1 Ego death (1/2)
As his eyes slowly dimmed, each passing second felt longer and heavier. The once clear silver buildings formed themselves into a spiralling tunnel, with only the sky as the end of it. Dragging his eyes downwards, he took one last look at the barely discernible man in front of his body.
The arrogant and aloof expression plastered on the guy's face said it all. ”Not so tough now, eh?” the slightly more viewable middle aged man let out a coarse chuckle, making the hoodie he wore shake ever so slightly.
”You can only blame yourself, boy. Even though the boss's brat is something else, you shouldn't have layed your hands on him”.
A second went by, sinking the sentence in the boy's mind. Further clearing the dizziness.
'What? What is this guy talking about?' the boy muttered in his head whilst the concrete beneath his back dug deeper.
The minor pain jolted him slightly more awake. Now trying to find how he ended up here. Slowly, the image of him saving his friend from getting beat up by some unkown thugs the other day played in his mind.
As he kept reviewing the faint but vivid memory, what felt like a eternity ended in just a second. By the time he was done replaying it the thousandth time, the boy finally found something ammis, causing the luster in his dark gold eyes to grow stronger. Demanding an answer.
The attacker registered this, and a smirked was formed in the corner of his mouth, further strengthening his aloof expression.
”Ha?” his smirked shaped itself into a triumphent smile. ”You want to know, don't you? Well, since you are a goner anyway, it wouldn't hurt. Your friend ratted you out. We didn't even need to question him. He gave us all the information he had. And best of all, he was smiling as he did. Ha! can you belive it? Too bad you picked some trash as your brother, Mr. Michael Wiik.”
As he heard the sentence, the luster in Michael's eyes grew more radiant. Realisation came over him. Enlightenment seeped into every cell of his unmoving body. The white, lifeless skin regained some color, and his heavy, callus covered hands formed themselves into small clubs.
While rapidly converting his growing loath and regret into fuel for his body, he flung his right foot in the attackers knee. With that came a heavy *crack* causing the man to trip backwards.
”AAAAAAHH! S***, BOY!” the man roared venomously. his short silver hair waving back and forth a couple of times. ”You really did it now!” He spat out with a hostile tone while covering his knee. Both eyes driping with resentment and confusion.
However, as the attacker was shifting his surprised and pained gaze from the cracked knee to Michael, he noticed that the boy which he just mocked and taunted was now stand in front of him. His towering and powerful frame blocked the sunlight from touching his skin, from reaching the ground. The aura emitted from the boy's body casued all the flight receptors in his brain to fire uncontrollably.
The once arrogant man now felt cold sweat run down his back, and shiveres of regret invade the bone. While weakly trembling on the ground, starring at Michael, he noticed the now red knife handle sticking out from the center of the boy's chest.
As if trying to comfort himself, he formed a smirk with his lips, covering the unease. Masking the pain and fear he felt. ”You should just give it up!” the man laughed. Gaining more confidence back. ”That knife is not just some cheap piece of grinded metal!”.
Building up some of the previous domineering attitude, the man continued while letting out a shaking but fitting chuckle. ”That's what you call a Tri-Edged dagger! The wound on your chest can only be closed by a number of surgeons working together. Hell, with the amount of blood you have lost there won't even be..”
*DUNK
Before he could finish, Michael glued the head of the man perfectly beetween his shoe and the cold yet slightly jagged grey pavement. The impact created a weak tremor, making the small rocks that covered the edges of the sidewalk to jolt like small dices.
Unfortunately, as the power dispersed, more blood flowed out from his wounded chest. It further staining the gray cardigan he wore. *cough *cough he let out.