297 The Red Lotus Lounge (4)
As Erik entered the VIP room, his senses heightened, and his focus sharpened. He could hear the faint murmurs of conversation and the tinkling of glasses, but all that mattered to him was his target: Achim.
With his usual mask on, Erik moved swiftly and silently; his flyssa gripped tightly in his hand.
Achim was still sitting with his girlfriend on the sofa in the middle of the room, engrossed in what was clearly more than a conversation. The awakener's heart pounded in his chest as he closed the distance between them, his eyes fixed on his prey.
Erik's grip tightened on his flyssa, and he lunged towards his target, determined to end the man's life once and for all.
But Achim's girlfriend, who was sitting beside him, spotted Erik out of the corner of her eye. Reacting instinctively, she pushed Achim out of the way and shielded him with her body, taking the brunt of Erik's attack. The sword sliced through the air, missing Achim by centimeters but striking the woman instead.
The wound on the woman's body was a deep gash that sliced across her side, just below her ribcage. The crimson blood oozed from the laceration, staining her clothes and pooling on the floor beneath her.
The cut was clean and precise, stretching several centimeters in length, and it was clear that it had struck deep into her flesh, causing significant damage. The blood poured out from it steadily, coloring her once-elegant attire with a dark, sticky stain, and it was evidence of the force behind Erik's attack with the flyssa. Her breathing was labored, and her complexion had turned pale as shock set in. It was a severe wound, and the woman's face contorted in pain as she clutched at it, trying to stem the bleeding with her hand.
A sense of guilt weighed heavily on Erik as he caught a glimpse of the woman's injuries.
He had never intended to harm her, and the sight of her in pain tugged at his conscience.
Achim stared in horror as his girlfriend collapsed, blood pooling around her.
"ANGELICA!" he shouted, but the sound of his voice was muffled by the music being blasted by the club's speakers.
Erik's eyes widened in surprise, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events. He hesitated for a split second, his emotions conflicting with the ruthless mission he had set out to complete.
[INDIVIDUAL KILLED: MANA ABSORBING PROCESS STARTING.]
[0%...1%....5%...30%...70%...100%]
[3...2...1...0]
[MANA SUCCESSFULLY CONVERTED INTO EXPERIENCE. 76 EXPERIENCE POINTS AWARDED TO THE HOST.]
In that momentary pause, Achim seized the opportunity to grab a nearby bottle and swung it at Erik with all his strength while looking at him with a gaze full of hatred. The glass shattered upon impact, sending shards flying toward Erik, who instinctively raised his arm to protect his face.
Blinded by rage, Achim's grief turned into a fiery determination to avenge his girlfriend's death. He grabbed his sword with a white-knuckled grip, his movements wild and uncoordinated as he launched himself at Erik. The situation slightly took Erik aback, but he quickly regained his composure, knowing that it was his or Achim's life.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, MOTHERFUCKER?!"
Achim swung his sword wildly, driven by a primal need for retribution. But his strikes were reckless, lacking in precision and finesse. Erik was now a skilled fighter, and he easily parried Achim's blows, countering with calculated strikes of his own.
"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
The man swung his sword again, but Erik avoided the attacks easily.
"You know damn well who I am, Achim..." Erik replied, and then everything was clear to the young man.
"Ha... haha...hahahahahahahahahah. So, you have come, uh? You are the guy Nathaniel wanted dead!"
"Bingo!" Erik replied.
Erik and Achim faced each other in the VIP room; swords were drawn and ready for battle. Erik exuded confidence and skill as he squared off against the older man, just by his assumed stance.
Achim was skilled too, but he was nothing before the training the Red Palace provided to Erik; despite being in the military, he didn't have enough time to hone his skills and wasn't even that interested.
From the first clash of steel, it was clear to Achim that his attacker and his girlfriend's killer had the upper hand. His movements were fluid, and his strikes were precise and calculated. He deftly parried Achim's attacks, easily anticipating his every move. On the other hand, he was clearly struggling to keep up, his swordsmanship lacking finesse and strategy.
Erik's blade danced effortlessly, weaving a deadly dance as he pressed the attack. He struck with precision, aiming for Achim's weaknesses and exploiting them with ruthless efficiency. Achim's defense crumbled under Erik's onslaught; his sword was constantly forced into defensive positions as he tried desperately to keep him at bay.
Erik's higher experience and skill were evident in every move he made. He sidestepped Achim's swings, countered with swift and calculated strikes, and seamlessly transitioned from defense to offense in an instant. His footwork was flawless, allowing him to control the pace of the battle.
"So, you came here to kill me? Just because I helped Nathaniel find those guys? DAMN, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE; NATHANIEL DIDN'T SAY IT!" Achim shouted, but the bass from the main room was still pumping and covering his voice.
"It doesn't matter at this point. I can't leave loose ends that could create problems in the long run," for air, sweat pouring down his face.
13:23
Achim, realizing his defeat, dropped to his knees, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked up at Erik replied.
"MOTHER FUCKER!" Achim replied.
He was becoming increasingly frustrated and desperate, and he lunged forward with a reckless attack, leaving himself vulnerable. Erik capitalized on the opening, swiftly disarming his opponent with a well-timed strike. Achim's sword clattered to the ground, and he stumbled backward, gasping for air, sweat pouring down his face.
Achim, realizing his defeat, dropped to his knees, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked up at Erik, a mix of frustration and fear in his eyes. "You're too good," he admitted, his voice hoarse with defeat. "I can understand why that psycho, Nathaniel, wanted to kill you so badly..." His eyes were now devoid of any hope.
Erik nodded solemnly, sheathing his sword. "I can't understand it either," he said quietly, raising his sword to deal the finishing blow.
"WAIT! I CAN GIVE YOU MONEY! I'M RICH; I CAN GIVE YOU INFORMATION! WHATEVER YOU WANT, BUT DO NOT KILL ME!"
Erik sighed. "Unfortunately, I can't. You see, I saw the conversations between you and Nathaniel and knew he talked to you about me. Leaving you alive had never been an option."
"How can you be so ruthless?! If what Nathaniel said is true, you should be 15! How can you be so ruthless?!"
"It doesn't matter. I'm just doing what I can to survive. No hard feelings," Erik said with a cold tone. He, too, was accustomed to murder; his past problems and everything he had suffered were what pushed him to become like this. In a sense, it was the whole city's fault.
Erik wasn't an evil person; like everyone, he wanted peace, he wanted love, and he wanted happiness. But due to his situation, to him, it looked like there was always someone trying to get those things away from him, and he was sick and tired of this.
Who told Achim to help Nathaniel? Who told him to be okay with what his and Nathaniel's father did? They brought pain, shame, and fear to many people, which was another reason to get rid of him.
Achim looked at his surroundings and spotted the many cameras.
"Hahahahahahaha, if you kill me, even with that mask, my father's men will find you and will make your life miserable! YOU WILL SUFFER A FATE MUCH WORSE THAN DEATH!" Achim shouted with a slight grin on his face.
"Don't worry, I already took care of the cameras," Erik replied, noticing he was looking at them. Immediately, Achim's smile disappeared from his face.
"NO! PLEASE, NO!"
"Goodbye." At that moment, Erik swung his sword.
Achim winced as he looked down at the slash across his chest, a crimson gash that oozed blood. The wound was deep, the edges precise and elegant, evidence of Erik's swordsmanship. Blood trickled down Achim's tuxedo, staining it a dark shade of red.
The cut started just below his jawline and extended diagonally across his chest. The skin split open, revealing the underlying muscle tissue. However, Erik's strength was so great that he cut Achim's bones like butter, and there was a giant gap that allowed the awakener to see his opponent's innards.
Achim didn't immediately die. The wound throbbed with pain, radiating waves of agony with each breath he took. He pressed a hand to the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding, only to find the hole; the blood seeped through his fingers, warm and sticky.
Achim's breath came in ragged gasps, and he could feel his strength waning. He knew he had been no match for this man's skill and experience in battle, but he was still having problems accepting the situation.
The pain was overwhelming, and he struggled to keep his balance, his vision blurring. As he fell backward, Achim could feel the cold grip of fear creeping up his spine once more.
Blood continued to pour from the wound, staining his hands and the ground beneath him. Achim's eyes met Erik's, and he could see the expressionless eyes behind the mask.
Achim mustered all his left strength and tried to crawl away from Erik. He knew he needed to find help quickly if he wanted to survive. His vision faded, and his arms gave out. All the blood in his body quickly ended, and Achim, unable to scream, talk, curse, or move, lost his life at that moment after his vision was obscured and his heart was full of fear and dread.
[HOSTILE INDIVIDUAL KILLED: MANA ABSORBING PROCESS STARTING.]
[0%...1%....5%...30%...70%...100%]
[MANA SUCCESSFULLY ABSORBED, STARTING CONVERTING PROCEDURE.]
[3...2...1...0]
[MANA SUCCESSFULLY CONVERTED INTO EXPERIENCE. 105 EXPERIENCE POINTS AWARDED TO THE HOST.]
[QUEST COMPLETE.]
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