Chapter 61: A Battle Without Powers

No system. No enhancements. Just my own skill and willpower.

As soon as David gave the order, the hundred armed men surged toward me like a tidal wave of steel and brute force. I barely had a moment to react before the first enemy swung a metal pipe at my skull.

I ducked, feeling the wind whip past my head. Too slow.

Before my system went into hibernation, I would have easily dodged that attack, seeing it in slow motion. But now—my body wasn't as fast, my reflexes weren't as sharp.

Still, that didn't mean I was weak.

The moment I dodged, I grabbed the attacker's wrist, twisted it violently, and drove my elbow into his ribs. He gasped, and I followed up with a spinning back kick that sent him sprawling.

One down. Ninety-nine to go.

I didn't have time to celebrate. Another enemy lunged at me with a knife.

I twisted my body just in time, the blade slicing through the air where my chest had been a second ago. Instead of retreating, I stepped into his guard, trapping his knife arm under my own and delivering a crushing headbutt straight to his nose. Blood spattered onto my uniform as I yanked the knife from his stunned fingers and slashed his thigh, forcing him to collapse.

Two down.

The next one came with a bat. I ducked under his wild swing and swept his legs out from under him. The instant he hit the ground, I stomped on his wrist, making him drop the bat, then used it to knock out another enemy charging at me from behind.

Three down.

The numbers didn't matter. I couldn't let them overwhelm me.

A fist came at my face. I barely managed to block it with my forearm before another strike slammed into my ribs. Pain exploded through my side, but I twisted with the hit, minimizing the impact, and used my momentum to drive my knee into my attacker's stomach.

I had trained for this. Edward drilled it into me—precision over brute force, efficiency over wasted movement.

Another enemy rushed in from my right. I raised the bat I had stolen and slammed it against his shoulder, dislocating it instantly. He screamed and fell to the ground, cradling his limp arm.

Four down.

But I was slowing down.

My breathing was getting heavier. My muscles burned. I was strong, but I wasn't invincible anymore.

I barely had time to recover when three men attacked at once. One had a metal pipe, another had a knife, and the third came barehanded, but his sheer size made him just as dangerous.

I couldn't avoid all three.

The pipe wielder swung first. I raised my bat to block, but the impact rattled my bones. The momentary distraction allowed the knife-wielder to lunge forward.

No time to dodge.

I twisted my torso, taking the blade to my shoulder instead of my chest. Pain flared, but I gritted my teeth and grabbed his wrist, trapping him in place. Then, using all my strength, I pulled him into the path of the third attacker. The massive man had already committed to a powerful punch, and he ended up smashing his own ally in the face.

The knife wielder crumpled to the ground.

Using my injured shoulder was a mistake—I could feel blood soaking into my uniform—but I couldn't stop now.

The pipe wielder swung again. I sidestepped, allowing his own momentum to make him stumble forward, and drove the bat straight into his ribs.

Six down.

But then I felt it—a sharp pain in my calf.

I looked down to see another knife buried in my leg.

The seventh attacker had gotten me.

I gritted my teeth, ignoring the pain, and yanked the knife out. The second I did, my leg almost buckled beneath me. The wound wasn't deep, but it had hit a bad spot.

The attackers sensed my moment of weakness.

Ten more men surrounded me, their weapons raised.

I could keep fighting, but my body wouldn't last much longer.

I was outnumbered, outmatched, and running on empty.

And then—

David laughed.

I barely had the strength to lift my head, but I forced myself to glare at him. He stood at the edge of the field, smiling down at me, his hands in his pockets like this was just a fun game to him.

"Not bad, William," he mused. "You're lasting longer than I expected."

I spat blood onto the ground. "Come down here and fight me yourself, Lawrence."

His smile widened. "Why would I waste my energy when I can just watch you break?"

The circle of enemies around me tightened. My vision was starting to blur. I had to move.

But before the first attacker could strike—

A gunshot rang out.

And then another.

Two of the men dropped instantly, clutching their legs in agony.

A familiar voice cut through the chaos.

"Sorry to interrupt your little party, but I think that's enough."

I turned my head to see Edward Olani standing at the entrance of the sports field, a pistol in one hand and a second one holstered at his waist.

I had never been so happy to see him.

David, however, looked unfazed. If anything, he seemed amused.

"Ah, Olani," he drawled. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Edward ignored him and locked eyes with me. "William, can you still move?"

I took a deep breath and forced myself to stand straight. "I'm not done yet."

Edward smirked. "Good." He raised his gun toward David. "Then let's finish this."

And just like that, the fight wasn't over.

It had only just begun.

Edward's presence was a game-changer.

The moment he fired those warning shots, the men surrounding me hesitated. Some turned toward him, debating whether to attack, while others looked to David for orders.

David, however, didn't seem concerned. He was watching me. Studying me.

He was waiting to see if I would break.

Not a chance.

I forced my aching body into a fighting stance, ignoring the sharp pain in my leg and the blood soaking through my uniform. My body was at its limit, but my mind was still sharp.

I just needed an opening.

Edward's voice broke through the tension. "I suggest you back off," he said casually, spinning his gun on his finger before pointing it directly at one of David's men. "Or we can see who's faster—me or your broken reflexes."

The man took a step back. Some of them were scared. Others, however, were too loyal—or too stupid—to back down.

David's lips curled into a smirk. "You came prepared, Olani."

Edward shrugged. "I make it a habit to be ready for idiots who think they can outplay me."

David chuckled, completely unbothered. "And yet, you still walked into my game, thinking you have the upper hand."

I could feel it—the shift.

Something wasn't right.

David never makes a move unless he's certain of his victory.

A sharp whistle rang through the air.

And then—

The floodlights turned on.

Bright, blinding lights engulfed the entire field.

Shit.

The sudden brightness staggered me. My vision blurred for a second, and that's all they needed.

A bullet whizzed past my ear.

Edward barely managed to react, twisting his body as gunfire erupted from the bleachers above us.

Snipers.

They had been waiting. This was an ambush.

I dove to the side just as a bullet shattered the concrete where I had been standing. Edward was already moving, firing at the snipers while rolling behind cover.

The men on the field rushed forward.

Too many.

I swung my stolen bat, catching the first attacker in the ribs, but my injured leg slowed me down. Another grabbed my wrist, forcing my arm back. Pain shot through my shoulder, but I grit my teeth and headbutted him.

Blood spurted from his nose.

I yanked my arm free, but another attacker tackled me from behind. I barely managed to keep my footing before another fist slammed into my stomach.

I couldn't keep this up.

Edward fired at the incoming reinforcements, but even he couldn't take on snipers and an entire group at the same time.

David watched from the sidelines, his smirk never fading. "Not so easy without your system, is it, William?"

Damn it.

I needed an escape. I needed something—anything.

And then, a sudden explosion rocked the field.

BOOM!

Flames erupted from the bleachers. Smoke engulfed the snipers.

What the hell?

From the chaos, a new voice called out.

"Tsk. Looks like I made it just in time."

Through the smoke, a tall figure emerged.

A man in a dark coat, holding a grenade launcher over his shoulder.

Edward let out a low chuckle. "You just couldn't stay out of trouble, huh?"

The man smirked. "What can I say? I hate owing people favors."

My eyes widened in recognition.

The King of Loansharks.

Ricardo Vasquez.

David's smirk finally faltered.

For the first time tonight, he looked surprised.

Ricardo cracked his neck and turned to me. "So, kid. You still wanna fight? Or should we start taking heads?"

I grinned, despite the pain.

Now the game had changed.

I barely had time to react before something was thrown toward me.

A long sword in a black sheath.

I caught it midair, the weight instantly familiar.

Edward's voice rang through the battlefield. "Use it. End this."

My fingers instinctively wrapped around the hilt, feeling the cold steel beneath my grip. I hadn't used a sword in a real fight before—not since my training—but now wasn't the time to hesitate.

The sword landed in my hand with a satisfying weight.

The sheath was matte black, smooth yet sturdy. The hilt was wrapped in a dark leather grip, reinforced with silver thread. The guard was minimal—sleek, sharp, and efficient. No wasted details. No unnecessary decorations.

This sword wasn't meant to be flashy. It was meant to be used.

I unsheathed it with a single motion.

The blade reflected the moonlight—black along the spine, fading into a silver edge, almost like the shadows merging into steel.

The tip was razor-sharp, the balance perfectly aligned for speed and precision.

I exhaled, lowering into my stance.

A weapon that matched me completely.

This sword… belongs to me.

The first enemy charged.

I moved.

First Technique: Phantom Step

A feint, a misdirection.

I shifted my body at the last second, appearing to move left—only to vanish from my opponent's sight entirely.

I reappeared behind him, blade already swinging.

A clean diagonal slash. The edge of my sword sliced through his weapon, through his defenses. Blood sprayed as he crumpled to the ground.

One down.

The second opponent lunged.

Second Technique: Crescent Fang

A sweeping arc, a controlled force.

I twisted my wrist, bringing the sword in a circular motion. The blade curved like a crescent moon, slashing through his midsection.

He collapsed instantly.

Two down.

Three men rushed at once.

Tch. Too slow.

Third Technique: Eclipse Strike

Speed over power. A single instant kill.

I inhaled. A deep focus.

The world slowed.

I swung—one precise horizontal slash.

The sword's edge caught them mid-motion, cutting through their weapons, their flesh, before they even registered the attack.

They fell, wide-eyed.

Three more down.

Another attacker, this one smarter, kept his distance. He pulled out a gun—a Glock.

Fourth Technique: Void Pierce

A counterattack before the enemy can react.

Before he could pull the trigger, I lunged forward, thrusting my sword in a straight line.

A direct stab to his wrist.

He screamed, the gun clattering to the ground.

I didn't waste time.

Fifth Technique: Shadow Fang

Two quick slashes to disable.

I spun, the blade flashing in an X-pattern.

One cut severed the tendons in his arm. The second sliced across his chest.

He collapsed.

Seven down.

The remaining fighters hesitated. Their hands shook. Fear crept into their eyes.

Good.

But there was no room for mercy.

One of them let out a battle cry, trying to rally the others.

A mistake.

Sixth Technique: Raven's Requiem

A single deadly arc.

I swung my sword in a full circular motion. A black blur.

The first man's throat was cut before he could finish his scream.

The others tried to flee.

Seventh Technique: Falling Star

A downward finishing blow.

I jumped. Sword raised.

I came down like a meteor, blade slamming through the nearest enemy's shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

Blood spread beneath him like ink soaking into the earth.

Nine down.

The last man turned to run.

I exhaled.

Eighth Technique: Silent Fang

A sword thrown like a dagger.

I flipped my grip and hurled the sword forward.

The blade spun through the air, impaling him through the leg.

He screamed, falling face-first into the dirt.

Ten down.

I walked toward him, retrieving my sword from his flesh.

The battlefield was silent.

Only David remained.

His smirk had faded.

I pointed the bloodstained sword at him.

"Your move."

David chuckled, slow-clapping.

"Impressive. You've truly outdone yourself, William."

But then—he took a step back.

The moment I saw his foot shift, I knew.

He was retreating.

And that meant one thing—he still had something planned.

A sudden beep rang through the air.

David pulled out his phone and turned the screen toward me.

My blood ran cold.

On the screen was a live feed.

Of my house.

Of my family.

David grinned. "You think I came here alone?"

My grip on the sword tightened.

Damn it.

He knew exactly how to counter me.

Checkmate.

David turned, stepping into the shadows.

His voice echoed as he disappeared.

"This is just the beginning."