The Laughing Swordsman

Apollo's bokken tore through the air, as though he was ripping through the fabric of space.

A thunderclap resounded throughout the empire.

The dragon made of water was split in two before scattering into tiny droplets of lifeless water. It could no longer reform. Just the shockwave from Apollo's slash forcefully shattered what gave it the strength to hold together.

Yet...

While the dragon made of water was utterly decimated, the dragon made of wind was unharmed. As such, nothing stopped it from attacking Apollo.

The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones filled the air.

Apollo's spine shattered under the force of the dragon's jaws. He could no longer stand tall, as he had nothing to support him.

Rhea coughed up a mouthful of blood. She received severe backlash from her dragon dissipating.

Rhea covered her mouth and hunched over. Blood continued dripping from underneath her hand while her brows furrowed. She let out a muffled voice filled with pain.

"Finish him off, Rhys!"

Rhys sighed, believing the situation had already been taken care of. After all, Apollo's body had been horribly mangled. He narrowed his eyes.

"There is nowhere for him to go now. This troublesome fellow is finally dealt with."

The wind dragon raised its claw confidently before bringing it down on Apollo. It swiped forward, finishing what it started.

...So why was its claw missing?

Rhea's body trembled. She moved her hand away from her face, revealing a bloody mess. However, she could care less at this point.

Rhea let out a scream of anger.

"What are you doing, Rhys? I said to finish him off already!"

Rhys furrowed his brows.

"...I tried."

Rhea spat out some blood before indignantly glaring at Rhys.

"Then why is he still standing!"

Rhys took a deep breath.

"This fellow... is more troublesome than we thought."

Rhea's eyes widened. She took another look at Apollo.

"What?"

Apollo's back consisted only of mangled flesh and spine fragments.

But he stood tall, with his bokken raised high in the air.

He had no spine to hold him up, so he forcefully twisted his muscles to stand tall. It was painful. After all, he was essentially cutting his own muscles against the cracked fragments of his spine.

Rhys clicked his tongue and pointed his shut paper fan at Apollo.

"Why are you so stubborn? You won't be able to win anyway!"

Apollo let out a laugh as though Rhys said the funniest joke in the world.

"...How are you so sure I won't be able to win?"

Rhys frowned. He slowly lowered the paper fan.

"Just look at the condition of your body! Even if you ran away, you would die! Even if you miraculously defeated us, you would still die!"

Rhys clenched the hilt of his paper fan tighter. A fierce expression appeared on his face.

"It's pointless for you to struggle! What's the point if you will die from just a gust of wind!"

Apollo held the side of his face with his hand. His eye peered through the gap between his fingers while a maniacal laugh uncontrollably escaped him.

Suddenly, he fell eerily silent.

"If I would die from just a gust of wind..."

Apollo's head slowly twisted towards Rhys. Apollo's pupils were shaking so violently, it could easily be seen with the naked eye.

"...then why are you talking to me, instead of blowing that gust of wind?"

A nasty grimace appeared on Rhys' face. He swung his paper fan to the side, as though he was hitting back a ball Apollo tossed towards him.

"In the end, there is no hope for you! In this state, you have no chance of surviving! It would be easier for everyone if you just gave up!"

Apollo let out a raucous laugh. His throat was torn apart by his laughs, making him intermittently spit out blood. His voice became raspy.

"You know..."

Apollo closed his eyes.

"...you remind me of someone."

A memory slowly rose up to the surface in Apollo's mind.

...

"What the hell is wrong with you? How will you ever progress if you are this shit?"

"S-Sorry mother... it won't happen again."

"BULLSHIT. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU SAID THAT?"

A clear smack resounded through the air.

Apollo held onto his bloody cheek with a shaking hand. He crouched down on the floor, as though he was trying to disappear from this world. Tears cascaded down his face while his eyes were puffy from crying.

There were countless bruises on his body. Some were purple, while others were torn open, leaking blood.

Standing above Apollo was his mother. The inner corner of her brows tried to dig into her eyes. She had a nasty frown, one that twisted the skin that held her face together. Her eyes were bloodshot and glared at Apollo. It was as though she wanted to cut him apart with her eyes alone.

Apollo's mother was angry.

She slowly raised her hand. Then, with all her strength, slapped Apollo.

Another clear smack resounded.

"What are you going to become if you're this weak? The moment any hardship comes, you just cry, cry, cry!"

The muscles in her arms ached, while her palm was stinging. But that was not a reason for her to hold back.

Apollo was only a child. His body had not been built up to take on hits, nor was it used to pain.

One could only imagine how painful it was for Apollo if even his mother was hurting from her strikes.

Apollo's mother continued shouting, even when her voice became hoarse.

"Your life is fucking pointless! Can't you realize that now?"

Apollo continued to sob.

"I know already, I know!"

Apollo's mother hit him again. Her own palm tore open and began bleeding.

"There's no hope for someone as worthless as you! You might as well kill yourself!"

Her eyes narrowed.

"The world would be better off without you."

Apollo closed his eyes in an attempt to dissipate into dust.