The assassin dropped to a knee, now disarmed, he staggered back, creating some distance between himself and Kyle.
Kyle could have taken the opportunity to deal a fatal blow while his opponent was disarmed, but his instincts told him otherwise.
The assassin might look like he was cornered. Kyle had a grating feeling.
'He might be feigning weakness to draw me in. There is no way it was that easy to put him down.'
Deciding to stand his ground, Kyle kept his guard up.
He looked around, and the distant sounds of battle met his ears, Nuna and Sebastian against the other two assassins.
He could not help but worry.
'Is she alright?'
He was worried about how things were going on Nuna's side.
'I should believe in her abilities. She is strong.'
She was supposed to be stronger than he was. But for some reason, he felt that if he went all out, using all his trump cards, Kyle could beat her at her peak by a minuscule margin.
It was just a feeling.
It was supposed to be impossible to win against someone or something above your cultivation base.
But he had already put down a monster two stages above him, even though beasts and abominations were less intelligent.
Who is to say he could not do the same against a person? And he was indeed giving the assassin a run for his money.
Kyle and Nuna's opponents were both at the same level, the peak of the foundation establishment realm.
He shifted his gaze to the assassin.
The assassin seemed to be still catching his breath.
"What's wrong? Are you going to keep standing there? Do you not have a mission to complete? Noah is waiting for good news, you know."
The assassin flinched, but he did not give anything away. They had been told the target might be aware of who was targeting them.
Because of the failed attempt not too long ago.
With great effort, he finally moved. Kyle had successfully managed to bait him into making a move first.
He reached into his cloak and withdrew another pair of daggers, their blades glinting in the fading light.
Kyle tensed, ready for another round. His body ached from the previous exchange, but he knew he couldn't let his guard down now. Not when victory was so close.
The assassin charged, his movements quicker than before; he was getting desperate and reckless. Kyle met him head-on, his long-sword a blur as he parried and riposted.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound of metal on metal filled the air as the two fighters danced around each other, giving and taking blows.
But it was clear that the assassin was tiring, his strikes growing slower and weaker with each passing moment.
'I'm also getting tired. I have to finish this soon.'
Kyle pressed his advantage, driving the assassin back step by step. He could feel the momentum shifting in his favor, could taste victory on the tip of his tongue.
'There!'
But just as he was about to deliver the final blow, the assassin suddenly threw something at Kyle's feet between them.
A cloud of smoke exploded, filling the air with a thick, choking fog.
Black smoke hissed and billowed across the forest floor, wrapping around Kyle's ankles, drifting upward in suffocating plumes.
Cough! cough!..
Kyle blinked, his vision gone. His senses shuddered in the fog, his breath tasting of burning wood and falling leaves.
He reached out, but the smoke swallowed every shape and every echo.
Before Kyle could intercept, the assassin had already twisted away, stepping back into the cloaking veil of distance.
When it cleared even a fraction, the assassin was gone. Kyle coughed again, sword in hand, his chest thrumming with frustration and fatigue.
He stood alone in the clearing, no sign of his opponent.
"Fuck! He got away!"
He shouted into the air.
Kyle's frustration burned hotter than the wound across his side. He wanted to chase, to finish what he started.
But every instinct screamed caution. The smoke bomb, tactical, desperate, had disrupted his perception.
Frustration twisted in his gut, not disappointment; something harder, sharper, a spark for what comes next.
He almost made the choice to run after the assassin.
Instead, Kyle steadied himself, leaning on the sword's pommel. He closed his eyes. Breathing steadily, he opened them once more.
'He must have gone to hide and wait for his companions, that or he went to call for backup.'
Kyle thought. He did not like how things were moving along. It felt like the situation was slipping more and more out of his control.
It was frustrating.
It was like catching a fish, only to let it slip off your hook because of a slip in judgment.
The smoke took only a few seconds to clear up completely, enabling Kyle to more clearly see the area.
There was no clear sign or a trail to follow. He breathed once to steady himself and listened for sounds.
Clang! Clang!
The other two battles in the distance were still in progress. Deciding not to linger, Kyle thought he might as well check up on his partner.
He moved, using his movement technique, and he darted in Nuna's direction.
He quickly made it to her, perched himself up in a tree to observe, after he noticed that she had everything under control.
He wanted to see her in action for a bit; he had yet to see her in a battle, and even though he had seen most of her techniques in training, seeing them in actual battle was a different experience.
'She's handling things just fine. I'll stay back... but I'm ready to leap in if needed.'
Nuna's weapon of choice was a scythe. The one she was using was a pitch black color, and it was very long, almost twice her own height, making the sight quite comical.
But she wielded it expertly, swinging it with great efficiency
The long scythe cradled in her arms like a living thing. The blade, a cold black, curved like a crescent moon, catching stray beams and sending flecks of light dancing across dark grass.
She rooted one foot against the damp earth, her boots sinking slightly, then exhaled: a slow hush.
She raised her arm, the shaft humming, and the blade arced in a silent, perfect half-moon. Grass parted before it, clean and effortless, as if time itself yielded.
Clang!
The assassin parried her attack with a singular dagger, the same weapon of choice as his compatriot.
'Do all assassins use daggers as their weapon of choice?'
'Typical assassin's weapon,' Kyle mused. 'Easy to conceal, perfect for their style, but exceptions always exist.'
He wondered. It had to be, and it was understandable. Daggers were easy to keep out of sight because of their small size, and they fit an assassin's fighting style.
But, there were always exceptions; a person's profession did not always dictate their weapon of choice.
Thinking otherwise would, more often than not, get you killed.