BLACK MASK [MxM]

Night had enveloped the sky above the palace as a man in black robes and black mask battled the swordsmen. Under the hood of his robe, the black eyes behind the mask glowed gloomily swept away the dozens of people who were eager to attack. The man's arm had been scratched so sharp that the shiny metal was dripping with blood, but there was no expression of pain at all. Even though he attacked swiftly, his movements were quite graceful and regular. He managed to repel dozens of troops as if they were just small, easy ants. When one of the soldiers drew his sword, he countered with a wooden stick. Suddenly, two men jumped at him from the blind spot. Through the wind, he read the movement for a few seconds before turning sideways and jumping high causing them to end up breaking bruised arms and chests as he descended and attacked their vital organs. "The lowly troop," he hissed. Because of that, no one dared to approach him. But in the distance suddenly the voice shouted, "You can't run anymore!" From the palace roof, arrows were fired at him. He couldn't see the movement of the arrows. Thinking faster he drew his attacker as a living shield and got away with it. But then again, he was annoyed when another man approached him with a sword and spear. Oh. How many are there? Ten?! Twenty? Or more—well, no matter how many there were, apparently it didn't take long for him to seriously injure them. He shouldn't be pessimistic. The drastic troop reduction made them even more vigilant. No more simultaneous attacks and carelessness, they retreated to raise awareness. Then, as he expected, soldiers surrounded him like high walls that surrounded this village. It made his blood boil. When suddenly the shadow from the side charged, the man could still read his movements and managed to avoid it. The other troops were still attacking him; one by one, take turns. He blocked them continuously, jumped away, picked up the stolen sword and attacked his opponent's vital points. He really was a tough guy. But whatever happens is not the time to be proud because the attacks must be warded off. He didn't want his mission to fail or the whole thing would go to waste. Even when the sword was about to cut through his neck, the man managed to hold it back with a staff. When another attack came from behind, again he immediately caught the prisoner until his sword missed, hitting the wrong target. Good, only five people left. The man was about to attack when suddenly his vision blurred. He almost thought he was going to pass out as his body staggered backwards. That's right, it must be the effect of the wound on his arm. Those soldiers will be ready for war at any time. The sword must have been spiked with poison and one of them hit his arm. Watching his fugitive go out of focus, it was an opportunity for one of the soldiers in front of him. "Die, you bastard!" Before he could answer, his eyes widened as he felt something sharp pierce his stomach. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened in surprise at the realization that that bastard had just stabbed him. The knife had been pulled out and he saw blood spilling from the wound and seeping through his robe. The incident left him slightly flustered until he felt a sudden burst of pain throughout his body. Slowly his head looked up again and saw his attacker grin evil in front of him. Before his strength was exhausted, he kicked the attacker and slashed the sword at the man's head. Immediately the soldier's head rolled on the ground like a ball. The dry land quickly became a sea of ​​blood as far as he could see. At the same time the wound started to feel excruciatingly painful and his hand was gripping the wound rather firmly. Suddenly everything became foggy and he felt like he almost lost consciousness. He tried to fight back the pain, causing gradually intense nausea. 's**t. I can't pass out here!' The man immediately left before any other troops noticed his existence. His vision grew blurry. Sweat kept running down his face and he couldn't believe how painful it was; his body trembled. His steps were no longer straight, maybe because he had lost a lot of blood. He leaned against a nearby tree as he stared at the hollow blood dripping onto the ground then dragged his steps towards the swift stream of the river. Without wasting time, he took a lot of water to wash himself. He groaned as his wound came into contact with water. The pain was so intense that it was as if someone had put embers into his stomach. As his vision became more and more blurry, he immediately took off his mask and robe, leaving a soaked black shirt on his stomach and arms. Instinctively, he quickly moved away from the river and into the forest. He had to pass the main road if he wanted to go away from the forest. Luckily there was no sign of pursuing him. As soon as possible he should get home before dying silly in the forest. He wouldn't forgive himself if he had to die in this forest. He had to meet his older brother who was waiting for him to be saved—no matter what. "Brother." [[]]