The One-Armed Predator

Instructor Dong-soo stood amidst the dense forest, his one remaining hand gripping his blade tightly. His calm demeanour belied the storm brewing inside him. The odds were stacked against him: three skilled students, each bringing their unique abilities to bear, and now his missing arm tipping the balance further. Despite this, he took a deep breath, his mind honing in on the fight ahead.

The students didn't wait. Joon-ho disappeared into the shadows, reappearing with a sudden lunge at Instructor Dong-soo's left flank. His dagger aimed true, the strike silent and swift.

Instructor Dong-soo reacted instantly, his blade moving like a striking serpent to deflect the attack. The clash of steel echoed briefly before Joon-ho retreated, his feet skidding across the ground.

Hyun-ae darted in next, her twin daggers flashing as she struck low, aiming for Instructor Dong-soo's legs. He sidestepped her assault with fluid grace, pivoting sharply to deliver a counterstrike. She barely avoided the blade, rolling away just as it nicked the edge of her sleeve.

Tae-young followed immediately, charging straight at Instructor Dong-soo with his heavier sword in a horizontal arc that could cleave through anything in its path.

Instructor Dong-soo braced himself, his blade meeting the strike with precise timing. The sheer force sent vibrations up his arm, his muscles straining under the impact. Tae-young pushed harder, his raw strength evident, but Instructor Dong-soo adjusted his footing, redirecting the momentum and twisting his blade to disarm his student. Tae-young's sword clattered to the ground, and Instructor Dong-soo delivered a sweeping kick that sent him tumbling.

There was no time to gloat, no room for commentary. Every move now required absolute focus. Joon-ho was back in the fight, his dagger weaving through the air in rapid succession. Instructor Dong-soo blocked and parried, each clash of steel a testament to his years of experience.

Hyun-ae rejoined the fray, her movements synchronized with Joon-ho's. Their attacks were no longer independent; they worked in tandem, testing Instructor Dong-soo's defences.

Instructor Dong-soo deflected a dagger strike from Joon-ho, then twisted to avoid Hyun-ae's follow-up attack. Sweat beaded on his brow as he calculated their movements, his mind racing to anticipate their next steps.

Tae-young, regaining his footing, picked up his sword and lunged back into the fight. His heavy strikes created openings that Joon-ho and Hyun-ae exploited, forcing Instructor Dong-soo to move constantly, his one arm barely keeping up with the relentless assault.

The forest seemed to close in around them, the tension thick as the clash of steel echoed in the still air. Instructor Dong-soo's movements, though precise, began to show the strain of fending off three opponents at once.

The students' coordination was improving with each passing moment. Joon-ho's speed became sharper, his strikes less predictable. Hyun-ae's movements flowed with more confidence, her timing impeccable. Even Tae-young, whose strength had often been his sole asset, began to incorporate feints and subtle shifts in his attacks.

Instructor Dong-soo blocked a powerful thrust from Tae-young, his blade sliding against the students with a screech of metal. He twisted away just as Joon-ho's dagger came for his side, narrowly avoiding the strike.

It was in that moment of recovery that Instructor Dong-soo noticed something—a faint hesitation in his movements, a misstep he never would have made in his prime. His students were adapting, and it wasn't just a coincidence.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening to a razor's edge. The next instant, his instincts screamed as he caught a flash of motion from his peripheral vision.

Joon-ho lunged in, his dagger aiming high, while Hyun-ae struck low, and Tae-young came from the other side with a wide sweep. Instructor Dong-soo moved, his body a blur of precision as he twisted and parried. But in the chaos, a mistake—a single miscalculation—left him vulnerable.

A blade sliced through the air, and in the blink of an eye, his left arm was severed completely. The disconnection was painless, replaced by a surreal emptiness where his arm once was. Tiny black pixels scattered into the air where the limb had been, marking the damage as unique to the NexaRealm.

Instructor Dong-soo staggered back, his mind reeling. The students didn't press their advantage immediately; they were as shocked as he was.

He glanced at the void where his arm had been, the absence stark and alien. He was harmed, but the system deemed him still fit to fight. Yet the loss wasn't just physical—it was symbolic. For the first time, Instructor Dong-soo found himself truly cornered.

The fight wasn't over. Instructor Dong-soo tightened his grip on his blade, his gaze lifting to the students who had brought him to this point. They weren't the same fighters he had faced at the start. They had grown, adapted, and risen to a level that demanded his respect.

This was no longer a game, and Dong-soo knew it. He couldn't afford to toy with them any longer. His focus shifted entirely, every thought now dedicated to survival.

He steadied his breathing and adjusted his stance. Alone and wounded, he would have to rely on every ounce of his experience to see this fight through. For the first time, the legendary Instructor Dong-soo felt the weight of his students' potential bearing down on him.

Instructor Dong-soo, his one good arm barely holding onto his weapon, faced the three students encircling him. Their movements were no longer erratic or uncoordinated; they had become a cohesive unit. Joon-ho flanked his left, Hyun-ae his right, and Tae-young faced him head-on, each poised to deliver the final blow.

Instructor Dong-soo's breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps. He had no tricks left, no hidden reserves to call upon. His students had outmanoeuvred him, and he knew it. The sheer irony of the moment wasn't lost on him—the teacher brought low by his lessons.

The students struck as one, their blades arcing toward him in perfect synchronization. Dong-soo braced himself for the inevitable.

And then, a sudden flash of movement.

Four figures dived into the scene, their presence halting the assault with an almost theatrical flair. Instructors Ji-woo, Instructor Seung-hyun, Instructor Min-ji, and Instructor Hye-won interposed themselves between Dong-soo and his students, their weapons gleaming as they deflected the attacks effortlessly.

"Whoa, hold on!" Instructor Ji-woo said, his voice cutting through the tension like a whip. He lowered his rifle, his sharp eyes scanning the three students with equal parts amusement and disapproval. "That's enough for today."

"What the hell is this?" Tae-young growled, his sword still raised. His frustration was palpable, his eyes flicking between Dong-soo and the newcomers. "We almost had him!"

"Exactly!" Hyun-ae chimed in, her daggers still glinting with energy. "Why are you stopping us now?"

Joon-ho sheathed his daggers with a resigned sigh, though his expression betrayed his irritation.

Instructor Seung-hyun folded his arms and smirked.

"Because, kiddos, you've gone way over today's training time. The rest of the students and we have already wrapped up our sessions and are halfway to the cafeteria."

Instructor Min-ji nodded, her demeanour softer but no less firm.

"We were sent to check on you, and surprise, surprise—Instructor Dong-soo's gone overboard again."

Instructor Dong-soo straightened, still clutching his weapon tightly. The relief in his eyes was fleeting, quickly replaced by a faint scowl.

"I had it under control."

"Yeah, sure you did," Instructor Hye-won replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She gestured to his missing arm, the jagged edge of black pixels still visible. "This? Totally screams 'control.'"

"Wait," Tae-young interjected, his frustration bubbling over. "So you're telling me the only reason we're stopping is because of time? We could've won!"

"Maybe," Instructor Ji-woo replied, his tone as sharp as his aim. "But we're here to teach you, not let you exhaust yourselves into uselessness. There's more to training than just winning."

Hyun-ae crossed her arms, her gaze shifting to Dong-soo.

"Still feels like you're saving him."

"Oh, he got lucky," Instructor Seung-hyun said with a chuckle, clapping Instructor Dong-soo on the shoulder. "But don't get too cocky. Next time, he might not have us to bail him out."

Instructor Dong-soo let out a low grunt, brushing Seung-hyun's hand off.

"I didn't need bailing out."

Instructor Min-ji raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Let's just ignore the fact that you were seconds away from being eliminated by your students."

The three aspiring assassins exchanged glances, their irritation fading into a mix of disappointment and lingering adrenaline. Joon-ho, the first to break the silence, said.

"So that's it? It's over for today?"

"It's over," Instructor Hye-won confirmed. "You've done enough, and frankly, so has Instructor Dong-soo. Let's call it a draw, grab lunch, and pick this up another time."

The students looked at each other, their expressions tinged with regret. They'd been so close to proving themselves, to achieving what had seemed impossible at the start of the day. Tae-young tightened his grip on his sword before sighing and sheathing it with a reluctant nod.

"Fine," he muttered. "But next time, there won't be anyone to save him."

Instructor Dong-soo's lips twitched in a faint smirk, but he said nothing. For all his pride, he knew the truth—they had pushed him to his limit, and he was lucky to have escaped elimination.

Instructor Ji-woo clapped his hands, his rifle vanishing in a burst of light.

"All right, everyone, let's move. Lunch is waiting, and I don't want to miss out on the good stuff because of Instructor Dong-soo's antics."

The group began to disperse, the students trailing after the instructors with varying degrees of reluctance. Instructor Dong-soo lingered for a moment, his gaze following his students as they walked away.

They had grown stronger—far stronger than he had anticipated. And while he would never admit it aloud, a part of him felt pride mingled with unease. Today had been a reminder of their potential, and a warning of how close they were to surpassing him.

For now, though, he'd take the reprieve. Turning, Instructor Dong-soo followed his colleagues, his blade vanishing into pixels as he left the battlefield behind.