Not Existing [3]

The trap door at the back of the tavern creaked open as M-8 rolled out, tumbling onto the sand. He quickly got to his feet and started running, moving fast—fast enough to catch up to a speeding vehicle. But he knew he wouldn't get far before they caught up. Glancing back, he watched as the tavern grew smaller in the distance.

'Please be safe, H-27,' he thought before focusing ahead and pushing forward.

Back at the tavern, A-2 emerged with two of his footmen. One pointed to the back trap door, and A-2 swiftly approached.

"Sir, I believe he escaped through here," the footman reported.

"No shit," A-2 snapped, shoving him aside to examine the sand, which was disturbed as if someone had run through it. "Give me the goggles," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

The footman handed over a pair of jet-black goggles with rocky lenses, lacking any strap. A-2 held them up to his face and zoomed in on M-8. "There he is, that white-haired fucker," he muttered, passing the goggles back. "Get everyone else to head this way," he directed, pointing in the direction M-8 had fled. "Use the speed boost crystals if needed. We're catching him today."

"Yes, sir," the footmen replied, rushing back to the tavern.

A-2 turned in M-8's direction and crouched low, one knee down, fingertips grazing the ground. With a yell, he smashed his massive arms into the sand twice and launched himself forward with a speed greater than M-8's, moving like a gorilla across the dunes.

M-8 glanced back and saw A-2 rapidly closing the distance. "Shit!" he cursed, biting his lip and pushing harder to gain more speed. But it wasn't enough.

A-2 leaped through the air and landed in front of M-8, grabbing his head and slamming it into the sand, causing him to lose momentum and tumble.

M-8 struggled to his feet, spitting out sand, coughing, and brushing it off his white hair.

"You can't run any longer, kid," A-2 taunted as he stepped closer.

M-8 didn't respond, only glaring coldly at him. By this time, the seven footmen had caught up and surrounded them in a tight circle.

"Listen, kid, you're doomed. Hand over the necklace and live, or I'll pick it off your bones," A-2 threatened, licking his lips. "And this time, you don't have A-1 to save you."

M-8 smirked slightly. "Yeah, I might not, but did you forget who gave you that scar?"

A flash of memory crossed A-2's mind—M-8's, fierce-eyes, wielding a spear and injuring him.

"Heh," A-2 chuckled. "That was a 7 years ago. You still dragging that out, especially when I gave you that scar on your back?"

M-8's back throbbed as he recalled the painful memory. He summoned his glowing white spear, while A-2 drew the blade he had used to kill H-27.

"Oh, and your friend H-27?" A-2 said, licking the blade. "He's part of the sand now, so thank me later—"

Before A-2 could finish, he looked up to find M-8 in the air, spear drawn back, ready to strike. M-8's front was shrouded in shadow, making him appear as a figure of death.

He swung the spear. A-2, with a flicker of fear in his eyes, jumped back, but not far enough—M-8 managed to slash him across the chest.

A-2 snarled, a vein pulsing in his forehead. He planted one foot back and swung his blade upward. M-8 pulled his spear back and blocked the blow with the handle, the force pushing him back but not off his feet.

A-2 gritted his teeth, tightened his grip on his blade, and charged again. He swung, but M-8 deflected once more, stepping aside and slashing twice in a fluid, circular motion. The clash of weapons filled the sandy air as they exchanged blows, neck and neck. 

A-2 was a ruthless fighter, but M-8's movements were precise and elegant, like a dancer.

A-2 aimed for M-8's neck, but his hand was parried by the back of the spear. M-8 swiftly shifted his grip, charging the spear upward—only to find blood in the air as his right arm was slashed, his sleeve torn.

["Forgotten Obliterator's" special ability has been activated: Nonexistent Strike.]

A-2 smiled, but M-8 gritted his teeth, grabbing the spear with his left hand. Instead of continuing the slash, he stabbed the spear into the ground.

["Spear of the Nonexistent's" special ability has been activated: Spear Spike.]

A-2 noticed the ability activation and backed off just in time. Spears shot up from the ground, turning the terrain deadly. A-2 dodged, but M-8 was behind him, thrusting his spear forward, aiming for A-2's neck.

A-2 smiled as his foot planted firmly on the ground, stopping the spear just short of his neck. It wasn't that the spear couldn't reach—it was that M-8's back had been slashed open, immobilizing him. The spear retracted into a marble as blood dripped down the footman's weapon.

A-2 turned around, grabbed M-8's face, and smashed the back of his head into the sand. Blood spurted from M-8's wound, staining his pale skin.

A-2 laughed as he used his blade to stab M-8's hand, forcing him to drop the necklace. A-2 snatched it up, holding it close to his face. "Now I finally have the key. I can end the last of A-1's legacy!" he exclaimed.

A weak, raspy voice came from the pale boy. "You fucking idiot."

"What?" A-2 replied, frustrated.

"I'm the only person left who knows how to use it. If you kill me, you lose your only way to escape," M-8 chuckled.

"The hell are you talking about?"

M-8 didn't respond.

"ANSWER ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

A-2 yanked M-8 up by his shirt, but M-8 only smirked. "Even if you threatened my life, I wouldn't tell you anything. So you have no choice but to keep me alive." M-8 coughed up blood. A-2's face turned red with anger. He threw him back to the ground.

"Patch him up and shackle him tightly. Make sure he doesn't escape," A-2 ordered.

"Sir, are you sure—?"

"Don't worry. We'll kill him before we leave. We have the location, and he can free us from this place."

Hesitantly, the footmen picked up M-8 and grabbed at the invisible chains connecting his shackles, making them visible.

'Sorry, A-1, there's a chance I won't make it out,' M-8 thought.