madness

Kai chen stared at the white ceiling, the silence of his dimly lit apartment pressing down on him like a heavy weight. His breath was short, his black eyes glazed with insanity that had consumed him for years. Infront of him a single candle flicked, casting jagged shadows across the room. A long sleek polished sword lay on the ground together with tattered books. It had been days since he last slept, yet his eyes refused to close. His mind an endless storm of thoughts not the one an ordinary teenager would be having. Vortex of numbers, angles and vectors –The elements he tried in cooperating in the meticulous art of ancient swordsmanship.

No matters how many hours of diligence and dedication he spent there was always a sense that something was missing. He saw it in his reflection, the dark circles under his eyes, the sharpness in his jaw, the premature aging evident his face from his relentless pursuit of perfection. He was on his wits end. The edges of his sanity were fraying and he knew it. Yet the thought of stopping, of slowing down, was even more unbearable. Like a mindless zombie his body moved on its own, lifting the sword In a swift arc through the air.

The flame flicked out, leaving him in total darkness.

The sound of metal slicing through the air filled the small apartment. Kai chen's body moved with fluid precision, each strike deliberate, every motion calculated. The room was cramped, bared enough for the sword play but Kai didn't care. The rest of the world had slowly fade leaving him and only his sword. With time his body glistened with sweat, his muscles aching from strain. He ignored the hunger gnawing his stomach and the fatigue weighing down his limbs. All that mattered was the pursuit for perfection.

Yet no matter how many sleepless nights he endured, how many times he repeated the same movements, perfection eluded him. The closer he thought he was, the more it seems to slip from his grasp.

He paused, breathing heavily. He glanced at the small, cluttered desk across the room. It was covered in books and notebooks, filled with theories and calculations. Sketches of human anatomy, diagrams of force trajectories, equations that he had scribbled in moments of enlightened. Ancient swordsmanship and modern science. Blending the ancient with the contemporary was easier said than done.

With a deep sigh kai chen sank to the floor, his back against the wall, staring blankly at the blade resting in his hands. Everything felt suffocating. The narrow walls seemed to be pressing in on him, as though mocking the limits he couldn't escape. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the weariness that clung on his mind like a hazy fog, but it was no use.

"I can't give up when am this close ", he muttered under his breath.

Lately, he began to wonder if perfection was even possible. Maybe that's the problem, he was chasing something that did not even exist. But the thought of giving up, of resigning himself to mediocrity, was if intolerable. He couldn't let go, he had to see to the end of it if even it meant losing himself in the process.

Suddenly a knock came from the door, pilling Kai out of his thoughts. He ignored it then continued to stare blanky at the floor. Who could that be at this hour? Probably some distractions.

The knocking grew more insistent. Kai's jaws tightened, but he remained still, staring at the cold blade in his hands. His hands began to tremble. Was it fatigue? Or was it something else? Something darker, lurking at the depths of his consciousness. The sense of uneasiness kept growing, like a shadow creeping beyond his reach.

The knocking stopped. Kai let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. The silence returned heavy and oppressive. He closed his eyes. The cold metal of the sword in his hands reassuring him.