I've been trying to rely more on my gut. Great warriors always say that a gut feeling is the right decision. In hindsight, they're always right.
Rain soaked into the ground, pooling in certain spots across the open battleground. The loose loam struggled to withstand the downpour. Soldiers kicked up mud as they fought viciously to sever one another's ropes.
*Slice*
"Augh!"
Men cried out as blades slid across their skin. Even if their guts were to spill from their stomachs, the scars they earned were proof of their grit. At least, that's what they told themselves.
Not Milo.
Both men to his left and right charged him immediately after the starting words left Major Erwal's mouth.
Milo pushed from the wall and dove forward, rolling on his shoulder. He stood and faced both men with his knife held straight, like Elias had shown him before.
Unfamiliar with the bindings, Milo instinctively attempted to raise his bound hand in defense. He tugged against the tight rope to no avail. The rope only allowed him his left hand.
Knowing where the attacks are coming from makes it a little easier. I think.
The men in front of him were hesitant to attack the boy. Suspicious gazes shot between the two. One wrong move, and someone you thought was on your side could end your chances at victory.
Finally, one of the men darted forward. The glint of his blade reflected the cloud-covered sun. The rain made it especially hard to see his movements.
Milo ducked as a small blade cut above his head. In response, he raised the blade in a vertical slash.
*Ching*
The man blocked the incoming knife with his own and knocked Milo's arm away.
He's strong.
Suddenly, the man's hand slipped from behind his back and fell to his side. He looked down to see his rope soaking in the mud. Quickly, he turned around and faced the man behind him.
"You bastard! I thought we were going for the kid!?"
The other man laughed and shrugged.
"All's fair, buddy."
Before the unbound man could charge at the other, a shout came from across the field.
"Walt! You've been eliminated! Please exit the battle!"
Walt scoffed before throwing his knife to the ground, mumbling curses. The handle kicked up mud onto the other man's pants.
Milo's breath was labored. The rain chilled the air around him, revealing each exhale. His opponent stepped forward and raised his knife.
"Milo, right?"
He knows my name?
Milo nodded.
"Not much for talking, I see. The name's Sailor."
"What kind of name is that?" Milo replied.
Sailor laughed, "Says the Rat of Goldstein."
Milo didn't respond.
Rat of Goldstein?
Sailor charged forward and thrust his knife.
No slash?
Quickly, Milo jumped back, but the mud made him fall back further than he intended. With one arm bound behind him, his balance felt wrong, and he couldn't catch himself.
Shit, I'm going to fall.
Instinctively, Milo carried his momentum over his left shoulder and placed his hand on the ground, springing up. The impact splashed mud on his face and pants.
But he was still standing.
Sailor smirked.
"Interesting," he mumbled.
Damn, that was close. How did I do tha—
A swift blade interrupted the boy's thoughts. Sharp jabs forced his body to twist, narrowly dodging each. Meanwhile, Sailor seemed to be enjoying every second of the fight. A large smile spread from ear to ear. Wet yellow shone in his mouth. A small, gold fragment replaced one of his teeth.
Not too far away, Elias observed Sailor's movements and kept an eye on Milo's battle.
I need to do something. Attack.
Milo's body shifted as he parried the incoming blade. As he knocked Sailor's knife aside, he kept his weight forward and sliced downward.
*Shing*
Sailor smiled and pulled away. His shiny blade dulled beneath a thin coat of red. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the blood to the ground, cleaning his knife.
Milo stood, frozen in place. A small slit opened up beside his left eye.
He... could have killed me.
"You're an interesting one, I'll give you that," Sailor said.
"W— What?"
"Have fun, kid. Don't die."
Sailor walked toward the exit as his rope fell to the ground. Elias narrowed his eyes.
I... cut it?
Milo wasn't idle long. He ran to the wall and pressed his back against the stone. His eyes darted around for anyone coming his way, but everyone seemed engrossed in their own battles.
"H— Hey!"
Milo turned to see the new guy Flio had pointed out.
"I'm sorry, kid, I— I wish I didn't have to do this."
The boy took a deep breath in through his nose. He raised his head to the sky as he closed his eyes. When he exhaled, he looked down and faced his opponent.
Milo nodded, and the man charged, screaming in the process.
"Ahh!"
Slow.
Wild cuts and slashes flew at him, but Milo dodged each one easily. He knocked away his opponent's knife and cut downward. The man narrowly dodged the attack as he stumbled back. A small cut formed just above his rope.
Milo didn't let up. He charged in and continued his barrage of slashes. There was one thing stopping him from ending the fight immediately.
Stop moving so much, damn it. I'm trying not to cut you.
The boy gritted his teeth and sped up his attacks.
*Splash*
The man fell into a puddle. Mud flew violently as the man kicked the dirt away in an attempt to push himself away from Milo, and his knife dropped from his hand.
"Sh— Shit!" The man shouted.
His eyes darted from the knife to the boy.
"I— I— I give up. Y— You win, okay?"
Now dropped to his side, Milo's knife swayed as he walked toward his adversary.
"No! Stop! I said I give up!"
Heads turned due to the loud shouts. Some even halted their fights.
"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"
The shouts quickly turned to fussing as the man thrashed around in the mud.
Milo stopped.
"No no no no!"
The boy hesitated to step forward. He looked around and saw almost everyone staring at their fight. Above, Fowler watched comfortably from his balcony.
My gut's telling me to end this now.
Milo looked back at his opponent. He stepped forward and lowered himself to cut the rope, but the man's kicks drove him away. The man continued to thrash around in the mud, screaming.
Tears welled in the man's eyes.
"Insolence!" Fowler shouted.
The man stopped his tantrum and looked up, along with the rest of the fighters. Even those on the far end of the battle turned to Fowler.
"What's your name?" The captain asked.
Before answering, the man looked around and sniffled.
"M— Marcus, sir."
Fowler thought for a moment and looked at some papers Kael was holding beside him. His eyes narrowed as he turned back.
"Very well."
A chill ran down Milo's spine as Fowler turned to him.
"Milo," Fowler said.
Milo crossed his unbound arm over his chest and looked down.
"Yes, sir!" The boy shouted.
"Kill him."
Elias flinched. He looked to the balcony, but a nod from Kael silenced any objections he had.
He turned back to Milo, waiting for his response.
"K— Kill him, sir?"
"Yes, kill him. Now. Stab him in the neck, heart, eye, I don't care, just get it done. Now."
Milo turned to Marcus, who was still looking at Fowler. No screaming or shouting came from him any longer. He was frozen in place as Milo approached.
"It's an order, Milo."
The comment stopped Milo in his tracks. He turned to Fowler before continuing forward.
Marcus quickly scrambled to his knees and pressed his head into the mud.
"Pl— Please don't, sir! What did I even—"
"SILENCE!"
Fowler snapped his head to the boy, "Milo! Now!"
"... fair. Not fair. Not FAIR!"
*Splash*
Marcus began to pound his fists in the mud, sending it through the air.
"It's not fair!"
Faces around twisted in disgust. Some even looked to Milo to finish Fowler's order so they could continue with the event.
Milo stood over Marcus.
Steel rose over the man's neck.
Milo swallowed.
His fingers turned white from the grip he had on the knife.
I can do this. I— I can.
Milo shot a look at Elias, and his heart sank. Tears welled in the man's eyes as he looked on.
"I— I—" Milo struggled to get the words out as he looked back down.
"Kill! Him!" Fowler shouted.
The screaming made Milo flinch. His hand began to shake, and his knees struggled to hold his weight.
Marcus looked up at Milo. An indescribable fear twisted the man's face as tears and snot coursed down his skin.
Air started to escape the boy.
I— I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
Milo started to stumble back.
A hand clamped over Milo's wrist and forced it down.
*Schlk*
Sharp steel drove through the man's eye.
Milo felt the resistance give way.
Marcus fell limp, pulling the knife from his skull. Wet soil squelched as he hit the ground. Red flowed from the slit in his eye. Pale brain matter mixed in with the outpour of blood as rain blended it with the muddied puddles.
A whisper brushed against Milo's ear.
"I told you. You're weak."
Milo fell to his knees.
He turned to see Ralph walking away, unsheathing the knife he had tucked in his waistband.
Some of the men cheered and turned back to their opponents. Others looked on, disappointed or pitying, at the boy.
Milo wiped the rain from his face and looked at his hand, red streaked across his palm.
"Milo!"
Milo's head snapped to the balcony.
Veins popped from Fowler's head as he spoke through his teeth.
"My office. Now!"