Timeless Assassin

"Who's there?"

Leo's breath hitched at the question, his heart pounding in his chest.

The opponents had zeroed in on their hiding spot, all thanks to Felix and his fat ass, which couldn't stay quiet for 30 damn seconds.

They were about to walk blindly into the trap—a perfect ambush in the making—until Felix's yelp shattered the silence and turned everything to shit.

'What the hell do I do now? Wait and hope they walk into the corner anyway?' The thought flashed through Leo's mind, but the answer came almost immediately, sharp and unforgiving. 'No!'

Hoping they'd stumble into a trap after hearing Felix's blunder was pure idiocy. They'd already been warned, already had their guard up. Waiting would only give them more time to think, to plan their attack—and that was a luxury Leo couldn't afford.

His eyes darted toward Felix, who was uselessly crouched behind a pillar, hyperventilating and looking too paralyzed with fear to do anything, and it was at that moment that it became painfully clear to Leo that Felix wasn't going to be of any help.

That he was all alone.

'I have to go out. I have to face them head-on. There's no other choice.' Leo realized, as fear clawed at his chest, a cold, gnawing feeling that made his fingers tighten instinctively around the daggers in his hands.

He wasn't sure he could win—not against skilled opponents, not with his fragmented memory and shaky confidence. But waiting wasn't an option. Waiting meant death, and that much he was sure of.

'Fuck it–' Leo concluded, as he stepped out of the shadows, his heart pounding like a war drum, as he looked his opponents in the eyes.

"Well, well," the scarred man sneered, his expression one of disgust, as he watched Leo stand before him with two daggers in hand.

"Looks like the little bunny decided to come out and play…. Where is your partner bunny? Is he still hiding?" The man inquired, but Leo said nothing.

His sharp eyes flicked between the two opponents, as he tracked their movements, and noted the way they instinctively spread out to flank him.

His grip on the daggers tightened, the cool steel grounding him.

The stocky man chuckled, his voice low and rumbling. "If your partner doesn't show up soon you're dead meat boy, two on one and you have no chance"

Leo's heart pounded at the threat, his chest tight, but his gaze remained steady. He could feel the fear clawing at the edges of his mind, threatening to paralyze him. Yet, his body betrayed none of it. His stance was firm, his movements measured.

Then, the scarred man made the first move, lunging forward with a quick, precise thrust aimed at Leo's chest.

But, Leo's instincts took over, and his right dagger shot up to deflect the blow. Steel met steel with a sharp clang, the impact reverberating up Leo's arm.

The stocky man followed immediately, swinging his mace in a brutal arc aimed to take Leo's head clean off his shoulders, but Leo ducked low, the weapon whooshing over his head and slamming into the wall behind him, sending cracks spidering through the concrete.

For a moment, all Leo could do was defend. His arms moving on their own, blocking and parrying, his feet shifting to keep him just out of reach of their strikes. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, faster with every passing second.

But then, something shifted.

Time seemed to slow, the chaos of the fight dissolving into sharp, deliberate moments, allowing Leo to perceive everything vividly.

The scarred man's shoulder dipped ever so slightly before he attacked, telegraphing his next move, while the stocky man's weight shifted to his back foot before each swing of the mace, giving Leo a split-second warning.

They're slow….. Everything around me is slow.

The realization hit him like a jolt of electricity. He could see everything—the tension in their muscles, the angles of their strikes, the flaws in their footwork. Despite his lack of memory, his body seemed to know exactly what to do. Every attack, every feint created by his opponent felt like it was moving at half speed, giving him more than enough time to react.

It was an indescribable feeling. A feeling where he felt fully in control of himself and his surroundings, but he could not understand why?

His opponents were clearly not moving slowly on purpose, however, to him they felt slow, like he were fighting children, and this sensation helped him ease his nerves a bit.

The scarred man lunged again, this time with a high slash aimed at Leo's neck, but Leo sidestepped, his movements fluid and precise as he flicked his left dagger up to parry the blade.

He didn't counter, not yet. He wasn't ready to strike back—not until he had to, but the dodging and parrying felt effortless now. Like he did not have to try hard to stay alive.

The stocky man roared, charging forward with his mace raised high, and Leo waited until the last moment, before rolling to the side as the heavy weapon smashed into the ground where he'd just been standing.

Dust and debris filled the air, but Leo barely noticed. His focus was razor-sharp, every nerve in his body attuned to the fight.

The scarred man snarled in frustration, his blade flashing toward Leo's ribs in a quick thrust, but Leo stepped back, pulling his daggers up in a defensive cross, which easily blocked the thrust.

*Smash*

The impact jarred his arms, but he held firm, his gaze narrowing.

'There's an opening' He realized, his eyes locked on the scarred man's throat.

The angle was perfect. A quick strike, clean and precise to the throat, and the fight would be over.

It was an opportunity hard to pass, as the instinct to kill surged through him.

His grip tightened on the dagger, his muscles coiled like a spring.

But then, something in him faltered. The thought of taking a life, even in self-defense, made his chest tighten.

He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, a suffocating pressure that stopped him cold.

No.

Instead of aiming for the throat, Leo shifted his focus. He feinted high, forcing the scarred man to raise his guard, and in that instant, he struck low. His dagger slicing cleanly through the teleportation crystal strapped to the man's belt.

*Crash*

The scarred man's eyes widened in shock. "What the—?"

A brilliant flash of light engulfed him, cutting off his words, as he vanished in an instant, his form dissolving into shimmering particles.

The stocky man froze mid-swing, his eyes darting to his own crystal, which flared to life in response. Panic flashing across his face as well.

"No! Wait—" he yelped, but before he could finish, the magic activated. His body flickered, glowing faintly before disappearing in a second burst of light, as the corridor suddenly fell silent.

Leo stood there, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his daggers trembling slightly in his hands. The fight was over, but the tension in his chest remained. He stared at the empty space where his opponents had stood, his mind racing.

He hadn't killed them. He didn't need to, but sparing them did not feel right either.

The bloodlust within him seemed to be unsatisfied with his choice, as for the first time, the look in his eyes shifted.

From looking like a sane man in control of his emotions, he transformed into someone utterly deranged, his expression mirroring the bloodlust of the other assassins in the test. Yet, the look of insanity passed as swiftly as it had come, giving way to a composed, measured calm once more.

The immediate threat was over. His life was no longer in danger.