Game Without Limits

In the next few moments, five more soldiers collapsed lifelessly, their blood spreading across the floor, staining it with dark crimson hues. The remaining troops, stripped of even a shred of courage, abandoned all attempts to hold their formation. Panic consumed their minds, drowning out the ironclad discipline that had been drilled into them through relentless training.
"Hold your ground, you bastards!" bellowed Nicholas, his voice booming like thunder amidst the chaos. His eyes, blazing with fury, locked onto the figure ahead—a being that resembled a man but was impervious to their weapons and lethally efficient. His hands moved with near-mechanical precision, slamming a fresh magazine into his rifle and unleashing another storm of bullets on the enemy.
Even in the face of inevitable death, Nicholas did not waver. Retreat was unthinkable. After everything he had endured—the endless nights in jungle hellscapes where death lurked behind every leaf, the blood-soaked sands of nameless deserts, and the screams of comrades lost to the inferno—he couldn't bring himself to flee now. He had stared into the abyss before, but this time, the abyss stared back, mocking him with a chilling grin that froze his blood.
The figure at the center of the room, untouched and unbothered, watched the scene with a hint of a bored smirk. Bullets danced around him, bouncing off an invisible barrier like raindrops off a steel dome. The metallic clatter and the soldiers' desperate screams formed a cacophony of despair, echoing through the hall.
"Such enthusiasm," the stranger murmured, his voice soft but cutting through the chaos like a blade. A faint smile played on his lips, devoid of warmth—only the cold amusement of a predator toying with its prey.
Another soldier, in a desperate bid to escape, tripped over the body of a fallen comrade. His pleas for help were abruptly silenced as the air seemed to thicken, and an unseen force slammed him against the wall with such violence that the crunch of breaking ribs reverberated across the room.
Nicholas gritted his teeth, gripping his weapon tighter, as if sheer willpower could bend reality to his command.

"What the hell are you?!" he roared, his voice trembling with both rage and fear.
The figure tilted his head slightly, a glimmer of something between pity and disdain flickering in his eyes.
"You're asking the wrong question, Nicholas," the stranger replied, his tone laced with venomous mockery. "The real question is: how much longer can you last?"
With a single motion of his hand, an unseen force once again swept through the room, tossing soldiers aside like ragdolls. Their screams faded as quickly as they came, their bodies crashing into walls and pillars with sickening thuds. Blood splattered across the walls, painting the space in grotesque patterns of despair.
Left standing alone amidst the carnage, Nicholas locked eyes with the stranger. His gaze burned with defiance, even as his body trembled—not from fear, but from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Raising his weapon one last time, his jaw clenched, and his eyes gleamed with the resolve of a man resigned to his fate.
The stranger chuckled softly—a sound that seemed to emerge from the depths of darkness itself, sending a shiver down Nicholas's spine.
"Bravery... admirable," he said, taking a deliberate step forward. The air around him seemed to distort, as though reality itself recoiled from his presence. "But bravery without strength is just another form of stupidity."
Nicholas didn't flinch, even as the figure approached, his shadow stretching ominously across the blood-soaked floor. His entire life, he had clung to one belief: a soldier's duty is to fight, no matter what. And if he was to die here, he would do so with a weapon in hand and an unyielding spirit.
"Come on, show me what you've got," Nicholas growled, his voice a final act of defiance.
The stranger's smile widened, revealing a hint of something far more sinister lurking beneath his cold amusement.
"Oh, I will," he replied, his words carrying an icy promise.
A snap of the stranger's fingers echoed faintly, like a whisper on the wind, but the effect was catastrophic. Nicholas's head exploded in a grotesque burst, fragments scattering like shattered porcelain. His lifeless body crumpled to the floor, and his weapon clattered from his limp hands.
The room fell into a haunting silence. Only the Fujiwara family remained alive, trembling in fear and huddled together in a pathetic heap. Their faces were as pale as chalk, their wide eyes fixed on the entity before them—a man, no, a monster cloaked in human guise. He radiated not just power but something far more terrifying: absolute dominance and a complete lack of mercy.
"Now then, someone's missing," the stranger mused, breaking the silence with a tone of feigned curiosity. A shadow of a grin played on his lips as he snapped his fingers in mock realization. "Ah, yes! Where's your dear uncle Takehiro?"
He tilted his head, his gaze piercing, as if delving into the very souls of those before him.
"Don't tell me that cowardly pig already fled?" he sneered with theatrical disappointment, lazily waving a hand.
His nonchalance only amplified the overwhelming sense of dread that hung in the air. He spoke as though discussing a tardy dinner guest rather than a man who might soon face his wrath.
The family, paralyzed by terror, dared not utter a word. Every fiber of their being screamed that even the slightest movement or sound could seal their doom. Only the faint sound of ragged breathing and the nervous tapping of fingers on the floor betrayed their fear.
The stranger seemed to relish their silence, feeding off their dread like a predator savoring its prey. His crooked smile slowly morphed into a predatory grin.
"No matter," he said, his voice calm and almost lazy. "I'll find him eventually. And when I do, rest assured, he'll pay for his insolence—with interest."
The stranger took a step forward, and the air grew heavier, the space around him seeming to contract. Every movement he made was deliberate, exuding the grace of a predator that knew its prey was utterly helpless.