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[Skill-Eater] Chapter 3: Game
🕑 Added 2024-06-25 17:03:01 +0000 UTCEdge held the convict’s gaze without looking away. By now, he was certain that they were planning to kill him no matter what happened. But he needed to act like he still had hope. Pretend that he’d fallen for their ruse to buy as much time as he could.
It must have been the right move. Because instead of lashing out then and there, the big man’s smile grew.
“That’s the spirit, go out with a bang. I like you, little puppet. It’s a shame that it has to be like this, but it is what it is.” The carnivorous gleam in the jailbird’s eyes revealed the lie of his words.
“Listen up, here’s how this goes. I want you to stab me as hard as you can.” The big man pounded his chest for emphasis. “I’ll let you take one good jab at my torso, anywhere you like. Heart? Lungs? Dealer’s choice. Have a skill you can use? Go wild. If I move a muscle, you win. If I don’t, I’ll beat you to death.”
The convict chuckled while looking Edge over, committing this moment to memory to enjoy later. “Since I was going to end you anyway, it’s a good deal for you. This way, you still have a chance. Maybe you’ll kill me, then find a way to take down Slim. Miracles happen, right?”
“Now gather your courage and show me what you’re got.” The prisoner spread his arms wide, causing the rippling muscles along his chest to dance. There wasn’t a single scar on his body, even though Edge was certain that he’d given this speech many times before.
Meanwhile, the tall man took his time examining the carvings along the walls, completely uninterested in whatever was about to happen.
It was all the proof that Edge needed to know this game was rigged. Not that he had any choice other than to play along and hope for the best.
“Step right up, bet your life, and give it your all. It’s time to find out what you’re really made of.” Edge could sense that the man would erupt into violence if he hesitated or refused to do what he said.
The gears of his mind furiously turning, Edge raised his knife before him and prepared to activate slash. Three and a half minutes until the reliquary unseals.
He bought a few more seconds by staring at the big man’s chest, nodding as if coming to a decision as to where he wanted to strike. He brought the knife back while preparing to thrust, then sent it darting toward the prisoner’s heart.
A bare second before steel met flesh, Edge whipped the blade up and concentrated, then lunged for everything he was worth.
Instead of aiming for the man’s torso, Edge had been planning to slit his throat all along. If by some miracle he was able to land this blow, then he needed to make it count.
He had never killed anyone before. But with his life on the line, Edge didn’t hold back. He slashed the moment that the knife was in reach of the convict’s jugular.
Fast as thought, magic poured out of his body and into his arm, draining half his magicytes dry in an instant. In the blink of an eye, his hand sped up and the power of his blow multiplied. The simple blade went streaking for the jailbird’s throat, Edge’s prayers riding the air alongside it.
For a single, glorious second, he thought it was going to work. But half a heartbeat before the blade could sever the convict’s vein, a muscular hand moved to intercept the weapon, so fast that it blurred before his eyes.
Instead of blocking or deflecting the knife, the big man caught the point with his bare hand. The steel tip disappeared into his palm before jutting out the other side in a bright spray of blood. The stench of rotting meat was growing stronger by the second, but Edge didn’t have time to worry about it now.
He leapt back, knowing that the inmate would attack at any moment. To his surprise, the man began laughing instead. With an exaggerated motion, he pulled the knife out of his hand, holding his palm up for Edge to inspect.
To his horror, the sundered tissue began knitting itself back together. Shorn strands of muscle and skin reached out to each other before pulling tight, leaving only a pale pink line that disappeared a few seconds later.
“That was a smart move,” the big man said, savoring the dramatic moment. “It wouldn’t have killed me, of course. But the blood I lost before my skill could repair the damage would have slowed me down and drained my mana. Smart, but also dumb. You broke the rules, tourist. Now it’s time to pay the price.”
Edge turned and tried to run. Before he could take two steps, the prisoner was in front of him.
The cored convict drove his fist into Edge’s gut so hard that he threw up, spasming as pain pulsed throughout his body like broken glass in his veins.
What followed was the most brutal beating of his life. Punches and kicks fell upon him like rain, bruising, breaking, and pummeling him in an endless flurry of blows.
The worst part was that he knew the man was toying with him. That any of these attacks could have ended Edge’s life if that was what he wanted.
Unfortunately and fortunately different ways, the big man was enjoying torturing Edge to death instead. Three minutes.
The next time he got hit, there was a bright flash of light and the world turned white.
Edge must have passed out for a second. Because when he came to, he was lying on his back. A leather boot was digging into his face, pressing down hard enough that he thought his skull would crack like an egg.
Edge’s vision strobed from red to black. Pulse pounding as his bones began to break.
“Wait,” the other prisoner spoke for the first time in what felt like ages. “That’s enough.”
The pressure didn’t lesson, but it stopped growing stronger, preserving Edge’s life for another handful of heartbeats.
“Naaa, I want to see what color his brains are. We’re so close to the good part that I’m getting tingly all over.”
“I said that’s enough.” The tall man’s tone was cold as ice, the threat of imminent violence infusing every syllable.
The big man looked like he wanted to protest. Whatever he saw in the other man’s eyes convinced him not to. With a grunt, he took his boot off Edge’s face, then kicked to shake off some blood.
Against the odds, Edge had survived round one, burning through several minutes along the way. But his ordeal was only half over. Now it was time for round two.
