Wearing Down the Old Man!

Bang!

The Scythe of Death crashed down with all of James's might, aiming to sever Matthew's withered hand. The blade, known for its near-unparalleled power, should have easily sliced through, but instead, it only left a shallow scratch on the old man's frail palm. The weapon, once unstoppable, couldn't budge an inch further.

Matthew let out a strange, eerie laugh. "Hehe, an F-level brat actually managed to wound me? You've got some tricks, haven't you?" His bony fingers tightened around the scythe's handle, and with a casual jerk, he yanked James toward him, dragging him in with terrifying ease. In the same fluid motion, the old man raised his spindly leg and launched a kick aimed squarely at James's abdomen.

As the straw sandal-clad foot came hurtling toward him, the air pressure alone was enough to make his skin sting, as if the force of the attack was tearing at his very being. James's instincts screamed in alarm, panic surging through his veins. The sheer speed and strength of the attack left him no room to escape.

Just as the blow landed, something deep within James stirred, triggered by the overwhelming danger. His passive ability, 'Thirst for Life', long dormant, awakened violently. It seized control, enhancing his physical attributes in exchange for a sliver of his rationality. The world around him shifted, and he could now sense the life force pulsating within Matthew; its sickly, diminishing flow like a flickering candle in a storm.

'Thirst for Life': A primal urge to devour life force. It temporarily boosts all attributes but at the cost of clarity, allowing the user to sense and absorb the life force of others.

But before James could react further, Matthew's foot slammed into his abdomen with tremendous force. The impact sent him flying across the room, faster and harder than when he had been pulled in. His body smashed against the stone wall of the hall with a deafening thud, the shockwave of the impact reverberating through the chamber. The mask he wore cracked and was flung from his face, revealing his scarlet eyes, which flared briefly before dimming as his consciousness faltered.

James's body slid down the wall, collapsing into a heap on the ground. Despite the power behind the kick, the walls themselves were unnaturally strong, only showing a few tiny cracks where his body had impacted.

Matthew stood motionless for a moment, his golden eyes narrowing as he observed James with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. "An undead?" he muttered, staring at James's now-exposed face. "But… intelligent? How interesting."

The old man shook his head, brushing away the thought. It wasn't the nature of James that concerned him. For years, Matthew had been suffering from a hidden injury that was draining his life force at an alarming rate. The sands of time were running out for him, and he needed more life force to survive. That's why this discovery intrigued him so much; James wasn't just some weak adventurer; he harbored an unnatural amount of life force for someone of his level.

The more Matthew thought about it, the more excited he became. If he could learn the secret of how this undead-like being was able to store such life force, it could be his key to survival.

"You understand me, don't you?" Matthew crooned, stepping forward with a wicked grin. "Tell me how you store so much life force, and I'll let you go. I might even help you. What do you say?"

But before he could continue his approach, Matthew froze mid-step, his eyes suddenly widening in terror. His mouth opened in a grotesque expression of shock, revealing his few remaining yellowed teeth. His withered fingers trembled as he pointed at James.

"You... what have you done to me?!" he shrieked, stumbling backward, his voice a mixture of disbelief and horror. "The life force in my body... it's draining! How...?"

James's lips curled into a slight, knowing smirk as he slowly pushed himself off the ground. His scythe reappeared in his hand, gleaming ominously. "Hmph." He straightened up, seemingly unaffected by the blow that had just sent him flying. It had been a strong kick, yes, but not as devastating as it appeared. The old man had held back. Even so, James could feel the life force leaking from Matthew like sand through his fingers.

Thanks to 'Thirst for Life', James could now clearly sense Matthew's remaining life force. A mere seventy points left: less than most F-level fighters. And from the small scratch on his palm, the Scythe of Death had already sapped twenty points. Matthew had less than sixty points of life force remaining. If he were struck by the scythe three more times, it would be enough to send him to his grave.

James tightened his grip on the scythe, his eyes flashing with deadly intent. Matthew, now visibly trembling, stumbled backward, his golden eyes darting around in panic.

"You... stay back!" Matthew gasped, his once-cocky demeanor completely shattered. His body was shriveling even faster now, the life force bleeding away with every breath. He had been so confident, so sure of his superiority, but now he realized too late that he had vastly underestimated his opponent.

James took a slow step forward, the air around him growing colder. "I don't think you're in a position to make demands anymore, old man," he said softly, his voice carrying an edge of finality.

Matthew could only stare, helpless, as the figure before him advanced with deadly purpose.

"So that's how it is..." Matthew muttered, his eyes narrowing as a sudden realization dawned on him. He glanced down at the shallow wound on his hand, piecing together what had just happened. A trace of understanding crossed his weathered face.

While the old man was momentarily lost in thought, James seized the opportunity. He sprang up from the ground, his hand gripping the Scythe of Death tightly, and in one fluid motion, he swung it with all his strength, aiming to cut Matthew down.

But just as the blade was about to connect, Matthew's body evaporated into a cloud of yellow smoke, dissolving into the air. The scythe sliced through empty space, and James felt his body pass through the thick, swirling cloud, scattering the smoke in every direction.

Before he could react, the smoke gathered again behind him, swirling into the shape of Matthew. The figure materialized in mid-air, spinning with uncanny grace, and his straw sandal-clad foot struck the back of James's head with crushing force. The blow sent James flying forward, his body slamming into the ground.

"Hehehe," Matthew chuckled darkly as he descended slowly, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "You've got some strength, I'll give you that. But you're nowhere near a match for me." He landed softly, barely making a sound, and looked at James, who was struggling to his feet. "I'll never let that cursed scythe touch me again. You stand no chance of winning. But, if you tell me how you store that life force inside you, I swear I won't harm you. What do you say?"

Matthew's voice dripped with greed. His golden eyes flashed with an insatiable hunger, his mind racing. 'If I could learn his secret', he thought, 'I wouldn't have to be shackled by those two anymore. I'd be free.'

James wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his scarlet eyes glowing faintly. He could sense the old man's desperation, his thirst for life. "Hmph," he scoffed, though a warning bell rang in the back of his mind. He quickly corrected himself, his tone sharp, "You expect me to trust you, old man? You think I'll believe anything you say? Stop wasting your breath. If you're going to fight, fight."

Matthew's eyes flickered with a cold, calculating light. For a moment, surprise crossed his face: this "undead" creature could speak so clearly, so intelligently. But when he heard James's defiance, his expression darkened.

"Fool," Matthew spat, his voice dripping with menace. "You're asking for your own demise!"

With that, his form dissolved into yellow smoke once again, swirling and darting toward James like a living storm. The cloud of smoke enveloped him, moving too quickly to follow. James swung his scythe through the air, desperately trying to clear the smoke, but the old man's figure remained elusive, slipping out of sight.

From all around him, Matthew's voice echoed, mocking him from the mist. "Can you see me? No? You can't even find me. How do you plan to defeat me when you can't even touch me?"

James remained silent, his focus unwavering. His scarlet eyes flicked left and right, scanning the shifting smoke, searching for the faintest sign of movement. He could feel the old man closing in, but his body remained poised, ready to strike.

Suddenly, he sensed a shift behind him. The yellow smoke condensed into a hand, its skeletal fingers reaching for James's back. Without hesitation, James spun around, his scythe raised, and brought it down in a deadly arc, aiming to sever the old man's hand.

The moment the scythe touched the hand, the fingers dissolved into smoke once again, dissipating harmlessly into the air. The attack had missed its mark.

Matthew's laughter echoed once more from the surrounding smoke. "You're too slow, boy! You can't touch me!"

But James wasn't discouraged. He tightened his grip on the scythe, his mind racing. He knew that Matthew was fast, but he also knew that the old man's life force was rapidly diminishing. 'I don't need to land a clean hit' he thought, his eyes narrowing. 'I just need to keep wearing him down.'