Odyssey Of Survival

Nate's fingers clenched around the two spears, his grip tightening as he slowly advanced toward the three men before him. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost casual, as if he wasn't concerned in the slightest about their presence. His eyes locked onto the archer, the one who had just killed tried to kill him without hesitation. The man was already pulling another arrow from his quiver, moving with practiced efficiency, his eyes sharp and filled with killing intent.

Then, without warning, the archer fired.

Nate's body shifted instinctively. He didn't even need to think—his muscles reacted before his mind fully registered the movement. He sidestepped smoothly, and the arrow whizzed past him, narrowly missing his cheek as it embedded itself into the ground with a dull thud. The moment his foot hit the ground, he lunged forward, closing the distance between himself and the two men wielding curved blades.

The two warriors reacted instantly, raising their weapons in a coordinated strike. The first slashed horizontally, aiming to slice Nate's torso open, while the second swung downward with the clear intent of cleaving his skull in two. But to them, Nate was like a ghost.

He bent backward, narrowly dodging the first slash, the blade cutting nothing but air just inches from his stomach. At the same time, he lifted one of the spears, parrying the downward attack with such force that the warrior staggered back. Nate didn't hesitate—he twisted his body mid-motion and slammed his knee into the stomach of the man who had just missed his horizontal slash. The impact was brutal. The man's feet left the ground as he was sent flying backward, crashing onto the dirt with a sickening grunt.

The second attacker recovered and lunged again, spinning his blade in a deadly arc. Nate raised his spear just in time to block it, but the force behind the attack was strong, pushing him back slightly. A moment later, the first attacker had regained his footing and was already charging at him again, their combined attacks coming from both sides in an attempt to corner him.

But Nate wasn't going to let that happen.

With a burst of speed, he ducked under a swipe aimed at his head, shifting his stance to the side as he swung one of the spears with all his strength. The shaft of the weapon struck the first attacker's ribs with a loud crack, and the man howled in pain as he staggered back, his balance completely thrown off. Without pausing, Nate pivoted, his body twisting fluidly as he redirected his momentum toward the second warrior.

The man tried to react, but Nate was already inside his guard. He brought the butt of the spear up in a brutal uppercut, slamming it into the man's jaw with bone-crushing force. Blood sprayed from the warrior's mouth as his head snapped back violently, his body collapsing onto the ground in a heap.

The first warrior, despite the pain radiating through his ribs, refused to give up. With a furious roar, he swung his blade again, his movements fueled by desperation rather than precision. But desperation wasn't enough to overcome skill.

Nate sidestepped the attack effortlessly, his reflexes sharper than ever. In one swift motion, he spun his spear in his hand and drove the blunt end into the warrior's stomach. The man's eyes widened as all the air in his lungs was forcibly expelled. He collapsed onto his knees, clutching his midsection as he gasped for breath.

But Nate wasn't done.

Before the warrior could react, Nate flipped the spear in his grasp, gripping it near the bottom as he raised it high. Then, with a single, devastating strike, he brought the shaft down onto the back of the warrior's head. The impact was instant—the man's body went limp, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Silence filled the air.

Nate exhaled slowly, his muscles still tense as he turned his gaze toward the first warrior, one of the last remaining enemy. The man was standing frozen, his sword still raised, but his hands were trembling. He could still the pain in his stomach. He had just watched Nate dismantle his comrade mere moments, and now, he was the only left.

But fear didn't stop him. With gritted teeth, the held the sword high up.

This time, something different happened.

Nate's instincts flared the moment he heard the archer behind him fire. He wasn't thinking—his body simply moved. As the arrow hurtled toward him, he did something he never thought was possible.

His right hand released one of the spears, moving so fast it almost blurred. His fingers snapped out, reaching behind him without even turning around, and—

He caught the arrow.

Time seemed to slow as he stood there, holding the arrow firmly between his fingers. His back was still turned to the archer, his body still facing the the first warrior, but in his hand was the very projectile meant to pierce his flesh.

For a moment, there was complete silence.

Then, the archer's bow fell from his hands. His eyes were wide, his face drained of all color. He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

Nate didn't turn around. Instead, he spun the arrow between his fingers once, feeling its weight and balance. It was rough, crude, nothing like the precise weaponry he had seen before. But it didn't matter. A weapon was still a weapon.

His grip tightened.

And then—

He moved.

The arrow left his hand like a bolt of lightning, cutting through the air at an incredible speed. The man beside him barely had time to react before the arrow pierced his throat.

Blood erupted from the wound as the warrior staggered back, his hands flying to his neck in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. His body convulsed, his eyes filled with terror as he struggled to breathe, but only a garbled choking sound escaped his lips. He fell to his knees, his fingers still gripping the shaft of the arrow lodged in his throat.

Then, his body collapsed onto the ground. Lifeless.

The archer froze.

His hands trembled, his body going stiff as he stared at his fallen companion. He didn't even dare to reach for another arrow. His breathing was ragged, shallow, like a man staring into the abyss.

And Nate… finally turned around.

His eyes locked onto the archer, his expression unreadable. He took a slow step forward, his footsteps eerily quiet against the dirt.

The archer instinctively took a step back, his body reacting before his mind could even process it. His limbs trembled, and sweat dripped down the sides of his face.

Nate didn't say anything at first. He simply looked at the man, his gaze piercing, unwavering. The silence stretched between them like a blade, sharp and suffocating.

Then, after a long pause, he finally spoke.

"Who are you?"

His voice was calm. Too calm. There was no anger, no rage—just a quiet, authoritative menace that sent an icy chill down the archer's spine.

The man hesitated, his lips parting slightly, but no words came out. His eyes darted between Nate and the lifeless bodies of his fallen comrades. His breathing was ragged, his shoulders tense, his entire body screaming fear.

And for the first time since the fight began—he looked truly afraid.

"You are a demon".