There was no time to dodge the blade—it came straight for my face. All I could do was twist my body slightly to the side.

  I chose left and felt it slash across my cheek, up to my skull and ear.

  By mere inches, the blade had missed piercing my head, but it was sharp enough to carve a deep wound along my face.

  I rolled to the side and got up. Max stood a few feet away, his eyes locked on my wounds. With each droplet of blood that hit the ground, he seemed to breathe a little deeper—like a freaking pervert.

  My hand went to my face instinctively as I felt the gash. Half the top of my ear lay on the ground, and as my tongue explored the inside of my cheek, I felt it breach through—cold air touched my bloody tongue.

  As my blood poured onto the ground, I watched it slowly crawl toward Max’s blade. The weapon, now completely clean, looked like any other beginner sword the system had handed out.

  But as my blood slithered toward it like a vermin seeking rotten meat, it suddenly jumped into the air and adhered to the blade, slowly but surely spreading more red across its surface.

  The blood still on my body, my shirt, and my wounds didn’t move—only the parts that had hit the ground.

  “You realize now? You never had a chance.” Max stared straight into my eyes. But I’d made a promise, and I wasn’t about to break it.

  As blood oozed from my wounds, I made sure none of it touched the ground. I tore one of my sleeves and pressed it against the bleeding flesh.

  The clock was ticking. One minute had passed already, and I had one more in Strength. His blade was only partially filled—I figured about a quarter, judging by the distance. That meant he could land two strikes with a fully charged blade, and maybe a weaker one with half of it? He’d need to draw more blood from me if he wanted to strike again with the same power. And I just needed to buy time.

  “Everyone on Earth is seeing the weak piece of shit you are,” Max continued, “one that turned his back on humanity to be around these freaks.”

  I smirked at that. No words were needed. The sight of my bloodied teeth was enough to enrage Max. His eyes widened as if he were reading my mind.

  “I didn’t mean that! I had to survive! Humans do it all the time—it was me or him! My party saw it happen on the show, and they’re still with me! They forgave me, like my grandma told us we should!” Max yelled, his lungs running out of air with each word. He was probably consumed by guilt or something similar, something that was taking control of him. “These monsters… they flay us for fun. I came across some of their displays, and even so, you have three of them behind you. The Myriads… we ran into a group that had three slaves, and you wouldn’t want to see that shit.”

  And you think you’re so different from them, don’t you? I thought, but only shook my head. I didn’t need to speak—the man had already thought it all himself and somehow projected those feelings onto me.

  “I’m not like them, you bastard! I’ll wipe that smug smile off your face with my blade! I’m not like them!”

  He was exasperated as he charged toward me, eyes watering, sword at his side, dripping little droplets of blood onto the ground.

  He came fast and reckless, and I didn’t meet him halfway this time. He had the reach, and he wanted more of my blood to fuel stronger attacks. I just needed to make sure my blood wasn’t hitting the ground and he wasn’t landing clean blows.

  I dismissed my blade. It was fast, but not instantaneous like when I had my bracelets. I still had the improved stats even with it in my inventory, which was great. So, I waited.

  When he swung, I stepped back in a short leap and watched the air crackle right in front of me. It was as if he were extending his attack, making the reach of his swing just a little longer.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  I’d seen him use that from a distance against the Vorrak, so I wasn’t surprised when it came for me. I was already ducking when the blood blade sliced the air where my neck should’ve been.

  I rose to my feet and grabbed his right wrist with my own right hand, holding it as firmly as possible. I summoned my blade, and it appeared just as I drove it toward the enemy’s heart. A fight like this was better ended quickly, but he was smart.

  He twisted his body to the side, toward his outstretched, useless arm. My blade connected with his body but sank in just below his armpit instead of striking the heart. With my limited knowledge of biology, I figured it was mere inches away, but he didn’t gasp like someone hit in the heart. Instead, he dropped his blade, and I knew what was coming. He dropped his sword, aiming to summon it mid attack and catch me off guard.

  However he’d taught me that trick, hadn’t he?

  He swung with his free hand at my face. I let go of his arm and kicked him straight in the chest.

  His blade still came and still cut me—right into the left side of my chest. He hit me with the actual blade, solid metal, and I watched, in that fraction of a second, as it drank my blood in vicious gulps. Like his patron god was downing it like a drunk in relapse.

  When he finally stopped, his blade was now half-filled with my blood.

  “Stop! Can’t you see I have a fucking knife in me?” Was Max talking to his god? Hadn’t they cut off communication between us?

  We can still communicate. We just have nothing to add, said the feminine voice.

  Besides, kill the bastard soon or he’ll bleed you to death, the masculine voice hissed in my left ear.

  And fuck, he was right. I could already feel weakness creeping into my legs. The blade had drunk a good portion of my blood, and another considerable amount had soaked into my clothes or skin.

  I didn’t reply to the gods either. I was too focused on Max.

  He was staring at my blade lodged in his body, weighing his options. I’d pierced him with the double-edged blade—the light version—and needed to switch it to the serrated one as soon as he started pulling.

  But his hesitation gave me an opening, and I took it.

  I rushed at Max with speed, and he was so focused on removing the blade without worsening the wound that he only noticed me when I was halfway there.

  He looked shocked for a second, then swung his blade downward, sending a crackling wave in front of him. Since it was an instinctive attack, I braced to dodge. As soon as he brought the sword down, I’d already stepped to my right and sprinted forward again.

  The bloodblade sliced the air right beside me, confirming he couldn’t change its direction after launching it. He had no blood left on his blade, nor did he have time to strike again before I was on him.

  I swung with my right fist and punched him hard in the jaw. He stumbled to the side, preparing for a counterattack, but that’s when I took it upon myself to remove the blade from under his armpit.

  I grabbed it, transformed it into the serrated version, and twisted. Inertia did the rest. He stumbled back, already screaming in pain as my dagger tore through his flesh like a meat processor.

  His face twisted into a grimace as he fell onto his back. I charged forward, not letting the momentum die.

  I kicked him in the temple as he tried to rise, and he rolled on the ground.

  He rolled violently, and I stayed on him, serrated blade in hand.

  I pinned his sword hand with my foot as his eyes darted around, trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

  His left hand was free, lying on the ground, and I made sure to pin it down with my blade.

  I looked down at him as he gasped, then screamed in pain.

  It was ironic that the man talking about religion and forgiveness was the one pinned. But I didn’t dwell on his hypocrisy—he wasn’t human anymore.

  He needed to be disposed of. So, with my blade and foot locking him in place, I leaned down and struck him with my fist again, still aiming for his jaw.

  His face twisted to the side, and I kept hitting the same spot with my right hand, struggling to breathe as I struck. After the fifth blow, my knuckles ached, and I paused to catch my breath.

  That brief moment was enough for him to turn and face me. Half of his face had become a swollen glob of flesh. He spat a tooth at me… and grinned.

  I saw it in his eyes—I’d awakened the beast.

  Before I could dodge, he slammed his forehead into mine, and I fell back.

  My head spun like a rolling boulder, my vision darkening as my ass hit the rocky ground.

  A different voice reached my ears—a maddening one. The voice of a broken man, dripping with poison and hatred.

  Use the blade, you moron. This is your only chance. He’s better than you! You’re weak. I want more of his blood.

  Was that Max’s god speaking? Why could I hear it?

  Before I could answer anything, the blond man was already on me, roaring as he crushed my temple with his closed fist.

  The world went dark.