Axel couldn't believe it.
The man's eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, faint snores escaping his mouth.
He was sleeping.
Axel gritted his teeth, anger and frustration bubbling up amid the pain.
"Hey!" he shouted.
No response. The man still sat casually, leaning back on his hands, asleep.
"He—" Axel broke into a coughing fit, blood spilling from his mouth.
He tried to push himself up, but splash, he fell back into the water. His hands trembling, too weak to hold him.
Axel looked up. Behind the man, the stickmen were coming, there dark silhouettes approaching him, walking slowly, mockingly, as if they knew he couldn't fight back, and they were right.
He scanned the area and spotted the katana stuck in the ground, but he was too weak to reach it. And what was the use even if he could? He turned to the man.
"Hey, wake up!" Axel shouted again. "Wake up!" Over and over he shouted but the man didn't stir.
Axel clenched his jaw and forced himself up again. His arms trembled, ready to give out, but somehow held. He managed to get onto his knees, wincing, clutching his side.
He looked at the katana, then at the man, then at the stickmen, faces blank, closing in, their movements eerily slow.
I could try waking him and probably surrender, he thought. But who's to say I won't be attacked again? Besides, I feel like he's pretending. All this shouting, and he didn't budge. I don't buy it.
I'm too weak to fight, but still, somehow I don't feel like just lying down waiting for my imminent death.
He groaned, reaching for the katana. Pulling it free, he dragged it through the water, crawling toward the man, oddly all the stickmen stopped moving, all at once, looking at him, watching him like a show.
Axel gritted his teeth, his jaw tight, I see, I'm not a threat anymore huh, he continued crawling, as sickening as this is, it's all I can do.
Just before he reached him, a stickman slowly materialized, legs first, then body, then a round head, looking down at Axel, scribbling on its face depicting a look of disdain.
It slowly lifted its leg, about to stump on him. Axel tried to raise the katana, but it felt impossibly heavy. His arms moved too slow.
He closed his eyes, accepting his fate. I should've just given him the katana, he thought bitterly. Too late now.
But… nothing happened.
Axel opened his eyes. The stickman's leg was still coming down—but slowly. Slower than before.
He looked at the katana. The hilt was glowing again—brighter.
Axel gave a weak smile and with new found strength, swung the katana, screaming in his mind, Move! Even if you don't kill him, just nudge him awake! Or at least injure him.
He let out a hoarse shout as the sword suddenly accelerated, his last strength pouring into the swing.
But at that same moment, the stickman's leg sped up again. The glow dimmed. The leg was almost on his chest, the blade still short of the man.
Axel gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, refusing to give in, not like there was anything he could do.
Then—blam!
Everything went black. Something yanked him backward. Wind roared in his ears. He felt weightless, drifting.
I lost, huh? Not unexpected, Axel thought, eyes closed, a faint smile on his lips. Death doesn't feel so bad.
He spread his arms, letting the wind rush past him.
But then, something yanked him down, he was falling.
What the—? Am I going to hell? was his last thought before he stopped abruptly, landing softly.
"I'm… still alive," he muttered. The floral scent filled his nose, faintly dulled by the handkerchief. Darkness surrounded him again—his reflection shimmering back at him.
Black boots appeared beside him.
Axel looked up to see a young man wrapping a silver chain around his wrist. His long white hair was tied neatly in a ponytail, his eyes focused ahead, ignoring Axel.
"Stay here," the man muttered—and dashed forward, fast was what came to Axel's mind.
The man vanished almost instantly.
Axel's eyes struggling to keep up. The man was tearing through the stickmen, too fast to follow, flinging them aside effortlessly, whole or parts it didn't matter.
Suddenly, a stickman lunged. The man flipped, narrowly avoiding the impact, then dashed again.
Odd, Axel's eyes narrowed, the stickmen were faster now—faster than Axel had seen till now.
Frustration welled up.
"He was toying with me all along…" Axel muttered, watching their speed, realizing he'll have been long dead if they moved at that speed while fighting him. I never stood a chance.
But the white-haired man was still faster. His movements blurred, the chain in his hand reaping through the stickmen—limbs and bodies flying apart, only to reassemble moments later, rushing towards him again, relentless.
The man halted and swung his chain, a thunderous crack echoing, obliterating everything around him, and the chain lashed forward, snaking toward the dark-haired man.
Clang!
The sound rang sharp. The chain bounced back, stopped a few centimeters short of the man's face—a ripple forming in the air.
The white-haired man clicked his tongue and twisted his chain. It wrapped around the katana beside the dark-haired man, lifting it into the air and flinging it toward Axel.
The sword spun through the air and landed beside him with a thud.
Axel twitched. What if that impaled me…?
The stickmen rushed the white-haired man, their speed staggering. He leapt high, higher than a normal human, the stickmen lunging towards him, but not reaching.
Ignoring them, he swung the chain down, towards the dark haired man.
It coiled around the man—but didn't touch his coat, as if something was between. A creaking sound filled the air, ripples shimmering as the chain tightened.
The man pulled harder.
Crack.
The sound of shattering glass echoed.
The dark-haired man's eyes shot open. He tried to move, but too late—the chain tightened around him, lifted him up and slammed him into the water.
The white-haired man landed beside Axel, forming a hand sign.
"Shackle."
The world shattered. The dark domain, the stickmen, the water, the scent—all vanished, replaced by cold wind and the buzzing sound of traffic.
Axel squinted as light flooded his vision. They were back on the street.
He blinked, disoriented. People were staring, of course they were. He was sitting on the pavement like a lunatic, not to mention he was bleeding, the white-haired man at his side.
The chain around the his wrist shrank into silver chain bracelets.
Then a commotion erupted a few meters away.
Axel turned to look—but before he could speak, the white-haired man grabbed him by the collar and leapt high.
They landed on a rooftop, people pointing up at them, taking out phones to record.
But he didn't give them a chance as he broke into a sprint—jumping between buildings, his white hair whipping in the wind.
Axel tried to keep his eyes open, but everything blurred. The pain, the blood loss, the exhaustion—
—and then darkness.
Axel passed out.