Throw it!

The assassin cracked his neck as he looked straight into my eyes.

"You brought this upon yourself."

The cloak fell to the floor, revealing the man beneath it.

My breath stopped for a second as I took in his appearance.

His face was half-burnt, the flesh darkened and twisted like melted wax. 

Jagged scars were carved across his jawline and his nose seemed to tilt to the left. 

His black hair was cut unevenly, some strands singed as if they had once been set ablaze. The contrast between the unmarred side of his face, sharp and calculated, and the ruined half sent a shiver down my spine.

He wore a skin-tight fighting suit that clung to his muscular frame, emphasizing his readiness for battle.

The assassin smirked, his good eye narrowing as he flexed his fingers. In an instant, two daggers materialized in his hands, their edges glinting ominously under the faint light of the room.

"You brought this upon yourself," he repeated, his voice steady, devoid of fear or hesitation.

I barely had time to react before he jumped forward, his movements swift and precise.

I swung my glowing hand at him, aiming to make contact, but he twisted away with ease, his footwork fluid and calculated.

His dagger slashed across my forearm, a stinging pain appearing where the blade had grazed my skin.

"Too slow," he sneered, spinning back to face me, his daggers raised in a defensive stance.

I growled, my frustration mounting. Every time I lunged, he evaded, and every time I left an opening, he took it.

Cuts began to appear on my arms and torso, shallow but numerous, each one a reminder of how outmatched I was.

My decay power, as devastating as it was, required physical contact.

And this man—this bastard—was making sure that wouldn't happen.

I ducked under another swipe of his dagger, the blade slicing through the air where my neck had been a split second earlier.

My hands glowed with the pulsing blue light of my powers, but it was useless if I couldn't touch him.

He knew it, and he exploited it mercilessly.

"Is this all you've got?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Your grandma must be so proud of you."

"Shut up!" I roared, my anger boiling over.

I charged at him, my hand almost there, but he sidestepped easily, slamming the hilt of his dagger into my ribs. Pain shot through my side, and I stumbled, gasping for breath.

He didn't stop.

He pressed his advantage, the daggers flashing as he struck again and again. I managed to block a few strikes with my arms, but his blades found their mark more often than not.

Blood seeped from the cuts on my skin, staining my clothes and dripping onto the floor.

My vision blurred with sweat and pain, but I refused to back down.

"You're nothing," he hissed, his voice cold and sharp. "Just a scared little boy pretending to be a fighter."

I clenched my fists, the glow of my power intensifying. "And you're just a coward hiding behind blades," I spat, lunging at him again.

This time, I came closer. My glowing fingers grazed his sleeve, and I watched as the fabric began to disintegrate.

His expression shifted for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing his face. But he quickly recovered, spinning away and putting distance between us.

"Impressive," he admitted, his tone laced with sarcasm. "But not enough."

I staggered back, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath.

My arms ached, the glowing light on my hands dimming slightly. I couldn't keep this up. He was faster, stronger, and more experienced. And I was running out of time.

"Noah!"

The sound of her voice cut through the chaos, sharp and desperate. I turned my head toward the stairs and saw my Grandma, dishevelled and bruised, but standing.

She was clutching something in her hands, a golden orb the size of her palm that pulsed with energy. My heart leapt at the sight of it.

"Grandma—" My words were cut off as the assassin took advantage of my distraction, his dagger slashing across my cheek.

Pain flared, hot and sharp, as blood dripped from the wound.

"Eyes on me, boy," the assassin growled, stepping closer.

But his overconfidence was his mistake.

Gritting my teeth, I surged forward, ignoring the pain.

My hands latched onto his shoulders, the glowing blue light spreading from my palms.

He screamed, sounding crazy as the decay began to seep into his skin.

His flesh sizzled under my touch, the smell of burning filling the air.

"Grandma!" I shouted, my voice hoarse. "Throw it! Now!"

He hissed in pain, yanking his arm back. His composure cracked, replaced by a growing fury. 

"Do you have any idea what you're dealing with?" he growled, his voice laced with venom. 

"That power will consume you long before it consumes me." 

His words hit harder than his fists ever could.

I could indeed feel the raging ability sapping at my energy, clawing at my insides with every second.

My hands trembled as I struggled to contain it, to keep it from devouring me whole.

Meanwhile, I could see Grandma continuously hesitate, her eyes full of horror. "Noah, you'll get hurt!"

"Just throw it!" I screamed, my grip tightening on the assassin as he thrashed, trying to break free.

The golden orb in her hands trembled as she hesitated, her gaze flickering between me and the man I held.

"Do it!" I roared, locking eyes with her. "Please!"

"Enough!" The man bellowed, retreating towards the couch. His once-calm demeanour was gone, replaced by desperation.

"You think this power makes you invincible? You're just a fool playing with forces you can't control!" 

My legs shook, exhaustion threatening to pull me under. But I couldn't stop—not with Grandma's life hanging on a thread.

The assassin lunged at her, a last-ditch effort to regain control.

My heart fell as I realized I wouldn't reach him in time. 

It was as if the world had slowed down.

"Noah!!!"

BOOOOOOOMM

***

A/N:

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