CHAPTER 45: A Certain Demon Clan

[George's POV]

What do you when pinned to the ground with a knife in your ribs? I certainly don't know the answer, which is why I would like to ask someone who does.

Do I scream and shout for someone to save me? I would try, if someone were at least likely to come. Do I try to jump to the Underworld (or is it fall?) to bring someone to fight for me?

I know it sounds unreasonable, but I'm in terrible pain right now. Cut me some slack if I don't make any sense.

How do I get out of this position? Should I try to go for his neck? Or his eye? What am I saying, of course I should go for his eye!

I tried to raise my hand slowly to poke his eye, but found another problem.

My hand is pinned under his leg! What about the other? I tried to raise it only to find it was in the same situation.

How did both my hands get under his legs? Is this some technique they haven't taught us?

At that moment, my face had the expression perfectly befitting someone who has tried everything he could only to see that it's no use. A look of eternal peace on my face.

Donovan was wheezing. I guess fighting me took a lot of breath out of him. Should I be happy I'm so difficult to kill, even for a person in Group 9? Or should I be sad I have the survivability of a bug?

That's a bit sad. Maybe I should be a bit disgruntled that I'm now comparable to an insect.

But anyway, why is this guy taking so long to recover? I wish I could kick him. Wait a minute, I can! My legs are free! They're not pinned, they were never pinned in the first place! How am I only noticing that now?

I raised my leg to throw him to the side as he finally seemed to have recovered. I was able to do so, but he was too heavy, so I was only able to get him off me, although it put a lot of strain on my leg.

I struggled to crawl away from him, feeling the blood loss. I was getting light-headed and I couldn't really focus anymore.

As I was creeping around on the ground, trying to find my knife, he got back up and charged towards me. He was waving the knife around like crazy and panting.

My vision was getting blurry and I knew I was running out of time. My breathing was getting heavy and the room was beginning to spin. I groped around, desperately looking for the knife as Donovan's knife drew a circular path as it sought me out.

Just as he connected with my back, I finally found the knife.

I gritted my teeth and endured the pain as I swung it behind me, putting the last of my strength into that one last swing.

I felt it hit something, and like that, the fight was over. He collapsed on top of me for the second time, but spilling a lot of blood on me this time.

My vision cleared after a little, but I wish it hadn't because of the sight that greeted me.

Donovan was bleeding out with a knife in his chest. He looked in so much pain, unbearable agony and torment that I couldn't even imagine.

He opened and closed his mouth like he was trying to say something. I leaned closer and put my ear by his mouth.

His words were barely a whisper, almost inaudible.

"Y-y-y-you won't g-g-g-get away w-w-w-with this. M-m-m-my brother will n-n-n-never forgive you."

With that, he died. Well, at least I think he did, cause he's not speaking anymore. If he's dead or not, I really don't know.

Is what it feels like to take someone's life with your own hands?

I stared at my blood-soaked hands and my mind blanked out.

I feel....empty. I don't feel anything at all. I thought people were supposed to feel anguished and were supposed to regret it deeply. How come I don't feel anything?

The announcer spoke up.

"The winner is George, from Group 39! That was really unexpected! As a special treat, let's show the bets that were placed!

With a ding, a screen popped up in front of me, and a bigger one appeared below the ceiling.

Upon seeing the spread of bets, I scoffed.

Out of all the bets that were placed, ninety-six percent bet on Donovan while only four percent bet on me.

"What a turnout! Those of you who bet on George, you have made a killing. Congratulations for making yourself rich, and us richer!"

Blood started to pool in my mouth, filling it with the coppery taste I was all too familiar with these days. As the adrenaline faded from my system, the light-headedness started to come back and the world started to spin around me.

I lost consciousness with the voice of the announcer acting as a lullaby.

------------------------

An elderly gentleman with a stern face was sitting in a lounge furnished luxuriously, with an attendant to his side.

"Lord Mysta, why do you bother to engage in these human activities? We are only here to collect what we are owed, there is no need to do this."

The gentleman sighed and closed his eyes.

"I thought it would be interesting, but I was wrong. There is no one here suited for the way of the sword."

The attendant looked surprised.

"I hope you weren't really thinking of taking anyone here, were you? This is the place for rejects."

"I know, but one can hope to find a hidden gem that everyone has overlooked."

"Lord Mysta, I understand that you're worried about the future of the clan, but don't worry. I'm sure the One will appear sooner or later. Remember the promise our ancestors made."

The old man grumbled.

"All we ever talk is the promise this, the promise that. Have we ever considered that the promise has an expiry date?"

"With all due respect, that would be absurd. Let's go, we have to someone to see."

They left through a portal that had opened up on the wall.