Running for his life, Aconé hadn't hesitated to abandon his group out of fear.
Despite being rank seven and having lived over a hundred years, he was still not ready to fight or risk his life.
He plunged deeper into the forest, his heart pounding so hard it hurt.
"I don't want to die, I don't want to die," he repeated over and over, a deep despair etched on his face.
Seeing nothing in the pitch-black forest, he violently crashed into a tree and fell to the ground.
"I should have... taken a flashlight," he muttered as he got up.
He touched the tree to orient himself, but what seemed like a tree at first transformed into a man at his touch.
"Hello," said the man in front of Aconé.
Terrified, Aconé turned and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
Again, he bumped into a tree.
"That's impossible, I just passed this way and there were no trees," Aconé said, voice trembling.
"No use running, kid. Wait, I'll bring some light," said the man.
As soon as the darkness was broken, Aconé saw trees blocking every path, twisting around him in a cage.
"Isn't it magnificent, all this vegetation? Don't you think so?" whispered the man.
Crawling backward, Aconé said,
"You're the one doing this. Listen, I have nothing for you. I've never harmed you—we don't even know each other—so please... let me go."
His voice shook, head down, tears in his eyes, heart beating faster and faster.
"True, you're right. We don't know each other, so I'll give you a chance," the man said.
Aconé's face lit up with hope.
"I want you to smell my body, lick my toes, and in the end tell me I smell good," the man ordered.
Seeing no other way out, Aconé got up and walked toward the man.
Standing before him, he noticed something he had missed: the man reeked.
The smell was so vile it made Aconé almost vomit.
But he held himself together, using every muscle to resist gagging or reacting to the disgusting stench.
When he finished, he looked up to see the man pointing at his feet.
Aconé bent down and saw the man's feet, frozen for ten seconds in disgust.
They were covered in blood and mud, with mushrooms stuck to them.
"Well, then? Lick my feet," said the man, grinning.
Everything in Aconé's mind spun. He had resisted the horrible smell, but those feet were a nightmare, and the thought of licking them was unimaginable.
The other options to stop the man were to seriously injure him or kill him. Aconé rejected killing—after over a hundred years of life, he had never taken another's life.
He wondered if he had the courage to attack.
Suddenly, he felt a hand pierce his shoulder.
In a daze, unable to scream, Aconé lifted his head and looked the man in the eye.
"You've exceeded your time," the man said, delivering a violent kick under Aconé's jaw that sent him flying.
Lying on the ground, head spinning, nose and mouth full of blood,
Aconé kept thinking: "He's going to kill me, he's going to kill me, I have to leave."
But a hand grabbed his head and lifted it.
"You think you can leave? Sorry, we're going to have some fun now."
"W-wait, wait... I'm sorry for hesitating, I won't hesitate again," Aconé said, hoping for another chance.
The man smiled, then punched Aconé repeatedly in the abdomen.
"AAAH! AAAH!" the man laughed, putting more and more force into his blows.
Aconé was not only terrified; he was in agony, coughing up blood continuously and struggling to breathe. At times, he felt as if he no longer had a stomach. "Why not just kill myself?" he thought.
The man's hand had pierced his shoulder; it was just a matter of time before it reached his belly.
Regaining his senses, Aconé looked at the man holding him by the throat, laughing.
"So, how does it feel? You abandoned your group only to die at my hands."
With no strength left, Aconé took the blows, awaiting death.
But: "Is this how I'm going to die? Under the fists of a man who sees me as nothing but meat, who drools on me in some random forest somewhere? I can't accept that. I refuse to die like a coward. For the last hundred years, I've been wrong. I shouldn't think about being the best, but just about surviving."
He opened his eyes and looked at the man still striking him.
Despite the pain throughout his body, Aconé placed his two hands on the man's head and gouged out his eyes with his fingers.
"Bastard!" screamed the man, throwing Aconé to the ground.
"My eyes! My eyes! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU NOW!" he yelled, lunging at Aconé.
Standing up, feeling every cut and bruise, wanting to scream in pain, cry, beg for help— but who would help him? The group he had cowardly abandoned?
He was alone. He had to survive. He grabbed his sword and held it before him. Every movement was exhausting.
Trying to catch his breath, he said:
"This is my first death match, so the first time I'm using this technique I had abandoned. Prepare yourself and tell me what you think."
The man, ten meters away, shouted:
"DIE!"
Aconé looked at him like he was just an obstacle to remove.
"Broken dimensional arts.
White Death."
He struck his blade three times. Three ethereal blades formed and shot toward the man's head and both arms.
...The man was behind Aconé, and Aconé was behind the man. The man's two arms lay at Aconé's feet.
"H-How did you do that?" asked the man, spitting blood, armless.
"Why would I tell you... to a corpse?"
With those words, the man's head dropped to the ground and rolled in front of Aconé.
Falling to the ground himself, Aconé whispered:
"Is this what it feels like, taking a life? This disgust of oneself... Honestly, I don't care anymore. It was him or me; I made my choice. Out there, there's no place for the weak or the cowards. I hope you learn that fast, Asti."
Closing his eyes little by little, he murmured despite his wounds:
"I will survive."
He fell asleep, certain he would wake up again.