Awakening of the Weakest Slayer

"Stab yourself?" Sezel read the words aloud. He could read them quite easily, despite the disoriented, frantic scrawl. But they didn't make any sense.

No. Sezel's eyes widened. They made sense. Not a little, but too much. He looked at his broken, mangled finger, the memory of his own desperate, self-inflicted pain surfaced. But why?

As he tried to think, to strain his mind, to piece together the fractured, disjointed memories, the unbearable, skull-splitting pain returned, increasing dangerously with every passing second. Sezel clutched his head, his body trembling.

He tried to make sense of everything, to find some semblance of logic, of reason, in the madness that had consumed him. But he couldn't even think amidst the relentless, all-consuming pain.

'Should i do it?' he thought, clutching his head, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. The pain had become unbearable, tearing him apart from the inside out 'I will, i said it, so of course.'

Sezel let go of his head, and reached for the hilt of his katana. He brought it up in front of his stomach, its sharp, gleaming tip pointed straight at his abdomen.

He took a quick, desperate look at his surroundings. He was surrounded by beasts. Vesta and Shiki were nowhere to be seen.

His hands were trembling, his grip on the katana unsteady. Stabbing oneself is not an easy task. It goes against every instinct, every fiber of your being.

Sezel swallowed the lump in his throat. He slowly started to bring the katana closer to his stomach, his eyes shut tight, his body braced for the inevitable, self-inflicted pain.

But as he felt the cold, sharp edge of the sword against his clothes, his hands stopped. He let out a shaky, shuddering breath. He couldn't do it. But he had to.

STAB!

The katana pierced through his abdomen, a sharp, searing, pain that made his whole body convulse. A little more force, and it would have passed straight through him.

Sezel let out a low, guttural cry as he spat a mouthful of blood, the pain a white-hot, blinding flash that seared through his every nerve and muscle. He pulled the blade out, letting out a pained, choked scream that he tried to gulp down, to keep from escaping his lips.

The katana fell to the ground from his trembling hands with a clatter. He pressed down on the wound with one of his trembling, bloody hands, trying to staunch the flow of blood that was now streaming from his body, staining his white clothes to a deep, dark crimson.

But a vicious smile appeared on his face amidst all the pain. He had achieved what he wanted to.

The stream of pain, the adrenaline rush, had parted the grave, suffocating fog on his mind. The skull-splitting headache was gone, and his thoughts were clearer, much sharper, than they had been in weeks.

"Clearly worth the risk, I guess," he said slowly, his voice a trembling whisper.

He was so lost in himself, that until now, he hadn't even noticed the several beasts making their way towards him, their forms almost invisible in the dark. Most of the Spirit Essence had already been harvested, and the cold, pale moonlight didn't provide much cover within the tall, swaying grass.

Sezel felt a creep run down his spine. He immediately shot up to his legs and, picking up his katana, he started sprinting towards the metallic tower.

"Aghh, it hurts," he groaned as he ran, his hand still pressed against his wound, trying to minimalize the bleeding. But the blood had already made a large, dark patch on the white fabric of his shirt, and it was now seeping down to his pants.

'Shit, it ain't stopping.' Sezel cursed inwards, his jaw clenched tight. Suddenly, a figure, tall and black as obsidian, appeared in front of him out of nowhere.

Sezel skidded to a halt, his mind racing. In his current condition, a direct confrontation would be courting death. So, he changed his direction and ran past the beast, his movements a desperate, clumsy, stumbling dance.

The beast was startled for a second, momentarily confused by his sudden, unexpected change of direction. But then, it started chasing him, its long, powerful legs carrying it across the desolate landscape with a terrifying speed. Soon, others, too, joined in with it.

Sezel was chased down by several beasts, but he didn't stop. And finally, as he approached the metallic chamber, he froze.

There were a few Flesh Reapers that stood in front of the door as body guards, with Shiki in their ranks, "Shit, this bastard is too intelligent." the lord's intelligence had far surpassed what Sezel had expected it to be.

The footsteps of the beasts chasing him closed in. He could hear the rustle of the dead stalks of grass parting behind him, the soft, scuffing sound of their claws on the hard, dry earth.

"Fuck," he had to find a way to go down the metallic tower, to the underground Sanctuary.

Sezel once again erupted in another sprint, this time running in the opposite direction, towards the factories. He had very little time before he eventually passed out from blood loss, his life, draining away with every ragged breath.

Unfortunately, Shiki spotted him running through the wilderness, and immediately, without a moment's hesitation, he rushed after him, his sword raised.

At this point, Shiki was the worst opponent Sezel could have thought of. He was far more superior to him in a physical battle, his strength, his skill, his training, all far beyond Sezel's own. And on top of that, he was human.

But guess that wouldn't be much of a problem, with his ability to think, to reason, reduced by the hypnotic fog that had claimed him.

If not anything else, his physical prowess was admirable. Within a minute, he closed the distance between them and was running just next to him. "Stop!" he shouted, his voice a strange, hollow echo. "Why are you doing this? The Lord is angry because of your behavior."

Sezel didn't say anything. He had to focus on running, on surviving, on staying one step ahead of the beasts and death itself.

The wound was not helping much, but ultimately, it was his trump card, the key to his sanity.

Suddenly, Shiki halted just a little ahead of Sezel and raised his sword, its gleaming blade poised for a killing blow. Sezel's eyes widened. He tried to halt, but he couldn't. And just as he was under the sword, Shiki brought it down.

Sezel gritted his teeth. He wouldn't be able to dodge it. So, instead, he spun and laid on the ground and placed his katana against the attack.

The sword clashed with the katana, the sound of steel on steel a sharp, jarring ring in the otherwise silent night.

Sezel supported his katana with both his hands, his muscles straining, his body trembling, as he kept the sword at bay. And then, he saw it. A faint, ethereal aura that was radiating from Shiki's hands.

Sezel's eyes widened, and on cue, with a sound like a gunshot, the katana's blade cracked, a fracture running down its length.