Sen always prided himself on his strength. He was hailed as the empire's prodigy; he just had a way with swords, and his comprehension was on another level, without any superficial leverage. He was simply born this way. Yet, he always felt empty. His eyes only glimmered when he stood on the verge of comprehending something new.
He was right now, training in the depths of the training hall. It was night time when he felt a tingle on his neck — and soon after, found himself facing five swordsmen, each holding a shimmering titanium sword. They lunged at Sen. Although he was good with a sword, he was still only human. He couldn't just slay them all. Still, he slashed outward to deflect the shimmering blade.
"This is going to be a hard job," the man voiced out.
Well, indeed, it was going to be a hard job. Sen could delay them for a while and wait for the knights to arrive, as he had already pressed the royal emblem.
Sen's breath was calm and steady. Despite the sudden ambush, he kept himself cool. The five swordsmen had now circled him in the dim light of the training hall. A loud clanking noise echoed as the first assailant lunged forward. Their blades met with a sharp clang.
Sen sidestepped, twisted slightly, and drove his blade through the man's abdomen.
"One," he said calmly.
Another came at him from the left. Sen parried, ducked, and drove his elbow into the attacker's jaw — disorienting him just long enough to land a clean thrust to the heart.
"Two."
Watching the scene unfold, the remaining three came at him together. Sen rolled under a horizontal slash, kicked one's knee inward with a sickening crunch, and finished him with a swift slice across the throat.
"Three."
He barely had time to breathe before another tried to take his head. He caught the blade with his own and pivoted, letting the attacker's momentum carry him into Sen's waiting strike.
"Four," he exclaimed.
Sen was running low. The last one hesitated.
Sen didn't.
He lunged, dropped his sword, and bit into the man's neck hard enough to rupture the artery. Blood spurted across his face.
He stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his mouth — until he once again felt a tingle.
A soft whisper of movement behind him.
He turned, albeit too late.
The sixth sword pierced clean through his back.
Sen gasped. His knees buckled. The sixth man leaned in close and whispered, "You counted wrong."
Sen smiled bitterly, blood at his lips. He saw figures flooding into the hall… too late.
He fell.