear again."

Tae-young, a few meters behind, clenched his jaw in frustration.

"Stay close?" he muttered under his breath. "Don't act like you're in charge."

His pride was bruised, but he wasn't about to let it slow him down.

As they approached the narrow pass, Instructor Dong-soo slowed ever so slightly, just enough for them to catch a glimpse of him before he vanished into the bottleneck. It was a calculated move—a lure to draw them into his web.

Joon-ho and Hyun-ae darted into the pass without hesitation, their focus singular. Tae-young hesitated for a fraction of a second, his instincts nagging at him. Something didn't feel right.

And then it happened. Instructor Dong-soo's voice echoed through their comms, calm and mocking.

"One mistake at a time, my dear students. You're making this too easy."

Hyun-ae's eyes darted around, her fingers tightening on her daggers.

"It's a trap," she whispered.

"Too late for that now," Joon-ho cursed under his breath.

Just as the pass narrowed further, Instructor Dong-soo reappeared, this time directly in their path. His blades glinted in the dim light, and his stance exuded confidence.

Tae-young, arriving at the entrance to the pass, stopped abruptly. From his vantage point, he could see Instructor Dong-soo facing off against the other two, his presence commanding despite the odds. Tae-young gritted his teeth. "Why does he look so relaxed?"

Instructor Dong-soo's strategy was already in motion. The pass forced the students into a single-file line, nullifying their ability to work as a cohesive unit. Joon-ho and Hyun-ae were forced to engage him head-on, while Tae-young was left to watch from the back, unable to close the distance without pushing past them.

The instructor didn't waste a second. He lunged forward, his movements fluid and precise. His blades danced as he deflected Hyun-ae's attack with a parry and spun to dodge Joon-ho's counterstrike.

"Your timing is sloppy," he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. "And your positioning? Amateurish at best."

Joon-ho growled in frustration, his dagger missing its mark by a hair as Instructor Dong-soo sidestepped with ease.

"Stop lecturing and fight!"

"Oh, I am fighting. You're just not keeping up," Instructor Dong-soo smirked.

Hyun-ae darted in from the side, aiming for Instructor Dong-soo's flank. But the instructor anticipated her movement, using the narrow terrain to his advantage. With a swift kick, he sent a loose rock skidding under her foot, throwing off her balance just enough for him to evade her strike effortlessly.

Behind them, Tae-young fumed. He could see the flaws in their coordination, the openings Instructor Dong-soo was exploiting with surgical precision. But he was powerless to intervene. The pass was too tight, and any attempt to push through would only make things worse.

Instructor Dong-soo, meanwhile, was already planning his next move. The terrain had served its purpose, splitting the students just enough to keep them from overwhelming him. Now, he just needed to capitalize on their frustration.

He took a deliberate step back, his posture relaxing as if to invite them forward.

"Come now," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Surely the best in Korea can do better than this?"

The taunt landed exactly as he intended. Joon-ho surged forward, his frustration boiling over. Hyun-ae followed, her movements more cautious but no less determined.

"Perfect," Instructor Dong-soo's smirk widened.

Instructor Dong-soo stood tall, his smirk unwavering as he toyed with his students. Each attack they launched was masterfully countered, each strategy dismantled before it could take root. Yet, beneath his confident façade, he felt a strange satisfaction, almost a sense of complacency, as if the battle was nothing more than a foregone conclusion.

"They're improving," he thought, brushing off a narrowly dodged dagger from Hyun-ae. "But it's nothing I can't handle. Every move they make is still predictable."

The reality, however, was far more nuanced. His students weren't just improving; they were learning. Joon-ho's relentless focus on timing, Hyun-ae's improved positioning, and even Tae-young's measured restraint—each of them was adapting, piecing together the gaps in their approach with every clash. Yet, Instructor Dong-soo's confidence blinded him to the shifting tides.

As Hyun-ae darted in low, Instructor Dong-soo sidestepped her strike, smirking.

"Too slow," he quipped, raising his blade to parry Joon-ho's follow-up attack. "And too obvious."

His words dripped with arrogance, a taunt meant to provoke frustration.

Joon-ho, however, didn't bite. Instead of committing fully, he feinted left, forcing Instructor Dong-soo to pivot. That split-second adjustment gave Hyun-ae the window she needed to recover and press her assault from the other side.

Instructor Dong-soo parried her strike with ease, but something nagged at him—a subtle shift in the rhythm of their attacks. They weren't just throwing random strikes anymore. There was coordination, a flow he hadn't seen before.

"Coincidence," he muttered under his breath, deflecting another blow. "They're not capable of that level of synergy."

But the evidence mounted with every exchange. Tae-young's strikes came faster, more precise, forcing Instructor Dong-soo to adjust his footing. Joon-ho's feints became sharper, baiting reactions that weren't there before. Even Hyun-ae, often the most cautious of the three, pressed her advantage with uncharacteristic boldness.

And then it happened.

Amidst the chaos, Joon-ho lunged with an overhead strike, drawing Instructor Dong-soo's attention. He raised his blade to block, confident in his ability to counter. But as the two swords clashed, he felt a sharp, unexpected impact from his left side.

Instructor Dong-soo's eyes widened in shock as a searing pain shot through his body. He looked down to see Hyun-ae's blade slicing cleanly through his left arm.

Time seemed to slow as the severed limb fell away, dissolving into black pixels before it hit the ground. For a moment, the forest fell silent, the students frozen in place as they registered what had just happened.

"What?" Instructor Dong-soo muttered, staggering back. His left arm—gone.

The system chimed in his earpiece, a clinical voice confirming his status.

[Injury sustained. Functionality compromised. The player is still active.]

He stared at the stump where his arm used to be, now a jagged edge of black pixels. There was no blood, no pain—just the stark reminder that he was no longer invincible.

The students didn't wait for him to recover. Joon-ho surged forward, his blade flashing as he aimed for Instructor Dong-soo's exposed side. The instructor barely managed to parry, his one remaining arm straining to keep up with the relentless assault.

"They've learned," he realized, his mind racing. "They're not just reacting—they're anticipating."

It wasn't just their skills that had improved. They were working together now, their attacks synchronized in a way that left no room for error. And for the first time in years, Instructor Dong-soo felt the creeping edge of vulnerability.

Tae-young, noticing the opening created by Joon-ho and Hyun-ae, moved in for the kill. His blade came down in a powerful arc, aimed straight at Instructor Dong-soo's remaining arm.

But Instructor Dong-soo wasn't about to let himself be taken down so easily. With a burst of energy, he activated Send, teleporting a few meters away just as Tae-young's strike sliced through empty air.

The three students regrouped, their eyes locking onto their instructor. There was no taunting, no smug remarks—only cold, calculated determination.

Instructor Dong-soo exhaled, his smirk returning despite the gravity of the situation.

"Impressive," he said, his voice steady. "But don't think for a second that this means you've won."

In truth, he knew he was at a disadvantage. Alone, outnumbered, and down an arm, his options were limited. But that didn't mean he was out of the fight.

"They've forced my hand," he thought, tightening his grip on his blade. "Time to remind them why I'm still their instructor."

As the students closed in, Instructor Dong-soo's mind raced through potential strategies. He needed to divide them again and exploit their weaknesses. But doing so without looking like he was retreating would require finesse.

"Come on, Dong-soo," he muttered to himself. "Think. You've been in worse situations than this."

And then, an idea sparked. He glanced around the forest, noting the uneven terrain and dense foliage. The environment was still his ally, and if he played his cards right, he could turn their newfound coordination against them.

The students advanced cautiously, their movements deliberate. They knew better than to underestimate Instructor Dong-soo, even in his compromised state.

"All right," Instructor Dong-soo said, raising his blade. "Let's see if you can handle what's coming next."

With a sudden burst of speed, he lunged at Joon-ho, forcing the assassin to block. But instead of following through, Instructor Dong-soo redirected his momentum, spinning toward Hyun-ae and striking at her exposed flank.

She barely managed to dodge, but the attack disrupted their formation, creating just enough chaos for Instructor Dong-soo to slip through their defences.

Tae-young cursed, charging after him.

"You're not getting away this time!"

Instructor Dong-soo smirked, his mind already two steps ahead. The fight was far from over, and he wasn't about to let his students claim victory so easily.

"Let's see how well you've learned," he thought, disappearing into the shadows once more.