CHAPTER 11: ESCAPING

 Hazel, Blossom, Oscar, and Shadow had no choice but to traverse the enemy's base in a desperate bid for escape, their survival hanging in the balance. The chilling realization of Hazel's capture hung heavy in the air, a suffocating blanket of fear and uncertainty for Blossom and Oscar.

Hazel took the lead, his senses on high alert, as the others followed closely behind, their faces grim. They moved with painstaking care, their footsteps barely disturbing the silence of the building's corridor.

Their progress halted abruptly as a figure materialized before them, blocking their path. It was a man, and his confident stance suggested he had been expecting them.

"Come on then," the man taunted, a smirk playing on his lips. "Let's see what you've got."

"Be careful," Hazel warned, his voice low and urgent. "He must be an Elite." He scanned the man's posture, his eyes narrowed, ensuring he didn't make any sudden movements.

Without warning, the man vanished.

"What? Where did he go?" Hazel exclaimed, disbelief etched on his face.

"Right here," the man's voice echoed from behind them.

Reacting instantly, Blossom and Oscar launched their attacks, their movements fueled by a desperate urgency. Despite the confined space of the corridor, the man moved with uncanny agility, effortlessly dodging their strikes.

And then, he was gone again.

"Stay highly alert!" Hazel commanded, his senses straining.

Suddenly, the man reappeared directly in front of Oscar. With blinding speed, he delivered a devastating backhand punch, sending Oscar crashing against the wall with a sickening thud. Blossom cried out, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.

As Blossom and Shadow lunged forward to attack, the elusive enemy vanished once more.

This time, he materialized directly in front of Hazel. But instead of attacking, he grabbed Hazel, and both figures disappeared in a blink, Hazel involuntarily following his captor. Blossom and Oscar stared in horror at the empty space where Hazel had just been.

They reappeared in a vast, opulent chamber. Their captor vanished again, leaving Hazel standing before the gang's leader, who sat calmly at a large table, sipping tea with an air of refined indifference. The leader's composure was unnerving, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere.

Hazel immediately adopted a defensive stance, summoning his dual scythes, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.

"Why so feisty?" the leader asked, his voice laced with amusement, clearly intending to torment Hazel. He took another slow sip of his tea, his gaze steady and unwavering. "It's not your time to fight me yet." He took another slow sip of his tea, his movements deliberate and unhurried. "First, you have to kill them to get to me."

Two figures entered the chamber, passing Hazel without a glance. They positioned themselves in front of their leader, facing Hazel, their backs to the man sipping tea with an almost bored expression.

"Only if you can defeat these two will you reach me," the leader stated, his tone nonchalant, as if discussing a minor inconvenience.

The moment the leader finished speaking, the attack began. One of the newcomers, a man radiating an invisible pressure, unleashed his gravity manipulation, instantly pinning Hazel in place.

Hazel strained against the invisible force, his muscles screaming, but he managed to keep his feet, refusing to be pulled to the ground.

The two figures began to approach him slowly. Hazel knew he had to act fast. "Necromancy!" he roared, channeling his power.

Zombies erupted from the polished floor, their decaying hands reaching out to grab the two Elites. The sudden appearance of the undead caused the gravity manipulator to momentarily lose concentration, and Hazel felt the crushing pressure ease. With a burst of adrenaline, Hazel lunged forward, his dual scythes aimed to cut them down while they were ensnared by the zombies.

But with surprising strength and speed, both Elites leaped free from the zombies' grasp, the undead falling back as quickly as they had risen.

Hazel was left momentarily exposed, his attack missing its mark. He hadn't anticipated their swift escape.

Instantly, they retaliated. A powerful kick slammed into Hazel's chest, sending him staggering back. Just as the gravity manipulator seemed about to reassert his control, Hazel reacted with lightning speed, darting around the chamber. He attempted a surprise attack on the gravity user, but the other Elite, the locator, intercepted his movements with uncanny precision. It was as if he could anticipate Hazel's every move.

Hazel didn't stop moving, his mind racing for a way to overcome them. One controls gravity, the other can locate enemies. That must be how they knew where I was coming from.

On instinct, Hazel hurled one of his scythes at the gravity user. Then, using his remaining momentum, he charged towards the locator. The locator saw him coming, but Hazel unleashed a flurry of punches, his speed reaching an unbelievable ten strikes per second. Blood splattered from the locator's mouth with each impact, but Hazel didn't relent. He pivoted, sprinting towards the gravity user, his remaining scythe aimed for the man's head. The gravity user barely managed to dodge, the sharp blade slicing across his throat, drawing a crimson line.

"You two have exceptional abilities," Hazel said, his voice filled with a hard-won confidence, "but without each other, you're easily beaten."

The gravity user clutched his bleeding throat, his eyes wide with panic as blood gushed between his fingers. In a swift, brutal motion, Hazel ended his struggle, his scythe severing the man's windpipe.

"Master, help!" the locator cried out to his leader, his voice filled with desperation. But the leader merely watched, his expression still one of detached amusement as he swirled the remaining tea in his cup.

Without hesitation, Hazel turned and ended the locator's life with a swift, clean strike.

[You have killed two Elite users]

[You have gained 500 exp]

[You have leveled up] × 2

[Your subordinate has killed an Elite and has become an Elite]

[You have gained a total of 100 soul points]

[Requirements not met to use soul point]

It seems like I'll gain something significant if I can figure out how to use that soul point, Hazel thought briefly.

A slow clap echoed through the chamber. The leader of the gang applauded Hazel, a strange light in his eyes. His calm demeanor remained unbroken.

"You did well," the leader said, his tone deceptively soft. "But this is where you die." His confidence was absolute, suggesting he possessed a power that Hazel couldn't yet comprehend.

"We will see about that," Hazel retorted, his grip tightening on his scythes, a knot of unease in his stomach.

Without wasting a precious second, Hazel unleashed a barrage of skills. He cast Necromancy, summoning more zombies, and layered an illusion over the leader. But the leader's mental fortitude was immense; he simply waved his hand, dispelling the illusion as if it were a mere annoyance. The zombies fared no better, his sword slicing through them with effortless precision, his movements almost languid.

Hazel charged forward, his movements a blur, but every attack he launched was met with an almost casual flick of the leader's blade, deflected as if it were nothing. The leader's eyes held a knowing glint, his expression unperturbed.

"Tell me," the leader said, his voice now laced with a chilling confidence and a monstrous undertone, "how do you intend to defeat me when I can see ten seconds into the future? All your attacks are pointless when I already know your next move."

Is it possible? Can he really see into the future? Hazel thought frantically as he pressed his attack, a growing sense of dread washing over him.

Just as Hazel lunged, an attack that seemed unavoidable, a searing, agonizing pain ripped through his chest. He gasped, coughing up a mouthful of blood.

The leader's sword protruded from Hazel's chest, piercing his heart. The leader's calm expression didn't waver.

"I told you," the leader said, his voice cold and final. "You die here."

Hazel's eyes glazed over. His grip on his scythes loosened, and with a final, shuddering breath, he died...