He rushed toward the man, aiming for his neck, but unlike the previous two times, he met with resistance. The two daggers collided, reflecting both attacks. The man used the momentum he gained from the collision to spin around and kick Borwur in the stomach.
Although Borwur staggered slightly, he quickly returned to the attack like a hungry hunter chasing his prey. He ignored the blow he had just received and attacked again as if nothing had happened, with the same intention as before, to kill the man in front of him.
Borwur moved forward and attacked again, going for the neck, but this time the man anticipated the move and, after moving to the side and advancing at the last moment, managed to land an open blow with the dagger, piercing part of Borwur's torso.
Phew, you scared me, kid. I thought you were a user, but the way you move, either you're not one or you lack the experience to be a danger. I appreciate it anyway. I didn't want to die in such a pathetic place- the man said with a half-smile on his face.
However, these words still didn't reach Borwur. He continued to see only the person in front of him, while in his subconscious he continued to see the lifeless bodies of his family.
And it was at that moment that something changed. Rage consumed every last bit of his life. Where he had once bled from his eyes, now it also began to bleed from his nose. This changed not only the speed at which Borwur was dying, but something else as well. And so, in an instant, he leaped back toward the man, following the same trajectory as before, the same speed as before.
The man waited for the blow, thinking the boy must be mentally ill. He could attack the same spot three times, and one of those times he was seriously wounded, and yet he still didn't learn. What an idiot.
However, the moment he went to reflect the dagger's blow, something happened. When the two made contact, his dagger shattered, as if it were made of paper instead of steel.
"Kid!" the man shouted. "So you were hiding the fact that you were a user, damn it..."
But before he could finish speaking, his throat was slit. And just as he had come into life, he left, without luxuries, without leaving a mark on the world, in the middle of nowhere, murdered by someone he despised and didn't even consider human.
As blood flowed from the man's lifeless body, Borwur stood beside him, or rather, trying to. He was staggering and losing a great deal of blood. But before he could even worry about his wounds, the four men he had seen earlier at his house appeared.
They went to attack him as soon as they saw him, but stopped when they saw the situation: a headless man, and two dead men bleeding to death from cuts, one in the neck and one in the stomach.
It seemed that none of them would dare to advance, but then one of them spoke up.
Guys, what are you doing standing still? Don't you see he's just a weak kid? What does it matter that he's killed a few? He's wounded and is losing his life with every passing second. He won't be able to use any more power. Let's all join forces and form up! shouted the man who seemed to have the highest status among them.
The rest of the men, motivated by his words, left their fear behind and slowly advanced toward Borwur, besieging him.
And so the battle began. Borwur now began to bleed from his ears, but he still fought with strength and courage. He quickly moved toward the nearest man, trying to finish him off with a blow, but another man stepped in between and managed to block him with a large shield made of a material Borwur was unfamiliar with. Thus began a war of attrition. The men defended themselves against Borwur's aggressive attacks, but they received several wounds. And when it seemed that the battle would be decided in the final moments, depending on who had the most stamina, Borwur suddenly fell to the ground.
His legs and hands were unresponsive, and his eyes were slowly closing, but it was at that moment that his gaze fell on his mother's lifeless body, lying a few meters from where he lay. Rage resurfaced again, the pain, the exhaustion—everything was consumed and replaced by fury.
In this hatred, he found the driving force he needed to keep going. He began to slowly rise, gritting his teeth to endure the pain. He only wanted to kill all his enemies; that was all he had to do. And so, with a titanic effort, he began to rise, first one leg, then the other, and at the last moment, when he was almost standing, he saw something shining beneath his gaze. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was a sword, a sword piercing his chest. And so he fell back to the ground, but this time with no intention of getting up again.