End of My Life

The man pushed himself off the wall and began walking towards me, slowly, his steps casual but deliberate.

"My name is Hayato, I'm new to the city."

This is how a predator approaches. He's ready to fight. I thought, my mind racing as he closed the distance.

The man stopped a few feet in front of me. "New here, huh? That's interesting… There's been a story going around the last few weeks. About an 'unseen thief.' Stealing things from locked rooms, lifting coin purses in broad daylight. The guards never see a thing."

He tilted his head, his sharp eyes never leaving mine. "And now I see a man just... appear out of thin air in the middle of the street." He gave a small, humorless smile. "How suspicious."

I held my hands up in a placating gesture, shaking my head. "Look, I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know anything about a thief."

My goal was simple: de-escalate and disengage.

"I don't want any trouble. I'm leaving."

I started to turn, to walk away from the confrontation. But I didn't get more than a single step before the sharp, metallic shing of a sword being drawn from its scabbard stopped me dead in my tracks.

This is bad, I thought, my entire body tensing. A physical confrontation. The variables are unpredictable; the risk is too high. I have to avoid a fight.

"Wait," the man's voice said, now laced with steel. "My name is Reyn. And if you're truly not the person I think you are, then why are you in such a hurry to run away?"

I need a distraction, I thought, my eyes darting to the onlookers. These people... if they feel threatened, they'll create chaos. That's my only opening.

A tense silence fell over the street. Everyone was staring at us, wondering what was happening. Murmurs started to ripple through the crowd.

"A fight?"

"What happened?"

Then, a voice, louder than the others: "I heard that guy is the Unseen Thief."

It's not me, I thought desperately, a fresh wave of panic rising. I don't even know what that is.

My decision was made in an instant. And then, I ran.

My feet hit the stone street, and I pushed off, shoving my way through the startled crowd. Chaos was my only ally.

"Wait! Stop right there!" Reyn's voice barked from behind me, sharp and full of authority.

I risked a glance over my shoulder. He was no longer relaxed. He held his sword properly now, his body coiled like a spring, and he was already moving, chasing after me with the practiced ease of a hunter. The chase was on.

I pumped my legs, dodging market stalls and pushing past startled citizens. My body felt light, my movements unnaturally efficient. This wasn't my normal, desk-job physique. This was the 'Superhuman Body' passive kicking in—the compensation package from Azakiel. My lungs weren't burning, my muscles weren't screaming. I was just... fast.

"Wait! How are you moving that fast?!" Reyn's shocked voice yelled from behind me, closer than I liked.

I risked another glance back. He was keeping pace, but his face was a mask of disbelief.

"I've seen B-Rank Assassins who can't run like that!" he shouted, his voice echoing down the street. "You're no simple commoner! Stop now!"

Faster than a B-Rank Assassin? The thought registered even as I dodged a fruit cart. The "divine gift" was more potent than I had realized. I used a burst of my speed to swerve sharply down a narrow, winding alleyway, hoping to finally lose him.

I sprinted down the narrow alley, the brick walls a blur on either side. The path twisted and turned, but I could hear Reyn's steady footsteps right behind me. He was a professional; I couldn't outmaneuver him in a city he knew.

Running blindly is a failed strategy, I thought, skidding to a halt as I reached a small, dead-end courtyard. He expects me to be cornered. He's not expecting a fight.

As Reyn rounded the last corner and entered the courtyard, I spun around to face him. He was surprised by my sudden stop, his momentum carrying him forward. I saw the opening.

Closing the distance in a single step, I put all of my new, unearned strength into a single, straightforward punch aimed directly at his head.

My fist connected with a solid crack. Reyn was knocked backward, stumbling against the alley wall, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

He stared at me, a hand flying up to his jaw where I'd hit him. I stood my ground, my own fist clenched and aching, my breath coming in ragged gasps. We were both frozen, the chase over. The standoff had begun.

Reyn rubbed his jaw where my fist had connected.

CRACK! as he popped it back into place. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Not bad... Not bad at all. But that was your only surprise." He lifted his sword, pointing it casually in my direction. "This alley is a dead end. There's no way out unless you can suddenly fly."

As if to prove his point, he gave his sword a lazy swing. A powerful gust of wind erupted from the blade, swirling down the alley and kicking up dust and debris in a vortex around him. "My skill lets me control the wind," he explained. "Even if you get past me, you're not getting out."

He controls the wind. My punch was a lucky shot. This is irrational, I thought. But there was no other option.

I had no formal training, no martial arts background. All I had was a vague memory from an old movie about the first rule of a club you don't talk about. I lowered my stance, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet and raising my fists to guard my face. It was a clumsy, amateurish boxer's stance, but it was all I had.

Reyn's chuckle faded, replaced by the sharp focus of a predator. He lunged forward, his sword cutting through the air in a gleaming arc, not with its steel edge, but with a blade of pure, compressed wind.

FWOOSH!

I tried to dodge, but my movements were clumsy. The blade of wind struck me across the chest. The force was stunning, knocking the wind from my lungs, and my tunic was ripped open from shoulder to hip. But there was no blood. My skin, though red and stinging, was unbroken.

"Eugh!" I grunted, stumbling back.

Reyn's eyes widened for a second. That attack should have left a deep gash. Seeing his surprise, I capitalized on it. I surged forward, my superhuman speed closing the distance before he could ready another swing. I threw a series of wild, powerful punches, not with skill, but with raw force.

THWACK!

He brought the flat of his sword up just in time to block a punch aimed at his head. The impact sent a painful jolt up my arm, but it knocked him off balance.

"Strong!" he grunted, using his footwork to create space.

I pressed the attack, but he was too skilled. He parried another punch with his gauntlet and spun away, putting several feet between us. "But you're just a brawler!"

He changed his tactics. No longer trying to close in, he began to swing his sword from a distance, launching crescent-shaped blasts of wind at me. One after another, they flew down the narrow alley. I dodged the first, but the second caught my leg, tearing another hole in my ragged pants. A third grazed my side, ripping the remaining fabric of my shirt. I was being worn down, forced into a desperate defense.

I knew I couldn't win a ranged fight. I had to close the distance again. It was a stupid gamble, but it was the only one I had.

As he swung his sword for another attack, I didn't dodge. I charged straight through it.

TWACK!

The wind blade slammed into my shoulder, the pain sharp and immense, but I grit my teeth and pushed through. My gamble paid off. I was inside his guard before he could recover from his swing. I lunged forward, not to punch, but to grab. My hand shot out and clamped down on his sword wrist with all my might.

We stood there, chest to chest, both breathing heavily. His sword arm was trapped in my grip, and his eyes burned with a mixture of shock and fierce excitement. The fight had come to a dead stop.

I thought I had him. My grip on his wrist was like a vise, his weapon neutralized. But then, Reyn smiled. It was a genuine, predatory grin.

"Too slow," he whispered.

In an explosion of movement that my eyes could barely track, he stomped his foot. A burst of compressed wind erupted from his heel, propelling him backwards with impossible speed, easily shattering my grip. Before I could even process that he was free, he used the same force to reverse his momentum, lunging forward in a blur.

There was no time to dodge, no time to think. A white-hot, piercing pain erupted in my chest. I looked down and saw the hilt of his sword pressed against my sternum, the steel blade embedded several inches deep into my body.

Blood bloomed across my torn tunic. The pain was immense, but I was still standing.

Reyn leaned in close, his confident smile returning as he looked at the sword lodged in my chest, then up into my eyes. He was waiting for me to fall, but I didn't. His smile faltered for just a second, a flicker of confusion mixing with his victory.

To Be Continued.