3 The Blade Choose No sides

Karl's left leg swung with precision, striking his opponent's left knee, not too forceful but just enough to throw off his opponent's balance.

The man, otherwise known as Derek stumbled, only a few steps away from a pyramid-shaped stone.

"What the…"

Caught off guard, Derek began to fall as he struggled to regain his balance, desperately grasping at the featureless wall.

Before he could steady himself, Karl seized the opportunity and nudged him again, altering the trajectory of his fall with a subtle push from his right leg.

"Motherfu**er, I'll kil…"

Before the man could finish his threat, his voice was cut short as he collided with the sharp point of the stone, plunging deeply into his soft and squishy left eye.

The excruciating pain elicited a primal scream as the man realized he was probably now permanently blinded.

"Aaaarg!!! My eye…!!! My eye…!!! you bastard, I'll kill you!! I'll fu**ing kill you!!" His cries echoed, filled with rage and pain.

Karl knew all too well that his sudden burst of anger had ignited something he couldn't easily extinguish.

His years of literary wisdom taught him that abandoning and running midway was not an option. Hesitating to continue now could lead to dire consequences.

He has to act now to avoid the dangers of leaving loose ends that could potentially bite him back in the future.

Swiftly acting, he reached for Derek's right leg, reaching for the hidden dagger strapped to his ankle. With a quick pull, he disarmed the man, who responded with a vehement curse.

"Let me go, you son of a whore!!!"

With a fierce cry, the man kicked Karl away.

However, Karl had predicted the powerful strike and managed to evade it almost but the dagger slipped away from his hands.

Despite his anticipation of the attack, even the small graze of the kick left a deep impact, throwing him off balance and slamming him against the narrow valley wall.

The impact was so severe that he felt his collarbone nearly break within him.

Assessing his body's condition, he knew that another attack, even at ten percent of the current force, could cripple him completely.

Meanwhile, the man, clutching his injured eye, began standing up defiantly, crimson blood trickling down his face.

"Boy!!!" The man growled "I'm going to shatter every bone in your body and revel in your screams. Then I'll skin you alive as you watch in horror and wear it over my body while you're still breathing," The man still feeling immeasurable agony, started roaring his disturbing thoughts.

Karl, poised for combat, faced him squarely. But suddenly, a cunning grin played on his lips.

Just as the enraged Derek was ready to lunge forward, Karl's attention shifted, and glanced past the aggressor, feigning relief.

"Thank goodness you're here! Take this scumbag from behind!" Karl's voice echoed with sudden relaxation.

The sudden mention of another person triggered the man's reflexes as he spun around, expecting an enemy. Yet, there was only the enveloping moonlit darkness of the narrow path.

Realization dawned that the boy made a fool out of him as he turned towards Karl with fury bubbling in the remaining eye,

"You bas…" he began his cussing, but before his words could take shape, a handful of gritty coarse sand struck his right eye with precision.

"Aaaaaargh!" he howled, his free hand frantically rubbing at the stinging irritation in his right eye.

"Damn it! My eye!!! My eye!!!!"

Karl didn't pause to hear the man's cry. Swiftly, he delivered a sweeping kick at the back of his left knee, forcing the man to kneel on one leg.

"You…" Derek, with one eye still bleeding and the other clenched shut in pain, reached out blindly, aiming to grab Karl who, of course, skillfully evaded them.

In one fluid motion, Karl formed his hand into a fist with the middle finger slightly protruding.

Drawing his arm back for maximum impact, he stepped forward and delivered a forceful blow to the man's throat. He recalled this method as 'The One Knuckle Attack'.

'Crack!'

The sound of breaking bone filled the air, but to Karl's dismay, it wasn't the satisfying snap of the windpipe of the mini gorilla-like bastard as he had intended but his own finger bone.

"Faaaaaaak!" Karl's cry echoed in the narrow alleyway, pain searing through him. He had greatly underestimated the nimbleness of his current body.

For someone who loathed even the slightest discomfort, the past few minutes were worse than Lovecraft's nightmare come to life. He desperately wished this was all a dream, but the harsh reality pressed in around him, forbidding even a moment of respite.

Currently, he couldn't afford even to wallow in agony, as the danger was too real.

The thought of experimenting with death in a dream, hoping to wake up back in reality, was a risk he was not willing to take.

He glanced at Derek, relief flooding him as he realized his wish had been granted.

Derek's windpipe remained intact, however, the pain etched on Derek's face spoke volumes, rendering him speechless. The Veins bulging beneath his skin was a testament to his current agony.

Derek's mind raced with regret as he pondered why he had to kidnap the boy just to snatch the damn necklace from him. But it wasn't really his fault.

He couldn't help but notice how fragile the boy seemed, as if a strong gust of wind could carry him away.

When Derek spotted the boy alone in the marketplace, attempting to buy some fruits, he couldn't help but notice the shining chain around his neck. 

It had been a rough day for Derek as he hadn't found any mark to scam or steal from the whole day.

Just a moment earlier before noticing the boy, he had managed to steal from a fast-running man in the street by bumping into him wantedly and taking advantage of his hurry. But all he managed to steal was an old piece of goat skin with lots of scribbles.

So, when he saw the boy struggling in the market, he realized he had found his target for the day.

He followed the boy until they reached a secluded spot, away from prying eyes, and tried to steal the necklace without drawing attention.

However, the little weasel noticed him and started sprinting into the nearby forest. Despite his frail appearance, the boy was surprisingly fast.

Derek cursed under his breath as he struggled to keep up, but he eventually caught him after an hour of running.

Spotting some rundown ruins nearby, he dragged the boy there and vented his pent-up frustration by unleashing a barrage of punches.

He could have simply snatched the necklace, pocketed his remaining coins and left him alone without resorting to violence.

Yet, there was a primal satisfaction in overpowering and torturing those weaker than him.

The boy's unfortunate luck had landed him in his eyes, so how was this his fault? But was it truly the boy who was the unlucky one here?

Everything was going well. But where did it start to go wrong?

And how did the cunning little shit know his vulnerability with such precision?

Just a week prior, during a heated clash with a rival crew, he had suffered a minor injury to his left knee. It had been a fleeting discomfort, easily dismissed from his mind.

Yet, this boy targeted him not once but twice in the exact same spot, as if he had been aware of his injury all along.

In the eerie silence of the alley, the boy's footsteps echoed, each one sending a chill down Derek's spine.

Karl, his lips torn, head split, cheek ripped, and fingers broken, walked towards the fallen dagger picked it up, and approached the man with a determined stride.

"You must be wondering where it all went wrong, right?" Karl's words hung in the air, mirroring the man's thoughts.

'What kind of lunatic is he to know exactly what I'm thinking? Is he a demon spawn?' the man wondered, unable to muster a response.

"It's a common question in situations like this," Karl continued, unfazed. "But that's not the issue. Have you ever heard of the term 'Honor among thieves'?"

Without waiting for an answer, Karl pressed on.

"Even if you're a thieving scoundrel, without any sense of honor, your downfall is inevitable. You see, I already handed over the necklace. But why did you have to lash out and strike me? Also, you had to come back for more, didn't you?"

Derek wanted to protest, to scream about the injustice of it all. According to him, he was definitely not at fault. It was the boy's fault for being weak.

"I may seem calm," Karl's voice grew intense, "but I lose my composure when things deviate from my plans. And I have a mountain of troubles to handle since a lot of unexpected things happened that I never planned for"

Gritting his teeth and his eyes closed, Derek managed to utter a few words,

"Fine... I'll... let you go. Yo..u can...argh... take back your necklace... too.. "

But beneath his words lay a hidden agenda, a plan forming to catch the boy off guard as soon as he came close.

"Hmm!!??... The Appraisal result wasn't wrong. You truly are an ignorant fellow," Karl remarked, uttering each word slowly for Derek to hear clearly.

"Did you truly believe you were the only one capable of inflicting pain on others?" Karl's gaze bore into Derek, the weight of his words sinking in.

"I see you keep your dagger sharp. Smart choice. But not today."

In an instant, Derek realized his scheme had gone awry, and he roughly lunged forward in the direction of Karl's voice to apprehend the boy.

But Karl, as fast as a cat, aimed a swift kick at the man's tender spot between the legs, eliciting a deep pained cry that barely escaped his lips.

"Aaaawwwww!"

The sound escaped him, but with his windpipe constricted, even his agony couldn't muster much volume.

"I once read," Karl remarked casually, as he closed on Derek,

"That the most efficient way to end a man's life with a blade is by slashing his throat neatly. But when having a weak body like mine which cannot muster much force to cut the throat in precision, it seems the trick is to drive the blade forcefully into the opponent's temporal bone fast and accurate. Let's put that theory to the test, shall we?"

While the man's cries still echoed, Karl, wielding the dagger with his left hand, brought it crashing down on the right temporal side of the man's skull with all the force he could muster.

Derek's initial reaction was one of sudden shock as searing pain tore through his entire consciousness.

The dagger sliced through the outer layer of the skull and reached his soft delicate brain tissues.

His attempts to scream were stifled by the overwhelming agony while his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.

Finally, after what seemed to be a decade of relentless torment, his brain, starved of oxygen, faltered and ceased its functions in just under a few seconds.

Never in his wildest dreams did Derek imagine that today would mark his demise, and at the hands of a scrawny whelp, no less.