1 Ego death (1/2)

As my eyes slowly dimmed, each passing second felt longer and heavier. The once clear silver buildings twisted themselves into a spiralling tunnel. Now, with only the clear sky as the end of it. Dragging my tiring gaze further down, I notice the guy standing before my body.

The arrogant and aloof expression said it all. ”Not so tough now, eh?” Trying focus his facial features in the little viewable space I have left, he finally became discernible.

The bald middle aged man let out a coarse chuckle while seeing me struggle this much. It made the hoodie he wore shake a little. That thing was definetly too big for his body.

”You can only blame yourself, boy. Even though the boss's brat is something else, you shouldn't have layed your hands on him”.

I felt a second go by, letting the sentence sink into my mind. It cleared the dizziness slightly, disrupting the closing tunnel from continuing.

'What? What is this guy talking about?' Something within my head kept me in check, as to try and not remember what had happened.

However, thanks to the jagged and uneven concrete sidewalk, the shield which held me down was wrung away by the sticking pain. Allowing me to try and find out how I ended up here.

The thoughts in my head kept wandering away, leading towards a certain blurry image Iseemed to hold some familiarity with.

'what is this?'

While trying to properly make it out, my brain found itself replaying it several times until the image turned into a small sequence. My sworn brother, which I had known since childhood was being brutally beaten by some shady thugs. And while this happend, I showed up and saved his skin.

However, why was I only seeing this? Why were they after him anyways? No, wait...Thats not right! This..This....

The attacker registered the pale, yet conflicted expression that grew on my face, and a smirked was formed in the corner of his mouth.

”Ha?” the smirk formed itself into something similar to a triumphant smile. ”You want to know, don't you? Well, since you are a goner anyway, it wouldn't hurt...”

It felt like I already knew what he was going to say. However, why was I hoping he would tell me something different. Like if he was just some bored psycho? But yeah, too bad my wish was never granted..

”Your friend ratted you out. We didn't even need to question him much. 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.”

Michael...? No, how did he get my name?! After all I have done, will my life be taken this easily?! Was all my suffering just some sort of joke!!?

...

As he heard the sentence, the luster in Michael's eyes grew more radiant as 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 stood 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.